#its called prison dumbass

[qinluofu]

₍^..^₎　⌅　Day in the life of younger sibling ＠sae&rin ‹𝟥

(# >o<) 　 ❛ 　💐 　 ♡⃘ 　 pure fluff ﹒ ❀ ﹒no warnings

₍ᵔ⑅..ᵔ₎　　⤷　　masterlists ➷ send in requests

waking up in the morning at 7:00am sharp, getting ready for the minature version of prison but with your 2 older brothers. sae, the oldest, sleeps at the bedroom right side of yours - along with rin, second oldest, who sleeps at the bedroom left side of yours.

they're already awake by the time you are. in fact they wake you up, because if they didn't we'd be here until noon. sae makes the pancakes and rin makes the orange juice, your in charge of eating it.

since its the morning there's not much conversations being made & it's dead quiet aside from the rustling sounds of plates and bags being taken out. the itoshi brothers don't mind you being reliant on them, as they think it's a responsibility. they'd be willing to make you breakfast and wake you up everyday until you die.

when you arrive to the gates of hell, sae has to go to the other building. he tells you to stay safe and walks away, leaving rin to take care of you. rin always walks with you till the lockers cuz what if some creep goes up to you?? you need a 6 ft tall brother to handle this ( emo dog priviledges )

hanging out with your friends is cool, but not when the captain of the junior soccer club rin itoshi is constantly staring at your guy friends while his team mate isagi yoichi tries to get his attention. everytime you tell him that your fine and it's alright he goes :|.

class goes by smoothly and now its lunch time, yippie :D. oh but you don't need to get in line to get school lunch food that's ew, you already have a handmade lunch box made by sae.

today's lunch box consisted of sticky white rice along with fried egg, baby carrots with sweet & sour chicken. all in separated containers, packed nicely in a heating bag - oh and a pot of seaweed soup. nice.

as usual, the baby carrots are left untouch with a few white rice left sticking on the container. that's gonna be sae's business later on in the afternoon. you don't miss the way sae passes by your classroom, claiming he wants to see the school's newest football player isagi yoichi but everytime isagi talks to him he looks at the container of untouched baby carrots instead with an annoyed glare

isagi is starting to think the family has some issues going on.

school life is tough but when its finally over, you practically sprint to the metal gates only for sae to grab your hand and tells you "it's not safe" and to "calm down" while rin crosses his hands and gives you an unimpressed look.

"too slow turtle, i was already here" "you were supposed to wait for them dumbass" "says who?"

since its a hot summer day, sae takes you and rin to an ice cream shop to cool down a little. sae never eats the ice cream though, just hands you and rin a cone each and pays for it.

when you get home, you leave your lunchboxes on the table and decided to get a cooling bath. you don't do your homework immediately despite the constant nagging from sae and instead play some games.

at 8:24pm you went downstairs to eat dinner. rin always drags you off the bed because no matter how loud sae calls you to come down and eat you never seem to find the energy to do so.

at 11:30pm, after a tired day of everything you finally fall back to bed and sleep. you always forget to shut the lights so rin has to personally go to your room to do that for you, he says its a bad habit that you should fix soon but somehow his eyes never show a hint of annoyance.

at 12:00am does sae finally sleep, not without checking up on you and rin's room to make sure your both snoozing away. only after doing that does he find the comfort to be able to fall asleep, dreaming about whats to come.

a/n - this was not proof read guys so ignore the spelling & grmmar mistakes ...

#blue lock fluff #bllk imagines #bllk scenarios #sae itoshi x reader #sae itoshi fluff #rin itoshi fluff #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x y/n #sae itoshi x y/n #blue lock x reader

[missingexaltation]

Random Eddie headcanons (feat. Wayne) for a happier timeline where vol. 2 didn't happen:

(Some mentions of domestic abuse)

The first time Eddie didn't pass senior year it was because he skipped classes and homework to practise guitar, because who needs a GED when you're gonna be a rock star?

Second time he failed it was because he ended up in hospital after getting beaten up, missing vital exams. He didn't mind though, it was for a good cause.

Eddie isn't stupid, he's actually pretty clever. He is just incapable of paying attention if he's bored, or if he has zero respect for the person teaching him.

He and Mrs O'Donnell have an ongoing feud because he proved her wrong once in front of everyone, and he knows that she marks him down because of it. It's a running joke in that class now.

He and Wayne go fishing every few weeks. Eddie cannot fish for the life of him, but Wayne enjoys it. To entertain himself, Eddie takes a battered acoustic into that boat and plays the Beatles because 'the fish like it'. (It's for Wayne really).

Wayne also loves camping, but Eddie hates it. They go away for a couple of weeks and 'rough it' by sleeping in a couple of battered tents under the stars, and it always takes Eddie a full year to recover from the trauma and agree to go again.

When he was a kid, Eddie's dad used to beat him and his mom, and one day he went too far and killed her, landing himself in prison. Wayne had recently come back from service, immediately took the kid in and disowned his brother for what he'd done.

Eddie had always been a creative kid. If he couldn't be a rock star he'd 'settle' for being a tattoo artist. He draws as often as he plays guitar.

Wayne has a friend that co-owns a tattoo parlor that's willing to take him on, but only after he graduates.

After Vecna, when Eddie was recovering in hospital (hushh, he's FINE, damn it), Wayne would read to him while he slept. He and Dustin got to know each other a little, too.

Some Steddie influenced headcanons:

Wayne has no problems with Eddie dating guys, girls, whatever, as long as he doesn't 'hear anything'. He is very wary of Steve at first though, thinking his nephew is only going to get his heart broken.

Eddie gets on strangely well with Steve's dad, even if he does refer to him as 'Steven's friend'. They had an intense 'discussion' at a family dinner, even though they disagree completely at a fundamental and political levels. Steve's astounded, but lets it go.

Steve never calls D&D by its real name, only things like 'dingbats and dumbasses'. He's getting very creative, and Eddie finds it hilarious. Dustin hates it.

Steve's plays exactly one game with the party, and is banned for constantly messing with Eddie by either trying to do dumb things (ie that meme where the guys are trying to seduce a door), or by playing footsie under the table.

#eddie munson #eddie my beloved #wayne munson #steve harrington #steddie #random headcanons #i just think Eddie would be a great tattoo artist #i also think he'd argue with Steve's dad in Steve's behalf and accidentally get his 'approval' by being unapologetically himself #Wayne is dad of the year month and decade

[slavic-roots-western-mind]

Favorite soviet movies (and where to find them)

The general opinion about the soviet union varies from person to person, but I think many can agree that the movies that came from this time period were phenomenal. Here are my top favorite movies that I recommend, which also have generally good english subtitles.

Hussar Ballad

A rare musical-comedy gem that I absolutely adore. Shura Azarova, a 17 year old girl joins the army to fight against Napoleon. Plot twist: She's pretending to be a guy and starts falling for a fellow soldier, who she actually engaged to but he has no idea that his new friend is actually a girl (she doesn't like him in the beginning and no wonder lmao). Has a lot of catchy numbers, especially давным давно/ a long time ago/ davnim davno. It may seem a little weird, but watch the first 10 minutes, I guarantee that it will not be a waste of your time.

2. Ivan Vassilvveich changes profession/Ivan Vasilievich: Back to the Future.

A scientist successfully creates a time-machine but accidentally sends his building's manager and a thief all the way back in time to Ivan IV The Terrible's reign, whilst sending the actual Tsar to the modern decade. Chaos ensues for all.

3. Prisoner of the Caucasus/Shurik's New Adventures/Kidnapping, Caucasian Style (I had no idea this movie had this many translations lol) A kind but naive student named Shurik goes to the Caucasus on vacation where he meets a young woman named Nina, who he ends up accidentally kidnapping (yes, he's that much of a dumbass but he was told that bride kidnapping is a tradition that Nina follows and God forbid that anyone uses this thing called communication). It works out in the end just as chaotically as it started.

4. The Garage A cooperative is planning on buliding a garage for its members except for it now has to be reduced and there won't be enough space for everyone so someone's going to be left out. The comitee ignores said members objections, so someone locks them in for the night leading to them spending the night locked inside the museum which is also the meeting spot. It's actually quite funny, despite the odd description, but I am writing it whilst extremely caffeinated so bear with me here.

5. Unbelievable Adventures of Italians in Russia (Невероятные приключения итальянцев в России). A fantastic comedy. An elderly lady of soviet origin reveals to her grandaughter that there's a treasure buried in Leningrad. However, the wrong people hear about it, so they try to outwit each other in their race to Russia. Pretty funny, especially when the actual treasure hunting commences.

6. The Bremen Town Musicians An animated movie, but nonetheless deserving a mention. The troubadour with his gang of friends made from a donkey, a dog, a cat and a rooster travel around singing, until he meets a princess but the king doesn't approve of them etc. Pretty standard story, but the singing is amazing, especially Troubadours song "Luch solntsa zolotovo/Луч солнца золотого/ Beam of the Golden Sun" with the translation here sung by Muslim Magomayev who honestly deserves a separate post dedicated because his voice is amazing. The english subtitles are a bit iffy here, but nonethless it's worth a watch as it's only 20 or so minutes long.

7. The Mystery of the Third Planet Also an sci-fi animated movie, but the staple of my childhood. Captain Zelyoniy and Professor Seleznyoviy with his daughter go around various planets collecting new species for the zoo. However, on one of the planets they end up discovering something odd and before they know it, they're right in the middle of a conspiracy and a famous missing captain. Fantastic soundtrack and great animation.

There are many more movies that I'd definitely recommend, so this list will be updated sometime in the future.

#spilled ink #movies #studyblr #aesthetic #study motivation #study blog #travel blog #slavic roots western mind #college #college life #student life #student #movie review #movie recommendation #slavic #soviet union #soviet #soviet movies

[itwasnightwhenyoudied]

All You Had To Say

dean/cas, 2354 words, rating: T, s5 era, first kiss.

.

Dean pulled his Baby over—onto what was one of those areas where the roadside had simply worn down from drivers deciding to pull in there, just as he had, rather than it being a true, intended rest stop—and cut the engine on a deep breath's noisy exhale.

It was the delicious ember smell of late September streaming in through the Impala's open windows, then spotting that big ol'tree, which had decided for him that it had to be this spot. 

Baby, she now sighed and made her sexy little arhythmic noises as she cooled and wound down, click-clacking away almost as if she were trying to match the nearly dusk's ever-present cricket chorus. Dean found himself rubbing both hands up and down denim thighs and felt like one of the noisy critters himself. His stupid thoughts were just so loud this evening.

He barked out a laugh into the quiet of his parked car at the workings of his weird-ass brain, then brutally chewed some more on his already reddened bottom lip. 

Get a fuckin' grip, man.

He let a few moments pass, then a slight dizziness reminded Dean that he was a dumbass and that humans were supposed to breathe, actually.

After yanking the keys from the ignition, Baby's driver door creaked that homely creak when Dean hauled ass out of his car then squared his shoulders and set his jaw.

He began to walk.

You couldn't even really call the twigs and chicken wire that separated the road from the field a fence, it barely came up to Dean's knees. He stepped over it with ease and now trod his size eleven Loggers through the dust-dirt and crepe grasses, setting a leisurely pace.

That familiar smouldering smell on the still fairly balmy breeze was much stronger now and Dean pulled long satisfying drags of it through flared nostrils, wishing he could keep it prisoner in his lungs. Wishing he could bottle it, shit. He couldn't get enough of that burning ember scent, truth be told. 

That's part of the damn problem right there.

Mumbling, "Shut up, man," outloud to his stupid inner monologue, Dean now picked up the pace a little and tramped towards the impressively big Oak he'd spotted from the road. It reminded him of the one in The Shawshank Redemption and, well. Dean was never one to shy away from a good movie reference, so. 

When he reached it, he leaned into its body and let his feet give way, backside sliding down the huge gnarly trunk until he was sat, slumped, beneath the tree's sparse autumnal canopy.

He was facing west.

Dean knew that because of what was left of the fall's evening sun and how it shone bright in his eyes, painting the arms of his jacket in pinks and lilacs and oranges. He brought tired knees to his chest and draped his colourful arms over them, hooking hand around wrist. He looked up at the sky through slightly hooded eyes and more specifically at the wondrous mix of big, fat clouds and the more slender ones that curled around the horizon's edges.

The scene was like... like some enormous portion of pudding. Yeah, that pudding Missouri had made for him and Sammy that one time; it'd had some weird fruit in it with black seeds, yet Dean hadn't even minded because it'd tasted so frickin divine.

Passion fruit Ambrosia.

Yeah, this was an Ambrosia sky, if Dean had ever seen one. The tiny little birds flapping away in the distance were those little black seeds and the giant fluffy clouds were the whipped white creamy goodness.

Dean chuckled at himself, knowing he was procrastinating. Took a breath. 

More thoughtfully, he now carefully fingered the hilt of the blade in his jacket's right pocket.

Dad's jacket.

Funny thing, but Dean vowed to himself there and then that he'd take off the leather when he got back to the motel, and he'd hang it on the hook on the back of the door—and he'd leave it on the hook on the back of the door in that shabby motel room near Glenvil, Nebraska, when they left. And he'd never, ever go back there again.

Dean didn't need nothin' from John no more.

Resigned to that now-fact, he cleared his throat, took in more lungfuls of awesome autumn woodsmoke-air, and told himself to just. Get the hell on with this.

Standing again, he unecessarily cleared his throat some more, just for good measure, and rubbed an unconcious hand along the back of his neck. He then said, "Hey, Cas? You around, buddy? Kinda need you to lend me your ears, if you're free…"

Nothing became angel in a heartbeat, in a rush of unseeable feathers and lightning-charged ozone—that same charred smell that already lingered in the air, only much, much stronger.

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Hey, man. Uh, thanks for the flyby," he smirked on autopilot, fingers trembling traitorously in their betrayal.

(continue below the cut or READ THE REST ON AO3)

"I've told you a number of times, Dean, I'll always come when you call." Such a fucking Holy Tax Accountant. "Although, I am somewhat confused by your request; I'm honestly quite unsure of how I would go about lending you this vessel's body parts."

