#look at those fucking colors and the goddamn pose are you trying to kill me

[drawbauchery]

just gonna do this screenshot bs until tumblr gets its shit together BUT IF ONLY YOU’D HEARD THE SOUND I MADE WHEN I SAW THIS

#docjackal #submission #it was a VERY UNDIGNIFIED SOUND. #look at those fucking colors and the goddamn pose are you trying to kill me? #i mean i think i said i'd die if you drew luca SO I WAS RIGHT. LOOK AT ME I'M DIED. #i couldn't get the rest of your message in there because tumblr is a shit site but #i miss you tooooo #it was a very good day #thank you for actually spending so much time on this gorgeous thing i love it and you #OH ALSO THE TRANSPARENT FINS THAT'S SO GOOD--

[toxic-gorgon]

Yandere Dio Brando x Reader: Useless

Synapsis: You are one of the last hamon users and while the practice itself has died along Lisa Lisa, except for a tiny handful of users. While most are willing to allow their gifts to die out and go about their daily lives, you want to put yours to good use and join the crusaders.

Content Warning: Extremely dark themes, click the read more at your own risk! Non-con, blood, yandere Dio, depression/hopelessness, corruption kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, talks of su*cide, violence, and extremely spicy themes. 18+, minors DNI! By continuing to read, you understand the risk.

When you joined the Speedwagon Foundation, you knew the chances of you dying for Mr. Joestar’s cause was almost inevitable. Your gifts were nothing compared to the powerful and unique stands that you came across during the start of your journey. You were one of the last remaining hamon users, but instead of allowing it to fizzle out like the others who trade their gifts for normal lives, you wanted to help and be useful! Lisa Lisa long passed and you heard stories of how hamon saved the world. Allowing hamon to die was allowing a part of yourself to die. 

Hamon was useless against stands, but worked wonders against humans and vampires. However, you primarily used yours for healing and support! The crusaders could use all the help they could get, so it made sense when the directors approached you for the task. Their lives are in your hands, and if it means to put an end to the vampyric Dio’s reign, then you’ll do your part and make sure these boys stay alive.

That’s what you thought at the beginning, back before your days meshed together and all time seemed to stagnate. 

You weren’t sure how many days it’s been since you first arrived in this suffocating manor in Cairo. The dark and coldness inside the manor contrasts the warm and vibrant colors outside your window during the day. You were ever the spunky one when you first arrived, you knew your friends were well on their way and you had no problem voicing that fact loudly in Dio’s presence. He would scoff, flashing you an amused grin, after all you were (as what he puts it) like a fangless, clawless feline. You don’t pose any real threat, but it’s cute to see you try. 

Dio is every bit what the rumors said. His raw charisma and power alone should frighten you, but that’s just one piece of the puzzle that’s Dio Brando. His beauty was truly breathtaking, much more so in person, his shirtless form proudly displayed like a painting hung carefully in the Louvre. His voice charmingly suave, almost a mesmerizing melody that beckons you closer like a siren’s call that you can’t block out. Worst of all was his eyes, that piercing gaze of his that can see right through you, all your worst fears and highest hopes, nothing can be hidden from this man. 

When you first arrived at his mansion, you were awestruck. Cat-got-your-tongue indeed as you drank in the imposing monster of a man, your enemy. What could he possibly want from you? His smirk makes your chest clench as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You wanted to run, and you would’ve if it wasn’t for you being so goddamned weak. You were completely at his fucking mercy, all he had to do was give the word and you would meet your end. You expected to die right then and there, surely a man like Dio would take out his enemy while he had the chance, just so later down the line it won’t bite him in the ass. You weren’t sure if it was out of pity or amusement, but your death never came. Instead, the cocky asshole smriks and gives you his blessing to tour his home. Hell, he even allowed you access to his library, on the grounds that if you did decide to run, you would be all too easy to catch. You were convinced this man had no real plan for you being here, besides making things much harder for the crusaders by stealing away their healer. 

You were determined to keep your head held high and wait for your knights in shining armor. 

But now, you’re just a shallow husk of despair. All the hope and conviction you had died little by little as the days went by, as those dark thoughts that Dio would mock you with began to take root. There’s no point in brainwashing you when your conviction can be shattered so easily. During the day, Vanilla Ice and Pet Shop watch over you. You absolutely loathe Vanilla Ice. His blind devotion towards his master churned your stomach, all the while he’s looking down on you and lack of stand ability. His words stung, but now they mirror static, background noise for your chaotic thoughts. 

Pet Shop was your preferred caretaker. He’s a bird, so he can’t talk like your other wardens. However, you could’ve sworn you saw that bird smirk once or twice, and his steely gaze mirrored his cocky yet powerful master. Perhaps the bird was silently judging you, even mocking you for being more caged than he was. After all, Pet Shop was allowed to move past the mansion’s windows and enjoy the fresh air and sun, even though he stayed within his bounds. A murder hawk has more freedom than you do.

The nights are always the worst. Screams of ecstasy or pain, you weren’t sure which anymore, filled the halls. After a while of being imprisoned, they all sound the same. How long before you’re next? You felt like it was any day now, and eventually your captor will grow bored of your constant banter. Perhaps that would be for the best, you’re dead weight anyway as long as you remain here.

Your friends were on a mission to save Holly, which you admit is more important than rescuing you. You knew the risk after when you joined this crusade, you just didn’t think it would end here in the lion’s den. You contemplated jumping out the window, not caring how painful the initial impact would be. You always decide against it, and instead sit and wait, chalking it up to being a coward as well. Everyday when your saviors hadn’t come, the little bit of hope inside was crushed gradually until barely anything was left besides tears of frustration and a luxurious queen sized bed to help you sleep.

Since you’ve been here, Dio took the liberty of making sure you’re fed three five star meals a day and accompanying you with a wine glass of blood. Such a gentleman, he even made idle chit-chat while you refused to take a bite (no matter how many times he told you it would be a waste poisoning you). Dio boasted about his many achievements, including how he stole Jonathan Jostar’s body, which you weren’t sure if he was just bragging or making sure that even in a casual setting, the threat still lingered. Was this supposed to impress you? Because the only responses you ever gave him were snide remarks and silence. Sometimes he would treat this like a silly game, but on days when he was more temperamental, you wisely chose to nod your head and actually eat what’s in front of you.

He made sure you were treated well, despite your situation. You bathed in a tub fit for a princess with fancy soaps and perfume, and was dressed in the finest of authentic Egyptian gowns that money could buy. All of which were gifts from Dio. He even took the liberty to do away with all your drab belongings and anything that didn’t fit his opulent aesthetic. He even gave you art supplies once. Whenever he gave one of these gifts, he always made sure to attach a rose with it. You always throw them out.

To occupy yourself when your host is gone and taking time for himself, you like to venture to his library and thumb through his vast selection. You’re sure you read over half of his stock by now, but something new always catches your eye to pass the time with. Usually you would saunter off into your room, avoiding the underlings as much as possible, but tonight was one of those nights where Dio met you there. 

“There you are darling, I was worried I missed you.” His smooth voice did little to put you in ease. 

“What do you want?” you sighed, making your way to the bookcase and browsing through different titles. Dio playfully scoffs, as always everything you say is just a game to him, and the disdain in your tone goes unnoticed. You didn’t move an inch when he moved closer to you, towering over your much smaller frame.

“You wound me dear, I only wish to spend time with you.” He leans in close next to your ear, his warm breath tickling your lobe. “Alone.” Now that’s laughable! Dio Brando isn’t a man who did anything out of kindness or ‘quality time’ without something in return. Did he run out of bodies to satisfy his hunger? What could you possibly offer him besides a snack?

“Spend time with you? I’ve seen what you do to the men and women who throw themselves at you for a sliver of attention. Their dead carcass lay about your manor like furniture when you’ve drained them.” You barely whispered. Why were you explaining his misdeeds to him like a child? You weren’t sure if you were trying to reason or reach the last thread of humanity within, but doubt was clearly written on your face. You wanted this to end.

You balled your hands into fists and shook with rage. “Just kill me and get it over with! I’m tired of you and I’m tired of being here!” 

Dio couldn’t help but sneer at your sudden outburst. How can you say these things? He’s given so much to you, and this is how you repay him? Do you not realize what you do to him? How weak he is while in your presence? How absurd. You had to have known, and perhaps you were testing his patience on purpose.

Reaching up and gripping your chin roughly, Dio kept your gaze on him. “I ask very little of you and have given you everything you could ever ask for. Tell me darling, are you truly unhappy?” his lips brush against your own, and his voice dangerously low that it sent shivers down your spine. Your voice was caught in your throat, this tower of a man standing over you so domineering makes you seem insignificant. Like a large cat ready to pounce on his prey. 

Tears run down your cheeks and you had no will to stop them. Why was he doing this to you? As if to answer your question, the blonde captures your lips and wraps his arms around your trembling form. With a jolt of energy you tried to shove him off you in defiance for your space. “Please stop, I don’t want…” you mumble. Growling, Dio pulls away and glares into your glossy puffy eyes, his brows furrowing when you don’t give in so easily.   

“Pet.” he said through gritted teeth, his hand drifting down to your neck and squeezing rough enough to cut off air supply. “You’re being selfish. All I asked from you in return is your loyalty and to surrender yourself to me.” He picks you up by your neck and amusingly smirks when you gasp and attempt to wiggle free, your hands desperate for air. Your nails grazing his skin with little scratches did nothing to phase Dio, instead he chuckles.

“Funny, isn’t it? The man’s body I’ve taken, the only man I would ever call my equal, possesses the same power as you do.” Black dots formed in your vision and your legs grew tired from flailing. He lets you drop from his grip, and while you sit slumped over and choking on air for your burning lungs, Dio looks down with his ruby hues. “Suppose my interest in you is fate, or perhaps you remind me of him.” Bending down to kneel in front of you, Dio pulls you towards his chest and picks you up bridal-style with very little resistance from you. He smirks and leans in to whisper in your ear “However, your strength will never match his.” 

Dio took flawless strides towards the desk on the other side of the room and pinned you down on your stomach against the harsh oak surface. With the wind knocked out of you temporarily, Dio traced his long nails along the soft chiffon fabric of your golden gown before tearing it to shreds down the middle, revealing your back and ass as the now useless fabric pools at your feet. Looking back at your captor’s sadistic smirk, your bloodshot eyes widen with realization. You were observant, he didn’t need to spell out what his intentions were. 

Almost immediately, Dio parts your legs with his knee and runs his fingers along your slit, examining it’s beauty before he decimates it with his cock. Squirming, you tried to push yourself up from the desk. As weak as you were, you had to try! Even though you knew Dio had more than enough strength to overpower you. As if he read your mind, he takes both of your wrists in his strong grip and pins them against your back. 

“Careful dear, you wouldn’t want me to break your arms, would you?” You stopped your struggling and stilled. It was best to get it over with and maybe if you comply, he won’t be as harsh with you, right? Just let him do what he’s going to do and don’t make it worse for yourself. “That’s better!” He smiles. “Lay there and trust your Lord Dio. Don’t worry about a single thing.” Don’t worry? How can you not? But, you did as he said and Dio goes back to running his fingers along your pussy, this time his index flicking against your clit. 

Biting your bottom lip, you shut your eyes tight. Be strong….be strong…. You chanted, but the small shocks of having your clip played with after being in turmoil for so long, it was difficult to not give yourself over for anything that can make you feel a moment of blissful ignorance. You were convinced that either Dio was a mindreader, or you were just so painfully obvious, but he stops his ministrations with your heat and leans in closer, he carelessly grinds his clothed hardened cock against you. He was quite proportioned. 

“Let’s enjoy ourselves, hmmm?” You shuddered at his words (and sizable bulge), a small whimper escaping you. Pleased with your sudden turn around, Dio leans back and without missing a beat, undoes his pants, allowing his cock weeping of precum to spring free. You swallow down a moan when his cock rubs against your clit, teasing your lips. Your cunt quickly became sloppy, as you were beginning to come around and throw caution to the wind. Dio must’ve noticed, because chuckles and mutters. “Don’t hide your cute noises from me now.”

With his cock soaked with your juices, he thrusts in and you do as he says, allowing a hoarse moan erupt from your throat that’s muffled by your face against the desk. This wasn’t going to do, not for Dio. While thrusting at a brutal pace, he yanks your hair back and lifts your head so he can listen to your lustful melodies more clearly. While you pant like a bitch in heat whenever he hits that spot to make you see stars, Dio releases your wrists in favor of gripping your hip tightly, leaving bruises. 

Gasping, you didn’t move your wrists for fear of your lord stopping or worse. Pleased by your obedience, Dio’s pace quickens, just for him to slow down to a tortuous pace. Flustered you cry “W-Why? Please….please….m-more!” You try to turn your head, but his strong grip keeps you in place. What a wonderful development! Definitely a change in the right direction from how you rejected him a few moments ago. But, Dio wasn’t quite satisfied yet. He wanted your everything, not only your spur-of-the-moment submission. He’s Dio Brando, Lord Dio to his brood. He doesn’t settle for less than satisfactory.

With a grin, Dio knew just how he would achieve this. “You beg so pretty darling, I see you’re finally coming to understand who owns you. But begging isn’t enough.” When he started moving again, this time his cock kissing your cervix, your mouth hung agape in a silent scream. Your thoughts thoroughly scrambled with nothing but the pleasure that Dio was offering you. Hell, you weren’t even coherent when your position changed to you being on your back with your legs spread wide and exposed, only for Dio. 

He picks up his pace, your cunt constricting around him as he pounds into your sore pussy, his hand now free from your hair pressed down your abdomen. He felt the slight belly bulge from him delving into your sweet cunt, simply delicious. “Darling-” He said too sweetly. “- You’re absolutely stunning so full of my cock, but I have a wonderful idea. I didn’t appreciate your attitude this evening, but I know how we can fix that!” You were too fucked out to comprehend his words, but nodded like the dumb slut you were. His dumb slut. “I’m going to breed this pussy of yours, fill you up with my cum, and you’re going to take everything I give you. Wouldn’t that be great? You grow big and round while your breasts are full with leaking milk.” He pauses as his hips sputter, his cock pulsating with the vision of you growling his children within your womb. 

“Yes..I think motherhood will suit you well. Forever my ___.” 

Whimpering, you nod in agreement. Whatever he wanted, as long as he didn’t stop. You were so very close! You mumble a breathy fuck when Dio pushes your legs up to your shoulders, diving in much deeper than before. Chanting strings of curses under his breath, Dio’s hand on your stomach drifts down to vigorously rub your sensitive nub and in almost no time at all you cum around his member, your juices rushing out to soak the desk and his cock. 

“Oh god...oh god...oh god..” you chanted, making Dio’s ego inflate more if that were possible. Smirking, he lets you ride out your orgasm, before picking up the pace yet again, this time losing control of himself for once. Brutally he fucks you, his cockhead slamming against your cervix, as your pulsing walls from your aftershocks urges his throbbing shaft, begging to milk it. After a few final thrusts, Dio stills and his cock paints your womb with his seed. 

He wasn’t done yet. Chuckling at your fucked out expression, it was so much like Dio to push for more. He wanted to mark you, make everyone but mostly yourself to know who you belong to. Your chest will do and his mark will be on full display. Using the nail on his index finger, Dio carves his name into your chest, pebbles of blood dripping down your sweaty and spent body after each scrape was made. When he is done, he admires his work, his name etched into your skin almost makes his cock spring back to life. What was he kidding, he could go a few more rounds anyway. But first, he leans in and laps up the blood, waste not want not right?

“There you are, how stunning. Darling, I wish you could see yourself right now.” Your eyes grew heavy, you were so exhausted and ready for a nap. Dio picks you up and doesn’t bother to cover you with your shredded rags. “No, no, don’t pass out now. We have a long night ahead of us.”

#jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jojo no kimyō na bōken #dio brando #yandere #yandere dio #dio x reader #hamon user reader #y/n #dio x y/n #extra spicy #dark themes #part 3 #stardust crusaders #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader

[petri808]

Bakudeku canon divergent, vampire quirk AU

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24

When Bakugou finally woke up in the Ena City Hospital, his head was splitting worse than a punch from Kirishima in full quirk, and ears rang with the force of all 108 New Year’s bell tolls. If he’d had no memory of the night before, Bakugou swore he’d just survived the worst hangover in history. Even his eyes hurt from the bright, piercing fluorescent lights and they weren’t even open! He turned his head to the side, noticing how much effort it took just to shift in such a small manner. It was as if his body was drained of... “Ugh, that bastard,” he groaned. ‘Fucker bit me.’ And as if to add insult to injury, a pin-prick pain in his neck revealed itself in that revelation.

His arm flopped up, hand straining with jerky strokes, reaching to touch the fresh bite wound located at the junction of his neck and shoulder. He flinched at the tender, bruising pain that sent a shock down his spine. Son-of— This just in! Pro Hero Dynamite cast in one of those cliché vampire movies that went straight to video. Definitely not the career start he’d envisioned.

“Oh, good you’re finally awake Mr. Bakugou.”

“Who the fuck are you?” he spat at the male voice. “And can someone turn the fucking lights off?!”

“I am Doctor Ishihira, and my apologies,” the doctor flicked off the overhead light. “Is that better?”

“Yeah,” he grumped.

“Mr. Bakugou, you were found yesterday morning and brought in suffering from hypovolemic shock due to severe blood loss and dehydration. We’ve treated you with 3 liters of IV fluids and blood plasma to bring your numbers back up, however you’ll still be groggy until your body replenishes the nutrients you were stripped of.”

Over a day had passed! At hearing he’d been out cold for so long, Bakugou immediately clenched his fists, swearing up and down about being released until they threatened to sedate him for longer. Longer?! He begrudgingly relented and settled down, but damn it! That meant Midoriya had another head start on him again! And now that the man knew he was on his trail, finding him would be a lot more difficult!

“What the hell is hypo-whatever shock?” Bakugou questioned.

“When you were found, you were in and out of consciousness and rambling incoherently, all signs of severe blood loss. The fatigue you’re still feeling is also due to the effects of it. Luckily the amount of loss wasn’t enough to start shutting down your organs.”