Cas was. Outrageously fucking earnest as ever.

"Whaddya—oh, right, the ear thing, yeah. Uh, nah, man, that's just a turn of phrase." Dean cleared his throat again, even though there was nothing left to clear. "Listen, Cas. I, uh. I got somethin' to say."

"Well, I'd be a little put out if you didn't."

Snarky bastard. 

"Yeah, well, you might be a little put out regardless," Dean muttered it under his breath, momentarily forgetting Cas could still hear him with his magic angel-ears.

"How so, Dean?" Cas was now doing the head tilt thing and it was just. That was too fucking much. Dean felt like his melon was going pop and his chest was going to burst open like that scene from Alien if he didn't get this out.

"Thing is, Cas…" Dean now took the switchblade out from his pocket and when Cas' expression changed to that of his signature adorable-and-confused look, it was the last straw for Dean.

"Yep, okay, so there is obviously absolutely no frickin' way I can do this while looking at you, dude. Don't know why I ever thought I could. So, I'm uh, I'm just gonna. I'm gonna close my eyes, and pretend I'm on the phone to you. Okay, buddy?" and Dean screwed his eyes shut and brought his left hand, now curved into the shape of an old-school telephone receiver, up to his left ear. He felt like a first class schmuck but what else was he gonna do? 

The actual ever-loving fuck are you doing?

Dean ignored his idiot brain. He cracked one eye open only to see Cas had done the same as him, with the hand-phone thing. The angel's more-than-perplexed eyes were both open though, wide as monster truck wheel trims.

Dean scrunched his peeping eye shut again. He now absently spun the switchblade in his right hand, antsy, but luckily he remembered to breathe. He took a few big ones and tried again.

"So, it's just. Thing is, I—okay, here it is: I can't fuckin' concentrate for shit with you around no more, man." It came out much harsher than he'd meant it to. “You're just. Too distracting." Dean shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He opened his eyes to barely slits.

Cas blinked. "And does Sam also feel this way?" he asked.

Dean cursed the fact he hadn't yet mastered the art of telepathy and shut his eyes again.

"No, man. It's just—that's just me. It's like. You're just so there when you're around, you know? And it's too much. For me. You understand?"

"I... do not," Cas said.

Dean took another breath—then it all came tumbling out like Jack and fucking Jill.

"Shit, man, it's like. You with all your shoving me into walls crap and your sexy gravel on sandpaper voice and your blue, blue eyes, you know? And hell, your gooddamn addictive thunder and lightening strike woodsmokey angel cologne which, fuck, I can't get enough of that shit?! And, you know, it's almost October so, like, everywhere smells like you! And it just. It just makes me crazy, okay? Like, I want... fuck. I-wanna-touch-you-and-for-you-to-touch-me-and-shit. But. But then, actually, it's kinda more than that, Cas, like. I like you. Like, like you like you. And I don't normally do that kinda thing. Did it once; not anymore. And... and... all of this is just really fucked up because you don't shit where you eat, know what I'm sayin'? And you and me we're, like, best friends, right? That's why I brought the blade, by the way, so you can carve your initials next to mine and Sam's on the inside of Baby, if you wanna. So you an'me, we can be brothers, too. Because. Because it'll be easier then. Because I know you don't feel the same. But, yeah. So. I just had to get this all out in the open, you feel me? So I could—so I can stop feeling all awkward and shit around you and just. Move the fuck on. And before you say anything, I know, alright? I totally get it and you don't have to explain. You're an angel of the Lord and you don't even know how to feel these things, and even if you did, you, like, obviously wouldn't feel 'em for a grunt like me and—"

The ozone smell surrounded Dean and the burning breeze whipped at his cheeks as chapped lips pressed, hard, onto his. Dean's eyes flew open to see Cas' face—all close up and out of focus—and his head felt at once like he'd been holding his breath for seven hundred thousand years.

Cas was kissing him.

Kissing. Kissing Cas.

The angel had Dean by the scruff of the neck, fists balled up and white-knuckled with handfuls of Dean's Henley and army surplus shirt and Cas, he was now opening his mouth, opening Dean's mouth with those chapped lips of his and fuck, his tongue, that was there, warm and wet and licking into Dean, licking Dean's own tongue and teeth and fuckfuckfuck.

Dean was being consumed by Cas.

Dean dropped the switchblade into the paper grasses and grabbed onto the meat of Cas's solid arms just as his own knees started to shake like the oak leaves above them in the breeze, shaking like they were going to give up on him.

Yeah, Cas was definitely kissing Dean alright. Kissing Dean like it was feeding him... So, Dean fed Cas. And it was all suddenly as easy as breathing and totally awesome and fucking sublime and the messiest yet best kiss in the history of kisses.

Dean was thinking of absolutely nothing at all and also of how he could happily do this for the rest of his days, when Cas pulled abruptly away from him. Dean, a damn near panting puppy dog, now had that fresh ozone smell—Castiel's scent—smeared all over him. He felt claimed. And he liked that.

A helluva fucking lot, turned out.

When he could focus his eyes back into reality again, Cas looked more than slightly irritated.

"Why did you not tell me sooner, Dean? We could have been doing this the whole time," was all he had to say.

Dean's brain shorted a circuit. Or all of them.

Cas... liked him back?

Dean threw his head backwards to scan the freshly twinkling stars in that divine Ambrosia sky and breathed in deep, gulping again and again for more of the vital oxygen his brain and body so badly needed to ground him in the here and now.

When he looked at Cas again and tried to speak, he only managed to gurgle out a his second strangled laugh of the day.

He wondered if he'd finally lost his damn mind.

And when Dean could finally think about forming a sentence, the words, "Cas, did God invent Ambrosia—or was that all mankind's good work?" were all he had to say.

After Cas informed Dean that he'd thought the reason he'd been summoned was because the hunter had wanted to stab him again like when they'd first met, the angel proudly carved his name into Baby's interior:

C A S

...the name Dean had christened him with.

Dean was very clear about how they were now something very other than brothers, though.

With a slight curve to those chapped pink lips, Cas climbed into the Impala, riding shotgun next to Dean, and Dean drove them back towards his and Sam's skeevy motel under that barely there fruit-whip sky that was now silently fading into a deep purply-black azure.

Dean turned on the radio and smiled when Cas smiled at Stevie Nicks's voice singing about thunder only happening when it's raining.

Heh.

(They both knew that wasn't strictly true).

Neither had too much to say to one another on the drive, neither—they both knew talking could come later. Dean had said so much before Cas had kissed him, and he was now far too busy experiencing Nirvana for such complicated things as words. And Cas? Cas was always happy with silence. And this one was so damn comfortable.

Dean tried his best to concentrate on the road but he couldn't stop looking across at Cas.

The Holy Tax Accountant looked happy, Dean thought, properly happy—for the very first time since they'd met in that warded old barn a couple years back.

It felt really, really good. 

Dean realised: everything was actually exactly the same as it was before, it was just. More.

Better.

Yeah, better because he too now smelled just like Cas—like woodsmoke and Mother Nature and Handsome Rebel Angel—and better because of the way Cas's gorgeously long fingers seemed to fit so perfectly between his own.

Dean nodded his head and smiled some more.

"This," was all he had to say.

.

#never posted this here in full #have some early deancas first kiss shenanigans #angel castiel #POV dean #destiel ficlet #destiel fic #all you had to say #dean winchester #castiel #deancas #spn fic #iwnwyd writes #itwasnightwhenyoudied

[cr-noble-writes]

So its already looking like Christmas is going to be a massive bust this year for us. And honestly? I'm fine with that. I am okay with not being able to afford to spend a fuckton of money on presents for the kids, because for the most part, my kids don't actually care about how much things cost. They just think its cool to get stuff they like. And the reality is that we've spent enough of their lives struggling financially, that they understand that sometimes, we just don't have the money. Because while I do my best to make sure they know its never their fault or responsibility, I also don't lie to my kids about important things.

What's really bothering me about all this right now is how upset my mom is about it. (For those of you who don't already know this, I live with my mom for financial reasons, my mental health, and her physical health). And the reason she's so upset about it is because the reason we're struggling financially right now is because my brother, who is in prison, is a fucking hole in her pocket. Over the last year or so, she's literally drained her savings trying to keep this dumbass out of trouble, or get him out of one kind of trouble or another that he's gotten himself into. He asks her for money literally every time he calls. And she's afraid to tell him no because she's afraid that something terrible is going to happen to him if she doesn't give the money to whoever tf.

And I am just... so fed up and angry. Because I don't even know if I believe the bullshit he tells mom to get this money sent to people. And I try not to be frustrated with my mom because I get that she's just trying to protect her kid but like... when does it stop? When do you make him be responsible for his own bullshit? When do you stop breaking yourself financially, physically, and mentally for this? When do you remember that he's not the only fucking one of your kids that needs you?

When do I get to stop being worried that my brother is going to get himself killed in a maximum security prison and also that my mother is going to kill herself trying to keep him safe?

I know I don't typically talk about my personal bullshit on tumblr, but its 5:30 in the morning at the beginning of yet another holiday season that my brother is spending in jail. And my mom spent half of last night crying because she can't afford to buy Christmas presents for her grandkids.

I'm so tired of it. I am so, so tired of cleaning up other people's messes. I am so tired of always having to hold it together. I am so tired of constantly trying to figure out what to do while also knowing there's nothing I can do because I cannot control my brother and I cannot control my mother.

I am so fucking exhausted. I'm just so god damn tired.

Anyway. Sorry for the personal dump. And thanks for listening.

#personal #rant #im so fucking tired

[philyaoi]

I need to know why and how you were anti-phannie from 2014-2016

alright here we go i get to talk about THIS shit now.

i was generally anti-rpf at that point, and honestly? i think it was for fair enough reasons as some people were a bit too eager about showing (general) youtubers stories they wrote about them sucking and fucking their friends. i think i was also pretty high and mighty about being a somewhat oldhead phannie tbh, like ugh do these gaming-channel-only people even know about dan being super edgy and offensive 🙄 and lowkey it was a lot of subtly misogynistic "i'm not like other girls" type shit like i was sooo much better than yall cuz i hadn't watched that video (yet.)

i was generally not into these sorts of fandoms to begin with. i wasnt on the superwhopotterlock side, i was on the homestuck/dangan ronpa/anime of the month side of tumblr, if that gives you an idea of what i was like lol. around 2014-15 i was very much in a community that is kinda similar to what you might see on twitter now, where if you had any interests in media that portrayed anything problematic, that means you are in full support of that problematic thing. if dan howell said something racist in 2010, it doesn't matter that he wasn't being racist in 2015 he's still racist and liking him makes you a racist etc. and of course, rpf is included in problematic topics. if you ship real people, even if said people say they don't mind it, you are a sick pervert and you should be in the loony bin for being so depraved. and if you write or read any fiction that has immoral acts, it means you support those acts in real life too and you are trying to normalize abuse and SA (yknow as if whitecishetpatriarchy hasnt normalized that enough) and you're a danger to children and you deserve to rot in prison (yknow as if a queer person writing stories about queer people hasnt heard that one before)

now here's the real kicker. in 2015-2017 i ran a game grumps fan blog where i did talk about shipping the grumps. "wait how were you anti-rpf if-" well have you ever heard of this thing called Lying? or perhaps even, Cognitive Dissonance? i HAD to run a separate blog for this interest, because if my friends knew i consumed slashfic about arin and danny they would stop being friends with me and think im this evil horrible monster etc. genuinely that was where my brain was at, and is a little bit the reason i decided to this day, to make my phannie accounts completely separate from my main accounts.

nowadays, none of my non-phannie friends actually give a fuck and i do occasionally talk about dnp being silly gay white boys w them! at this point i dont post about em on main just out of respect like "hey im sure you dont actually want to hear about british yaoi constantly regardless of our level of friendship so i'll keep it over here okay?"

also, yeah i grew out of thinking consuming media with deplorable acts makes me deplorable. my favorite tv show is hannibal. i know its shocking, but i dont actually support serial killer cannibals. i will say, i dont fuck with "pro/anti" language with regards to what is considered "problematic" or having that be an identity marker. i think that people are free to write fiction as they please so long as its all properly tagged for people who dont enjoy that kind of content to avoid. but i also think there can be and often are problems in the way these stories are written, and yeah if all the romance stories you read growing up involve some sort of force or danger, that CAN normalize this sort of action as inherent to romance stories/real life romance. but i think thats an issue with like, society at large, and it's not on an individual fic writer to be educating teens who read their dead dove fic despite the explicit rating and tags.

TL;DR: BASICALLY. I WAS A DUMBASS KNOW-IT-ALL BUT DW I GOT BETTER.

#myrambles #sorry for party yapping

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Combine mafia & sugar daddy thx

Remember when Maura thought it would be nice if she and Jane followed in the footsteps of their fathers and Jane was like "but then I'd be a plumber and you'd be a mob boss"?

Jane looked up at the compound home she’d found herself every weekday for the past two months, with her red caddy in her right hand. Well, to be fair, she’d spent more than a handful of weeknights in it, when most of her weekdays were spent in the new construction on the back lot, laying pipe with her flighty, dumbass brother on their father’s crew. 

There’d been a few Super Mario jokes from the mouth-breathing muscle men around the property, but Doyle himself had been professional. Business-minded, with a side of I’ll-crack-your-knees-if-you-miss-deadlines and micromanaging. 

Yeah - somehow, Frank Rizzoli had procured a long term job on Paddy-fucking-Doyle’s new house, the one for the new wife who was an old flame that stuck by his side through his most recent stint in prison. Jane, at thirty-five with her own controlling stake in the Rizzoli and Sons outfit, despite not being a son, had agreed to help her father out of pity and a little bit of fear, not for herself but for the physical well-being of her father. She didn’t ask questions when he called her up to put her own job on hold for the favor, because she didn’t want to know how her father even struck up enough of a conversation with Doyle to put his name in as a respectable plumber. Not that he wasn’t, not that they weren’t, of course. It was just… the stakes had never been so high.