The doctor continued explaining a few more details regardless of the tantrum like a robot. Minor injuries he’d been treated for. The obvious puncture wounds in his neck, questioning Bakugou about any description he could provide of his attacker. He wasn’t about to tell this doctor or any authority figure who the true culprit was, so he feigned a temporary retrograde amnesia. Based on a raised brow, peering over his glass’s expression, the doctor didn’t look very convinced. Oh well, Bakugou really didn’t care about the man’s opinion.

“Mr. Bakugou, we also called you parents…”

“You what?!” Bakugou tried to jump off the bed, but his body absolutely refused to respond and ended up flopping like a dying fish. Ugh! He really was worse off than he’d thought.

“I’m sorry, but you are a minor, so we were obligated to do so. However, they did give us permission to treat and release you on your own recognizance once we felt you were better.”

Well, that was good news. ‘Sounds like mom actually listened to my letter.’ Or the authorities surely would have shown up by now. “Ugh! So, how much longer am I stuck here?”

“If you continue to recover well, tomorrow morning.”

Fuck! Now a three-day head start! Just great, he groaned. Midoriya could get far away with that kind of a jump start. “Fine, whatever! Now go the fuck away.”

The doctor left the room after explaining how nurses will be monitoring his progress, but to also let them know if anything started to feel worse. They needed to know if he developed any lasting effects from organ damage. Once he was alone again, Bakugou rolled gingerly onto his side as his mind processed the new information. Whatever Midoriya had been hit with must be the cause of this weird blood thirst that resembled a goddamn vampire plot line. Perhaps the significance of the blood coloring in his eyes was a sign of that thirst taking hold? That’ll be a handy tell, too bad it seemed to appear within seconds of the next step.

But if Midoriya had just fed on a victim, and history showed at times, a span of days before the next incident, what had caused his friend to attack him so fast? Was this thirst like a hunger? And what happens when you exercise or exert yourself? You use up energy. ‘Duh, Katsuki.’ Fighting and expending all that energy must have triggered the attack. ‘Wow, it burns fast.’ That meant Midoriya probably struggled to control this thirst, and that’s why he was pleading for him to leave him alone. But sorry, he couldn’t do that. ‘Fucker shouldn’t have run!’ One way or another he is getting his friend back home where he belonged. In fact, this only made his drive to find Midoriya stronger because he felt like he was partially to blame for the predicament his friend was in. The guy had to be scared, freaked out, and lonely. Bakugou’s heart clenched at the thought. He knew his friend was a social person by nature who loved being around friends and family. To be stuck out here all by himself and too frightened because of whatever this new quirk was had to be horrible… and utterly not fair. Of course, he did have a tendency to isolate himself when he feared…

Bakugou groaned. “Kami, not again with this shit!” When was Midoriya gonna learn to stop running away!

As his eyes relented to the fatigue and his mind slipped back into unconsciousness, Bakugou could only pray he’ll get a lead as soon as he got out of this hospital. This strange new quirk, if that’s really what it was, posed a serious danger not only to Midoriya, but the public. The reputation of pro hero’s had taken a major hit already because of AFO and the league, so if the public found out about a blood drinking hero attacking people… ‘I gotta get you out of here…’

After his encounter with Bakugou, Midoriya had rushed out of town as quickly as possible. Tears poured down his cheeks as he took off into the sky from having given in to the lust of this uncontrollable quirk. But he couldn’t stop it even if he’d wanted to. He’d learned the hard way right at the beginning that once it took hold of his mind, the only thing he could do was give-in or succumb to an even worse ravenous state that literally hurt. The pain of holding out on the hunger made him feel like a starved predatory animal that tore at his insides until he relented. In this state, the blood of any creature that came too close became a meal. But it was never enough. Animal blood didn’t satiate him in the same way that human blood did. Plus, he worried that if he let it get completely out of control, he might just end up killing someone. So far, he’d been lucky to leave them all unconscious but alive.

It was obvious that the light AFO had hit him with contained this strange quirk. How ironic, to take down a villain, only to be turned into one. That’s how Midoriya felt. How else could he feel? A hero wouldn’t hurt other people, so by taking the blood of others for sustenance, that made him a villain. Therefore, he couldn’t be a hero anymore. It must have been AFO’s plan all along once he’d realized he was losing. The villains end goal was to ruin hero society and this was definitely one way to do it. Take out his primary rival. The man poised to carry on a torch of safety and security, and snuff out any who chose to do harm… The whole situation with Bakugou really turned this into a nightmare out of body experience. To see his friend’s eyes suddenly show fear, then fade away the more he drank… his mouth clamped to the man’s neck… it was a horrible imagine that was sure to haunt him. He could still smell the burnt cinnamon from such a close encounter. If only he had clothes to change into or even a pond to bathe in, because that lingering scent was gonna drive him mad!

Midoriya curled up and clenched his eyes shut tight in an abandoned and overgrown castle he’d found outside of Ena. It didn’t look like it’s been maintained for a very long time, so the likelihood of a human showing up seemed low. He knew he should have travelled farther away, but he was too tired, too upset and just wanted to quit. All the years of growing up quirkless, to gain OFA and become the very thing he’d dreamt of, only for those dreams to be dashed again. It was as if life just didn’t want him to be a real hero. Maybe he should just put himself out of his misery, and yet— he couldn’t do it. To die out here alone where no one knew where he was or what had become of him, that wasn’t fair to his family and friends…

They must be so worried about him right now. His poor mother didn’t deserve any of this. Would his friends look down on him now? And All Might, his idol, who’d taken him under his wing, was he disappointed? And that just left Bakugou. He’d said the truth in answering the man’s question. No, Midoriya never would have expected him to come looking. Katsuki Bakugou giving a damn about him? Yeah, right. Bakugou wasn’t doing this because he cared. There was always a selfish reason behind his madness. Fear. Anger. Jealousy. Shouldn’t big bad Dynamight be thrilled that his biggest rival was gone?

Okay that was a big, fat white lie he’d been telling himself for the last two years. He knew Bakugou had moved past those pettier behaviors, but it was simply easier to believe and keep their relationship as rivals than to hope his childhood friend would ever see him as something else. And yet… ‘Kacchan was genuinely surprised by my answer. Did he really come looking for me because he cared that much?’ Yet in what way? Why was the man trying so hard? Did he… ‘miss me?’

Midoriya shook his head violently of those thoughts. No, no, he didn’t want to believe that because it would make this situation even more unbearable than it already was! He’d already given up everything he’d ever loved. His hopes and dreams, a future and losing an affection he’d craved for years would just simply be too much.

#bakudeku #bkdk #katsudeku #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku canon divergent au #blood quirk #vampire quirk #bakudeku au #bakudeku fan fic #bakudeku fan fiction #decchan #ktdk #ch 6 #bloody passion #petri808

[365days365movies]

January 16, 2021: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2014)

I am a massive comic book nerd. Not unusual these days, to be fair. But I’m definitely up there, as far as my obsession with Marvel and DC go. And, yeah, I stick mostly to those two houses, and their various imprints.

Why do I bring this up? Well...remember this movie?

Kick-Ass was a pretty big deal when it came out in 2010, as it was a Marvel Comics movie that was completely unrelated to the relatively new Marvel Cinematic Universe. Based of a 2008 comic book written by Mark Millar and drawn by John Romita Jr., the film was directed by Matthew Vaughn, and featured a more realistic take on how real-world superheroes would actually work.

Vaughn and Millar by this point at least, were friends. Around 2012, they’re getting drunk at a pub together, and talking movies. The topic of spy movies come up, and how there hasn’t really been a good, non-parody, fun spy movie, and that there should be. And that was the bulk of their conversation.

Enter Dave Gibbons, a legendary comic book artist, whom you may know from drawing the comic book that was turned into this:

Oh yeah, he’s a big deal. Gibbons and Millar end up getting together to write a fun spy comic book based on this idea. Vaughn, meanwhile, is getting ready to direct X-Men: Days of Future Past, the sequel to X-Men: First Class, which Vaughn directed. That’s a good movie, by the way, even if I have...issues...with the treatment of the X-Men in film. Maybe one day I’ll get into that, we’ll see what happens. Ask me about it if you’re curious.

Anyway, Millar goes to Vaughn with this script, and Vaughan looks at it and realizes that he needs to direct this movie before somebody else makes it. So he leaves Days of Future Past, and he signs on to...

I feel like it’s an obligation, as a comic book dude, to watch this film. I should also read the book, but I didn’t do that with Kick-Ass, so to hell with it! Let’s get this recap started! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

Starting off with some Money for Nothing, and somewhere in the Middle East, 1997! We go into a stone temple, where some kind of mission is taking place. A surprise grenade causes the loss of one of the agents. The surviving agents are Merlin (Mark Strong), Lancelot AKA James Spencer (Jack Davenport), and Galahad, AKA Harry Hart (Colin Firth).

Hart, feeling guilty over the death of this agent, tells his wife, Michelle (Samantha Womack) and child Eggsy (yes, Eggsy) of his sacrifice, and gives Eggsy a medal.

From there, we jump forward 17 years, to Argentina where...Mark Hamill?

Holy shit, it’s Mark Hamill! Apparently, he’s playing Professor James Arnold, and being held hostage by a group of mysterious men. Just then, he’s rescued by Lancelot, showing up with some classic James Bond-style swagger and asking for a cup of sugar, sardonically.

He kicks the asses of these guys, but is SLICED IN HALF BY A MAN WITH SWORD LEGS WHAT THE FUCK????

I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was watching the best thing I’ve ever goddamn seen. And as if that weren’t enough, she’s working for Samuel L. “Motherfucker” Jackson, playing Richmond Valentine. I am...I am so pleased.

We go to the Kingsmen headquarters, where Lancelot is being mourned by the Kingmen and their leader MICHAEL CAINE, REALLY, HOLY SHIT

Ahem. Sorry, uh...the star-studded cast has basically caused me to have a minor aneurysm. Caine plays Arthur, the leader of the Kingsmen. Get it? I can dig it, I’m a sucker for a good Arthurian reference. Anyway, now that Lancelot’s dead, it’s time to find a new candidate. Apparently, the man that died 17 years ago was part of an “experiment” by Hart, which Arthur says has failed. Galahad calls Arthur a snob, and says that they need to evolve with the times. \

Speaking of that former candidate, how’s his son doing?

Not stellar, it seems. His mom is dating a very unsavory gentleman, and not really taking good care of her youngest daughter. Eggsy (Taron Egerton), on the other hand, is a carefree delinquent. After engaging in an entertaining backwards car chase with the police (it’s cool), he gets arrested. He refuses to give up his friends, and he instead asks for a phone call.He looks at the medallion around his neck, and remembers that he can use the number of the back to contact someone for help. He uses a specific code phrase, but it appears not to have worked. But then, Eggsy is turned loose with little more than a phone call. That’s when Eggsy meets Hart.

We find out that Eggsy has a high IQ and Olympic-level athletics, but has dropped out of the Marines, and has been arrested for drugs and other illegal activities. After being read out by Hart, Eggsy goes on an anger-filled diatribe about the differences in privilege between the two of them. Although it’s short, it’s a powerful speech.

But that speech is interrupted by the owner of the car that Eggsy stole the previous night, as well as his gang. They’re yearning for a fight with Eggsy, and they threaten Hart. He doesn’t take that well, as he shuts the doors and windoes to the pub. Time to teach a lesson.

Yup, I’m giving this fight the posted video award. It might be short, but it’s also one of the best and coolest sequences I’ve ever seen in a spy movie. And OH, it’s giving me that gadget shit I was missing from the Bond movies.

After one of the most enjoyable fight sequences I’ve seen in a while, Eggsy’s understandably stunned. So is his stepfather Dean (Geoff Bell), the leader of the gang that Hart beat up in the pub. He’s not happy, and he beats Eggsy in their apartment, and that scene is...WHOOF. Much to their surprise, however, Hart’s left a device on Eggsy’s back. He threatens Dean through the device, and tells Eggsy to meet him at a tailor that he’d mentioned.

Once Eggsy escapes from Dean and the gang via nest parkour tricks, he makes his way to the tailor, where Hart officially brings him into the fold, giving him the opportunity to become a Kingsman. He exposits the history of the agency as a private group of spies, meant to protect the world while not bowing to the bureaucracy that plagues government-affiliated spy institutions.

We get to go to Kingsman Headquarters proper, and yeah...yeah, it’s cool. As compared to the other recruits, Eggsy’s pretty obviously out of place. This, of course, is part of the point, as Hart believes the Kingsmen could use someone with different life experiences and background. That would be the experiment mentioned earlier.

Eggsy’s competitors include Roxy (Sophie Cookson), who appears to actually be polite to him, unlike most of the potentials. They settle in for the night...but not for long. Their quarters fills with water, as the entirety of the Kingsmen head towards the showerheads and toilets for air. While they all succeed, Eggsy is the one who actually gets everyone out, by literally punching the window.

Unfortunately, for one of the candidates...it’s too late. These candidates could die in the hiring process. Rough.

Sadly, Mark Hamill also doesn’t quite make it, as Hart finds him, surprisingly freed from Valentine’s capture. As he’s questioned, Valentine is forced to kill him via Suicide Squad implant, and barely escaped from his men. Valentine and his henchwoman, Gazelle (Sofia Boutella) are trying to figure out who the Kingsmen are, to no avail at the moment.

Back with Merlin, who’s training the Kingsman candidates! They’re all told to get a puppy! Aw. Eggsy chooses J.B. a pug, under the mistaken impression that it’s a bulldog. And I’m not a pug person...but that puppy is cute as shit.

Time marches on, and the Kingsmen continue their training. Eggsy’s colleagues continue to discriminate against him, especially Charlie (Edward Holcroft). Hart, who was knocked out by the explosion, eventually wakes up. Valentine goes around to political leaders and proposes his plan to “save the world,” whatever that’s about to mean. Apparently, that includes giving the King of Sweden a surgical implant of some kind. Huh.

This, of course includes some, uh...conflict with Gazelle.

Awesome.

Eggsy’s in the final 6! As Hart congratulates him over this, we finally get some exposition on Richmond Valentine’s plan. See, that implant is the Suicide Squad bomb that killed Hamill, and Gazelle also has one. Additionally, he’s released a plan to the world that will provide free internet and phone data...forever. Not ominous at all, that.

After a cool skydiving training sequence, only three candidates are left. Hart, meanwhile, poses as a wealthy philanthropist, donating to Valentine’s cause. As a result, he’s treated to an extravagant dinner...of McDonald’s. Yes, it is the best product placement I’ve seen in a while, in case you were wondering. That reveal was hilarious.

Anyway, their conversation turns from talking about climate change studies and concerns, to their opinion of James Bond movies, in a lovely little piece of meta flavor. At this point, they would appear to understand each other’s role in the play, as it were. Forgot to mention, Valentine’s been kidnapping anyone who disagrees with his goals, while also distributing his free internet cards. So, there’s that. But he’s also trying to figure out what exactly the “Kingsmen” are. Speaking of...

Our three remaining Kingsman candidates are assigned a mission to seduce a young dignitary. However, all three of them make a mistake, and allow themselves to get drugged at a party, by someone wanting to know who Hart and Kingsmen are. When Eggsy wakes up, he’s been strapped to train tracks. Uh oh.

Despite an oncoming train, Eggsy doesn’t give the man any formation. Which, of course, was the point. It’s Hart, helping to give the Kingsman candidates a little loyalty test, which both Eggsy and Roxy pass with flying colors. But Charlie...Charlie’s a coward who immediately gives everything up, including Arthur himself.

Eggsy gets to spend 24 hours with Hart, before being thrown headfirst into a mission. Hart explains that being a Kingsman means being a gentleman, which Eggsy isn’t. Hart, of course, plans to fix that.

They head to the tailor, and check out some spy gadgets. And much to their surprise, Valentine is also there, under the guise of getting a suit. Hart takes the opportunity to recommend a hatter, who gives him a top hat with built in listening devices. I love it.

Eggsy, meanwhile, speaks with Arthur at Kingsman HQ. He’s commanded to perform one final test: kill his pug, J.B. Which...yeah, damn, that sucks. He doesn’t do it, understandably. Unfortunately...Roxy does kill her dog. She succeeds...and Eggsy’s kicked out of the Kingsman candidacy. Which feels like a bullshit play, if I’m honest.

Eggsy steals Arthur’s car, then goes back home. As he’s about to confront his stepfather, Hart brings back the car via remote access, then explains to Eggsy that the gun was filled with blanks, and that Eggsy ended up giving up his shot. He also reveals that the first candidate to die...didn’t actually die! It’s been a ruse all along, meant to test the candidates under the strictest of conditions. Which sucks, obviously, because Eggsy’s out of the program.

And at that point, Valentine says something of note, revealing that he plans to go to a hate church in Kentucky to begin his master plan. Hart heads there, and tells Eggsy to stay put.

We get treated to just...just the loveliest of sermons. Disgusting. But then...

...that’s the point, isn’t it?

Because Valentine uses the SIM cards to create a signal that drives the parishioners crazy. Hart’s also in the church, however, and he also starts going crazy. Which leaves the question: what happens when a highly trained spy goes up against untrained civilians, has a bunch of gadgets...and has absolutely no restraint whatsoever?

A MASSACRE, THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS. And most surprisingly, it’s a massacre that we actually SEE. Hart basically kills almost EVERYBODY in the church. I’ll put the video up, but...y’know, be warned here. It ain’t pretty.

Hart comes to, and realizes exactly what he’s done. He leaves, only to be confronted by Valentine and his men. The Bond metaphor finally comes full-circle, explained directly by Valentine. But instead of explaining his whole plan and devising some complicated way to kill Hart that he’ll inevitably escape from...

He just shoots Hart in the head. Holy shit. And this is while Merlin, Arthur, and yes, Eggsy watch on through Hart’s home feed. Looks like a new Kingsman is needed.