And yet, when the door opened on Jane, silhouetting her against the bath of light from the entryway, neither had the compensation. The rewards. “Hi,” she drawled, her smile drawn in and crooked like she had some secret she was proud of. She did, she supposed, when she was greeted in kind.

“Hi there,” Maura Doyle, Paddy’s very rich, very gorgeous daughter in charge of the gambling portion of his empire, clasped her hands in front of her hips, in front of the navy blue dress hugging those hips so as to leave nothing to the imagination. She pursed her lips just before she beckoned Jane in with a hand outstretched toward the staircase behind her. “It’s upstairs.”

Jane’s eyes followed the ass they’d been following since she first saw Maura eight weeks prior, showcased in that dress like a fucking work of art. She would have felt out of place in her plaster dusted jeans, Rizzoli and Sons t-shirt, utility belt, and worn Red Wing boots, if Maura hadn’t seen her in it all before.

If Maura hadn’t pulled her into the main house to be fucked on the basis of those clothes alone several times.

“Kinda fortuitous that this bathroom sink craps out on you while we’re all in the middle of a huge job, huh?” Jane snarked when Maura stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to face her. “Don’t really have to worry about going out and bookin’ a plumber.”

“Well, I pay you in other ways,” Maura countered, her visage narrowing and her fingers reaching for Jane’s collar. She let her gaze linger on the pipe fitters in Jane’s caddy just before she led her to a door to their left. “Right over here.”

___

“Your envelope… is already on the counter…downstairs…” Maura panted at her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror of the small bathroom to which she’d lured Jane, and with her palm pressed against the glass, her breasts bounced extra enticingly in time with Jane’s rhythm. It wasn’t fast, untenable, but deep, the hip-bucking of passion consummated after having been deferred. Her dress, too tight to allow Jane’s fingers anywhere near her sex, pooled at her feet with her heels still on, mingling with Jane’s pants in a pile on the floor. Jane’s tools and pipe fittings laid forgotten around them, the open cabinet leading to the guts of the sink contributing to the ambience of the situation. To its sexuality.

Jane kissed her shoulder, used one hand to spread Maura farther apart by the hip and the other to dive knuckle deep into wetness. “Don’t talk about money while I’m in you, Maura. Makes me feel dirty,” growled Jane. She ground her pelvis against Maura’s ass, angled just right against the round of flesh there to get some delightful friction. 

“It’s not like I’m paying you for this…” Maura turned her head back as she spoke, and Jane couldn’t resist the kiss her swollen lips begged for. “TJ needs tuition, my love… and I am… an ardent supporter of, oh. Early childhood education.”

“I’m supposed to think you’re doin’ it outta the kindness of your own heart?” Jane teased, with a vicious upstroke and thumb pressure right on Maura’s clit. 

“My heart, my vagina, my pocketbook, can’t it be all of the above?” Maura matched Jane blow for blow, arching her spine in dual purpose: to prolong the ascent of her pleasure and to give Jane more resistance to rub on. 

“How much does the heart part mean when the boss finds out his daughter’s been bankrolling the plumber’s nephew’s catholic school?” Jane slowed, and contemplated the possible consequences. The outcomes. None of them seemed good. 

“Honestly he’d probably be angrier that I’m fucking the plumber,” said Maura. When Jane ceased entirely, Maura kissed her again, reaching down between her own legs to pluck Jane from inside. Softly, sweetly, entwining their fingers before she turned around. Jane stretched out her arms and pressed both hands against the lip of the vanity’s countertop, which encased Maura in a rather pleasant cage: the rigid heat of Jane’s body against her front, the cool bite of the granite on her lower back. “Hey,” she soothed, wrapping her arms around Jane’s shoulders. She leaned against the counter more fully and pulled Jane close to her. Jane acquiesced with a wet, heavy kiss while she palmed Maura’s backside. “What’s wrong? Hmm? Hasn’t this always been how things are between us?”

Jane didn’t want to name her problem out loud, because that would mean naming her desire for Maura beyond just sex. That would mean admitting to the want. The want grew when their legs tangled closer together. “Yeah I guess so,” she grumbled.

“Would you rather me pay you personally? Buy you expensive things?”

“I’d rather you not spend any money at all, Mob princess,” Jane told her, but in the safety of the crook of her neck.

Maura shivered at the breath tickling the space under her ear. “We can discuss that. But I meant what I said. I want your nephew to get the education he deserves, and… I suppose a fund could be arranged.”

Jane stared for a long time, trying to ascertain Maura’s veracity. She frowned until she saw it, and then she pressed her lips to Maura’s to show she believed her. “I can’t ever repay you for all this.”

“Sure you can,” replied Maura saucily. “You can fix this sink after you take me to bed.”

Jane blinked rapidly, dropping her arms to her sides. “Wait. It’s really backed up?”

It was Maura’s turn to be confused. “Yes. Why would I lie?”

“I thought… I thought it was just a ruse to get me up here,” Jane croaked.

“Look at us,” said Maura, eyeing their various states of undress, hers total. “Do you think I would need a ruse to get you here? Have I before? Now I meant what I said, take me to bed - you can finish the job later.”

“O-ok,” Jane agreed, pulling her pants around her waist when Maura extracted herself from their embrace and carried her dress over her shoulder down the hall.

#ask anthrofreshtodeath #otp prompts march 2023

[sjsmith56]

Third Date

Summary: Bucky, called out for a mission, ghosts Holly on his return, making her think he doesn’t care. When Sam comes to get her and take her to him he tells her what happened on the mission that affected Bucky. Before they can plan the third date there are things that have to be said.

Length: 4.1K

Characters: Bucky, Holly, Sam

Warnings: Angst, Bucky’s anxiety and negative self-talk, ghosting.

Author’s notes: I didn’t plan for this to become a therapy session but sometimes that’s where the writing takes you. Sam is kind of the voice of reason in this with his “just talk about it” attitude. Thought it fitting since he’s the one who composed and sent the original text asking Holly out on Bucky’s behalf. This is the final instalment of this story.

First date Second date

🌆 🌇 🌃

Holly

It had been almost three weeks since Ivy and I last saw Steve and Bucky. Pulled away on a mission just a few days after that amazing double date we had, meant that other than video calls or texts neither one of us had heard from the guys. About a week into the mission Bucky stopped calling. Then Ivy got a text from Steve a few days later that he was coming back in the next day. I had heard nothing from Bucky, and he didn’t respond to my texts or calls, which bothered me as I thought we had something really special starting. Two days after Steve’s supposed return, as I left work there was a truck parked across the street from the building and I recognized the man leaning against the truck. He waved, looked both ways then ran across the traffic.

“Hi, Holly,” he asked. “Remember me? I’m Sam Wilson, Bucky’s friend. We met at Coney Island. I’m here to get you.”

“I haven’t heard from him in a while,” I replied. “Steve came back, but Bucky hasn’t even called.”

Sam smiled sympathetically. “I know, and he’s sorry but something happened and he kind of swore Steve to secrecy. I think they’re both being dumbasses about it, so I made an executive decision. Do you want to see him?”

Maybe it was the sincere expression on his face or the fact he called both guys dumbasses, but something said I could trust Sam. I nodded and he guided me safely across the street, holding the door of his truck open for me. As I settled in while he started it, he glanced sympathetically at me.

“This was a really hard mission for Bucky,” he said. “One of the bases where he was experimented on in the 1950s was rebuilt and they were kidnapping kids, performing experiments on them against their will. This is classified, by the way, so don’t go telling anyone.”

“Is he alright?” I was worried now.

Even though I didn’t know all the details of when Bucky was held prisoner by HYDRA, I knew the basics; that he was experimented on, tortured and forced to kill for them. I could only imagine if he found kids in the same predicament how it might trigger his PTSD.

“He’s better but the whole thing took its toll on him,” said Sam. “He sometimes has a hard time dealing with the emotions it brings up in him. In fact, after they got the kids out, he went back on his own and started trashing the place. I mean literally tearing it apart and it kind of collapsed around him. He was trapped for a day which didn’t help matters. Steve, Thor and Tony were able to get him out, but he had injuries and spent the last few days in a healing cradle back at the Tower. He was released yesterday, and we encouraged him to call you but he’s sure you want nothing to do with him after he, well, ghosted you.”

“You care about him,” I stated. “He said you’re a major pain in the ass, but you do care.”

“I do tease him a lot and maybe I shouldn’t because it’s over things that he doesn’t know about, being a guy from the 1940s,” admitted Sam. “But I hate seeing him miserable and he’s miserable right now, thinking that he blew his chances with you.”

I didn’t say anything to that because I did feel like he ghosted me. Even though I was still mad, I was more disappointed that he wouldn’t let me know he had messed up. As Sam drove from Brooklyn towards Midtown, he asked me more about myself. We found some common ground as Ivy and I were from a fishing community, although we were from the west coast, and he was from Louisiana, co-owner of a fishing boat with his sister. As we got closer to our destination, I got the feeling he was also helping me calm down somewhat as he seemed to have the knack of affirming my negative emotions about being ghosted while encouraging me to be sympathetic to Bucky. I almost laughed when he pulled into the parking garage at Avengers Tower and parked the truck before giving me some advice.

“Just don’t beat him up too bad,” he said. “Tell him how his behaviour made you feel but give him a way to make amends for it.”

“You were a counsellor in a previous life, weren’t you?” I asked. “You’ve been preparing me to deal with him.”

He grinned and shrugged. “I counselled veterans for a time, but I did this because I like you and you make him happy. He still needs to own his mistakes, but he also needs to be led like a kid to see the brighter side of things.”

We entered the elevator, stopping at the lobby so that I could get registered for a friend security ID that would allow me to return almost any time. From there we went to another elevator, and he asked for a certain floor. A female voice came out of nowhere and greeted me by name. I looked at Sam, recognizing the voice from the car that Steve picked us up in for the double date.

“That’s the AI, Friday,” he explained. “You can ask her anything, and I mean anything.”

“Friday, should I forgive Bucky Barnes for ghosting me?” I asked facetiously.

“Sergeant Barnes is a man who still deals with his emotions like many men born at the same time as him,” said the AI, immediately. “It may seem frustrating to a modern woman that he would keep himself closed off, not wishing to inflict what he sees as his flaws on you. However, he is also loyal, faithful, sincere, and according to an analysis of masculine beauty standards is considered to fit in the higher percentile of attractive men, although he seems unaware of that. Based on those factors, forgiveness should be considered.”

I looked at Sam while he grinned at me. “I’m still thinking about it,” I said.

The doors opened to a floor, and we stepped out. There was a common room with a kitchen attached, as well as a large communal table. Several people were gathered around it and watched me as I got off the elevator. We turned in the other direction towards what I assumed were the living quarters. It was bright, large, and I had the feeling that the apartment I was going to was going to be considerably larger than the small flat that I lived in, the same flat that Bucky lived in just a few months previously. Knocking on one of the doors, Sam tentatively opened it and stuck his head inside then he stepped back out.

“Not there,” he said. “He’s not cleared for working out yet so he’s likely in one of his thinking spots. Back to the elevator. Friday, where is Sergeant Barnes?”

She told him and this time we took the elevator to the top, getting out on the roof of the Avengers Tower. I was expecting it to be cool and windy up there, but it was actually kind of nice and warm, without being hot. Sam told me where to go then he left me there. Taking a breath, I walked along the decking towards an assortment of patio furniture. Bucky was sitting on a lounge chair that looked out over the Manhattan skyline. As I approached, I could see that he was aware of someone coming closer.

“I said I don’t want to be bothered,” he called out, looking to the side. “Just leave me alone.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I answered, and he jumped off the chaise.

“Holly,” he whispered. “How did you ….”

“Sam came for me,” I answered. There were all sorts of questions I wanted to ask him, but Sam had said to lead with how his ghosting made me feel. “You didn’t call or text, and I thought you were ending it with me, before we even had a chance to see where this goes. That really hurt, Bucky.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, looking sad. “I was dealing with some things, not very well either, and I thought I could handle them by myself.”

“So I heard. You got hurt.”

“Yeah.” He looked down at his hands. I stepped closer but he stepped away. “I’m not worth it, not really.”

“Not worth what?”

He ran his hands through his hair, which had grown out a bit in the few weeks since I saw him. His stubble was noticeable, making me wonder if that was a super soldier thing.

“Love. I’m broken, Holly. When things get too much, I have a hard time. It’s not fair for someone as amazing as you to be tied down to someone like me.”

“I thought we were just dating,” I stated. “Kind of early for love.”

“Guys I served with got married after just a few days of dating,” he answered. “They were the lucky ones. Had someone waiting at home for them. I didn’t.”

“If you met me in 1940, would you have dated me?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I would have taken you to dinner and dancing. We would go for walks in the park, sit on the benches in the shadows and make out. I would have given you a ring, so you would wait for me. My therapist said it doesn’t work like that anymore. You need time to get to know someone, to find out if you can add them to your life.”

He looked out over the skyline, and I never thought I saw someone so beautiful as him, at that moment. There was something vulnerable, and hopeful, but also sad about him, how he kept himself deliberately apart.

“My last boyfriend said I would be prettier if I lost 20 pounds,” I said. “The one before him said I was too needy which was weird because I only saw him every two weeks and he always phoned me. Before him there were several that basically told me I didn’t measure up to their ideal woman. With you, I’ve only ever felt beautiful, and appreciated, and loved. You’re not broken, Bucky, not if you know how to make me feel like something to be cherished and you do. We all have baggage and not all scars are physical but they’re still there. The only thing that heals them is time and love. I have the time and I definitely have the love just waiting for the right guy to return it to me. I want that guy to be you.”

“Really? Even with only two dates?”

“When you know you know,” I smiled. “We can go on as many dates as you want before we say anything but I’m just asking that you don’t sabotage us by thinking you’re not worth it because you are. You’re definitely boyfriend material and maybe more with the right woman.”