Arthur tells Merlin to assemble the Kingsmen. But Eggsy...Eggsy has other plans. Thinking on Hart’s words about wanting to do something good with his life. He goes to Arthur to talk to him about Hart’s death. Arthur invites him in for brandy. And that’s...when my mind exploded.

HE’S FUCKING IN ON IT?!? Michael Caine, NOOOO! Turns out that Valentine’s convinced Arthur of his true plan: a culling. He believes that the Earth’s temperature because there’s simply too much humanity, like a body trying to kill a virus. And so...he’s going to make the virus exterminate itself. And that argument’s enough to win Caine over.

Turns out that the implant is meant to protect those individuals against a neurological signal emitted by the SIM cards, the same one that went off in the church. Arthur, realizing that Eggsy understands exactly what’s going on, poisons him, then asks if he would like to join them. Eggsy refuses...and Arthur sets off the remote poison to kill him.

But NOPE! EGGSY SWITCHED THE FUCKIN’ GLASSES! I love this movie. Arthur dies, and Eggsy uses the opportunity to dig the implant from his neck. He takes that and Arthur’s phone to Merlin and Lancelot, who realize that they can’t trust anyone at this point. And so, the three of them - yes, the three of them - go to stop Valentine.

And, yeah...I can dig it. OH HOW I CAN DIG it.

Roxy goes up in an experimental vehicle to bring down the satellite, Merlin is flying the plane, and Eggsy...Eggsy’s the one going in disguised as Arthur, in order to infiltrate the mountain lair of Valentine. Here, he and the other beneficiaries wait it out, while the world literally tears itself apart. Now wearing a bespoke suit and playing the role of a gentleman, Eggsy enters the lion’s den.

But as expected, it’s time to hit some snags. Roxy waits juuuuuust a little too long, and one of the balloons in her craft pops. As for Eggsy, he meets an old “friend” of his in the form of Charlie, who’s now working for Valentine.

The missile’s fired just in time, as Charlie’s taken out and Eggsy runs for the plane. AWESOME climax here as Eggsy escapes. I mean it; it is VERY cool. They succeed JUST in time, and the satellite is destroyed. However, Valentine’s still managed to partially start the process, and they can’t do anything about that.

Eggsy’s gotta go BACK in, before Valentine gets another satellite to trigger the signal worldwide. Now armed with Hart’s AWESOME umbrella, he makes his way there under heavy gunshot. They’re also teaming up against Merlin in the plane, so he’s not doing great. And that when Eggsy has the idea...to turn the implants on. ALL of them.

It’s amazing. Violence in fireworks. So, it’s too bad that it doesn’t stop the signal. It works, and people start to tear each other apart all across the world. But only for was long as Valentine has his hands on the desk. Eggsy manages to stop that by laying down some suppressive fire.

That provokes a response.

..This movie is, for lack of a better term, fucking rad.

Gazelle and Eggsy have an awesome fight, worthy of any James Bond movie, seriously. I really want to give it the video post honor, but I’ve done that too much already. For god’s sake, I literally JUST did that.

Gazelle dies (it’s kinda goofy how she dies, if I’m honest), and Eggsy kills Valentine with her prosthetic leg. It’s over, as the signal ends, and Eggsy even gets the girl. Not Roxy, the Princess of Sweden. Not going into it, but it’s funny.

And that’s Kingsman: The Secret Service! Honestly, I gotta say, that was a rad-as-shit movie, and...

Ooh, a mid-credits scene! Eggsy goes back home, to the pub, where his stepfather and mom are hanging out with the gang. And let’s just say...Dean’s gonna get a little comeuppance. Manners, after all, maketh man.

OK, THAT’S Kingsman: The Secret Service! And that, again, was pretty rad. See you in the Epilogue in a few!

#kingsman the secret service #kingsman #kingsman tss #kingsman: the secret service #kingsman: tss #matthew vaughn #mark millar #dave gibbons #taron edgerton #eggsy #eggsy unwin #colin firth #harry hart #galahad #michael caine #arthur #chester king #samuel l jackson #richmond valentine #mark strong #merlin #sofia boutella #gazelle #365 movie challenge #365 movies 365 days #365 Days 365 Movies #365 movies a year #user365 #action january

[ilguna]

Metanoia - Chapter Fourteen (f.o)

Summary: you will be crowned victor of the 75th hunger games.

Word Count; 5k

Warnings; swearing, mention of murder and torture

NOTES: i give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

If the career districts had their hands on books like these, you would have been forced to read them. Mercilessly. Like, a whole couple of units just studying these useless things. They’re mostly published for the Capitol citizens--which is why they’re not supplied in districts--but imagine having everything you could possibly need to know, in a couple of books.

These handbooks are genius. Even if they’re meant for entertainment and not practical use, they’re fucking fantastic.

Every nine years, one of these books comes out. Inside, they have every tribute that had gone in for those nine years--which comes out to be two hundred and sixteen tributes in total. They have the names, ages, weights, heights, eye and hair colors. Who their mentor, stylist, prep team and district representative was, and so much more.

For example, for the year you won, they start with the tributes and their information. 

District One, Deimos Chambers. Black hair, brown eyes. He was seventeen, six-foot-one, with a weight of one hundred and seventy five. His mentor was Gloss, and as for the rest, it seems a little unimportant to you. However, his go-to weapon during training was always a sword, and he seemed to be very skilled in hand-to-hand combat.

Which all career tributes are skilled in, but whatever. You’re all taught to be proficient in something, and it’s mainly hand-to-hand. You’ll hardly see a career tribute try and do shit from far away. You know you wouldn’t bother all that much. From far away, you risk the chances of missing, up close, you can kill them in one goddamn shot.

Deimos’ score was a whopping ten, which is basically what all the comprehensive people had gotten. In his interview he wore all black, and when the lights had been shut off momentarily, the glow in the dark constellations came to life. And it wasn’t that bullshit green color either. It was white, and looked like there were actual lightbulbs behind it all, but the stylist was just creative.

It lists the people he chose to be allies with: Alhena, Zeke, and yourself. How many he killed during the bloodbath, which was one. But in total from start to finish it was three to four, counting assist kills. It says how he died, how many days he survived for, and what he placed.

Next is Alhena Hurley. Brown hair, blue eyes. She was sixteen, five-foot-seven, weighing in at one hundred and thirty five. Her mentor was Cashmere, respectively. Her chosen weapon inside of the training center was a mace, and her special note was that she was strong.

“Not emotionally.” you mutter, snickering to yourself as you continue reading.

Alhena got a score of nine, her interview dress was silver, with black specks on it--which is more or less the opposite of what Deimos had. She killed two people in the bloodbath, and that would stay her number for the rest of the games. She died because she got killed on the third day by someone who was hiding in the trees.

On the District One page, it holds both Deimos and Alhena. Pictures of what they wore during the reaping, train station, parade, interview and inside of the arena. Along with their special picture that would indicate that they were dead. The next page holds their family and friend interviews--if they had any--with the questions that Caesar asked and the answers given by their loved ones.

Then, there’s District Two, starting off strong with Zeke. Blonde hair, brown eyes. Seventeen, six foot on the dot, weighing roughly one hundred and sixty pounds. You guys had the same mentor, so it was Enobaria. He was boring and chose a sword, and his special skill was that he was always moving. More or less, he was quick.

Training score of ten, his suit was a bronze color, while the dress shirt was actually black. It was sorta metallic in the light. Zeke managed to kill one person in the bloodbath, and came out to two to three at the end. And he obviously placed second, because you were the one that killed him so that you could win.

And then there’s yourself. (Y/n) Rosecelli, sixteen. You had fairly short hair when you went inside of the arena--just so that it wouldn’t be grabbed and used against you. You were pretty tall, around the recommended weight group--although, that didn’t really matter in the end--and your mentor was Enobaria. Your chosen weapon inside of the training center was the sai’s and your special talent was being a know-it-all.

You scored a ten, got the same metallic bronze color of a dress with the matching black. Inside of the arena you had killed eight people, placing number one. At the very top of the page it says ‘WINNER!’, like it’s some fucked up game and not a fight for your survival.

It had the pictures and interviews as the others did, but with yours it’s extra special. You get the second interview by Caesar and what outfit you had worn for it. A small section for all the highlights inside of the arena, and then the victory tour, with the celebration at the mansion. All the headlines that you had gotten for being inside of the Capitol ‘willingly’. 

And there’s also close-up pictures of all the tattoos you had gotten while you were there too.

It makes you sick knowing that they had produced these for entertainment, when it really could have been for the betterment of future tributes. Apart from all the useless shit they had for profiling the tributes, they literally had their battle plans.

Like for Finnick, it says that he used a fishing net while he and the opponent were in water. He’d get them tangled, and then when he was sure they couldn’t hurt him, he’d just kill them with his super expensive trident. And all the tributes didn’t know to be afraid of him until it was too late.

Just like with Johanna too. She played stupid for her entire time inside of the Capitol, and a little bit into the games to draw people in. She purposely scored low on her private training session--which is no doubt a big setback sponsor-wise. But then she became a killing machine, and almost a legend of sorts.

It made tributes wary of those who pretended to be stupid like that. Gave away their entire motive, because Johanna had done it first, and she won because of it. Anyone who did pose a threat early on would get killed.

It’s the exact reason why you went after the District Four tributes when you did. Your games were directly after Finnick’s, and the thought of one of those fish-eating fuckers getting their hands on you like that was terrifying. So, the only way to eliminate the chance of that happening, is to get rid of the only people who really know their way around water, and nets, and fishing.

Finnick likely hated that, the fact that you went after them specifically when you had the chance. However, you know deep-down that he appreciated that you wouldn’t let them suffer. You just wanted them dead immediately to get rid of the chance of them still being alive. You wouldn’t move from the bodies until the cannons had gone off.

Honestly, your allies should have killed you when they had the chance. If you were smart enough to stand over tributes to make sure that they were dead before moving on, that should have been a red flag. Even when they had wanted to leave tributes to bleed out and die, you’d be the one to finish them off.

Not to mention, you marking your arm after every broadcast of The Fallen was a whole new level of insane. And it’s not like they didn’t notice it or anything, they just chose not to point it out. They knew what it was for and all, but they didn’t say anything.

Someone clears their throat, making you look up from the handbook. You’re not really surprised to see Finnick standing there, in the same white scrubs that you’re wearing.

“Good afternoon.” you flip the page, landing right onto the District Four tributes from your games, “Or evening, I can’t tell in this coffin anymore.”

“The nurses tell me you haven’t left your room in a couple of days.” he doesn’t move from the doorway.

You give him a glance, “Why would I? Peeing in my own bathroom is just the same as the one down the hall. Both have cold toilet seats and smell like cleaning products.”

Finnick cracks a smile, coming into the room now, “What’re you reading?”

“Hunger games handbooks.” you hold it up for him to see briefly, “This is the year I won, and these are the tributes you mentored.”

Finnick comes over, and you turn the book so he can read it a little.

Brook Giles, fifteen, five-foot-eight, around one hundred and fifty six pounds. He has bleached brown hair and blue eyes. His training score was a nine, he wore a classic light blue and white suit during his interviews. His go-to weapon was a sword inside of the training center and he died on the first day because you killed him.

“One of my first takeouts,” you watch his face, wondering if he’ll get mad if you talk about it so carelessly, “It was almost fun.”

Finnick meets your eyes, “You were scared, just like the rest of them.”

“I killed him because he reminded me of you.” you then turn to the girl, “And so did she.”

Mira Osborne, sixteen, blonde hair and green eyes. Five-foot-five, one hundred and forty pounds. She wore a white dress that barely went to her knees, some blue accents here and there. She scored an eight, her go-to weapon was a spear. One kill, and only a few days later she’d die because you’d find her hiding in a cove.

“I was fifteen when I watched you win, and I knew that the following year I’d likely be picked to volunteer. I realized that I didn’t know how to swim at all, and the thought of ending up in a net, scared and drowning was more terrifying than anything I had come across up until that point of my life.” you smile, looking at Finnick now, “So, I dug a hole in my backyard, filled it with water and taught myself how to swim.”

Finnick stares, as if he doesn’t know if you’re kidding or not.

You aren’t.

“Of course, as extra precaution I chose to go after them first. Anyone who got in the way was an added bonus to my kill streak. I hunted Mira like she was a fucking deer and I was starving.” Finnick’s silence is what you expected for telling him information like this, and you’re not even done yet, “And had you not been my soulmate, you, Mags, Katniss, Peeta and Johanna would have ended up just like her.

“And I wouldn’t have stopped until you were all dead.”

Finnick straightens up, stiff. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, but snaps his mouth shut.

Smug, you smirk, “What? Did you suddenly realize that I’m exactly who I told you I was?”

Finnick turns to leave, and you wait patiently as he goes towards the door frame. But then he grabs the chair by it, and takes a seat. Although, just by looking at his body language, he doesn’t want to be here. And he doesn’t want to let you win this either.

You laugh, rolling your eyes as you flip the book open again, “You’re making a grave mistake.”

“Stop telling me that.”

You glance up, “Is it because you know that I’m right and you don’t want to admit it? You know you’re leaving a nice, capable girl that would love to settle down, have kids and grow old with you. For someone who’s an insufferable bitch that hates the life she’s been given, and everything that she’s ever cared for gets killed or leaves her.”

“Is that why you won’t let me at least be friends with you?”

You take in a deep breath, “No, I don’t want you near me at all because you’re you. You’re Finnick Odair, darling of the Capitol. You’re Finnick Odair, the youngest victor in history who was also given the most expensive gift ever sent inside of the arena.” you laugh, “Oh! And you’re Finnick Odair, the man who also exposed Snow for who he is. Which lets you be in the spotlight more times that you’re worthy of.”

“So you think you’re not worthy?”

It’s like a blinding rage for a split second as you hurl the twenty-five pound book straight at Finnick, “I can’t fucking stand you!”

Finnick catches the book just barely before it hits him in the face, “(Y/n)--”

“No.” you cut him off, “No, you don’t get to pretend like you’re the voice of reason here, because you’re not. I’m a fucking nightmare, and even I know when enough is enough.” You get up and off of the bed, grabbing a hold of the necklace Tanith gifted you. As you begin to leave your safe place, you point at him, “I know what the fuck is wrong with you.

“You hopped from what you think is one broken girl to another. But news flash, Finnick, I’ve lost much more people,” you get down to his eye level, “I lost my entire family when I got home to District Two after I won my games. And it wasn’t just my immediate family, it was distant aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. Everyone who was even a shred related to me, is now dead. I’m the only one left of my fucking bloodline.”

You stand up now, “Losing Tanith is nothing compared to what I had lost then. I wish I had grown a pair and stepped off the fucking hovercraft to bury her, because doing that wouldn’t have been nearly as much as a hassle compared to dealing with you.”

Finnick doesn’t say anything, and you don’t wait to see if he does either. You go straight out, ignoring the nurses that stare at you, because it really is the first time you’ve left the room in days. Everything is delivered to you, if there’s something you want, they’ll go and get it.

You have a vague idea of where you want to go, just getting there is going to be the problem. Typically, even if you do leave the room, someone will follow you out to keep an eye on you. You remember very vividly, a certain nurse standing at an arm's distance from you, during Coin’s last speech. When she announced the liberation of the prisoned victors.

A joke. This whole place is one fucking circus.

Just as you expected, the floor is pretty vacant. Here and there, someone will wander in and out, but that’s really it. You give a look behind you, confirming that there isn’t a nurse following you just yet. Then, you take off towards the elevator.

You barely remember how that one doctor used it, but it shouldn’t be that hard. You press the button, bringing the lift to you. When it stops and makes the annoying sound, you pull the guard rail up, and then step inside. Pulling it down again, you can see one of the nurses round the corner.

You give her a bright smile, punching the top floor, “Tata.”

The elevator starts moving up, and you give her a wave. Then, she’s blocked out by the cement flooring.

For the rest of the ride up, you cross your arms and wait, staring straight ahead. Your game plan is to head to the woods and don’t stop walking until you’re lost. Hopefully, no one will think to follow you out there.

The elevator stops at the top floor, allowing you to be met face to face with a band of people. They’re pulling up the guard rail before you even have a chance to reach for it.

Katniss is on a stretcher, her sister is hovering over her. Haymitch, Beetee, Gale and Boggs are nearby. Not to mention all the other people behind them.

“Geez.” you move out of the way, allowing Katniss to be wheeled in. Beetee and Gale fit themselves on, but Boggs and Haymitch don’t follow.

There’s not nearly enough room for them all to fit on the elevator, anyway. And apparently it gives Boggs to grab a hold of you before you can escape.

“Where are you going?”

You give him a kind smile, “I was given the okay to clear my head for a little.”

“Why are you still in scrubs, then?”

You make a face, shrugging, “Don’t ask me, they’re the ones that told me I was free to go whenever.”

Boggs doesn’t look convinced, and honestly, neither does Haymitch.

“Fine, I made a breakaway because I can’t fucking stand it in there.” you pull your arm from Bogg’s grasp, “For a district that’s all about equality, I don’t see why it should matter if I come up here to disappear for a little while. Or the fact that I’m being followed around when I do leave my room because you guys think I’m some sort of Capitol bootlicker.”

Haymitch laughs, “Same old (Y/n).”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” you then look at Boggs, “Don’t send anyone to follow me. I’ll come back when I feel like I’m ready to breathe stale air and eat shit for dinner.”

“Had you expressed your distaste for District Thirteen earlier, we might have taken you right back to District Two.” Boggs says.

You raise your eyebrows, “Earlier? When did you go?”

“A couple hours ago.” Haymitch says, “We just got back.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “Great, my only way out of this shithole and I wasn’t even aware of it. It’s funny how you brought the guy in the wheelchair and not the girl who literally grew up there her entire life.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” Bogg says, “Enjoy your walk.”

The elevator is back, and they step on. You turn around and leave, heading straight towards the opening. You can already hear the chirps of the birds and you’re nowhere near the door.

You pick up the pace, jogging right past the people that work out here. One of them waves, and you raise your hand in acknowledgement. The smile doesn’t even come across your face until the sun is in your eyes.