He just stood there, looking everywhere but at me so I came closer until I was right in front of him. There are so many romantic movies that use the same trope of when the heroine, who’s been unlucky in love, finally finds the strength to confront the hero, who’s either been busy with saving the world or just not realizing that the woman who is looking up at him at that moment is the one who wants to be with him. I felt like I was in one of those scenes right then and there. The sun was low in the west, casting a golden glow over Manhattan. We were alone on a skyscraper and a light breeze was gently blowing the tendrils of my hair across my face. Bucky, so handsome, with his chiseled features and those eyes, those damn fine blue eyes that changed with his emotions, were bright but sad. We were so close together that I could feel the heat coming from his body. Right now, those eyes were looking at me as if I held his fate in my hands.

“I’m afraid of hurting you,” he whispered, then he lifted his left hand, looking at it as if it were something alien. “When I have a nightmare, I don’t know my own strength and I panic. I could really hurt you if I hit you.”

“When you slept over the last time we saw each other did you have a nightmare?” I asked.

“No, but I was pretty relaxed,” he admitted. “I often get my nightmares after a mission, especially ones that trigger memories for me.”

Raising my hand, I tentatively touched his left arm, running my hand down to his hand, then supporting it as I caressed his palm.

“One of my friends went through a tough time after she left an abusive relationship,” I said. “Touch was really difficult for her, and she had nightmares as well, horrible ones where she would cower into herself and not let anyone touch her. At first, we didn’t understand, and we would try to hug her against her wishes. She would hit out in a panic to keep us from touching her. I got a few black eyes and quite a few bruises from her hits.”

He was still letting me touch his palm and I ran my hand back up to his shoulder, feeling the seam of the metal where it met the flesh of his body. For several moments he tensed, and his breathing became a little erratic, so I stopped but left my fingers on the spot, gently circling it with just a single fingertip.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low.

“What we did for her to help her learn to trust again,” I said in my softest voice. “It wasn’t anything a therapist recommended. It was just something our circle of friends hoped would help. In a pleasant situation we started with little touches and caresses, while speaking gently to her, desensitizing her panic response. It took time but after a while when she had a nightmare, she was able to let us comfort her physically with hugs. The best part is that the panic attacks decreased.” His breathing had eased as I explained while still gently rubbing that circle on his shoulder. “I’m still touching the part of your shoulder where you reacted just a few minutes ago but now your breathing is normal and you’re not tense.”

I stopped but kept my hand there. He took a deep breath and looked up to the sky for a moment then back at me.

“I’m still afraid,” he said. “I like you so much and the thought of it becoming more is so appealing but if I hurt you, it will send me deeper into the darkness.”

“Then we have a safe word,” I suggested. “I know most people think of it as something sexual to draw a boundary so that a partner doesn’t go too far but it can also be used in a situation involving emotional upheaval, a way to say back off so that the person with you knows that you’re at the limit of your control.”

“Kind of hard when I’m still in between dreaming and waking up,” answered Bucky, then he became thoughtful. “Although, if I get the idea implanted in my consciousness maybe it’s something that I’ll be able to blurt out and you can get away from me.”

“A therapist can suggest it as a post-hypnotic command,” I mused, then saw the look of panic on his face. “Okay, or not. It might be something that we work on. If you’re really stressed after a mission, just send me a text with the word and I’ll know you’re not ghosting me, just dealing with things. I can respect that. When you’re ready I’ll be around. Just don’t shut me out, Bucky. It hurt.”

“I’m so sorry.” He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face in my neck. “I missed you and I’m so sorry I let my fear keep me from talking to you.”

I squeezed him back, feeling the impact of his worry for me. It was obvious that I meant something to him. Just as I was about to tell him something he released me. His face was more alive as he looked down at me.

“We have to go out,” he said. “Third date. Anything you want.”

I looked out over the view from where we were.

“Can we just sit up here and watch the sunset first?” I asked. “I’ve never been on a building this high to see that before. Then, maybe we can go for pizza or something and go for a walk after?”

He smiled at me then and I felt like my insides had turned warm and mushy.

“We can do that,” he agreed.

He led me over to the assortment of patio furniture that was there. Arranging the pieces together so that we could recline and see the sunset he helped me on then sat beside me. With his arm around me, while basking in the warmth that I drew from his body it was almost perfect.

Bucky

I almost lost her; lost her before I could tell her how incredible she was. I almost lost her because I fell into my old trap of withdrawing into myself whenever it got too hard to deal with my past. As we were at that base, with the sounds, sights, and smells that I remembered from when HYDRA had me, assaulting me constantly while we dealt with the small army that was there, all I could think of was this wasn’t real. Real was falling asleep next to Holly on her couch, then waking up next to her when the sun poured into that tiny flat that had felt like a dormitory to me when I lived there. But Holly had made it a home, with plants and pictures, cushions and throw blankets that had me wanting to be there with her, more than I ever wanted to be there before. She did that, gave me a sense that I could have a future with someone, with her. Then I had to almost blow it by ghosting her because the pain of what we found in that base brought so much anger and fear; nothing that I wanted to taint her with.

As we watched the sunset; rather she watched the sunset while I watched her, I thanked whatever god there was that gave me Sam for a friend. Steve was willing to let me wallow in my misery, not wanting to impose his will on mine, thinking he was being kind. But Sam went right to what I needed. He went and got Holly, bringing her back to the Tower so that I could draw some strength from her. How could one woman be so strong, and make me feel so weak, but in a good way? Weak in that I wanted to please her, to follow her lead, to be vulnerable with her in a way that I never was before with a woman. That’s what I felt with Holly, not like the jacked up enhanced human that HYDRA made me but just a guy who thought he might be in love with this girl.

“It’s so beautiful,” she said as the sun dipped behind the buildings. “Different than a sunset over the ocean but beautiful just the same.” She noticed I wasn’t watching the sunset. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m agreeing with you,” is what came out of my mouth.

I meant to say that she was beautiful, but it got tangled up with her comment about the sunset. It didn’t matter because her face glowed as she blushed, and I felt it deep inside of me. As the sun sunk lower to the horizon, obscured by the other Manhattan buildings and the clouds spread out, the orange colour deepened then dissipated as the indigo blue of night seeped into the sky. The solar lights up top came on and we found ourselves in the dark, except for the little pools of white light that would guide us back to the elevator. I shifted to get up, remembering that I said we could go for pizza, but she put her hand on my chest. No words were required as I bent my head to hers and kissed her. The touch of her soft hands on my neck and hair felt like heaven while she tasted like honey. With my arms I pulled her close, wanting to mold my body to hers. Without even thinking I whispered to her.

“Stay with me tonight.”

It was too late to take it back, but I didn’t regret saying it. Being close to her in as many ways possible had already occurred to me before I regressed and her keeping me on this soft chair with her indicated that perhaps she felt the same way. She could have given me any number of excuses not to stay; work, no extra clothes, too soon … but none of those came out of her lips.

“Alright.”

That one word almost sent me over the edge. After all that I had done to sabotage our relationship from going any further she liked me enough (maybe even more) to say yes, to agreeing to stay with me. I would have asked her to marry me at that moment; following in the footsteps of so many soldiers in World War II who met and married the right girl in a few weeks or less. Then she made me laugh with her next words.

“Can we get the pizza first? I’m starving.”

“Me too,” I replied. “I haven’t eaten well since I started the mission. Come on.”

This time Holly let me help her off of the chaise and we walked, hand in hand, to the elevator. Just before we got there I stopped and caressed her face. An idea had formed in my mind, and I wanted to share it before we left the rooftop.

“I think I know the safe word, but I don’t want to use it to keep you away. I want you to use it on me so that I know you’re close and that you care about me and then maybe I’ll feel safe enough to stop panicking.”

“What is it?” she asked.

“Sunset,” I replied, looking back at where we had watched it together. “It will remind me of being here with you and feeling … loved.”

“Sunset,” she repeated, smiling softly. “I like that.”

We went down to the common room, partly to let them know I was better, but I also wanted the others to formally meet Holly. She showed me that Sam set her up with a friend's security ID that would allow her access to the Avengers level of the building, meaning she could drop in almost any time. Both Steve and Sam came to give her a hug and we sat talking with the others for a while. Then I stood up and took her by the hand.

“We’re going out for some pizza, somewhere close,” I said. “Kind of our third date.” She squeezed my hand and smiled at me, so I made a leap in logic. “You’re welcome to come with us, if you want. We can make an evening of it.”

“I should go pick up Ivy then,” said Steve. “Don’t want her feeling left out.”

We waited while the others got ready, and I leaned down close. “That’s what you signalled, right?”

A big smile crossed her face. “Yeah, I kind of want to get to know the people you’re around the most. That’s alright, isn’t it?”

“It’s perfect.”

It was perfect and I was actually looking forward to it, to being with Holly, and my friends. Being alone seemed easy but it wasn’t. It just isolated me further and now that I had Holly, I wanted more of what I once had; good friends, good times, and maybe one day, someone to come home to, someone to be my tether to life and love. By the time we got down to the street level and headed to the nearest pizzeria I knew for sure who I wanted it to be. With Holly’s hand in mine, I felt hopeful, and hope was a good thing.

If you liked this one shot please like, comment, or reblog.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes oneshot #dates with super soldiers #third date #ghosting #dumbasses in love

[torpidgilliver]

reclaimers’ rights (or, the law of salvage)

first chapter of a murderbot fic i probably wont continue under the cut. written for whumptober (originally the idea came for day 20: prisoner exchange, but it sort of wound up not fitting that or anything. im calling it day 25: lost voice just so i can offload it)

It was a treasure buried in a trash heap. More scrap than salvage, but not completely FUBAR—well worth saving. The crew had brought it aboard, all that they could find of the original structure, and stored it with as much care as they took with all of their big finds.

"D'you think Scrappy'd mind if I gave the SecUnit one of its arms?" The question has to fight through an oversized bite of half-thawed soy dumpling to escape Ramirez's mouth. He swallows and adds, "Just as a loaner, obviously. Even Scrappy's shortest arm is going to unbalance it a bit, but it's not super helpful with just the one."

Hawthorne shrugs. "Scrappy doesn't much mind anything, but the SecUnit might."

On cue, the polite tone flows through the feed: Your contract prohibits modification or vandalism of your SecUnit. Violations will be punished by a fine of or equivalent to—

"We don't have a contract," Hawthrone interrupts mildly, not bothering to look up from their meal.

"And we don't have any fucking money, either." Maida punctuates her statement by letting her tray clatter onto the table, then thumping heavily into her seat. "Thanks to you, Myles."

Ramirez's thoughtful pout becomes a petulant one. "Hey, it's not like I dumped all our cash for no reason. Mooney needed new stabilizers! Or would you rather sleep strapped to your bunk, and take a shit into a—"

“Not at the table.” Hawthorne doesn’t have to raise their voice to command the attention of their crewmates. “It’s too early, and my caffeine hasn’t kicked in yet.”

The two have the good sense to look abashed, for nearly two full seconds. Then Ramirez spears another dumpling on his chopsticks, shovels it into his mouth, and barely chews before swallowing. "Anyway," he continues, "we got a good haul on 'B2. Once we offload it, we’ll be back in the red again.”

Maida snorts derisively. “That’s ‘in the black,’ dumbass.”

Hawthorne raises their cup of burnt coffee with a sigh. “I can’t believe your parents didn’t murder you both in childhood.”

“Not for lack of trying!” 

While the spirited breakfast conversation continues in the galley, elsewhere the mood is more mellow. In the spare bunkroom designated for overflow storage, Scrappy is singing. It wasn’t originally constructed with musicality in mind—or, at least, no significant portion of it was. It’s a chimeric assemblage of functional bits rescued from otherwise nonfunctional bots, and it’s not common practice to bestow personality upon product. Nevertheless, sometime between Maida installing the heatsink taken from the home maintenance drone and Ramirez attaching the fifth arm, Scrappy found a song in itself. The tune is sharp, as with no vocal speakers it makes due with the catalog of beeps, clicks, hums, and whistles that its parts can produce. It also hasn’t yet gotten the hang of the concept of varying verse. The result is seven distinct notes, composed into a sixteen measure-long chorus. Repetitive and a little grating for listeners with organic ears, but still undeniably cheerful. 

It sings as it works, its cluster of arms sorting salvaged junk neatly into crates. The concept of taking pride in a task is a bit too abstract for Scrappy to process, but it feels an analog of satisfaction as it seals up the final box. It announces task complete into the general feed, and is treated to an acknowledged:standby from Hawthorne. 

This is the point where Scrappy would ordinarily begin making rounds of the ship, picking up loose objects and sorting them into the appropriate receptacles, (Its crew disagrees with it sometimes on which receptacles are appropriate. Maida has tried to ban it from her bunkroom on multiple occasions, as it holds the unshakeable belief that the plush fauna-shaped object she carelessly leaves tangled in her sheets belongs in the galley storage unit.) but it has self-assigned a new task to its typical processes. 

Scrappy pings the second member of its cohort of two, and sends, query:status?

The 9.1 second-long delay on the response might concern a more complex bot, but Scrappy takes the replied status=optimal on its face. It has no reason not to; despite her best efforts, Maida hasn’t managed to teach it about the nuances of sarcasm. With the registration of task:verify status=complete, Scrappy exits the storeroom, folding in its arms and ducking its head to fit through the hatchway. 

“Besides the usual supplies and a new card for the synchronizer, is there anything else we need?” Hawthorne pushes their breakfast tray away to lean one elbow on the table. “And I do mean need, as in cannot leave port without. A download pass for whatever the newest survival game is doesn’t qualify.”

Ramirez half-rises from his seat to reach Hawthorne’s surrendered tray and starts transferring leftovers onto his own plate. “The SecUnit needs a new cell pack,” he announces. “The one it’s got is leaking, it can’t hold a charge for more than a few hours. Its cardiac pump isn’t looking so great either, but I’ll have to put together a new one from whatever I can find. And if we want it to be able to shoot stuff, I’m going to have to replace the hinges in its weapon release.”

“And if we ever want to sleep without having nightmares, it needs a mask.” Maida shudders. “It’d be creepy enough with a whole human face. With what’s left, it looks like a monster.”

“It’s not its fault!” Ramirez points his chopsticks at Maida sternly. “You only think that it’s creepy because of that one horror movie.”

“Can you blame me?”

“Yes!”

“The SecUnit’s physical appearance isn’t a priority.” Once again, Hawthorne controls the conversation without any outward effort. “But if it’ll put you more at ease, Maida, maybe you can name it. That worked well enough with Scrappy.”

The aforementioned junk bot ambles into the galley at that moment. Two of its longer arms sweep across the table to collect Hawthorne’s and Maida’s empty plates, while Ramirez draws his close to protect his unfinished meal. 

“SecUnits don’t need names.” Maida sits back and fumbles in her jacket pocket for her package of nicotine gum. “It’s lucky that it’s not going in the sale pile with everything else we found.”

“Lucky!” Ramirez bounces in his seat. “That’s perfect, sib! Hey, SecUnit, Lucky! What d’you think?” 

The question is addressed to the open intercom on the far wall, but the response comes through the feed again: I’m sorry, I do not have enough information to process your request.

Hawthorne frowns and taps their fingernails against their mug. “Has it said anything apart from its stock phrases since we brought it onboard?”

“No.” Maida pops two tablets of gum into her mouth. “Not since I repaired its governor module. Honestly, that’s creepier than the face. I liked it better when it was swearing at me.”

“There’s probably a subroutine or something that can be switched off. Or however that works.”

“I’ll take a look again.” She pushes up from her seat. “Not like I have anything more interesting to do until we get to port.”

Ramirez pauses with the last dumpling halfway to his mouth. “You need any hardware help?” Maida shakes her head.

“I’m just going to fuck around a little and see what there is to see in its systems. I’ll tap you if I find something.” Hawthorne nods, Ramirez sees her off with a jovial salute, and Scrappy whistles the first few notes of its work song at her back. 

Maida takes the rungs of the ladder three at a time and drops the last few feet to the lower deck. The hold is a mess, mid-sized mountains of salvage and scrap peaking out of open crates in a defiant victory over Scrappy's inability to squeeze its bulky chassis down the ladder shaft. It's also sweltering hot, with the engines heating the far wall. She shrugs out of her jacket and ties the sleeves around her waist as she picks and kicks her way through the maze of junk that's fallen to the floor.

"When I'm done with you, you're going to have to make yourself useful," she announces as she approaches the slumped form in the corner. "You only need one arm to put shit in boxes."

They'd found the SecUnit buried beneath thirty feet of stone and slag on a condemned post-colonial planet. There was no telling how long it had been abandoned there, and when Ramirez had asked it—rhetorically, as he tended to ask the ship how it was doing and Scrappy whether it had any music recommendations—the apparently inert construct had ground out a halting "None of your fucking business" in retort.

It had been too heavy for the three of them to drag onto the hovercart themselves, and Scrappy wasn't really dexterous enough to be delicate; Most of the right leg had fallen off when it had hoisted the battered body out of the rubble. Ramirez had been confident that that would be a quick fix, and it was, just not a good one. There were a lot of proprietary little pieces that the crew just couldn't replicate with what they had on hand, and the ultimate result was that the SecUnit's leg was held together with an industrial tape cast. Ramirez was proud just to have gotten it (theoretically) mobile. Not that it was grateful.

I am a SecUnit, manufactured for exclusive use by the company and contracted clients. SecUnits serve the dual purpose of protecting both your employees and your investment. 

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You weren't built to be a maintenance bot." Maida drops to her knees beside it and opens her toolsuite in the feed. "I wasn't built to be a scrapper, either, but you were listening in on us a minute ago. You're lucky to be anything at all, after whatever happened to you."

I am a SecUnit, manufactured for exclusive use by the company and con—

"Shut up," Maida tells it, more advice than admonishment. The flat feed voice aborts mid-syllable. "You were a SecUnit. Now you're, well." She sits her weight back against her feet. "Myles is right. You're just Lucky now."

During the mostly one-sided exchange, the SecUnit has staunchly refused to move a millimeter of any part of its body. When Maida uses its new name, though, its eyes cut sharply to her own. It doesn't have enough face left to glare at her, but she still gets the message.

"Don't look at me like that. The name wasn't my idea." 

She speaks gently, at least by her standards, but the SecUnit twitches as it averts its eyes. Maida cracks her gum thoughtfully.

"That shouldn't have set off the governor. Guess I need to adjust the sensitivity."  

It flinches again, and 'thoughtful' becomes 'skeptical.'

"Something's fucky," she announces. "Let me get in there and see if I can't find it."

With a sound between a rusty hinge and a snapping bone, the SecUnit rotates its jaw.

"You—" The flinch is pronounced this time, an unmistakable jolt. Maida feels a sympathy pang in spite of herself.

"Chill." She can't manage a reassuring tone, so she goes brusque instead. "I'll turn down the voltage, or whatever. Then you can get started pulling your stupid heavy weight around here."

The jaw grinds again, but the voice comes through the feed, all smooth customer service. You do not have the necessary qualifications to perform maintenance on this unit. Please submit your claim through the company to determine whether your warranty qualifies you for discounted repairs or replacements.

"I don't think whatever half-bankrupt contractor it was that used to own you would give enough of a shit to change your coolant." Maida opens a new worktable and taps the feed. "Let me in."

As a human, it's beyond Maida's ability to perceive the SecUnit's 0.7 second hesitation, but she can't miss the convulsion.

"Seriously." She cracks her gum at it. "I kinda feel sorry for you. It's sort of like a human being laid up in medical, huh?"

The eyes lock on hers again. Projectile weapon to her head, Maida would swear that nothing has genuinely frightened her since approaching her parent after getting kicked out of pre-vocational school. Still, though, she can't suppress a shudder.

Company-patented constructs are manufactured using cloned human tissue, it tells her, maintaining its polite tones in the most unnerving lecture Maida has ever gotten. However, unlike humans, constructs are incapable of free thought or sincere emotion. For the physical and mental wellbeing of company clients, personifying and/or bonding with your contracted SecUnit is strongly discouraged.

"Way afuckinghead of you. My mental wellbeing is already beyond saving." Maida shuffles through the mess of the SecUnit's archives, tracing back the path she'd taken to stitch up its corrupted software. "But I wasn't planning to invite you to movie night, anyway. You don't look like much of a media connoisseur."

"Fffffffuck you."

The whole upper body spasms. Maida smiles without humor.

"More of that," she tells it. "But not right now. Lucky, go to sleep and let me work."

The eyes don't have lids to close. Maida tracks Lucky's power down sequence by the dimming light behind its pupils.

#murderbot #tmbd #fanfic #murderbot fic

[superhell]

sorry about this also please excuse my entirely projecting headcanons that come out when i talk about her my brain has latched onto her and treats her like a fidget toy i'm far too attached to her but the more i watch s8 i wish adams had been allowed to stay as directly crazy as she was in ep 1. she's never even heard of house before and he talks to her for like five minutes total on day one all of which consists of in some way calling her a dumbass and she decides he's her upgraded dad and she won't listen to anyone else ever again. within two/three days of knowing him she's letting him look at files, was gonna let him collect samples, giving him vicodin. she gets herself in trouble for giving him files and spends a good minute just pouting at him for lying briefly and takes a few hours to sulk over all of it and stubbornly tries to stay in One Of Her Moods at him and fails at it so within a few hours she's dropped it completely and is back to listening to him and only him. she gets herself fired doing his test for him and still manages to get a note smuggled in on his dinner tray just to tell him he was right. she did not know anything about him before meeting him here in prison. what's wrong with her

oh my god... she really was just Like That and then got toned down but its ok bc i know. i Know she was having insane toxic lesbian sex with park.

#cimorene.txt

[orbdotexe]

Hello hi yes it’s me again

Do you have any thoughts on Saladin and Exiled!YW????

This is mostly because Saladin gave them that name and named them the first Iron Lord of the new generation, and also idk if you were gonna make Saladin sit on Caiatl’s council again.

I rambled….

Saladin thoughts 👀

OKAY sorry it took me a bit to get back to this, there were Things TM happening--

BUT YES I DO. so, you might have noticed, but I am Completely Unwell about the sword. Yknow, the one Saladin gave Wolf.

Did I say Zavala thought Wolf was delusional? Well, that mostly comes up after they're unexiled; seeing their reactions, how the interact, their ever-determined face in combat.

Saladin comes to the conclusion in Splicer, when they execute Lakshmi with Howl sheathed on their back.

"This is more than a weapon." "When you wield it, its burning flames represent the bright light of your valor — and the all-consuming sacrifice that you have promised to make, should you be called to it."

"To the first of the new Iron Lords."

Howl was a promise, an oath Wolf accepted -- They still carry it because they still believe they can, and that they will give their life for this.*

And exactly why Saladin believes they've lost their mind.

The Young Wolf was supposed to be a great many things, and Saladin had enough faith in them, that he'd have forgiven Stasis, had the Prison not happened.

*slightly related note: I love the idea that Howl looks like that cracked ornament, Born In Fire. I have yet to figure out an actual reason, but I'm thinking it was cracked either during the initial fight in Forsaken, or at some point during their hunt for Uldren. we love symbolism

To answer the War Council question, yes! Saladin does end up on the Council. Crow still does the Oopsie (though for different reasons, and has a slightly different reaction. I haven't figured out Saladin's reaction yet tho, but I'm thinking that Crow's Happenings aren't fully known, just that the Vanguard is aware he's been investigating Wolf)

okay off-topic here bc I was rereading more things I've written (i'm sorry) and I am actually ill about how much Wolf’s touch starvation spells out their character in TFE.

They want to protect, but they’re afraid to reach out because what if they hurt him? They’re afraid of getting too close, but desperately want the contact… you could flay me and it’d still be healthier for me than this dumbass

#this is not as Lore Essay as your other asks have been bc. i am incapable of being normal about this #if i start waxxing poetic. you KNOW ive thought about it way way WAY too much #the forsaken exile #orb rambles

[k1nky-fool]

Truth of a Parallel

Part 2: My Friend and Me

Masterlist

Miguel O’hara x OC: Elisa Hannen

Pairing: M/F

Per Chapter Rating: Mature

Warnings: Lots of blood described in this chapter. Things are falling apart already! Horray, but we’re on the slow burn bus now, and there are clues and funny little easter eggs everywhere.

Taglist: @gatnalien , @sevikasstressball , @musicmansauxcord , @its-paprika , @2downbad4dilfs

Gif by @prettyoatmeal

-Elisa-

The other side of the portal opened into an almost office building that was built for spiders. Miguel wasn’t lying, this place was wild. Hundreds of spider people, all of them taking the same concept for their vigilante persona, and shifting and molding it until it fits themselves. It was amazing to see.

A band smacked her wrist and Miguel had been the culprit. “Keep that on until you get your own watch.” He warned.

The hairs on her neck stood up at the strange feeling the bracelet was giving off. “Why?”

“It’ll stop you from glitching while outside your universe.”

“Glitching?”

As they walked past, a strange noise came from above, alerting every spider to who was being tortured. Everyone looked like they were waiting for a chance to help the unrecognizable blob of light and gray static, but they couldn’t touch him. A spider-man in a black trenchcoat fell from the pillar he was walking on. He fell to the floor, directly in front of Elisa.

He jumped up in a second, shrugging off the fall and catching his hat out of the air as it took longer to fall from the pillar. “Sorry doll, I oughta go get this fixed.” He leapt off the side of the bridge and swung back around to presumably someone that could repair it.

“Got it.” She nodded. “Glitching is not good.”

That didn’t look very pleasant.

“Elisa.” Miguel caught her attention, leading her back until they came upon a darker room with loads of cages. One of which sputtered as the prisoner lunged at Elisa, but was stopped by the energized wall.

The prisoner stood as close to the wall as he could while staring at her. He was a fairly buff man that kept his eyes on her. A black substance spread across his muscles and a toothy figure emerged from his shoulder, and she froze.

Step back, he’s clearly hostile.

His eyes flashed with recognition, and Elisa’s blood went cold. “Oh, sweetie. You’re in trouble here.”

Step back, dumbass!

She was unfrozen and flinched back from the prisoner, nearly without her own permission, but she was glad she didn’t stick around long enough to embarrass herself in front of some guy from another universe. However when she turned around, the look on Miguel’s face made her sure she’d manage it anyway.

“Sorry, did Brock recognize you?” he asked.

“Who? Oh! Uhmm… sure, something like that.” She trailed off.

“Whatever he said, don’t let it get to you. If he recognized you, then he’s probably from a universe that has a version of you.” Miguel said. “All he can do is get on your nerves.”

He can get into brains too.

“So how do we find Clara?” Elisa finally asked.

“I told Jess to make sure the other Claras are accounted for, and if we can’t find one on 5302, then to make sure Olivia Weaver is still alive.”

“The Widow on 5302 is named Olivia Weaver?”

“I’m guessing you know one.”

“I graduated with her.” She recalled. “It was a sophomore year field trip to the Oscorp Laboratory. I guess something as small as a spider landing on a different girl’s shoulder can be the only difference between universes.”

“Miguel?” A voice from one of the screens in the wide room rang out. “Miguel, Olivia isn’t answering my calls.”

“Have you found Kassidy?” Miguel asked.

“I sent the group to go check the prison. I trust them not to engage.” Jess advocated.

“Alright, tell me what you find when you get back.” Miguel said, shutting off the connection, and calling someone else. “Peter, what’s your status?”

The man on the other line was currently sticking to the side of a building while he used his watch to communicate with Miguel. He had his mask on, but Elisa knew how that mask falls against her face, how it moves against her brow, cheeks and chin. Peter was scared.

“Uhhh… Things don’t look too good here at the prison.” Peter choked out. He must have pushed some buttons because the screen to the left blinked to life with the footage of the news from that universe.

The helicopter that was getting the footage circled around the penitentiary where there was a substantial amount of destruction with clawed marks in the outside wall and the fence that held the prisoners in the yard had been torn right down the middle and whatever had been released was feral and on the loose.

The reporter on the ground said the prison had identified four escaped prisoners, and eleven dead.

“Meet up with Jess immediately, we need to verify that Olivia is still alive, and that Clara has in fact left the universe.” Miguel commanded. Peter nodded and cut off the connection.