You take a sharp left, taking the trail for the most part. When you’re out of the sight of those inside of the building, you slow your pace, taking your time with getting lost. 

You’re not even kidding when you say that it’s literal fresh air. This smells and tastes nothing like what goes underground. It’s stale, and out here it’s sweet. It must have rained a couple days ago or something because the plants have that smell to them--petrichor.

After a while, you detour from the trail, heading into the trees some more. You weren’t kidding when you said that you’d like to get lost. Being out here, wandering for hours on end is going to be more entertaining than reading those depressing handbooks. On top of that, you won’t have to see Finnick’s face for a while.

He really does get on your nerves. Him pretending that he knows every single detail about you, and claiming the opposite of what you tell him is pissing you off. You’re a lot of things, but a liar isn’t one of them. You’d rather be told the heartbreaking truth than have someone lie through their teeth. So, you assume other people like it that way too. It cuts out a lot of unnecessary drama.

Unless it’s another person’s lie, then you’ll play along. If they want to fabricate things for their own gain, then have at it. Who are you to say no to them?

With Finnick, you’ve told him several times, over and over that you can’t stand him. And he acts as if that’s all going to magically change if he forces you to get used to his company or whatever. And you even dumbed it down for him, explained what the deal was. You don’t want him, you don’t need him. You want or need the help.

He doesn’t need to stick around after that wish has been fulfilled. All he’s doing is hurting his own feelings. 

At this point, it might just be the challenge of getting you to like him. Show some kind of friendship just so he can drop it. You wonder if you fake it, he’ll finally leave you alone. You might just have to try that out until he realizes that you’ve had an entire personality flip.

Finnick would probably see that it’s a facade but might go along with it just to see how long you can keep it up for.

It’ll be your own personal game. How long can you be nice on the outside and calm on the inside until Finnick does something completely absurd that it makes you flip your shit? The time starts now.

You take a deep breath, going down the hill carefully, because you can clearly see the river. Off to the left some more are shoeprints and the trail that you had supposedly detached yourself from. It doesn’t really matter anymore, as long as you can sit here and be by yourself, you’re fine.

You get as close to the water as possible, taking off the shoes and rolling up the scrubs. You let your legs sit in the water as you lean back on your hands, staring at the scenery. It truly is a beautiful place here, but you’d never want to stay. Even if District Two is in shambles, you want to go back.

It’s your home. It holds so much grief and terror, and yet you just want to be back in the comforts of your own town. You want to see all your old neighbors before your victory. And see Victor’s Village overflowing with people always, no matter how annoying they were.

They’re all dead now. The only surviving victors from District Two is Lyme, and yourself. Everyone else is dead. Enobaria, Neysa, Tanith, Sorcha, Brutus, Edmond, Zavian and everyone else. Lyme had filled you in, that Snow had them all killed, and anyone else who proved valuable went with him.

Lyme and Paylor are lucky to be alive.

You’d literally give anything to talk to one of them again. To relive Tanith showing up uninvited in your house the morning of the reaping. You would have been so much more gentle than usual if you had known that it would have been the last real conversation without gloom hanging over your heads.

At least you’re lucky to say that your final goodbyes to her and Zavian wasn’t terrible at all. You were able to hug them both and tell them just how much they meant to you. Even if it wasn’t really heartfelt for Zavian, it wasn’t the worst thing in the world he could have heard.

And now they’re gone, and you’re still alive.

“Lucky me.” you murmur, finding a rock and tossing it into the water.

It’s funny how you only feel bad after all those people are dead. You would never in your right mind would have ever thought of being kind to those people until now. You’ve got some genuine guilt on your hands. 

Edmond and Neysa really had tried to act in your best interest. They knew your limits, but you like to think that you can push it. Like Edmond making sure you’d be sober and not make a fool of yourself in front of all those people at the train station. He wasn’t doing it to restrict you. And even though he didn’t show it the best way, you could have at least tried to understand.

Neysa just wanted you to get good allies. She wanted to give you a fighting chance, and had you just followed what she wanted, you wouldn’t have been so waist-deep in shit with distrust from Finnick’s alliance. She knew something you didn’t when it came to the fact that you shouldn’t go off alone inside of the arena.

And yet you like to be independent. 

There’s a crunching of leaves beneath boots, making you dip your head for a moment. You sigh through your nose, raise your head and then look over your shoulder. It’s exactly who you thought it would be, but he’s not wearing those white scrubs anymore. He’s also got some clothes draped over his arm.

You squint at him, “Are you wearing a suit?”

“Not the reaction I was expecting.” Finnick’s got his signature smile on his face, showing off his dimples.

You turn away before you can say something mean. 

“I figured you’d rather run away in something much more fashionable.” Finnick stops behind you.

“How’d you know?”

You stare at the water for another moment, before pushing yourself up, brushing off the dirt from your butt, knowing full well that it’s still going to be there. In Finnick’s hands sit some familiar ripped black jeans, but a navy blue shirt.

“I see they have a pattern.” you hold up the shirt to see, “And it has a breast pocket too.”

“The pink shirt was thrown away since you destroyed the hem.”

“I was anxious.” you reason, placing the shirt back.

You take off the white scrub shirt, making Finnick turn his head away. A smile appears on your face, because he acts like he literally hasn’t seen you naked before--cough cough, after you got bit by spiders. Butt ass naked, it wasn’t just Finnick who saw you completely nude. You flashed the whole fucking country.

They probably couldn’t keep that in, and had to change the camera perspective after that. 

You pull on the shirt, and then you pull off the bottoms, being sure to wipe your muddy feet on them to clean off your feet.

“So what made you follow me out here this time?” you ask, taking the jeans and pulling them on.

“Your stunning personality, as always.” Finnick looks over now, “And the fact that Haymitch and Boggs wanted me to follow you out here. I tried to tell them it wasn’t the brightest idea, but they had me do it anyway, gave you a thirty minute head start first, though.”

“Smart of them. I’m assuming you saw Katniss, then?” 

“Seems like she’s been taking hit after hit lately.”

“Imagine getting strangled by your fiance.” you laugh, and Finnick joins in.

“Imagine getting punched by your soulmate.” Finnick gives you a look.

You roll your eyes, “Okay, you have to admit that you deserved it.”

“Whatever makes you feel better about yourself.”

You press your lips together, stomping your foot into the boots since you’re too lazy to untie them. You repeat the process with your left foot, which takes a lot longer. Finnick just laughs at you the entire time, since you refuse to go down and fix it yourself.

“Let’s get serious for a moment.” you look at Finnick, and he looks a little afraid, “It’s nothing bad, you might even think I’m lying for a second.”

“That’s not--why would you say that?” he laughs.

You take your dirty scrubs from his hands, “Because I think ahead.” you tap the side of your head, “Anyway, I honestly want to apologize for what I said earlier.”

Finnick’s eyebrows skyrocket, and you can’t help but to laugh, “You’re being serious?”

“I am.” you start towards the trail, “And I would also like to apologize for everything that I’ve said before that. And all my actions too, like if I punched you or threw something at you.”

“Where’s all this coming from?” Finnick asks, “I mean, I accept but you gotta tell me why.”

You look at him, “I was thinking before you came out here--obviously--that people aren’t really out to get me. I don’t have to be independent and fight by myself anymore, not when there’s people with the same… struggles. You get it, right?”

Finnick’s impressed, “I do.”

“You know, a genius once told me that I’m not as dislikable as I like to think.” 

It takes Finnick a moment before it clicks in his head. He’s the one that said it to you.

“A genius, huh?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” 

He nods, “Well, if we’re apologizing for things--”

“We’re cool, you don’t have to.”

Finnick ignores you, “--I’m sorry for approaching you so strongly.”

“You thought that it was the only way to get through to me, I get it. If someone has their walls up, sometimes the only way to get them down is if you meet their energy.”

“Do I even know you?” Finnick laughs.

“Oh, the glory of having an epiphany.” you smile, giving him a look, “So what are we dressed up for?”

“Your newfound freedom.”

“The fuck?” you laugh.

“Haymitch and Boggs convinced Coin to get you a little more freedom, which means that they weaseled me in too. We get a dorm, get to eat with the others and we can come up here whenever we want.”

“I have a feeling this is a little bit of bullshit.”

Finnick chuckles, “How did you know?”

“You can’t deceive me, I see through most of the shit you and your buddies do. I pay attention. I knew you, Johanna and the others were in an alliance before it was formed. And I also knew that you were planning a rebellion, and all you asked is if I was a loyalist.” you get back to walking, “You could even say that I’m a little insightful.”

“I’ll give you that one.” Finnick agrees, “Also, before we go back inside, you should know something else.”

“What did you do this time?” you look at Finnick.

He’s stopped walking, and so you do too, “I’ve ended things with Annie completely.”

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair metanoia #metanoia #metanoia chapter fourteen

[thewebcomicsreview]

Oh shit, Homestuck 2 is back! Looks like the art team problems are getting worse, but maybe the writing’s good? Quick, recap of the story so far, since there was a hiatus

Previously, on Homestuck 2:  DIRK: I’m evil now and we’re on a new planet where we shall create our own lifeforms and rule them as gods ROSE: I’m making memes and vaginas DIRK: NOOOOO ROSE: Jade got me preganté and we named our kid Yiffy and I kept it a secret from everyone this whole time, including my wife but inexplicably not the dictator I’ve trying to overthrow, who kidnapped her JOHN: NOOOOO CALLIOPE: I’m in ur bod drinking ur juice JADE: NOOOOO CALLIOPE: Oh, like you’re not used to having weird people inside you, skank JADE: Wow, rude, I’m kicking you out of my brain for that  CALLIOPE: NOOOOO JOHN: Man, I love how my son tells me everything and keeps no secrets  KARKAT: John! Vriska’s alive and she murdered the clown pope and your son is hiding her because he and his friends are wanted for treason  JOHN: ...... KARKAT: You’re supposed to say “NOOOOO” John: Why would I? That fucking rules!  We now return to Homestuck 2

Yay, we’re finally seeing Davebot, Aradia, and Calliope. Fun fact: In a comic with like ten billion retcons and timeline splits, this Aradia is still the definitive “real” Aradia in a way no other character can claim to be (except Sollux), which is a fun endgame for a character who was introduced has having hundreds of thousands of duplicates.  I can not wait to see how the HS2 writers ruin her. (Also, where did they get a rocket ship?)

Also it it me, or is there something a little off about this art?

DAVEBOT: beep boop ARADIA: i have told you several times that i was a robot before and i know for a fact you dont have to say beep boop DAVEBOT: hm that sounds fake does not compute ARADIA: david DAVEBOT: mom

“David”? 

This is the first indication in the entire series that any of these kids’ names are short for anything, something Hussie explicitly said wasn’t the case but which was never actually addressed in the comic proper so I guess it’s not a plot hole. Still, it feels a little....wrong? 

ARADIA: well we are both an infinite number of years old living countless lifetimes at once but thats no reason to waste any of our...

Wait, what?! Aradia is Ultimate, too? When did that happen?! Why does she not need a robot body? 

DAVEBOT: time DAVEBOT: say time ARADIA: ... DAVEBOT: time then make a weird face

There’s a fine line between “callback” and straight up recycling a joke. 

ARADIA: would you say you are hung up on leaving your wife and friends behind DAVEBOT: are you ARADIA: am i hung up about leaving your wife and friends behind ARADIA: i do not think that i am no DAVEBOT: arent you even a little guilty about ditching your boyfriend ARADIA: what ARADIA: oh fuck

I do like the implication here that Aradia flat forgot about Sollux. Poor dude can’t catch a break. .

Ooh, an [S]. An extremely basic one, but still. Also, from this scene in the epilogues:

The distant sounds of war travel above the canopy of a forest. The artillery fire fades to a series of muted knocks and thuds as the sound waves cross beyond a thinning patch of the forest and arrive in a clearing of grass and shrubbery. Above, the sky is dramatic, colorful, menacing. The way it looks when a storm is coming. The clouds are wild, whipped into a sort of spatial frenzy, as if they know what’s imminent is no earthly phenomena. Aradia stands in the field, her mouth gaping wide. But not at the sky.

Probably the starkest example of how the epilogues presented Earth C has falling about and doomed and stormy and scary like the system crash in Reboot and Homestuck 2 has it all sunny and bright. I kind of wish HS2 kept the semi-apocalyptic feel of the epilogues, even if it made Aradia’s spurious decision to leave Sollux behind way more dickish. 

Oh hey, God’s back, and back in the body of the OG pre-Retcon Jade Harley. There’s something very Shoujo about this posing.

DAVEBOT: thanks JADE: They sit in each other's presence, the silence between them as meaningful as any words they could exchange. DAVEBOT: its always really cool to hear how meaningful my silences are DAVEBOT: especially while DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: CALCULATING DAVEBOT: especially while i am attempting to experience them

I think Calliope, and possibly Aradia, is shipping Dave/Aradia right now, which is a pairing that has some comedic appeal were it not for Dave’s gayness.

ARADIA: i think she looks quite lovely covered in the viscera of the all-powerful enemy she consumed ARADIA: floating lifelessly in our periphery

We just established that this is months after they left Candyland. Has Jade’s body been covered in the blood and guts of Lord English this entire time? Take a goddamn shower, Jesus. 

Oh, there we go. Much better. Also, the one thing I heard about this upd8 was all the discussion of jorts, and then Dave references jorts, but no one is actually wearing them, unless Aradia’s got a pair on under her cultist robes? (Also, is Calliope’s Jade body healed from the shard of reality that killed it originally, or is there just a huge hole under her shirt)?

JADE: As a point of curiosity- ARADIA: oh shit!!!!

The dead Cherub possessing the body of an equally deceased Goddess of Space pauses at the interruption. Were she to voice her opinion, it would be that --actually-- it is not unusual for those whose primary concern is The Grander Scheme to have a passing curiosity about the insignificant. So when one really thinks about it, any annoyance with the attendant’s small mindedness is both understandable and warranted.

ARADIA: :(

Given how much time was spent on how Terezi can sense Dirk’s narration, I like how Calliope’s narration is literally just her talking out loud and everyone can clearly hear it and just assumes it’s like a troll quirk.

ARADIA: in this form our bodies stop aging once we reach maturity i think ARADIA: the god tier keeps our physical form locked in a state of undying ARADIA: even in death the bodies do not decay ARADIA: only lay dormant DAVEBOT: no thats boring DAVEBOT: like how long have you been alive JADE: yes, that one.

One of the things I don’t fully get about Calliope is why there’s stuff like this she doesn’t know. Another thing I don’t get: How come John and Jake are visibly middle-aged? They’re gods, too. 

ARADIA: you were there too i threw your air conditioner into the sun DAVEBOT: wow thats fucked up DAVEBOT: thats not where that goes at all JADE: these events are not-canonical. ARADIA: rude

I believe this is a reference to Pesterquest?

DAVEBOT: is that the trope of being hundreds of years old but looking young forever patently sucks ass DAVEBOT: a plot device an asshole would write ARADIA: :( JADE: that is not what i am trying to say at all. DAVEBOT: hmm wow yeah thatd really be a sort of pot/kettle situation i guess DAVEBOT: i cant believe im the only woke one here DAVEBOT: its hard being such a visionary AND such a fine metallic specimen

What the fuck is David even talking about? What? 

DAVEBOT: but can she see why kids love the sweet cinnamon taste of cinnamon toast crunch JADE: i do not know, or care, what that means. ARADIA: neither do i :)

I like the “Best Narrator” mug, and with this sudden headache to interrupt the laughter comes the end of the chapter and presumably a lead in to the next one when we’ll learn what’s blowing Calliope’s mind 

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #Homestuck 2 Liveblog

[bountybossier]

Under the Moostletoe I Erin & Nic

You better buckin’ believe it.

With: @corpse--diem

Erin’s hands felt sweaty. Never in her life would she have imagined herself standing outside of a moose-themed restaurant, getting nervous as she waited for a guy who she had drank whiskey with over an open wolf carcass. The same man who she’d found out both ate water with cereal, and accidentally terrified a group of children in a putt putt course. What was she doing? She stuck her hands into her jacket pocket, questioning all of the choices she’d made in life that led her here. And she was early. When was the last time she’d had a date? A proper one, anyway. Like now--one where she put make-up on and actually dug out a dress from the back of her closet. Moose Caboose didn’t deserve the effort, but she wanted to try anyway. This was fine. They had alcohol. This was fine. When she spotted Nic’s familiar figure, she waved, internally screaming at herself to be cool. “I was gonna wait inside but everyone in the waiting area kept staring at me. Because, you know. They stare all the time. Always. At everything.”

Googling “how to deal with nausea” had brought fruitless results and Nicodemus wasn’t thrilled. He couldn’t just throw back TUMS like Tic-Tacs and hope it would go well. Fuck he hoped it went well. Sweat threatened to plaster his flannel shirt to his back and he considered bringing extras in case he drenched the first one. A drink would fix things. It always would. He held onto that thought like a lifeline as he pulled up to Moose Caboose and turned down his blaring radio. 7:10 wasn’t a bad time. It gave him at least ten minutes to scream internally before he combed back his hair and stepped out. Shit, she had put on a dress and he looked like Paul fucking Bunyan just returned from the county fair. All he needed was an elk over his shoulder and--He cleared his throat, cleared his thoughts, and walked up to meet her halfway. “Is it because you look nice? Because you do. Look nice, that is. Just a little different without all the blood is all.” He said the last part quieter than the first. A slim smile concealed the violent turn in his gut and he opened the door for her. “Now are we talkin’ about the taxidermy or the wait staff? There really a difference?”

The dress was too much, wasn’t it? Now Erin felt stupid, watching Nic roll up in his flannel shirt, her back to a moose-themed restaurant. And here she was in a stupid dress. Too late to go back now. Still, she couldn’t help the smile that came with his compliment, blood mention and all. “Smooth,” she raised a brow, following him in. “I can always find some, toss it around, if that’d make you more comfortable?” She cleared her throat, casting a glance his way. “You look nice too,” she added on quickly. “And you look like you definitely belong here.” Another nervous laugh. Antlers and fur and black, beady eyes welcomed them the second they entered the restaurant. She leaned in a little bit, trying to keep her voice low so the customers and staff didn’t hear her. “I told you. Everywhere,” she gestured with a nod. “I think there’s less heads in my basement than there are in this hallway.”