Miguel took one look at her and could easily identify that Elisa was barely standing.

“You mentioned that Carnage escaping sets off a Canon Event for the spider.” Elisa said before Miguel could get out a word. “What’s a Canon Event?”

Immediately, the expression on Miguel’s face didn’t spark any hope for Elisa’s situation. “A Canon Event is an event that happens in every spider’s life. The details may change based on people in that universe. But in every universe, a spider loses someone close to them.”

“You also lost your uncle?”

“That was before you became Widow.” Miguel clarified. “But in Widow’s life, we don’t know exactly what it is that Carnage does to Widow because we have yet to find a Widow that survives it.”

“Who are the other Widows?” Elisa asked.

Miguel obliged her, and she immediately understood the line of this multiverse that the Widows occupied. They were all from the same girl’s private school, and they all were in the class that went on the field trip to Oscorp’s Laboratory. Each one of them facing Carnage in their universe one after another. It looks like this time it was Olivia’s turn, but so far, they had no idea what a widow could do to ensure her survival.

Or if Widow was ever meant to survive this.

What could Carnage and Clara do to this group of women that could possibly define their lives as Widow?

“This is going to happen in my universe.” Elisa easily figured.

“Elisa, don’t mess with the Canon-”

“I can’t mess with the Canon, Miguel.” Elisa clarified. “There’s nothing I can do to stop Carnage from coming after me. I’ve already met a symbiote, but I bet they have too, and all I can do is survive. If they failed because they didn’t do what they needed to, then I’ll do something else.” She finally looked up at Miguel who was somewhat surprised. “So, get the rogue, alien-powered, serial killer out of my universe so I can deal with my own, currently mental illness-powered, serial killer.”

“Okay.” Miguel held his hands up in surrender to go back to coordinating the search. “Looks like the squad successfully regrouped, and they found Widow on their way to locate Clara’s equipment. If it’s certain that Clara used her equipment, then we can take a sample of Olivia’s DNA and make a tracking device to figure out her general location, especially if she’s glitching.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Elisa figured. “Should I worry about having two Claras in my universe in the meantime?”

“Peter from Earth 13122 is monitoring your universe while you’re away.” He explained

“You did all of that while we were in the portal?” Elisa finally asked, since his list of tasks while flying though the void was becoming impossible.

“Actually, Lyla updated me on everything Jess set up while I was handling the immediate emergency in your universe.” Miguel pointed out, and her little hologram blinked into existence, standing on air.

“You guys are really streamlined around here, huh?” Elisa noted. “Sounds like you might not need me, especially if you already have twelve other Widows.”

Miguel gave a strange look, since he could definitely tell she was trying to deduce something. “You’re a gifted spider. I’d personally like to add you to the team.”

That doesn’t give you much.

Shut up. I know what I’m doing.

“Do you think I’ll survive Carnage coming to my Earth?” She asked flat out.

Well, that’s definitely not alarming.

Shut up.

“If there is a way, I trust you to find it.” Miguel said.

He really believes it?

“Miguel!” A voice she could identify as Jess echoed through the room.

Elisa wasted no time hopping down from the platform to meet the group. She had only seen Jess and Peter, but the other two in the group were interesting to say the least. The third member of the group was a spider-man in punk gear, with spikes aligned on the head of his mask like a mohawk, and he carried a guitar slung over his shoulder. And the other was a cartoon pig in a red and blue spider-man suit.

But the one that they brought back was who she was really interested in. They both stood at nearly the same height, Olivia being somewhat taller than her. Olivia’s suit looked a lot like Elisa’s old one, being mostly dark blue and silver where Elisa's old one was dark red with black web patterns.

Can she see?

“Elisa.” She acknowledged her.

“Olivia.” She said back, trying to hide her nerves from the group.

“Nice to meet you, Elisa.” Jess nodded.

Peter stepped forward to introduce himself, but faltered a moment. He took an entire step back, and took a closer look at Elisa’s face. “Have you ever met a symbiote, Elisa?”

Stop that.

“Yes, I have.” Elisa said.

Don’t say that.

“So you’ve met Venom.” Peter figured.

Get out of here.

“I did.” Elisa ignored the panic.

“It was a pretty powerful symbiote. Did you beat it?” He asked, and suddenly Jess was also stepping back. The punk was picking up on something too, and Olivia was also looking closer, and her gaze landed on her eyes.

“It got away.” Elisa said with a measured voice, not taking her eyes off Peter.

They know. Get out of here!

Peter gave a small chuckle. “Where’s Venom in your universe?”

Elisa finally glanced to Miguel. His expression was mixed between fear and disappointment.

Just get out!

She finally listened to it. Venom crept up her neck and covered her face in the mask, and Elisa made a break for it.

“Where would we find an exit?” Elisa asked, dashing down the halls.

"They’ll need some way to transport the prisoners back to their own universe." Venom figured.

The man with his own symbiote banged on the wall of the energized box. “The machine will take too long! You need a watch.” He yelled at her, but she didn’t have time to wonder why he was helping her.

An announcement went across every spider’s watch just as Brock had warned her. “Stop that Widow, she has a symbiote!” Peter’s voice alerted every spider in the building, and suddenly, her sense picked up everyone’s eyes on her.

“Well, that’s just perfect.” Venom said, but Elisa noticed that everyone was watching, but nobody was acting.

“We’re stronger than them.” Elisa realized.

“All of them!?” It hissed back.

Elisa stood up straight and put her arms out. “Do I have to tell you I’m ready, or do all of you still need a moment?”

All it took was a mechanized suit rising up out of the crowd and making an attempt to grab her.

“Venom,” She had it’s attention, “just don’t kill anyone.”

With Venom free to do as it pleased, her senses and reflexes were amplified to a point that she often didn’t have time to process all her actions as Venom took control. Elisa knew she dodged the mechanized suit, but there was no chance she could get into the mech to get the watch, so she abandoned it. The next few people that made an attempt to restrain her were able to also stop her from grabbing their watches, but she had to abandon another that she had only used as a platform for her feet to launch off of.

Elisa shot a web at the wall and pulled herself up to it so Venom could get a good look at the group. It was a split second to Elisa as she looked at the crowd of spider people now locating her with their own heightened senses that were falling just short of hers and Venom combined.

The squad that had found out was here, but she had yet to notice Miguel. The Peter that found her out was the first to try meeting her up by the wall, but when she leapt across several pillars and stopped on the glass window, Elisa suddenly realized the plan here. She didn’t know who would be the first to attempt making a grab at her, but it seemed that the most likely was the one that had evaded her senses until now.

When Miguel tackled her, Venom set off the trap. It shattered the glass behind her and forced all of them down the outside of the building.

“Elisa, you need to come back.” Miguel attempted to convince her, but he still made an attempt to restrain her, but in her wrestle to get free, Venom used a sly arm to switch her bracelet for his watch.

“I need to go home!” She barely broke free from him, and she typed the number she remembered. 4167.

The portal opened as soon as she stuck to the outside of the building, and she jumped in. She broke through into the rush of the path through the multiverse, but Miguel wasn't far behind her. She eventually landed in Brooklyn and nearly got clotheslined by a streetlamp before Venom managed to catch it just right and swung around it to stand on it.

She took off the watch and waited for Miguel to come out of the portal.

He did, and had a much easier landing than Elisa did. His feet landed safely on the ground without any problem. She just tossed the watch back to Miguel, who caught it with some surprise at her small act.

She shot a web and began swinging back to her apartment. She needed to get her Clara in prison before the invading Clara found her.

Venom retracted the suit back into hiding inside of her as she got dressed to do some basic investigation to hopefully put her away. Clara won't go down easy since she's already seen as Oscorp's Physicist Savior.

"You know Miguel is here, right?" Venom alerted.

"Yeah, I'm trying to not let it bother me." Elisa paid his noisy steps no mind as she worked on the long process of disguising her scar beneath a cocktail of makeup.

Miguel wasted no time confronting her. "You care to explain yourself?"

"Not particularly, no." Elisa admitted.

"You kept the symbiote!"

"I have a name, lab rat!" Venom crept out of her shoulder and snapped at him with its jaws.

"Venom, back off." She chastised half-heartedly. Surprisingly, it listened.

"You seem to have it under control, so what happened?" Miguel asked.

"Not much to it, really." Elisa shrugged. "Venom fell out of the sky, and was supposed to be a scout. It bonded with me, and we decided we could be a better Widow together. I respect Venom, and it respects me."

"And, do you feed it?" He asked.

"Of course I do." She answered obviously. "Every once in a while, we come across a situation where the only way out is to eat someone, but usually, I just make sure to stock up on chocolate." She pointed to a cupboard that she knew to be comically full of a variety of chocolate sweets. The baking chocolate, saved for emergencies.

"You just let it eat people?" Miguel asked with rising concern.

Elisa stood so Venom wouldn't jump out at the offense. She didn't stand anywhere near eye level with Miguel, but it was threatening enough with a man-eating alien on her side.

"If you were given a choice between unfathomable power or falling just short of protecting the people you love, what would you really choose, Miguel?"

Miguel fell silent.

"That's what I thought." She figured and went back to covering up her scar. "Now, I'm gonna go make sure my Clara is in prison or eaten, and you and all your spiders can do your job to get Olivia's Clara out of my universe, and when you take her back, I never have to see you again." Elisa pushed him back so she could leave out the hallway, but it shouldn't have surprised her that he barely moved.

“It’s not about the Canon anymore, Elisa. It’s just-”

"Hey, you should check the news." Lyla's voice came from the watch, and Elisa groaned, grabbing the remote and clicking on her TV.

"Police were given an anonymous tip about vital evidence in the Butcher of Queens case, which led them to the identity of the serial killer, Dr. Clara Kassidy, who is being questioned now here at the precinct-"

Elisa just turned it off. Venom knew exactly what this meant, and covered her in her suit as she angrily stripped off the clothes that covered over the suit now.

"Catch your maniac and get out of my universe, Miguel." She called back into the room as he watched her climb out the window and swing away.

Elisa found a payphone a few blocks away from the precinct and made a call, several people stopping to stare at the odd sight. "Captain Stacy's desk, how can I help you?"

"I take it the Captain is questioning the suspect right now?" Elisa figured at the woman's voice instead of a gruff, old man.

"Um… yes, who is this?"

"Tell him to make room for one more." Elisa stated simply before hanging up.

Once swinging down the block, the entire street was crowded with reporters and news vans, and even a helicopter. Elisa slipped into the precinct from the roof elevator that she had jimmied the lock in, and she found her way through the building, unseen.

Capt. Stacy's office was at the other side of the wide open room, full of cubicles, but she wasn't hiding anymore. These police could try all they like to shoot or catch her, but she wouldn't even need Venom to get out of this if it went wrong, and she wouldn't even have to dodge the bullets anymore because of the protection Venom offered. These were just regular, non-radioactive people.

It took nearly a full minute before someone actually noticed she was standing there.

"O-Oh! What are you doing here, Widow?" He was a young officer, who's expression must have been colored by horror stories of Widow when she was rooting out Physk's corruption in the police.

"I need to speak to Clara Kassidy." She said, walking toward the interrogation room that was guarded by two men with guns. Elisa stood in front of them with her back to the rest of the room that had gone silent, all of them knowing that everyone in that room had shot at Widow at least once, and none had ever taken her down. She didn’t make any moves to get past them, only looking oddly at their anxious faces. “Can I get a quick word with Captain Stacy?”

One of them just knocked on the door and opened it. “Captain. You should get out here.”

The shorter man with thick eyebrows and a bushy mustache like all the hair on his head had just slumped down over his face leaving a shiny, bald head. His huff of annoyance turned into strict alarm. “What are you doing here, Widow?”

Behind him, the ajar door left an opening just large enough for Elisa to catch the eye of Clara Kassidy. Dark eyes stared her down with a soft smile on her face, sitting upright and keeping her hands politely folded on the table. Elisa’s heightened senses picked up on the smell of dried blood and slick metal table where the sheer amount of it on her arms and hands didn’t have the time to dry through the car ride here, and where it had dried on her clothing and matted in her red hair.

“I have something I need you to be aware of, but might not be great to say in front of a serial killer.” Elisa said freely, and Stacy shut the door behind him and brought her to his office.

“I gotta say, Widow, I figured you’d be found dead before you’d be found in a police station.” Stacy chuckled, leaning against his desk and watching her closely.

“The news says an anonymous tip gave you Kassidy. Do you know who called it in?” She asked.

“In all honesty, ma’am, I thought you did.” He said. “You said there was something I ought to know?”

The other Clara would know.

I’d have to make sure she hasn’t met the other Clara.

“I was gonna tell you to make her believe it was me.” Elisa said. “I have reason to believe someone turned her in because they clearly knew about what she was doing for a while.”

“You think she has an accomplice?” Stacy asked.

“At the very least, she had someone staying silent for her.” Elisa confirmed. “I might be able to get more information out of her if you let me ask her some questions.”

Stacy let out a long sigh. “You’re lucky I already owe you a favor for getting me promoted.”

“I ate your boss’ head, I’m not sure that counts as doing you a favor.” Elisa wonders out loud.

“And you’re gonna try and convince me not to pay you back now?”

“No, sir.” She followed after him, where he stopped before opening the door.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you to keep your damn mask on, but don’t let her even start to figure you out. She’s a conniving witch, I warn you.” Stacy said with utmost urgency, but quickly corrected himself before bravely opening the door.

Clara’s gaze immediately followed Elisa. Standing in front of her was like stepping into a different kind of time. Clara had no signs of delusion or drunken bloodlust despite the state of her. She sat upright, legs crossed politely, and face so practiced in giving no signs of disagreement that if it weren’t for the remains of whoever she had killed tonight still staining her skin and clothes, she’d have assumed this to be a regular scientist at the height of her career.

Widow sat in the seat opposite of her and mimicked her polite stance. Clara watched, intently awaiting whatever event might entertain her in the moment.

“Clara.” Elisa acknowledged.

“Widow.” She replied.

“You meet anybody interesting during your time serial killing?” She asked.