“That’s me, smooth as a fuckin’ baby,” Nicodemus muttered as he willed the red creeping up his neck to fuck off. It didn’t seem like it would so he would have to grin and bear it. Her mention of flinging blood about made him feel better and he wasn’t quite sure what that said about him or his state of being. “Might have some left over from the other night if we really need it, but by the looks of this place, they might already have it covered.” Was this a Chuck-E-Cheese for rednecks? Pictures didn’t do the place injustice. He didn’t want to question the compliment, but already he felt like his best hunting flannel didn’t cut it. Asking Nell hadn’t been on the table, as he feared the response like nothing else. “Yeah? Thanks, I wanted to limit my chances of being killed and stuffed. You on the other hand…” He left it at that and approached the hostess. He tried to hide his ugly snort at the basement heads. “Table for two.” The hostess beamed up at him, eyes just as dark as the goddamn bison overhead. “Oh is it a date? It’s your lucky night. The table right under the moose is available.” He immediately blanched and shot a look back at Erin. The center of the damn place sounded like hell. “Uh, we don’t need right under the moose. Is there a...beaver or somethin’ in the corner?” The hostess seemed upset by his rebuttal but gathered the menus anyway. “Oooo even better, we have two beavers. Holding hands.” Regret washed over as he watched the hostess start walking away. “Well...Fuck.”

Are people allowed to ask that? What if this was her brother? This teeny bopper would’ve felt like an idiot then. But for now, that emotion was reserved for them. Nic especially, judging by the way the color immediately drained from his face. Erin tried to hide her snickering to very little avail, eventually having to cover her mouth with her hand so it wasn’t so obvious. “That’s way better. Thank you,” she nodded earnestly. “What are you waiting for? Follow the lady,” she pressed a hand to his back, urging him to follow the hostess as they led them to their seats. There was no way she was going to let him challenge her further and have them sitting anywhere else. The younger girl seemed to have an endless supply of enthusiasm tucked away, her smile relentless as she pointed up to the beavers. “Adorable, right?” She held a menu close to her face, like she was trying to share a secret. “The moose spot is great, but I should’ve known you two lovebirds would appreciate this one more. Enjoy!” She plopped then menus down with a pep Erin rarely saw in any one person. Her eyes were stuck on the beavers though. “This is way too good to be true,” she bit her lip, laughing harder than before. “Thank you so much for picking this spot.”

It was too late. The hostess was too far gone to have them sit anywhere else than in the Beaver Damboree. Nicodemus bit his bottom lip as he looked at Erin and shook his head in disbelief. At least someone was enjoying this. At least it wasn’t too good to be true. He didn’t need to be pinched. He was sure one of the taxidermied crabs with their shiny claws would do that for him. He had made his moose-covered bed and he was going to have to lie in it. His feet felt heavier as he walked behind the bubbly young hostess, but Erin’s hand against his back brought him to life once more. Both of the beavers looked him directly in the eye and it felt like God was laughing at him. And sweet Jesus, they were actually holding hands. “Yup. It’s perfect. Hey, just in case, you actually got any lovebirds here that we can just put nearby or something? Really, uh...” He brought his fingertips to almost touching. “Really bring it together? That’d be great, uh, Josie.” The girl beamed at him and he gave her a tight smile back. Might as well sink in all the way. Nicodemus’s customer service smile slipped away as she sat down and almost instantly, his fingers went to his temples. “Oh, it’s all part of the plan, y’know. Josie and I are familiar,” he said with a dry laugh as he picked his head up again. She had a nice laugh, he thought. He picked up the drink menu immediately. “What are you thinkin’? Looks like there’s a...Beaver Damned Good Margarita or a, uh, Moscow Moose-le.”

This felt more foreign to Erin than almost anything she’d done in her life. Sitting here, watching as Josie, the all too keen to please hostess, redecorated their general surroundings to be as disgustingly love-y as possible. “I should’ve known you had this planned all along,” she felt her cheeks burning and she took a long sip of water. He seemed to be gradually getting into it though, even if it looked like it pained him every step of the way. If she didn’t laugh, she’d be hurting right there with him. “Since you two seemed to love Mr. and Mrs. Chuck…” Erin perked up, slightly startled at the sudden reappearance of Josie beside her. The love birds, as promised, were set in the center of the table. Beaks facing each other, only just touching, as if they were kissing. Erin’s stomach felt like it had dropped to the floor. “Wow, Josie, thank you,” her words came out curtly and without thought. She looked at Nic, amused and slightly terrified all at once. “Can we get some drinks. The, uh, Moscow Moose—Moosels—you know what I’m trying to say. Like, as soon as possible. Please.” She smiled curtly up at the young girl, who promised to let their server know, before skipping off to help the customers that just walked through the door. Erin picked up a menu, but her eyes kept staring at the forcibly posed birds in the middle of the table. “I hope you know both of those drinks are for me,” she smirked, shaking her head, letting out a long sigh. This was going to be an interesting night.

“Yeah, let me tell you, it’s been real fuckin’ hard keepin’ up the mystery,” Nicodemus said with a snort. To cool himself off, he chugged his entire glass of water as Josie reappeared, her spirit called upon by the act of decorating. He hadn’t even heard her approach. The thought that she might not be human occurred to him. Was anyone here human? Short, violent coughs caught him off guard as she set the birds on the table. Of course the beavers were married and the lovebirds existed. They really did have everything stuffed and on display here. If, over the course of the night, he died, would they stuff him and pose him in a corner? At the rate the night was going, it wouldn’t be long until he found out. “Holy shit,” he said, unable to help himself as he stared at the birds. “That’s just, uh, perfect.” Josie was gone after Erin ordered her Moscow Moose-les and Nic tilted his head to the side at the woman’s comment, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “I had a feelin’, which is why I’m going to go with…” His eyes scanned the menu again until he landed on it. The one drink on the menu that lauded only two would be allowed due to its alcohol content. “Moose Cannon. Sure, sounds like me.” Their server, a dry-eyed young man named Martin wearing costume moose antlers, appeared. “Welcome to Moose Caboose, where the fun is loose and you’re guaranteed to leave the place stuffed!” The man’s voice cracked somewhere in there and Nicodemus gave Erin a funny look. “Uh, she ordered two of the--I’m not gonna say it. The Moscows. Gonna do me a Moose Cannon. There anything you recommend off the menu, boss?” Martin laughed startlingly loud and Nic’s sensitive ears caused him to flinch. “I’m not the boss. Not here, not ever! And everything is delicious here at Moose Caboose! I’ll go get those drinks.” He damn-near hovered away and left them alone. Nicodemus scanned Erin’s face. “I think we’re gonna die here.”

Erin found Moose Cannon on the menu, nodding in her appreciation in his choice. A normal person would’ve gotten tipsy from that one alone, but she had a feeling Nic could handle it. “Excellent choice. It’s starting to look like you and I have the same idea, here,” she smirked over the menu. Martin the server was startling in his own right, but not in the same way that Josie had been. His enthusiasm was almost robotic, and his eyes were dark--yet somehow, unmistakably cheery. A chill crept up her spine as he slithered away, finding Nic’s eyes as her’s widened in a sort of amused terror. “I think you’re right. I think he already did,” she held back another laugh, trying to take all this in. So far, she had to say--better than most of the awkward, stuffy dates she’d ever had in her lifetime. Her eyes moved to above Nic’s head to the wall littered with more taxidermied animals. “Dibs on those antlers if we need to fight our way out of here.” Erin hardly had a chance to look over the menu before the drinks arrived in record time. This place was, if anything, efficient. “So!” His voice rang out loudly again, causing her to flinch and nearly drop her menu. “Jesus--” she mumbled, reaching for one of her Moscow Moose-le. “Have we decided yet?” He chirped, glancing between the two. She hadn’t even looked properly, and simply pointed at whatever her eyes locked onto first. “I’ll have the, uh, Steak and Moose-d Potatoes,” she said slowly, raising a brow. They liked their puns here. Erin lifted her drink to her lips, tilting her head as she smirked at Nic. “What’ll you have, deer?”

“Hope those beavers are as sturdy as they look in that case...” It didn’t feel forced when he grinned that time. “Y’know, I thought the whole lizard people thing was bullshit and then we got here. Startin’ to buy into it.” When Martin reappeared with a sudden squawk, he lamented not bringing his gun inside. Then again, it might have been better that he didn’t. As soon as the Moose Cannon hit the table, Nicodemus had his hands on it. Straw an afterthought. Martin watched him with beady lizard eyes that didn’t seem to ever blink as the hunter took a hefty drink. It was sweet, way too sweet, but most booze-loaded drinks were. The food menu was as much of a moose-laden mess as the drink menu was and he felt hopelessly lost. Was any of this fucking food? Were they about to get display food on plates, surrounded by Martin and Josie as they were forced to eat it? What’ll you have, deer? His eyes narrowed at Erin as he took another long, dragged out drink of the Moose Cannon. At some point, Martin’s eyes drifted to stare a hole into the center of the table. Looked like someone had turned his settings to standby. Nicodemus thankfully didn’t choke, but he could feel the blush running up his neck like wildfire. “Fuck it, I’ll do the Bisontennial Burger with fries.” Thank fuck the fries had a normal name or he was going to lose it. He all but shoved the menus into Martin’s waiting hands. Before the server left, he got his attention. “Martin, you good?” Martin flashed all his teeth with a wide smile and Nic immediately tried to find anything uncomfortably pointy. “Never buckin’ better, mister. Besides, this is Moose Caboose where the fun is fast and loose! I’ll put that right in or so help me. So help us!” No point in asking him to blink twice as he slid away, walking the exact same path he had before. Nic glanced back to Erin and perched his chin on the back of his propped-up hand. “So, deer,” he started, voice as dry as Martin’s eyes. “Odds on us being gooble-gobbled and made one of ‘em?”

The silent tension that filled their surrounding areas as Martin waited for Nic’s order was as suffocating as it was awkward. Erin could only lift her drink to her lips too, impressed at the way he was chugging that drink. She nearly choked on hers when he asked if he was ‘good’. She swore that he said that same catchphrase with the exact same inflections he had just a few minutes ago. Something was not right about this place but the mixture of nerves and general absurdity was making it hard for her to truly focus on whether or not these people were animatronics or not. Finally, after a flurry of customer service, they found themselves alone. Well, lovebirds and beavers excluded. “I’m hoping they just kill us and not set us up to spend an eternity slinging moose-puns, honestly,” she smirked, glancing up from the table. Josie’s eyes were focused hard on them with a smile that took up her entire face. Erin turned her chair slightly, trying to keep her back to those beady, dead eyes. “At this rate, we might as well just invite them all to eat with us.” They were alone now, and that fact seemed to resonate hard now that they didn’t have wait staff moving adjacent to them at every turn. Erin cleared her throat, almost halfway through her first mule already. “So, uh. How’s that Moose Cannon?” she smirked, resting her elbow on the table, watching him with a knowing smirk. “Lot of alcohol in that one. Think your colon can handle it?”

“Well now that the thought is out there, I’m callin’ Country Roads as my song,” Nicodemus said with a quirk of his brow and a dip of his head, his large glass raised in mock cheers. He elected to ignore the fact that it felt like a dozen flies worth of eyes were on them. They already have the beavers and the lovebirds, how much worse could it really get? “It ain’t bad,” he said as he eyed the fact that he had less than a quarter of it left. Wouldn’t do to let it get watered down by the...moose-shaped ice cubes in it. For fucks sake. He both did and didn’t like how she was smirking at him. “Pretty solid amount of alcohol in it, I’d say.” He squinted and finished the rest of it, just as it did get worse. There it was. The cursed colon. “Damn it, you saw that?” The instinctual need to make a fist in frustration started to backfire and he glanced down in time to see the thick drink class start to crack. It was one of the thicker glasses, the kind that could damn near weather a bomb, but there it was, cracking and then, suddenly, shattering. It was too thick to shatter into a million pieces, a fact he was thankful for. Little to no response was given when red blood started to dye the spilled moose cubes. “Jesus, got a grip like a bull rider...” He said quickly as he stood up and damn near concussed himself on Mr. and Mrs. Chuck as he did so. It really wasn’t that bad, just a surface nick or two.  All of the pieces stayed on his side and he looked apologetically at Erin. In record time, Martin was back. “Oh wow, you’re bleeding like a stuffed pig,” he said, a bit more enthusiastically than Nicodemus was comfortable with. “Please don’t sue us or this--” Martin gestured at himself. “--little piggy might not make it home from the market, mister.” Nicodemus stared down at him and made sure to note the quick, lizard-like movement of his tongue. He didn’t say anything to him and glanced back at Erin. “Just gonna go to the restroom real quick to, uh, deal with this. Martin, get me two more of those, will you?” He looked for the sign with the moose ass on it and stalked toward it.

Erin didn’t expect Nic to take the colon comment in grace, and she’d hoped that all of the alcohol he’d just shoved down his gullet would brace some of the impact. But then the glass shattered in his hands with a pop that rang through the restaurant. Not shattered--popped. The thing was damn near indestructible, but he’d done it, and he was bleeding all over the moose print patterned tablecloth. “Jesus, are you okay?” She asked, standing when he did. Martin’s shrill voice startled her, again, and this time it was incredibly less amusing. There wasn’t a thing that he said that made any kind of sense to her, and her eyes glazed over as he started to clean up the broken glass. “Your dinners should be out shortly, and by moose, do they smell delicious already!” Was all he said as he swept up the pieces from the table and carried on. Too much prolonged eye contact forced her to glance down at her drink again, finishing off the first. When she eventually saw Nic start towards their table, the first empty glass had already slipped into her purse. “You alright?” she asked, glancing down at his hand. Lowered her voice, tugging him a little closer before he could sit back down. “Also… do you want to get out of here? Because I really, really do.”

Nicodemus felt like a fucking idiot. Why was bleeding in the bathroom the most comforting experience he’d had all night? Away from everyone’s eyes on him, he was free to scowl and swear as he ran his hand under ice-cold water. He didn’t have anything to bandage himself with and if Martin so much as put a hand on him, he’d snap his neck in the Moose Caboose parking lot. Instead, he shrugged off his flannel shirt and cut a strip of the green material to loop around his thumb to cover his cut palm. Back in just a plain black shirt, he returned to Erin with a sheepish frown and nodded. She pulled him close and sadly, instinctively, he almost reared back. But he didn’t and instead looked at her. Whatever perfume she was wearing, it mixed with the blood. “Huh? Yeah, yeah, guess my hand just slipped or some shit.” Not that he had shattered a tank of a glass into oblivion with just a flex of his hand. His stomach dropped. And it felt like his chest hurt? What did that mean? He didn’t know. Fuck, he’d shit the bed. He’d shit the entire bed and then another one. “That bad, huh?” He laughed to keep his throat from closing, his smile tight but shaking in a way that he hated. What the hell was happening to his body? When had he become an anxious wreck? Suck it up, Buttercup. “Yeah, I get it. I figured. Uh--Martin.” The server stopped, two Moose Cannon’s in hand, before the hunter pulled him away, behind the bar and into the back of the restaurant. When they returned, Nic held a small bucket with a saran wrap top and two straws taped together sticking out of it. Barely out of sight in the pocket of Martin’s plaid shirt was four twenties. Nicodemus was surprised to see Erin still there. He thought she wanted to go, forget the whole thing. “I’ll walk you out. We’re goin’ the same way.” Of course they were. There was only one way to leave Moose Caboose. Or two, really.

Erin’s eyes narrowed briefly at his response and the way that his voice seemed to completely lose all of the energy it had before. Was he okay? Did he not agree that this was the most horrifying place they’d ever been to in this town? “Unless you want to--” she started to say, but he was already disappearing with Martin. Part of her wondered if he was actually going to come back. More eyes than she could count were staring at her as she sat in silence, finishing up her other drink. Her cheeks grew warmer the longer she waited, like they all knew she was about to be stood up. Bolted up once she finally saw him come back with a fun new cup in his hands. “Two straws? That’s very, uh, Lady and the Tramp of you.” She smirked, watching Martin glide to another table nearby, giving the exact same spiel he’d given them. She swore he was still managing to watch them out of the corner of his eye. Nic, though, the poor guy looked like someone had broken his--oh. Oh, no. “Let’s go to my place,” she chirped out quickly, realizing the unintentional damage she’d done. “For drinks,” she added on. “I want to drink with you. If that’s okay?” She bit her lip, glanced around them, trying to think of how to add the gusto back in, and quick. Grabbing her drink, she finished off the second one, then let it clank into her purse with the other. “Only if you bring the lovebirds,” she glanced back at the table, grinned at him, then made a dash for the exit.

“Compromise I made with ol’ Martin,” Nicodemus grunted as he looked over at the man, who looked about ready to shed his top layer of skin and become a higher being. Under the hunter’s gaze, Martin flinched and went back to his current table of targets. He blinked at Erin, his face morphing through what felt like five emotions. It was a bizarre occurrence if he even went through one. And then an honest to God, broad as the horizon smile appeared. One that his whole body went into. He took a long sip of the quadrupled Moose Cannon. “Yeah, sure. Yeah, we can do that.” He nodded slowly. A conspiratorial look slid onto his face at the sound of two glasses clinking in her purse. A look not unlike the stuffed fox just three tables down. She was gone before he could say anything. Booming laughter threatened to erupt and at the mention of the lovebirds, he immediately snatched one and put it under his shirt. The second one followed after, a lump under his tight shirt that didn’t look at all suspicious forming. He raised his bucket glass to Josie and Martin as he followed quickly behind.

#wickedswriting #chatzy #c: erin #chatzy: under the moostletoe #// what A RIDE

[fivenightsatfreddysfanfiction]

First Day On The Clock

A look ‘back’ at Herrera’s first day being hired at Circus Baby’s Pizza and Parties as a part-time day shift guard. It’s not easy working when he’s also gotta keep an eye on his mischievous younger brother!