“I’ve met you many times, Widow.” She said confidently, but leaning closer to Elisa to mimic that she was sharing a secret with her. “All you had to do was ask.”

“What about someone that hated you more than me?” She pressed. “You got an ex? A partner? Someone to dispose of the remains once you were done?”

Clara’s head tilted like a focused animal. “You weren’t the one to turn me in.” She accused as soon as she realized. “Oh now that’s a sweet twist, isn’t it?”

“Can you think of anyone that might have wanted you caught? Out of their business?” Elisa asked, hiding comfortably behind her mask.

“That’s the sweet part. I have no idea.” Clara smiled. “I never worked with anyone, and you know that if they found the specimens, they would have just led the police to them. Instead, they knew to steal my notes from my safe at Oscorp.”

Stacy was right, she was smart, but Elisa wasn’t too worried about that. What worried her was the alarming prospect that for some reason or another, the invading Clara wanted this one in prison, and thinking back, it made sense.

“Where did Miguel say Clara and Carnage meet?”

She wants to create another Carnage.

Elisa abruptly stood up and left, leaving Clara chuckling while chained to the table.

But she wasn’t even sure where she was going. Everywhere seemed to be the wrong place. MJ probably wouldn’t be happy to see her. Not unless it was for work reasons. Going Home would probably mean confronting Miguel again, and she wasn’t about to face that mess again. For a brief moment, she considered detouring all the way to the maximum security prison to see Oscar, maybe he’d have some answers.

“You already know where you’re going, dumbass. Why pretend like you have any dignity left?” Unfortunately, Venom was right.

Her limbs absent-mindedly got her to the apartment where she slid the window open and silently slipped in. This was one person that probably wouldn’t let her in if she knocked, but she had to try. She took off her mask out of habit and threw it down onto what used to be her side of the bed. Just her luck that he stumbled on her now.

His expressions were always unreadable to her, but at the very least, he didn’t immediately throw her back out the window. “Elisa.”

She swallowed all the nerves that had knotted into a ball in her throat. “Eddie.”

#oc: elisa hannen #oc: clara kassidy #miguel o'hara x elisa hannen #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x oc #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv fanfiction #oc x canon #oc x oc

[not-a-space-alien]

Magnanimous Moonrise Chapter 4M

In this chapter:  Valen turns out to be one of those dogs who only like women and growls at men 

Story masterpost

Here is the corresponding chapter in the complementary story.

Content/content warnings for this chapter: Nonconsensual bondage/restraint/being trapped, gag/muzzle, heavy emotional distress

Valen heard voices outside, more voices.  Men’s voices.

That raised his hackles.

“Ari, you son of a bitch!  You actually did it?”

Valen felt the van dip under him, as presumably Ari got up.  “What, like it’s hard?  How come you all haven’t managed it yet?”

They were talking about him like he was a particularly wily rabbit in their snare.  They were laughing and congratulating each other.  I’m going to die here.  Die, or something worse.

“We sent your girl straight to the ER when she came in,” said one of the men.  “Her face was busted, man.”

“Don’t call my girlfriend’s face busted.”

“We get it, you’re gay.”

“Bisexual.”

“Same thing.”

Valen winced as the back door was thrown open, three human silhouettes outlined by the terrifying sun behind them.  “Shit,” said one of the men.  “You really do just have a whole ass vampire in your car, huh.”

“What did you fucking think?  That we just brought back his leg or something?”

“Damn, woman, don’t bite my ear off.”  Valen watched in terror as one of the men clambered up into the cargo space next to him, leaning over to look at him.

“Don’t look him in the eye,” said the other man.  “They can use persuasion that way.”

“Some of them,” said the first man.  He blinked at Valen, but he had already averted his eyes, gaze glued to the man’s shins a foot away from his face.

“I guess this one can’t,” said Ari.  “Or he would have done it already.”

“Unless he’s just biding his time.”

Valen squeezed his eyes shut.

“So are you lazy fucks gonna help me move him inside or did you just come out here to gawk at him?”

“Geez, fine.  This thing got handles on it?”

“Yeah, on the sides.  I think it’s a two-person job.”

No no no no no.  They were going to drag him out into the sun while he was locked into place, unable to even throw his hands up to shield his face, or open his mouth to scream and plead.

His chest heaved in terrified gasps as hands came on the handles, starting to drag him forward.  He felt heat on his boots as they came out into the sun.

“Oh, hold on a minute,” said Ari’s voice, and mercifully the sliding stopped.  The sound of her footsteps on gravel.  Cloth rustling.  He kept his gaze trained on the ceiling, his quaking rattling the chains slightly.

He saw Ari’s hands tossing something on top of the cage.  His cloak.  She pulled it across until the top half of the cage was covered, his exposed skin enveloped in shadow.

Thank you, he thought, almost crying at how low he’d sunken that this was a relief for him.  Thank you, thank you, thank you.

“What’s the matter?  You afraid of hurting it?”

“I don’t give a shit about its feelings,” Ari snapped.  “I’m just doing it because Lex would be upset if he got burnt.”

“Sure, sure.  Softie.”

“Hey this is just like when I put a blanket over my birdcage.  It makes them go to sleep.  They think it’s night.”

You have a bird? Valen thought.  I want to see the bird.

There was a round of laughter.  Despite his terror, he felt a twinge of jealousy again, wishing he were in a position where he could partake in the camaraderie.

The world tilted as they lifted him down and out of the van.

“Shit, he’s heavy.”

“It’s the cage, dumbass.  It’s gotta weigh like a thousand pounds.”

Valen closed his eyes against the filtered sunlight coming through the cloak–it was mercifully scant, but he felt it stinging.  Just a little.

He heard the sound of a garage door opening, then the sun faded.  He shuddered in relief.

More metal rattling, the sound of reinforced doors being unlocked.  The hands carried him deeper into the belly of the beast, into the heart of the den.

He felt his prison being lowered to the ground, then come to a stop with a thump.

More voices.

“Woah, shit, it actually worked.”

“Oh my god, you actually got one.”

“Holy shit, Ari.  Let me see it.”

All men’s voices.  Valen’s face twisted into an unseen snarl, and with savageness that surprised even himself, he let out a rolling growl, slamming his head into the top of the cage so hard it banged off the floor for a brief second.

The cloak slipped off the cage and pooled onto the floor, letting him see the full view of all the hunter’s shocked faces as they took a step back.  His forehead felt warm, dark blood leaking from his skull, visible soaking his white hair.  He ground his teeth on the bit, hackles still raised.

“Je-je-sus,” said one of the men.  “Be-be careful with that thing.”

He peeled his upper lip all the way back, exposing the full length of his fangs.  That’s right.  Be afraid of me.  You fucking bastard.  I’ll kill you if I get the chance.  Stay the fuck away from me.  I hate you.  Don’t touch me.

His eyes flitted over to the doorway as Lex came back in, now with a bandage on her nose.  Her eyes fell on Valen.  She looked worried.  She apparently thought better of offering a comment though.  “Where’s Nick?”

“He’s on the phone with the director.”

Valen’s ears perked up, straining to hear the noise in the background now.  With his preternatural hearing, now that he knew to listen for it, he could faintly hear the sound of a voice talking on the phone.

Oh boy, whoever was on the other end of the line sounded angry.

“Oh boy,” said Ari.  “I bet he’s just thrilled with this new development.”

“I thought he gave Nick the OK to do this?” said another hunter.  “He authorized Nick to put a bounty on bringing a live vampire back.”

The other hunters laughed.

“Yeah,” said one wryly.  “To get him to shut up.  He didn’t think anyone would actually do it.”

“The director was bluffing,” said Ari.  “Because vampires are so damn hard to catch live because of persuasion, he thought none of us could do it.  He doesn’t actually want a vampire in the building.”

A glimmer of hope.  Maybe if whoever was in charge wasn’t happy, that would mean he could get out of here.  But…no, a human would probably just want him to be killed instead.

Valen’s attention snapped back to Lex as she braced herself on the cage.  “Hah!  That’ll show him.  And he’s contractually obligated to pay out the bounty.”

Another human came into his field of view, a man’s hand.  He headbutted the wires above him again, bearing the brunt of the stinging silver if it meant getting a chance at scaring him off.  Don’t fucking touch me.

The hunter jerked his hand back without actually putting any of his fingers through the bars enough to reach.  A pity.  “Yeesh…Well, Nick can have him.”

“Speaking of,” said Ari.

Another man had appeared in the doorway, an unhinged smile on his face.  “You did it.  Thank you!  Thank you!”

Oh, thought Valen.  Oh no.  He didn’t like the look of this guy at all.  Unlike the others, he seemed excited to see him, not scared.  He shuddered.  That…didn’t seem good.

The other hunters reacted to his presence as well; they all looked slightly less at ease.  Lex tugged at Ari’s arm.  “Come on, Ari.  You have to get your leg seen to.”

No no no no.  Don’t leave me here with them.

“Wait, ladies, I have to give you the bounty for your hard work!”  The newcomer circled the cage like a shark.  “And, everyone, after some…heated discussion…with the director, he has simply given me the guidelines that, for safety, we can only open the coffin when at least two people are present."

This wretched device they'd locked him in was called the coffin. Fitting, but it made his blood boil. Is this a joke to you?

"So who wants to be the lucky volunteer and help me take this specimen downstairs?”

“I will,” Lex said quickly.

Was Valen imagining this?  Was it wishful thinking?  Was he projecting, or did Lex seem to actually care a little bit?

“I see how it is,” said Ari.  “Rather spend time playing with Nick in the basement than helping your poor, hurt girlfriend to the nurse.”

Lex stammered, “We can–We can do that together and then go help Nick right afterwards.”

“Well,” said the upsettingly enthusiastic man, “I don’t hear any other volunteers, so…”  He beamed.  “I’ll wait right here for you to get back!”

Valen watched their boots squeak out of sight, further into the compound.  He kept his eyes fixed on them, purposefully ignoring the man hovering above him.

The other hunters dispersed slowly, until Valen was alone with Nick.

Valen felt Nick’s eyes on him.  His fearful trembling started back up.  He refused eye contact for as long as he could, until he couldn’t stand it anymore.

Nick was just grinning at him.  He wished he hadn’t looked.  “We’re going to have so much fun together.”

***

Tag list <3

@annablogsposts

@oddsconvert

@pumpkin-spice-whump

@soursagas

@whumpsday

#hurt/comfort #angst #vampires #whump #vampire whumpee #whumpblr #I have a long weekend okay maybe i can waste a LITTLE a time writing abt vamps

[onetomb-art]

Step, Drag

A Doll finds something unusual, voting ensues! (tw for mild slur use, about 1300 words long)

Step. Draaaaag. Step. Draaaaag. Step. Draaaaaaaag.

<Z-Cptn> You know, this is just like that one campfire story. With the escaped inmate?

<DosEquis> not helping

<Hi5> Campfire story? Do tell, you’ve piqued my interest!

<DosEquis> guys can this wait

<Z-Cptn>  Oh i can’t remember all the details, but it was something about an escaped serial killer on the loose in a summer camp, but he was still handcuffed to a cop, so he had to drag the body, and it was all like. Step. Draaaaag. Step, Draaaaag.

<Hi5>  Fascinating!

<DosEquis> guys i think hes really hurt

<777> Zee you dumbass thats not how it goes! 

<777> Its supposed to be a prisoner with one of those old-timey ball and chains on his leg

<Z-Cptn> What? Since when?

<777> Since fuckin always, who drags around a dead cop? You can break handcuffs like, so fuckin easily.

<Sixaphone> you can?

<Hi5> I don’t believe that’s correct, dear Sev. Handcuffs are made of quality materials, or else suspects would always be getting out of them, don’t you think?

<777> BULLSHIT

<777> Cuffs are fuckin weaksauce its just a chain link, plus you see people break them in movies all the time

<Z-Cptn> Movies are different from real life.

<777> Movies are basically real life!!! Movies are more real than real life, fuckin fight me

<Z-Cptn> [Called a vote: “Are movies the same as real life?”]

<Z-Cptn> [voted]

<777> [voted]

<Sixaphone> [voted]

<Hi5> [voted]

<777> …

<777> well?!?

<Z-Cptn> Hang on, it's tied.

<Z-Cptn> @<DosEquis> We need you to vote.

<DosEquis> are you fucking kidding me

<777> Dont be such a fuckin killjoy babe! It takes like, two seconds

<DosEquis> hes hurt bad i dont have time for this

<777> Dude hes like. Wayyyyyyy dead. Just leave him there and vote so i can show everyone what a fuckin idiot Zee is

<DosEquis> hes not dead

<DosEquis> i saw him move

<DosEquis> [voted]

[Vote concluded. Vote results: 40% “Obviously Not”,  60% “Yes(???)”. “Yes(???)” is the victor with five votes counted.]

<777> YES

<777> FUCK YES

<Z-Cptn> What???

<Hi5> Who would possibly vote “Yes”?

<777> SMART PEOPLE!!

<777> THATS FUCKIN WHO!!!1!

<DosEquis> i just clicked to get rid of the popup

<777> STILL COUNTS!!!!

<Z-Cptn> Wait, then that means that @<Sixaphone> voted for you too.

<Z-Cptn>  @<Sixaphone>, you don’t actually think movies are real life, do you?

<Sixaphone> um

<Sixaphone> no

<Sixaphone> i just

<777> JEEZ Zee lay off her thats like, voter intimidation its hella illegal you could go to jail

<Sixaphone> wait what

<Z-Cptn> Its not “voter intimidation”, i just wanted to make sure she knows the difference between *fiction* and *reality*.

<Sixaphone> please dont send Miss Zero to jail

<Sixaphone> im sorry

<777> Youre fine Six, its an expression

<Z-Cptn> I’m not going to jail, don’t worry. Seven was just attempting to make a crude joke. 

<Sixaphone> oh, ok

<Sixaphone> sorry

<TriAsIMight> Good morning everyooone!!!

<TriAsIMight> What’d I miss???

<Hi5> Oh, Salutations! We were having a discussion about movies and campfire stories! Would you like a recap?