"So this is where you got me a job?" A tall young man muttered as he squinted up at the pizzeria sign. Beside him a teen pulled out a printed email and read it over again, nodding his head.

"Yeah. Contact says she's been waiting for us to show up and got the position all ready for one of us to get. So there you be, bro," he replied and looked up at the sign himself. "It's better than nothing, at least." The older brother grimaced.

"Yeah, but why me?" he complained and grunted at the elbow jabbed into his ribs.

"You're the older one! That's why!"

They went inside and looked around warily, taking in the decorations and busy atmosphere of the pizzeria. An animatronic hippo stood on stage, regaling kids with long-winded stories. Another one, Circus Baby herself, walked the floor of the dining room, platters of pizza in her hands as she moved from table to table, serving out fresh slices to those who ordered them.

As the two of them moved through the pizzeria, a pair of guards passed by them, one yawning as the other smiled at them in greeting. The brothers blinked, watching them go by before their attention was pulled away by a more vocal greeting.

"Hi! Welcome to Circus Baby's Pizza and Parties!" a woman with long auburn hair exclaimed brightly. "How many in your party?"

"We're here for the job, prima," the teen piped up, holding out the email. The woman scanned it over critically before beaming at the both of them.

"Oh! You're the Herreras?! It's great to meet you at last!" she exclaimed happily, "I'm Meera! Come with me; I've got a lot to explain about the job before you get started, Mr. Herrera." She turned around to lead them off, then whipped around and smiled widely, gesturing towards a nearby clock. "It's day shift."

The brothers breathed out a sigh of relief in unison.

The office was cozy, with equipment that looked like it had been upgraded piece by piece. The elder Herrera alternated his attention between Meera explaining his duties for the day shift and reaching out to push his younger brother's hands down as little fingers crept over to try and get at the computer and printer.

"We're very accommodating to our employees, within reason of course. Is there anything I should be aware of to make sure you'll be happy working with us?" Meera asked him, her eyes glancing over at the teen fidgeting in his chair as if to check he wasn't going after her equipment again.

"Yeah, our mom's a bitch so is it okay if I bring the punk with me here?" Herrera asked, jerking a thumb over at him. "He can keep himself entertained with the games and I'll pay for his food." Meera's face scrunched up in a strange expression.

"He's not gonna take them apart, is he? They weren't exactly cheap with the budget I had when I bought them and they've been pretty good at bringing money back in," she said, one eye on the verge of twitching.

"Nah, he'll just wreck the curve on the scores," Herrera replied with a grin.

"Is that shirt pink?" the teen asked, swinging his legs back and forth as he watched Herrera straighten his new tie in the mirror. Meera provided a few sets of the day shift uniform for him and gave him a chance to change in the employee restroom before starting a training shift.

"It's like… a very light purple?" Herrera returned uncertainly, twisting around in front of the mirror to check how he looked. "Boss Lady was wearing the same color." His brother squinted at him, sleeves of his hoodie tugged over his hands so only his fingers peeked out and those picked at loose threads.

"Lilac? Lavender?" he suggested. Herrera shrugged. "Don't forget to clock in," the teen pointed out, hopping up from the sofa to walk beside him after the young man scanned his new ID card into the work clock. "So what kinda stuff are you gonna do?"

"Eh, walk around the rooms and make sure no one's trying to kill themselves on shit or abduct kids. Like a kiddie bouncer but the closest thing we got to strippers is them." Herrera jerked a thumb at the nearby stage where Circus Baby gestured to introduce an upgraded Ballora, the ballerina twirling elegantly over the sturdy wood flooring.

The boy shuddered, grimace on his face. "Dude, don't say that! Geez, barely started the job and already you're gunning to get fired," he whined. "We need the money!"

"Could've gone with my other idea on getting a job but nooooo~," Herrera returned in monotone, lifting his hands and waving them sarcastically. "'We can't do that, it's illegal~!' Beggars can't be choosers, punk."

"Just try!!"

"Fine. Go play some games and I'll have some pizza sent to you."

The job was pretty easy to do, which was both good and boring. Herrera sighed in faint exasperation as he walked out of a party room, brushing confetti off his shoulders as his earpiece crackled on.

"Dude, you're not gonna believe how many tickets it took to win the walkie-talkies and then fuck with the wiring!" his little brother's voice squealed gleefully over the airwaves.

"What the-?!" Herrera exclaimed incredulously, hand raising to his earpiece, "You better not get us in trouble for hacking the goddamn prizes!"

"Oh my god, it's just walkie-talkies and I earned them fair and square!" the other teen whined. "I got top scores on a couple of the arcade machines but I need Babtokens to play more of the ticket games."

Herrera rolled his eyes while making his way to the next party room to peek in. "So go ask Baby for some," he said, giving a little salute to the parents of the birthday kid before moving on. "Or are you too much of a wuss for that?"

"Uh, nooo? I'm not a baby!" He could hear the exasperated little huff. "I just don't wanna talk to him."

"She's not gonna bite your head off. ...I think." Herrera muttered, scratching at his chin. "And aren't you being a little hypocritical with the pronouns?" There was silence and he could feel the sharp glare being sent towards him from somewhere within the building. "Go ask Boss Lady then. Wuss."

He found his little brother some time later at the ball pit, tossing colorful plastic balls up at a small animatronic bear balanced on the monkey bars that crossed overhead in a playplace fashion. Herrera gave the bear a wary look, one eye squinting as he judged the size of the thing and the distance between them. It seemed more interested in waddling over the bars and bouncing in place in some strange dance, dodging the plastic balls being lobbed at it.

"I didn't see rules that said I couldn't mess with whatever this thing is," the teen commented before he could say anything.

"I think that's more a case of 'use your common sense'," Herrera pointed out and rolled his eyes at his brother's snort. "Yeah, ha ha. It's been six hours, punk."

"Yeah? And? That can't be your full shift yet. This is part-time, right?" His brother picked up another few balls, bouncing one in his hand to prepare to toss it.

"No, I mean it's been six hours," Herrera repeated and poked him in the back. "You need to take it off for a while." He was treated to a furious glare at that.

"We're in a public place, dumbass! I'm not taking it off!" the teen hissed, shoulders hunching defensively.

"Go to the office then. There's an employee bathroom; you can take it off there and just wait in the office for a while to rest." Herrera raised an eyebrow as his brother refused to move from where he crouched by the pit, tossing the balls back in with more force than necessary. "How about I go with you?"

The teen huffed but stood up and nodded curtly, reaching out to grab his sleeve as they walked through the dining room towards the back office. Once there, Herrera pushed open the door, blinking as Meera looked up from her paperwork with a surprised expression. Across from her, on the other side of the desk, Circus Baby sat in a chair in a lazy pose, lidded eyes scanning the both of them quickly before returning to watching the young woman.

"Is everything okay?" Meera asked in concern, "Do you need something?" Herrera pointed down at the teen beside him who looked away with a red face.

"He needs to borrow the bathroom here and wait in the office for a while, maybe an hour. Is that alright?" he asked.

"Um, yeah, it's fine," she replied with the same concerned tone. "Any reason why he can't use the public one?"

"Personal," the teen muttered, shifting as if to hide behind his brother. Meera nodded and gestured towards the nearby door, her attention going back to the documents on her desk. Herrera prodded and nudged him over, then idled near the door.

After a few minutes, the animatronic rose from her chair in a fluid motion, flicking her pigtails back with a quick shake of her head. "Showtime in a few minutes. Confirm my stage company?" she pointed out, tapping one of the sheets of paper. Meera switched attention to it.

"Funtime Freddy, Happy Frog, and El Chip," she read off and tilted her head. "Bilingual show?"

"Inclusivity. Happy is going to be signing because I'm not letting that bitch sing," Baby declared, hands on her hips and tossing her head in typical diva fashion.

"Can I stand guard in the games area until the show's done?" Herrera piped up, mentally gauging the distance between the stage and the games floor. That was far enough while still being in the building, right?

"Sure, sure," Meera agreed absently, already signing the document with one hand and reaching to type something out on her computer with the other while Baby went over to the row of lockers lining the far wall of the office. The animatronic opened one locker and pulled a jacket out. She tossed it towards Herrera, who caught it and gave it a puzzled look before turning the expression up to her.

"Have him wear it. It's big so it'll help hide whatever he doesn't want noticed," Baby said with a shrug as she sauntered out of the office. "Hasta luego!"

The bathroom door opened and the teen stepped out, bundle of fabric in his hands and uncomfortable expression on his face. Herrera held the jacket out to him. "Here. Wear this for now. See if it helps."

"Huh? Where'd you get this?" his brother asked in confusion, taking the jacket and slipping into it. It hung loosely on him, giving him a faintly box-like shape. He took in his appearance in the bathroom mirror and hummed in approval. "Not bad. I can ignore it for a while in this."

"It's a loaner. Mr. Herrera, games floor, please. Your break is after the show." Meera said suddenly, pen tapping her desk to get their attention.

"Oh, shit!" Herrera yelped and ran from the office, his brother's cackling laugh trailing after him.

"So, what'd you think?" his brother asked eagerly after he clocked out at the end of his shift. The two of them walked to their bus stop, Herrera carrying his regular clothes in a large paper bag and still dressed in his uniform. The outfit made it easier for the two of them to move about without much hassle; people in uniform were seen as Totally Responsible, Money-Making Adults. It made him pout and long for his old clothes. Got the same respect, didn't have to deal with neckties.

"It's okay for a job. The bonus of them letting me have you hang around makes it worth it," he finally answered. "I can keep an eye on you when you're not at school. Which reminds me, we need to work out the route for you to take so you can join me at the pizza place after school so you're not trapped at home with the bitch." He scowled. "I don't like what she does to you when I'm not there to stop her."

His brother made a little sound of discomfort at the reminder. "Yeah… but we'll have enough soon to move, right?" he asked hopefully. "I've been looking at apartments during lunch at the computer lab, and there's a few nearby that are pretty cheap!" Herrera grinned widely down at him.

"Yeah? Show me when it's safe; I wanna see what you've been up to, kiddo."

His first day at Circus Baby's Pizza and Parties was not bad at all. Maybe there really was hope for them both to finally live their own lives and be themselves? He laughed to himself on it, soft chuckles in a tone that made the old lady waiting with them at the bus stop scoot away from them. Yeah, maybe they could really do this.

END

#fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf: vr #fnaf: help wanted #fanfiction #short story #vr protags #herrera #pizzeria simulator #meera corbett #circus baby

[bidrums]

I saw Phantom of the Opera on Broadway a few weeks ago

My thoughts (in no particular order):

IT WAS SO FUCKING AMAZING OMG THIS IS WHAT MY LIFE HAS BEEN LEADING UP TO AND I LOVE IT OMGGGGGG

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND IT’S MY FAVORITE MUSICAL AND I LOVE IT AND MY GRANDMA LOVES IT TOO AND IT WAS AMAZING GETTING TO SEE IT WITH HER BECAUSE WE BOTH HAD SO MUCH FUN AND WERE FLIPPING OUT AT THE SAME TIME IT WAS GREAT

One of the angels in the set actually lower during the Roof and Erik climbed out form behind it. As he let out the “YOOOOOOUUUUUU” it raised up and then he got on the ramp by the chandelier and laughed while it fell and if that isn’t BDE then I have no idea what is

Also when the chandelier fell it started slowly then sped up then when I thought it’d just stop there it fucking SUNG ONTO THE STAGE AND ALMOST SLAMMED INTO CHRISTINE AND THEN JUST SPARKED ALL OVER THE PLACE WHILE EVERYONE SCREAMED AND RAN AROUND AND FROM NOW ON ALL OF THE FALLS WILL HAVE TO BE THAT TO BE ACCEPTABLE SORRY I DON’T MAKE THE RULES

Christine was tiny (came up to everyone else’s shoulders tiny) and petite and had a round face but when she sang her incredibly youthful voice was so powerful and just filled the theater and honestly that casting made me understand the whole concept of why she was so surprising after voice lessons goddamn

Raoul had a moustache and I do not stan

Carlotta was amazing and hilarious but she also had this sense of maturity and weight to her that made her terrifying because on one hand hyperbole but on the other she seemed self-aware enough to know how to get ahead by hyperbole and props to the actress for that

During Masquerade Carlotta basically wore the same ugly Star Princess outfit Christine does (don’t @ me it’s hideous on her) but it had a darker color scheme and had a black veil instead of a crown and that was interesting

The Monkey killed it as usual

Mme Giry was terrifying and yeah A+ casting

Raoul was both super restrained and off the handle like he seemed disinterested and like the actor was phoning it in but also it was like he was acting like a proper Vicomte should and was basically holding in all his emotions because otherwise he’d explode and it was terrifying

All of the actors were so subtle but also over the top like it was great and explosive and I love all of them

At the beginning of Masquerade when Andre and Firmin run into each other they both had on skeleton masks but the capes were covering their outfits. Andre kinda shrugs it back and he’s wearing a suit. Firmin pulls it back in a grand gesture and he’s wearing a FULL ON SKELETON COSTUME AND ANDRE LOOKS TAKEN ABACK AND THE AUDIENCE STARTED DYING AND HONESTLY THAT’S ME AND IT SHOULD BE MEMED

We were front row of the mez and it took a lot of convincing to get my grandma to buy those tickets but then when the chandelier rose up and it was literally at eye level she gasped and when I whispered, “I told you!” she just nodded in awe

Being so close to the chandelier meant that whenever Erik went on that ramp thing it looked like he was staring at us it was great

During Wandering child he pops out of an ivy-colored cross on a memorial and then gets on the wall surrounding the graveyard. It’s super thin and so when he does and holds onto the cross for the Drama it also looks like he’s hanging on for dear life

Thank god they showed Raoul actually running up to Christine and shaking her and yelling in her face during that scene bc the yelling from the side to have her suddenly snap out of it annoyed me. This way it shows how much control Erik actually has over her and also how desperate Raoul gets to break that control

In the same vein during Why So Silent when Erik beckons Christine forward and does the “Your chains are still mine” schtick he just holds his hand out and Christine glides forward like she’s being pulled by the Force and Raoul’s right behind her and holding her hand and looking like he’s going to cut a bitch and its great

We could see almost all of the pit (but not the percussion :( I was looking forward to that but I could only kinda see the guy on cymbals and traps)

The pit was super chill and I loved looking at them

During the Il Auto ballet when Erik would do that shadow intimidation before revealing Bouquet there was one point when he was busting out belly dancer and doing a solo flamenco and everyone just lost it

Also during the ballet the dancers were nervous and dropping things and going out of sync constantly and that was such a beautiful attention to detail

Bouquet’s body slowly fell down after the set just completely disappeared and the dancers had this thing where they turned around at different times, stared in shock for a few seconds, and then chaos happened as everyone slowly realizes it and then the managers were screaming from their box to please stay seated and Raoul almost swan dived out of the box to find Christine and Erik was laughing from the ceiling it was bomb

Raoul swan dived into the lake and part of the stage opened up and he fell on a mat with an audible thud and the entire audience gasped when he just went “YEET” and did it

At one point during Music of the Night Erik just splayed himself out on the gate in what looked like a “take me” pose then Christine was half a second away from kissing him when he seemed to even notice she was close to him and he noted to the other side of the lair so fast it was hilarious

When the mannequin showed up it didn’t look like Christine (thank God) and she was genuinely curious and amazed. When it did a curtsy thing she went ramrod straight, backed away, then fainted on the floor. Erik then ran over to her and gently put his cape on her.

When he held the last note of the song the spotlight on his was the only illumination but you could see Christine getting up and moving to the boat and I loved it

Honestly whenever it was obvious that the actors were moving around in the dark I loved it because it felt more immersive and vulnerable

GODDAMN THE FINAL LAIR SCENE

When the gate comes up Raoul just rolls under int and grabs Christine which was so smart. They spend 0.30 seconds hugging then turn to the gate so fast but it’s already going down and they try so hard to get it up but it’s useless then Raoul throws her behind him and glares at Erik and A+ characterization

When Erik lets them go he makes zero eye contact and that was great

When Christine kisses him he makes the most ridiculous pose and it added to the whole “never had a speck of affection in his life” portion

Raoul gave the most defeated groan and slumped in the noose when it happened and it was so sad

When he was let go he fell on the floor then jumped right up while still obviously recovering from strangulation and was swaying around but the Fight Me was so strong he was ready for murder and it was great

Raoul was awesome in everything but the mustache

Christine was so adorable

Like, bouncing around in giddiness during Think Of Me and d

During the “curtain call” and just anytime she got excited her face would light up and she’s bounce like she couldn’t contain her joy and I loved her

During Notes/Twisted she just backed up to the desk slowly but surely until when she says “if you don’t stop this I’ll go mad” when she just spits it out, flings the score all over the desk and floor, and the runs into the center and stands so close to Raoul’s face while yelling at him

When she realized it’s Erik about 1/3 of the way into her verse she kinda runs across stage in a panic, looks back in uncertainty, then just increases the sexy by 5000%

Erik gets super uncomfortable by in and she’s practically on top of him. She was so aggressive and sexual and obviously doing it at him on purpose and honestly that was the first time I’ve seen a Christine actually going out of her way to make him uncomfortable instead of clamming up or looking at Raoul every 5 seconds, or just acting oblivious until the end of the song. So refreshing

Piangi’s death was so much like Bouquet’s death except when the curtain closed Carlotta was running up to the managers and asking what happened in the most desperate and concerned way then let out the most soul-shattering wail when they told her Piangi was dead and it gave a feel for just how close they were

When Carlotta says “She’s mad” she sounds like she just realized it and was horrified and felt so bad for treating her horrible and also so sorry for Christine’s situation

Seriously her face fell and she just. Deflated.

When Meg said “I’ll go with you” Mme Giry yelled “NO! YOU STAY HERE!” in horror and Meg just ran out of the room without a question

When Mme Giry is giving backstory and Raoul says “deformed?” his tone is just dead but also weirdly like he pities Erik and I loved it

“Accidents?” was so confused and offended

OKAY SO THEN WE STAGE DOORED AND GOT AUTOGRAPHS

I brought my novel and got four signatures

Everyone was so sweet and said hello, even if they obviously just wanted food (we went to a matinee)

Everyone who signed my book went “is this the novel?”, looked at the cover, and said “That’s so cool!”

I agree

I got autographs from Piangi, the Monkey, Firmin and the Phantom

The girl who played the money said, “I’m the quadruple threat: I sing, dance, act, and play cymbals!” with the most self-satisfied look on her face

She played the cymbals correctly which I totally respect

Piangi had a soft and slightly high voice, which I was not prepared for

Firmin said he performed at a music festival near Dallas (where my grandma is from) and she gave an affirmative that he was talking about the right one

AND HERE’S THE BEST FUCKING PART

THIS IS A SIGN FORM THE HEAVENS AND THE MUSICAL THEATER DEITIES THAT THIS SHOW AND I ARE MEANT TO BE

SO AN UNDERSTUDY WAS PLAYING PHANTOM

HIS NAME IS GREG MILLS

HIS BIO SAID THAT HE PLAYED RAOUL IN A NATIONAL TOUR

I’VE SEEN TWO NATIONAL TOUR SHOWS BEFORE GOING TO BROADWAY

WHEN HE SIGNED I MENTIONED THAT THIS WAS MY FIRST LIVE BROADWAY SHOW AND THAT WE CENTERED THE WHOLE TRIP AROUND IT

HE ASKED WHERE WE’RE FROM

WE TOLD HIM

HE SAYS OH I DID A NATIONAL TOUR AS RAOUL IN HOUSTON

I ASKED WAS IT THE 2015 ONE (BECAUSE THAT WAS THE MOST RECENT ONE)

HE SAID NO IT WAS EARLIER THEN MUTTERS SOME DATES IT COULD’VE BEEN AROUND

EVENTUALLY HE SAYS YEAH IT WAS 2008

AND I ALMOST SCREAMED

AND I TOLD HIM THAT WAS THE FIRST TIME I EVER SAW PHANTOM OF THE OPERA EVER

AND HE LOOKS AT ME TRYING TO CALCULATE MY MENTAL AGE BC I’M OBVIOUSLY REALLY YOUNG AND SO I TELL HIM HOW OLD I AM AND HE JUST KINDA MUTTERS “God I feel old” AND I SAY SORRY

BUT THEN HE SAYS HE’S GLAD I LIKED THAT SHOW BC I OBVIOUSLY LIKED IT ENOUGH TO SEE IT AGAIN

I TOLD HIM HE WAS GREAT AS RAOUL AND YES I DID ENJOY IT VERY MUCH

THEN AS WE WENT BACK TO OUR HOTEL MY GRANDMA AND I LOOKED AT EACH OTHER AND I JUST KINDA SQUEALED “He was in the first show I saw!!!!” AND SQUEEZED MY GRANDMA

SHE SAID THAT WAS AWESOME AND I AGREE

I’M GONNA BE SCREAMING THIS UNTIL THE DAY I DIE

IF ANYONE WONDERS WHY PHANTOM IS BROADWAY’S LONGEST-RUNNING SHOW WHEN PERFECTLY GOOD MUSICALS ARE UNJUSTLY GETTING AXED DOWN RIGHT AND LEFT

THIS IS REASON ENOUGH FOR IT TO STAY ON BROADWAY

JUST FUCKING

HE WAS IN THE FIRST PHANTOM I EVER SAW AND THEN IN THE FIRST PHANTOM I SAW ON BROADWAY

THIS IS FATE

THIS IS A SIGN

OMG I SERIOUSLY CAN’T EVEN ASIUHGILUSHDFOISDNRTLAU;VTOIUSRIOT;NVS;ODIUARODGHJ;S

And this concludes my thought on Phantom of the Opera on Broadway

#Phantom of the Opera #phantom #erik #raoul #christine #phantom of the opera broadway #broadway #musicals #I can't even #I'm in love #this is a sign #this is fate #I can die happy now #thank you god for this opportunity #good shit right here

[theghostofashton]

Living as an Indian in a white society-

hi. i wrote this at the beginning of 2016. i thought it’d be easier by now.

it’s not.

Living as a person of color in a white society is like being trapped in a box and seeing everyone around you living their lives like there's nothing wrong.

Living as a person of color in a white society isn't really a big deal. Congressional laws have been passed, segregation has been outlawed, and people of color are treated just the same as everyone else, right?

Wrong. Living as a person of color in a white society isn't that big of an issue until it is. Until people look at you like you're a leper. Until liking a white person turns into a mind battle of "would they really want to go out with someone like me?" when the only difference is your skin color.

...

Living as an Indian in a white society is wanting to rip your skin off and exchange it for white skin because god fucking dammit the reality is you're not white even though everything would be easier if you were.

Living as an Indian in a white society is isolation, because segregation doesn't exist but white people gravitate to other white people and black people gravitate to other black people and Indians gravitate to other Indians and being an Indian with all white friends is sticking out like a sore thumb. It's stares and judgmental looks because wow look at the fuck up who couldn't find friends of her kind and instead decided to piggyback where she doesn't belong.

Living as an Indian in a white society is feeling ashamed of your culture so much so that you do everything possible to get rid of it, to stay unattached to it, to escape it, because being someone you're not is better than being laughed at for being who you are.

Living as an Indian in a white society is seeing your culture and traditions popularized and Americanized and only then seeing them appreciated because nothing is appreciated until a white person is doing it.

Living as an Indian in a white society is hating the traditions and refusing to embrace something so beautiful because of what white people think about it.

Living as an Indian in a white society is adjusting, adjusting to the mispronunciation of your name, adjusting to the trivialization of your traditions, adjusting to the idea that what white people don't understand about your culture are the parts of your culture that shouldn't be talked about because they're wrong.

Living as an Indian in a white society is realizing that all you're good for is the stereotype that you're supposed to be smart and know the answers to everything and if you don't then goddamn you're a bad Indian.

Living as an Indian in a white society is realizing that the only look you can pull off is the extremely smart aspiring doctor because nothing else fits and everything else is just posing as someone you're not because to be considered cool you have to be white.

Living as an Indian in a white society is trying so hard to fit yourself into the stereotype you're expected to be and feeling like an utter failure when you can't even do that right.

Living as an Indian in a white society is being defined by your GPA because Indians are smart and if you're not smart you're looked down upon because all Indian people can be is doctors or lawyers or engineers and if you're not smart then good fucking luck having one of those jobs.

Living as an Indian in a white society is growing up with parents that don't care about your passions and couldn't give a shit about what you want to do in life because life is school, arranged marriage, kids, and then working until you retire or die, whichever comes first.

Living as an Indian in a white society is coming to the realization that the mere suggestion of not wanting to go to college or wanting a year off is preposterous because goddamn you're Indian your life should be education and if it's not you're wrong it doesn't matter what you think you're just wrong.

Living as an Indian in a white society is wondering why your parents aren't understanding as everyone else's and why other people have parents who'll support them through everything but you have parents who call your dreams stupid fantasies and wonder when you'll get your head out of the clouds and realize life isn't about happiness and passion and what makes you rich makes your life worth something.

Living as an Indian in a white society is feeling like a failure because your dreams aren't what they're supposed to be and you're not good at the things you're supposed to be and nothing makes sense.

Living as an Indian in a white society is feeling like a disappointment when you're not interested in the things your parents want you to be and you don't want the things they want because your entire life revolves around pleasing them and having your own plan for your life is absolutely ridiculous.

Living as an Indian in a white society is feeling so wrong for being gay because it's unheard of in Indian tradition to be gay since life revolves around arranged marriages and having kids if not because you want them just so that they can carry on the family name.

Living as an Indian in a white society is listening to your parents ridicule and mock people whose lifestyles they don't agree with all while knowing that you are exactly the person they're talking about.

Living as an Indian in a white society is being told your mental illnesses don't exist and don't mean anything if they impact your schoolwork because fuck staying alive a perfect 4.0 means more than being able to say you were suicidal and you didn't act on it.

Living as an Indian in a white society isn't talked about that much because you're not being killed for your skin color and that's saying a lot.

Living as an Indian in a white society is utterly hating your existence and realizing that everything would be infinitely easier if you had been born in the north and melanin didn't affect everything.

#i do not have anything left to fight #if anyone steals this #please don't. #i just #some days are hard #some days are really fucking hard #poetry #mine #neha writes

[hushpiper]

snk 101

WOW OKAY

so Eren did eat Willy! this confuses me, I'll have to think about this one

DID EREN JUST TRY TO CROWD SURF

FUCK! ZOFIA! UDO! I LIKED HIM! FUCK!

how fucking cool is that "phoenix rising in flames" pose for the transforming warhammer titan?

it amuses me that the soldiers see her take a punch and immediately go "ZOMG THE TITAN IS NOT IMMEDIATELY DOMINATING THE BATTLE I DON'T KNOW WAT DO" come on guys, chill, titans are built for taking punches.

when the actual translation comes out I will be very interested to read what they make of magath's "I'm the one who dealt the first blow" comment. because it makes no sense as-is, but it's certainly intriguing.

to the well-dressed people running away and saying "we're suddenly at war??!? asldkfjs" um, yes? war was literally just declared, and you cheered. I understand that it happened faster and closer to home than you expected tho. *pats*

that's Udo in Colt's arms, right? gonna be honest with you friends, that kid is fucked unless he gets some titan healing powers going.

Pieck and Porco got out way faster than I expected, go them! and Pieck you are fantastic, they did not overstate your good tactical sense at all.

it somehow pleases me so deeply to see Pieck giving orders to her Marleyan panzer squad and they immediately hop to? bless them

looooooovvvvvviiiiiiiingggg the design of the warhammer titan here guys, srs. and she has REACH, fuck, she is dangerous! I am not surprised that she gets the better of Eren here, this fight was nooooot at all in his favor even with the deck stacked for him.

--hang on. *frowns* I am not an artillery expert at all (though I do appreciate the better images, thank you Isayama!), but those shells do not look large enough fo this job. maybe they're meant to be explosive shells? I don't know much about those. that is curious and I shall have to look into it at some point.

THANK YOU MAGATH, YOU HAVE SOME GOOD GODDAMN SENSE! I didn't expect Marley to give up on the titans so quickly, but now that it's happened I think it is the best possible strategy for them. he just upped their chances by a lot, telling them to shoot to kill.

how much do I love the touch of Eren coming out of the titan with the Eldian armband, symbol of oppression etc, still on his arm? an awful fuckin' lot.

wow that 3dmg setup looks awkward and difficult to maneuver in. I mean, the armor-piercing thingies (nouns escape me) were always cumbersome to begin with, but with the extra canister between the shoulders, and the holsters still present on the thighs... I wonder what the logic was behind that change? interesting, interesting.

nice to see that the new uniform thingy is color coded black for our convenience, subtle that.

ooooh Magath was not expecting what Mikasa just did there. or--wait, where is he looking in that panel? is he reacting to the people coming up behind him? because lollll surprise guys.

IS THAT JEAN? *squints*

on a strategy note, Eren's actions make perfect sense here, much though I hate them. wanna draw out the enemy's forces (the Warhammer Titan amongst others) and provide a distraction while you come up around their flank? make some fuckin' noise. this is some classic misdirection here, and they pull it off beautifully.

OH HANG ON GUYS maybe-Jean's pistols do not look like the ones the MPs used, that looks like a... fuck, I forgot the name. I'll look it up later, it's sketchy but there were some WWI pistols that looked a lot like that, sorta square and weird. I think they were clip-loaded, which is a fuckton better than what these guys had previously. Edit: the c96 is what I was thinking of, though I’m not sure--the magazine looks to be behind the trigger. Maybe it’s a Webley?

so that's four guys, two with boomsticks and two with pistols, if I'm seeing the one in back correctly. BOOM go the anti-titan guns.

ohhhhhhhhh that last page threw me. I can see I'm gonna have to write a separate thing about that one after thinking a bit. hmm. hmm.

#snk #shingeki no kyojin #snk spoilers #snk 101 #wow okay this thing #hoo boy #long post is looooong

[aspiratixxn]

Flowers on the grave of memories (3/?)

Summary: What it’s like to come back. Or try to anyways. 

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, torture, mentions of death, brainwashing.

Word Count: 1840

Notes: I totally forgot the events of Civil War so I had to rewatch it haha. Guess who doesn’t know what word counts are aha. Continuation from @nacho-bucky‘s writing challenge. Thanks for being patient with me! 

Find Part 1 [here] | Part 2 [here]

New York is really fucking hot during the summer. It’s hot and humid and absolutely disgusting but the winter soldier has fared far worse. Though if anyone asks, he definitely prefers the cold to this awful heat. He’s found a little hole in the wall apartment and through some sneaking around with a fake, he’s managed to put himself down for a lease. Don’t ask where his money comes from, he’ll just cryptically smile and wave you off.

He’s selecting plums, quietly chatting with the farmer when shit hits the fan. The TV blows up with a breaking news report, about a bombing. Normally that wouldn’t even phase him, not with all the bombs they drop on everyone ever in the middle east. But this one catches his attention when they show a flash of his face. His face, which looks hard and vicious and remorseless. Winter’s eyes widen and he’s gone before the farmer even turns back.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit. He’s running, slipping through the crowd with practiced ease. That wasn’t him, it wasn’t him! Every little whisper worms its way into his ear as he bursts into his apartment, grabbing his escape back and wrenching open a window. The distance to the next building is a little long but nothing he can’t handle. Of course that’s the fucking moment that mister America himself comes bursting in, tailed by at least two dozen feds. Winter’s not an idiot, it’s much easier to just run than fight at this point. But obviously things don’t always go to plan.

American man proves to be a suitable fighter once more, which makes it easier for Winter to burn through the Kevlar encased men. But the downside is that he’s not being allowed to just take people out, both by American man and the annoying little sludge in his head, which has receded to only covering the room instead of filling it. There’s longing in it, when it whispers don’t. Don’t kill anymore, you don’t have to.

Don’t have to? The blood drips from his fingers like water. Don’t have to, what a joke.

Whatever, that’s not his fucking problem right now. He darts and dashes, finally making it to another roof top. Even if it does cost him a bit of his ankle’s mobility. It should be straightforward from here but he barely notices the shadow lurking before it tackles him to the ground. He grunts but is scrambling to get up and run because whoever’s chasing him as the reflexes of a fucking cat. Are those ears on his goddamn head? Fuck whatever.

The chase itself is pretty much straight out of a Hollywood movie. Winter manages to pull a sick move when he steals a motorcycle but way too soon (or perhaps not soon enough given the ruckus behind him), all of them have been cornered by the local police of all people. And War Machine but that’s. Irrelevant, really.

What is relevant is being strapped to a fucking chair and being made to talk to a shrink. Like any average shrink would understand. The conscious in the sludge is inclined to agree. After all, who else understands being out of place and out of time? Who else understands being stripped to the nerves and being molded like putty, being frozen and unfrozen repeatedly, having blood dye your very being? Maybe someone does understand that part. But a government shrink? Doubtful.

Except it’s not a shrink that enters the room. Winter’s eyes widen. Fuck aren’t there cameras for this kind of thing? Shouldn’t someone be watching? If he was feeling caged before, he definitely feels it now. He strains against his bonds but these are much tougher than your average run of the mill leather metal straps. Zemo circles like a vulture, licking his lips and whispering the words with reverence that is undeserved.

“Longing.”

His heart thuds. Longing, for blood they had said. Longing for the rush of a kill, for the terror painting his mark’s faces as they die. Longing, the sludge conscious whispers, for home. For him. For the warmth of the sun and the sticky sweet ice cream dripping down your chin. You long to be free again.

“Rusted.”

Blood rust, machine rust, the iron smell invades his nose and he grips the arms of the chair, squeezing his eyes shut. No, no don’t fall for it! Rust like the old garages we used to explore. Rusted like the machines we’d take down together. Rust like the shade of the sun set you’d watch after a mission with him.

“Seventeen.”

A memory surfaces and is torn to shred before he can watch it. Seventeenth birthday, where you-

“Daybreak.”

The time for creatures of the night to go back into hiding. Creatures like him, the winter soldier, trained in the cover of darkness with only the cold twinkling of the stars as company. No, you’re not alone! But the black sludge is being forced back, revealing the all too familiar bright white again. The file cabinets uncover slowly, pristine as ever somehow. The words are getting muddled. The light --- dawn ---- breakfast ----- cranky ---- watch ----

“Furnace.”

It burns, the pain, the cold, it burns through him and he clenches his hands so hard that the arm rest shatters to pieces. He must be baying like a wounded animal right now, but it all feels very far away. He’s being placed in the bright white sterile room again, that burns his eyes, his hands, his chest. No – warm --- winter ---- cuddle ----- orange ----- favorite color ----- hold his han---

“Nine.”

Nine recruits. Nine targets. Nine tests. Nine nein nine nein nine. No! No ---- please ---- you’re not -----

“Benign.”

Blend in, keep your eyes peeled, don’t raise suspicion. Everything must be carried out silently, secretly. Don’t pose a blatant threat. Not ----- threat ---- you -----

“Homecoming.”

Return to us, our greatest creation. Return to your roots, remember who you are. Home ---- Ste --- Please ----

“One.”

It’s only the mission, nothing else matters. One shot. Ple----

“Freight Car.”

The weight of control slams into him and he stops convulsing in his chair, breathing deeply. The room is clean, the sludge once again contained only in a corner. When his eyes open, he is once more the very machine they programmed him to be. He moves mechanically, even as he tears through bindings and concrete and flesh. The flesh that feels so warm under his hands, so invitingly warm. It tears like tissue paper and the ooze of blood is oh so warm and it’s so freeing, to be like this. To tear without worries or cares.

---------

Winter is confronted and captured once more by the American man, who he’s learned is named Steve. But as soon as that knowledge comes, he’s submerged in darkness again, except this time it’s much like a pool and he’s sinking to the bottom. As much as he tries to scrabble up, he can’t. He can’t reach the surface, where his eyes watch but do not see. They’re not his anymore. Not anymore.