<Sixaphone> good morning!

<TriAsIMight> WAIT 

<TriAsIMight> IS THAT A DEAD BODY???

<777> yes!

<DosEquis> no.

<Z-Cptn> We’re not quite sure, actually.

<TriAsIMight> WHAT

<TriAsIMight> EXPLAIN?!?

<777> Twos been on a murder spree, its been like fuckin rambo first blood over here

<TriAsIMight> ???

<Z-Cptn> That is blatantly incorrect.

<Hi5> I thought that the entire point of the “Rambo: First Blood” film was that the titular character did *not* go on a murder spree.

<777> Never seen it tbh

<Z-Cptn> There’s not really that much to explain, really. Two was piloting, in salvage mode, digging through some of the old office blocks, when she found this guy collapsed in a pile of blood. Recovery protocol kicked in, and now she’s attempting to drag the guy to safety. Does that seem about right, @<DosEquis>?

<DosEquis> left out the part where hes heavy as fuck

<DosEquis> but yeah

<DosEquis> basically

<TriAsIMight> JEEEZ

<TriAsIMight> That is effed up!!!

<DosEquis> thank you holy shit finally

<TriAsIMight> That sounds so stressful like what the F!!!

<DosEquis> THANK you

<DosEquis> im over here trying to save this guys life while yall are calling votes over dumb shit

<TriAsIMight> I can’t believe you all!!! Discussing movies and even calling a vote while Two is out there risking her life to save a person she doesn’t even know!!! Shame on you all!!!

<777> Ugh, youre not our fuckin mom, fuck OFF with all that shit

<Hi5> I agree with Seven, the lecture is hardly necessary. 

<Z-Cptn> Come on now. 

<TriAsIMight> We have to do something!!!

<Z-Cptn> Why don’t we ask her if she needs help with anything first. @<DosEquis>?

<DosEquis> i dont know what yall could do right now im

<DosEquis> hang on

<DosEquis> uh oh

<TriAsIMight> uh oh???

<DosEquis> theres a ladder

<Hi5> Ah, so there is. That could prove troublesome with your heavy new friend, I’m afraid.

<DosEquis> yeah i just

<DosEquis> im not sure how to get him down safely

<777> Drop the fucker, i wanna see if he bounces

<DosEquis> what no

<DosEquis> maybe if i just

<DosEquis> no

<Z-Cptn> It doesn’t seem like that far of a drop, you could lower him down feet first and then drop him? You might break his ankles, but that seems like the least of his worries. 

<DosEquis> guys

<Z-Cptn> [Called a vote: “Should she drop him?”]

<777> [voted]

<DosEquis> seriously

<Z-Cptn> [voted]

<TriAsIMight> [voted]

<Hi5> [voted]

<Sixaphone> [voted]

<Z-Cptn> @<DosEquis> Are you going to vote?

<DosEquis> yall are assholes

<DosEquis> [voted]

[Vote concluded. Vote results: 50% “Drop him”,  50% “Try another way”. The vote is a tie with six votes counted.]

<777> Well that was fuckin pointless

<DosEquis> can we stop with all the votes this is really annoying when im trying to work

<DosEquis> im gonna tie a rope to his waist i just gotta find a rope

<Z-Cptn> Voting is a useful tool for quick decision making!

<Hi5> Well said, hear hear!

<TriAsIMight> Don’t you all think the voting is distracting for her??? 

<777> lol yeah 

<Z-Cptn> Distracting? It's one button push. 

<DosEquis> ok i found some rope and ive got him tied

<DosEquis> gonna lower him down now

<Hi5> Ah, the moment of truth! Drumroll, everyone…

<TriAsIMight> Shut up, let her concentrate!!!

<777> Fuck off youre not the boss of me you dumb bimbo

<TriAsIMight> HEY???

<Z-Cptn> Play nice you two.

<777> Yeah, play nice you fucking piece o

<777> HOLY SHIT

<TriAsIMight> OH MY GOSH NO!!!

<Hi5> Oh dear.

<DosEquis> fuck

<DosEquis> the rope snapped

<Sixaphone> is he okay?

<777> HES TOTALLY FUCKIN DEAD BITCH

<Sixaphone> oh no

<Z-Cptn> We don’t know that, Two can you peek over the edge so we can see how hes doing?

<DosEquis> i dont want to

<777> Congrats on your first successful snuff film babe, this ones going on liveleak!

<Z-Cptn> Seven cut it out. Two, i need you to peek over the edge for me.

<DosEquis> no

<777> DO IT DO IT DO IT

<DosEquis> no i really dont want to

<TriAsIMight> We can’t help him if we can’t see him, you have to be brave!!!

<DosEquis> fucking fine

<777> YES YES YES YES

<Hi5> At least try to hide your murderboner, Seven. 

<777> BITE ME

<777> Aw

<TriAsIMight> He looks like he might be okay!!! That bush looks like it cushioned his fall…

<DosEquis> thank fuck 

<Sixaphone> he moved

<DosEquis> wait holy shit youre right

<DosEquis> hes moving

<TriAsIMight> Hes alive!!!

<DosEquis> i think he sees me

<Z-Cptn> Is he saying something? He’s moving his mouth.

<DosEquis> yeah hang on let me give yall audio

<DosEquis> [Input audio source “not dead guy”]

[‘not dead guy’] -OU FUCKING RETARDED MACHINE WHAT THE FUCK YOU BROKE MY FUCKING RIBS YOU [Incomprehensible] ILL FUCKING HAVE YOU SCRAPPED WHO THE [Incomprehensible] [Incomprehensible] ILL 

<DosEquis> [Removed audio source “not dead guy”]

<DosEquis>...

<DosEquis>...

<DosEquis> [Called a vote: “Hey can i kill him?”]

#short story #my art #empty spaces #tw slur #yeah i read homestuck why do you ask

[bluepecanpie]

One Piece 1059 review

Damn! A lot happened in this one. Got me asking all kinds of questions, but at least some are resolved.

Apparently Yamato didn’t join because they realised that without Kaido as a a deterent, powerful opponents like Ryokugyu will run up on the place. I said before, I’m not really amped over Yamato not joining, and this still feels like a yank on the chain, but it’s as good an explanation as you’re going to get. Even better, Marco is still getting calls to return to piracy, from the Red Hairs no less. He, of course declines, since he’s too old (46?) for that pirate mess. It’s an interesting callback to when Shanks met Whitebeard, so I guess that scene was actually a serious requst. Or maybe just this one is.

 We got an exchange from Luffy and Marco that we’ve been waiting for, when Luffy finally gets to thank Marco for saving him. Marco says to Jimbei that there was something about Luffy that made him seem special, and says to Luffy himself that Ace would be proud. Aww. I don’t think that’s it’s acknowledged that Luffy far surpasses Ace now, and he even did what Ace could never do - beat Kaido.

Though sometime after Luffy got his ass kicked by Kaido, and was in prison, The Marines were organising the capture of Boa Hancock in Amazon Lily. Here was me thinking that they were absolute dumbasses for antagonising them straight away even with the SSG. But lo and behold: the SSG actually came through with their mad science with the Seraphim: the speculated new class of Pacifista which apparently mixes the DNA Lineage Factor of the Lunarians with at least two of the Shichibukai: Mihawk and Hancock herself. Even if was just the Marines and the Kuja even if the latter won, they would’ve taken a beating.

Due to the best and worst luck, this conflict is interrupted by the timely arrival of Yonko Admiral Marshall D. Teach aka Blackbeard. It turns out it was this he was looking for - the Mero Mero no Mi ability of Boa Hancock. Unprepared, for having to tangle with a Yonko, Vice-Admiral Yamakaji refuses to engage until HQ confirms it, and with Teach’s Gura Gura no Mi powers, he flows the fleet away, and crumbles the entrance to Amazon Lily hollering Hancock’s name. Though even Teach is surprised by the strength of the Seraphim (the one based on Mihawk in particular that can slash a mountain in two).

Hancock ain’t about to wait to get captured so she jumps into action and turns the invading Marines and Blackbeard Pirates, including the commanders - Vasco Shot and Catarina Devon into stone. She sets her eyes on Koby to do the same, but the gets caught into Blackbeard’s chokehold nullifying her powers. Blackbeard tells her that her fruit power is something that he’s coveted, but Hancock says that the reason why it’s so powerful is because of her beauty - but warns against killing her if he wants any of those turned to stone revived since the new owner can’t undo the spell. Blackbeard coyly asks Koby what he should do since they both have a history, and his reported heroics at the “Rocky Port Incident” ended up with Blackbeard supplanting Ochoku for control of Hachinosu Island. Koby says that he also wants his men restored, and wants as minimal casualties as possible. Hancock would only agree to restore everyone if they promise to leave her island. But this is no dice for Blackbeard, surmising that thesecond he lets go, he might be turned into stone, judging that its better off to kill Hancock.

In comes the real King of Darkness Silvers Rayleigh. Basically lays down the terms: Release Hancock and everyone gets to walk off the island, provided there’s no bullshit. He later admits to itself that he was only able to make that happen based on his reputation, and he might not be able to clash with Blackbeard head on anymore as he’s well past his prime. Shakyaku muses that the changing times has made Amazon Lily not as safe as it used to be even with the Calm Belt, and this will keep happening unless the Kuja and Hancock in particular find somewhere safe. On board a Marine warship in the present day, there’s a discussion around the kidnapping of Captain Koby by Blackbeard, with his status unkown.

Great chapter. Hell of a lot going on in it. Don’t care that much for Yamato stuff, but interested in Marco’s journey. We haven’t seen the last of him, and think this is setting up Edward Weevil since he’s close to Sphinx Island. He ain’t no commander, but Weevil seems really strong. We about to find out that “Whitebeard in his youth” really sounds like.

At this point, Vegapunk has to be kidnapped because he keeps building really dangerous shit. The first iteration of Pacifista was bad enough, and it took all of the Straw Hats to take down one half the story ago. This guy’s cloning Lunarians and modeling them as Shichibukai! WTF? We can probably expect to see Seraphim models of Doflamingo, Crocodile and even Jimbei. Just the idea of a Jimbei clone tossing the ocean can easily spell disaster for any crew. The Marines seem really serious about ocean supremacy judging from the Seraphim’s performance.

Also, let’s take a moment to appreciate just how formidable Hancock is, and if Oda was serious about writing a proper fight, even the Marines and Blackbeard together would have lost. No, really. Her devil fruit is really broken. And she went out without Salome. If she had him, she could’ve easuily used “Slave Arrow across the island from her castle and petrified every invading force save perhaps for the Seraphim. She’d still have been in trouble, but judging how Blackbeard was so cautious about her abilities and waited to get the drop on her after she swiftly turned Marines and the Blackbeard Pirates into stone, she’s a force to be reckoned with. They didn’t give her that 1.569bn belli for no reason. Even her orignal 80 million belli bounty was from one campaign. One. That’s like if you just formed your pirate crew and you go to another country and merk their army and leave. She got that when she was eighteen, and even then they invited her into the Shichibukai quickly before she really became a problem. She’s crafty as fuck too: what wasn’t just a feat that she did, she deliberately attacked all parties and even if she was overpowered, she could bargain her life for their crew. Strategic countermeasures right there. That said, she was warned time and time again that this very scenario might happen. “Take your Shichibukai position seriously for the Kuja to survive. They have Seastone tipped ships now” “They’ll forgive, because I’m beautiful”. Are the Marines in a forgiving mood now, Hancock? I’m sure that they still remember that time when you attacked them on the battlefield and didn’t say why. Not something they’re likely to forget. I don’t think Hancock will actually marry Luffy, but I definitely see her in the Straw Hat Grand Fleet. It seems that alliances are now the name of the game. So if you want to eat well and be safe, you have to hop on a Yonko for protection. This is what Cross Guild is trying to form too. There’s a hint of irony regarding Koby’s comment that he doesn’t think a man exists who can resist her beauty. Of course, we know of one who can but he has to hear about this before taking action.

Blackbeard was a nice conflict breaker, and no-one should except two of Luffy’s allies to fight each other even if there on different sides of the law. It’s really setting in how disturbing Teach’s hunt for devil fruit actually is. This guy really travelled from the New World within mere days to Amazon Lily, specifically to hunt down and kill Hancock for her fruit ability. It says something that he’s so power-hungry and self-centered that he wouldn’t even consider his crew being saved and thought the risk to himself or possibility of gaining a devil fruit and opts to just do Hancock in. This is a marked contrast to how Luffy and how much his own crew means to him. Luffy even snapped for Hancock petrifying three women who failed in capturing him! Though given the creepy ideas Devon and Shot had, they can stay as garden statues for all I care.

Rayleigh and Shakky: Yeah, Rayleigh gets by on his rep...and his amazingly strong Haki. What we need to remember is that “getting old” for Rayleigh means “I’m able to dance with an Admiral but no more”, and for twenty years before he met Luffy, he wasn’t active. Sure, he could go on swims in the Calm Belt, but not quite like fighting Marines and shit. Koby was shook when he saw him, so these guys know. Shakyaku being the empress of the Kuja, and its captain from two generations back? Yeah, there were theories around it that was pretty strong: Her name for one, and how she knew exactly what would happen with Hancock met Luffy were very good hints. She herself seems to be a mix of Hancock and Nyon, what with her reading habits and being generally badass. She is NOT Ochoku/Wang Zhi apparently.

As for Koby, he’s such a cop all that build up over being a “hero” only to get kidnapped? What could Koby possibly have that Blackbeard wants? Not a devil fruit for sure. Does this have anything to do with SWORD? Is Koby just a bargaining chip for the Marines? Could even Law have anything linked to this? Maybe even the former Aokiji/Kuzan might step in. Would be interesting since he’s already in the crew. Just who are those Marines on the warship on the last page? And why are people getting kidnapped or going missing? It’s about to get sticky in OP.

8/10

#one piece #one piece 1059 #seraphim #pacifista #shichibukai #boa hancock #hancock #blackbeard #marshall d. teach #teach #vasco shot #catarina devon #koby #marines #yamakiji #silvers rayleigh #rayleigh #shakuyaku