---------

Bucky Barnes bursts through to the world and gasps for air, gasps for the tastes of the world on his tongue. He gets his first taste in the backseat of an unsuspecting car, squished by the passenger seat. He grumbles about it but puts up with it if only to help Steve, who is chatting with a really pretty blonde. Sharon Carter, his ears hear. Carter, like Peggy. No wonder Steve looks at her so tenderly, she matches the spirit and fierce face of Peggy. Bucky feels his heart burn a bit but he tries to push it aside. Except that moment of weakness is exactly when Winter bursts out the seams again, wrapping his arm around Bucky’s neck and dragging him back down.

---------

Who is he? Is he James Buchanan Barnes, sergeant of the 107th who fell from a cliff, who drank liquor in the 1940’s and loved? Is he Winter Soldier, mechanically enhanced super soldier who thinks of only the mission and dismisses the dripping wet that permanently stains his hands? Bucky who holds loyalty like a treasure, loves like a flame flickers? Winter who touches everything with a carved dagger, revels in bloodshed? Who is he? He doesn’t know. All he knows is that his body weighs heavily, and that he will fight. For Steve, against Steve, always Steve.

---------

It takes him a second to recognize that he nearly punched a twelve year old dressed in bright red and blue pajamas. It takes him another to recognize that the twelve year old stopped his fucking fist. His metal fist, which dents steel and bone with ease, and it was stopped by a child. Maybe he’s losing his touch a bit here. He’s running for a lot of the fight after, throwing some punches but mostly running. The chaos becomes background noise and he sprints, sprints towards the one thing that will make this right. He’s not at fault, not this time, and he has to prove it. He needs to. There’s a bit of a scruff in the plan when miss Russian spy herself confronts them and although they’re both enhanced soldiers, he wouldn’t bet against her for these things. Apparently Steve knows her a lot better than he gave credit for though, and she lets them pass.

---------

For everything that’s happened, it feels strangely detaching when the truth is revealed. Iron man’s voice is low, almost sticky with grief. Did you know. He watches as Steve holds his silence, lip curling in pain. “Yes.” 

Winter has seen that look. Grief, compounded with betrayal. Stark’s mask is on before long and he’s blasting the white beams, and they don’t have time to talk anymore. He loses an arm, but it is not Winter who deals the last blow, instead being thrust aside as Steve pounds his shield again and again into the core of the suit. Lodges it there and takes off running. Sprinting away.

---------  

Steve only calls for a pause when they’re far enough away that the radars can’t catch them anymore. They collapse next to each other, breathing harsh. Steve’s talking, something about breaking someone out, but all Winter, Bucky, can think about is that they’re together again. Together.

And he chooses, by his own will, to leave. He requests asylum and is granted it, generously by the Wakandan king. He apologizes, for everything he’s done. Although T’Challa dismisses it with a wave, the guilt that settles in his stomach is heavy. He chooses to go back into cryofreeze, knowing that he will be away perhaps when Steve needs him most. But it feels like the first real decision he’s made for himself in a very long time and even if he’s being caged again, it’s freeing. He knows that Steve can see it too, with the soft cracked smile he has as he says goodbye to his best friend, his Bucky, again.

#Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Tony Stark #marvel #nachobuckychallenge #nacho-bucky #nachobucky

[titleknown]

The following is a partial transcript of the events of what is widely considered one of the key matches of the “turning point”

MJ: Hello folks this is your announcer Matt H. Justice, and with me is my cohost D.W. Devlin who…

DW: Only hosts because I’m the best they can afford and I need the money to do actual fucking journalism. And this looks like enough of a shitshow to make Heroes of Wrestling blush.

MJ: What do you mean D.W.?

DW: Well, there were no promos, no ad spots, just this weird fucking viral marketing goddamn everywhere with wildly underpriced tickets. You’d think that with a promo with this persistence they’d want to give you an idea of what it’s about. But nada, zip, zilch. Just one free webcast and a vague promise of “Wait and see”..

MJ: I’ll say. Most of the wrestlers seemed to be flat-out terrified!

DW: Terrified nothing! When I tried to press them, they did the same message! Eyes fucking glazed over saying the same words again and again! Granted, I was too high out to remember the specifics, but jesus h god it was some fucking La Le Li Lo Lu bullshit.

MJ: Right, but contracts are contracts, and I wouldn’t quit this for the world. But, you’re a free agent, why did you-

DW: Because of the money you fucking dingbat! But, there’s weird shit happening in the biz that I think this is related to...

MJ: You mean the Gash stuff?

DW: Of course I mean the Gash stuff! Like, you see a motherfucker killing wrestlers from promo to promo, the crossovers, the events that turn into live fucking executions, the unnatural natural disasters that aren’t from global warming?!

MJ: I literally was covered in blood from one of those. But, it could just be old [NAME REDACTED] capitalizing on the contro for the promo.

DW: Oh, if that old sack of shit wanted to do that, he’d be trumpeting it to the high heavens. Man’s got no subtlety. Doesn’t it seem like the fact that there are no goddamn definitive heels booked, the fact that “Card’s subject to change” disclaimer is posted on every one, and the fact that I keep hearing about this “Kill Factory” training program in my other work, mark my words it’s-

MJ: Well, if you’ll excuse me for commentating on the actual match, it’s ten minutes in and it seems like we’ve seen no sign of our heels or our face of the first match. It seems like a guard is walking in from the back door. Huh, doesn’t look like any I’ve seen.

DW: Well, you’re good with filler at least. That’s why I like yo- OH SWEET FUCKING JESUS!

The guard, a rotund appearing man, rips off his skin and out of it comes a lean; muscular skeletal being, shining prismatic gold as the blood drips off him and he steps from the shadows. The crowd screams.

MG: I WELCOME YOU TO THE MAIN EVENT DISTINGUISHED VICTIMS! THOUGH, AS YOU CAN SEE, I WAS HERE THE WHOLE TIME!

Megaton Gash cackles and raises his staff. The audience is screaming right now. A few try to run towards the doors, but they act as if they are almost welded shut.

MJ: Oh my god I don’t believe what I’m seeing here folks, this is not kayfabe, this is real! I think I’m going to throw up!

The camera tries to avoid showing MJ vomiting as well as the sheer amount of gore dripping off of Gash, neither with much success.

MG: YOU BELIVED THAT THE FATE OF THE WORLD WAS A GAME OF POLITICIANS AND GENERALS, BUT THIS, LIVE BEFORE THE NATION, IS A GAME OF GODS! AND NOW. A DEMONSTRATION OF THE POWERS WHICH YOU VIEW!

Megaton Gash raises up his rod. From the darkened rafters of the arena, a massive spike of lightning strikes downward into one of the bleachers. There are screams, cut short by the sounds of crackling electricity and smoke. When the long flash ends there is what was later determined to be blood and human ashes there!

DW: Holy literal fucking smokes! This is not a fucking dream, hoax, imaginatry story, or whatever Stan Lee bullshit you came for, this fucker came in wearing a fucking perfect human skin suit, and vaporized a quarter of the fucking audience!

Megaton Gash strides up to the ring, the ropes sizzling away as he walks straight through them. He poses with his rod.

MG: SO. WHO AMONGST THIS RABBLE HAS COME TO FIGHT A GOD?!

A large mechanical hand punches its way out of the center of the ring. Out of it climbs what appears to be a heavily cyborgized female human, covered in bright-colored plating with very little flesh visible. Its faceplate lights up and jets behind it begin to let out a burst of flames.

The figure brushes herself off before seamlessly moving to punch MG in the face. MG skids back, leaving visible markingso n the ring, but remains standing on the edge.

BD: Name’s Burn Doll. And I thought I might give it a shot…

Yes folks, as decided by five-dollar donors on the Patreon, which is a tier you can donate to if you want to influence future drabbles like this (Though all donors are beloved and welcome), it’s a wrestling drabble, featuring the TITLEWave wrestling characters!

Along with DW Devlin, who’s popped up now and then in my work and who I hope becomes a thing. Tho I do need to draw ‘em.

Note I do not know much about wrestling aside from the weird shit, so feel free to correct me if I fucked up.

And, as per usual, while the story/direct adaptations thereof are CC-BY-SA, the characters/settings/situations/ect are vanilla CC-BY, so feel free to use those bits in whatever you like so long as you credit me, Thomas F. Johnson, as their creator!

#open source characters #drabble #drabbles #short fiction #my writing #weird fiction #open source character #pro wrestling #pro wrestlers #weird wrestling

[actnonsense]

Destiny Story Thing

There seemed to be a pause in the atmosphere of the Tower plaza, the only sound being the murmuring ambiance of those around them, and a light groan of pain. There were a few Guardians observing the scene, as well as a handful of civilians, who seemed to wear concerned and anxious expressions. Even Master Rahool looked up from his datapad to see what all the fuss was about.

Leaning against one of the nearby towers used for storage was a Titan, a human of fair complexion and dark blonde hair. He had a hand on his head, his eyes clenched shut as he nursed the wound that he found on his forehead. He was dressed in a special armor set, made to emulate the glowing, ethereal aesthetic of the Taken… someone’s idea of a joke, it would seem. There was a helmet of similar design, tossed aside by the rather irate Warlock who had ripped it from his head to deliver a fearsome headbutt.

Standing before the hurt man, the Warlock was an Awoken, her pale blue skin emanating a light that seemed to flow down her face like water. Her piercing, illuminated green eyes seemed to stare holes into the Titan, her annoyance painted quite clearly on her face. Standing beyond him was another Awoken, a man bearing similar hair to the aforementioned human, though with a much lighter blonde coloring to it.

As fate would have it, one of the nearby Guardian’s happened to be the Exo in charge of the Hunter Vanguard, Cayde-6. Rushing to the scene, either out of concern or as an excuse to delay his trip to the Vanguard Hall, Cayde was quick to break up the crowd that had begun to form around them. It seemed that more than a few of them were disappointed by this, hoping perhaps to see a brawl break out.

“Alright, show’s over everyone.” He called out, approaching the two offending Guardians. “Now, one of you wanna tell me what’s going on here?” The Exo asked in that usual snarky tone he carried. As it were, the human had recovered by this point, standing up straight and glaring daggers at the smaller Warlock. It was shock more than any pain that had stunned him for as long as it did.

“This bitch just attacked me out of nowhere, that’s what’s going on!” He shouted angrily, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looked ready to fight right then and there, yet he seemed to possess enough restraint to keep his rage in check.

“You were harassing a fellow Guardian, despite numerous requests from him to stop.” She snapped back, one hand resting on her hip, while the other had her helmet tucked under it: a flamboyantly designed thing, sporting wings flanking each side, as well as a beak jutting out from the front, the insignia of the New Monarchy peppering the surface.

“Okay, let’s take this from the top.” The Hunter Vanguard suggested, his mechanical eyes momentarily flicking over to the Hunter that still stood behind the Titan, near the Cryptarch station. “What exactly were you doing before the Captain here cleaned your clock?”

“I was…” There was a pause, as if he were hesitant to give an answer to that question. His eyes seemed to break contact with her for a moment, trying to gather his words. “I uuh, I just got this armor, and decided to have a little harmless fun.” He emphasised, daring the Captain to challenge him… a challenge she took with pleasure.

“You were posing as a Taken, and using it to get a rise out of Huntir.” She pointed out, shaking her head lightly. “You were very clearly distressing him, so when you refused to stop, I decided to make you stop.” She declared, seeing no reason to deny the obvious. “You’re damn lucky I didn’t headbutt you with the helmet on. I’ve seen this beak do terrible things to Fallen.”

“You ever heard of a practical joke before? What kinda nutjob goes around attacking people for petty shit like that?” He questioned sharply, pointing at her in an aggressive manner. The Captain, for her part, finally set the helmet down so that she might give her arm a rest, speaking as she did so.

“It was mean, no matter how you cut it. As I’m sure Cayde could tell you, he’s sensitive about the Taken and Hive. Hell, I’m sure anyone with a shred of common sense could gather that from your ‘performance’.” She dusted off her robes before standing up straight again. “You weren’t playing a prank at that point, you were being a dickhead.”

“Maybe you’re friend here should man the fuck up and grow a pair.” He practically snarled in annoyance. “You don’t see anyone else here having a fucking fit over the Taken.”

“Excuse me?” As the words left her mouth, everyone present felt a shift in the mood. It was as if the air had begun growing so cold it burned, and it seemed to be coming from her. Her expression was unreadable, but it was clear that that was the the wrong thing to say. As soon as the Titan felt that shift, he turned to Cayde, as if he meant to call for him. The Hunter Vanguard, for his part, took a step back, hands raised in a show of surrender.

“Do you even know just who my friend is?” She asked, her voice seemingly calm, yet carrying an edge that could cleave the Traveler in twain. “Huntir happens to be a member of the fireteam that lead the charge against the Taken. The same team that ultimately killed Oryx himself. My team.” As she spoke, she began to close the distance between them, which lead to the Titan backing himself up against the storage tower yet again.

“He rose up to defend this City from the Hive and Taken, despite having watched them consume his former associates. He pushed past that crippling fear to save us all from being swallowed by the Darkness.” It was here that she was practically pressed into him, her eyes drilling into his, the Titan feeling her breath on his face as she spoke in a downright chilling tone.

“So don’t you fucking give me that crap. Huntir’s the bravest Guardian I know, and has accomplished more than you could ever hope to achieve. So why don’t you stop being such an immature brat and back off?” There was a pause, neither of the Guardians breathing as she tried to burn a hole through his head with her gaze alone. Finally, as if to finally relieve the tension, Cayde spoke up.

“Well, I think this has served as a great lesson on the dangers of bullying.” He quipped, the poor guy doing his best to defuse the tense situation. “I’m gonna head down to the Hall now, gotta meeting to catch.” He directed his attention to the Titan. “Ford, why don’t you swing by later? I’m sure Zavala would like a word with you later. Same goes for you Isra.” It was at this point that the Awoken took a few steps back, letting the human loose from his pinned position. Without hesitation, he stepped over to his helmet to retrieve it, the Guardian quickly departing.

Cayde excused himself, shooting Isra an almost impressed smirk as he departed, leaving the plaza in silence. Only the Captain, Huntir, and Master Rahool were present now, the latter of which had buried himself in his work to avoid the situation that unfolded before him. The silence was broken by the sudden appearance of a Ghost beside her, sporting a red and white New Monarchy shell.

“GodDAMN! That was awesome, Fadia!” Came his excited reply, his synthetic voice conveying a surprising amount of enjoyment. She scoffed at her Ghost, running a hand through her cobalt hair.

“Yeah… I really need to stop doing that to people, I don’t wanna build a reputation as an ice queen.” She commented idly, moving to check on her friend. Though her indigent demeanor began to grow when she saw the wowed expression the Awoken Hunter wore. She was never going to hear the end of this, she could already tell.

So this was a thing I thought up of during a shower. A few friends of mine have been playing Destiny, and have sorta been building up our characters as we went. Here we have Captain Isra Fadia, my Warlock, defending her teammate Huntir the Hunter, @babebot‘s character.

#destiny #isra #huntir #some bullshit I wrote #Act's Write

[deprofundisclamoadte]

stray observations from Wonder Woman

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

under a cut, but if you’re on mobile, you might have to scroll really fast sorry :(

baby Diana!

tween Diana!!

adult Diana!!!

I’ve found my sexuality and it’s every woman on Themyscira

“You are a man” imagine the soulmate AU where Steve Trevor spends his whole life with those words tattooed on his arm and he’s just like …o…kay

Steve is so respectful of Diana! like when doesn’t want to sleep next to her, it’s not an “I must protect your honor” thing, it’s an “I don’t want to assume or make you uncomfortable” thing

just in general the Steve/Diana romance was very sweet and treated them both as equals

“Men are essential for reproduction, but not for pleasure” I’m not saying Diana’s slept with women, but like. Diana’s slept with women.

Chief, played by Eugene Brave Rock, a First Nations actor: “The last war took everything from my people.” “Who took everything from your people?” [points at Steve Trevor] “His people did.”

Sameer, played by Saïd Taghmaoui, a Muslim actor: “I didn’t want to be a soldier. I wanted to be an actor, but I’m not the right color.” (This is roughly the quote; I can’t remember the exact wording.)

Charlie, who has horrible PTSD and nightmares. (Now who’s Diana hanging around with in present-day who also has PTSD and nightmares…)

Ares is played by David Thewlis, a very physically unimposing man and I love it. It reminds me of Lex Luthor, and the ways these movies handle masculinity as it relates to villains

Steve remembering the “shield” thing from the beach

SHE PICKS UP A GODDAMN TANK

nvm I think the trench scene is my sexuality

“If you leave, you may never return” Okay but I still don’t know if this means that she’s not allowed to return, or if Hippolyta was just speaking hypothetically and was worried about Diana dying in Man’s World. can she return or not I need to know

 I wouldn’t have minded getting more on Doctor Poison and her backstory. She was so damn creepy every time she was onscreen

I remember back when the tv spot for the sword came out and someone was complaining that they were focusing too much on the sword and how it went against her ideals or something weLL GUESS WHAT

The lasso looked so cool it could’ve easily looked silly but visually it was awesome

Barry Allen better hope he never has to fight Diana, she will fuck his ass up with that lightning

The guy died to further the woman’s character development, hey look at that

If anyone’s wondering about Etta Candy: she does survive the events of the movie

Sameer, Charlie, and Chief also survive to the end (which I’m glad about, it would’ve been annoying if they killed off the non-white supporting characters)

I love that Diana’s helping the world in the future/present by collecting art, like she may not be fighting (as much) but she’s still trying to help humanity by preserving its beauty

I’m like… pretty sure she can fly? At first it seemed like very powerful jumps, but I think in the final battle she figured out how, and at the end when she jumps out that window it looks like she’s posing for flight not preparing to land

Give Diana A Girlfriend In The Sequel

#wonder woman #wonder woman spoilers #ww spoilers #i might add more later #long post #anyway feel free to message me abt it #i have work tomorrow so i might not reply right away