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theangelwithawand · 1 year

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Good Omens Incorrect Quotes Part 3:

Once again, I did not come up with these, I just have quote generator access…

Crowley : I'm having problems with a guy...

Anathema : Like his dead body won't fit into your trunk kind of problems, or you like him kind of problems?

Crowley : Who the fuck-

Aziraphale : Language!

Crowley : Whom the fuck-

Aziraphale : No.

Aziraphale and Crowley : I believe in you, Adam!

Adam, to themself: God, I must suck. The nicest thing they can think to say to me is that they don’t doubt my existence.

Aziraphale : There are some things beyond our understanding. We must accept them and learn from them. Because these moments of crisis are also potential moments of faith. A time, when we either come together or fall apart. Nature always has a way of balancing itself. The only question is, what part will we play?

Crowley : Did you just make that up?

Aziraphale : No. I read it in a fortune cookie once.

Crowley :

Aziraphale : A really long fortune cookie.

Crowley: Could you maybe just like… stab me… right in the gut. Just REALLY twist it in there. ‘Cause that honestly seems less painful than this conversation.

Aziraphale, texting Crowley: Text me when you’re home safely.

Crowley: I’m home dangerously.

Aziraphale: Stop it.

Crowley: I’m home lethally.

Gabriel : Pardon the intrusion, but-

Aziraphale or Crowley: On this moment or just my life in general?

Aziraphale: Why shouldn't you put a toaster in a bathtub full of water?

Crowley: Because your toast would get soggy!

Aziraphale: When I said bring me something back from the beach I meant like a conch shell!

Crowley: *Struggling to hold a seagull* Fucking say that next time!

Crowley, at Nina’s: Can I get a venti vanilla latte with um, seven espresso shots.

Mrs. Sandwich, in line behind them: Jesus Christ, just do cocaine.

Crowley, making coffee: This is going to fix everything.

Aziraphale: I have very high standards, you know.

Crowley: I can make spaghetti...

Aziraphale: Oh no! You're meeting all my standards!

Crowley: You can do it Adam!

Crowley: But if you can't, at least your death will be quick, painless, and really cool to watch.

Crowley: *standing on a balcony and sneezes*

Aziraphale: *standing on the roof* Bless you.

Crowley: God?!

Crowley: I'm sorry. Please talk to me.

Aziraphale:

Crowley: Hello? World's most amazing person?? Sweet pea? Precious cinnamon roll that's too good for this world, too pure?

Aziraphale: 'Sorry' doesn't bring back my fucking M&M’s.

Aziraphale: Is five a lot of followers?

Crowley: Depends on the context.

Crowley: On Instagram? No, not a lot of followers.

Crowley: In a dark alley? Yes, a lot of followers.

Crowley : You know what’s funny about Aziraphale ? They’re my best friend, and anyone who’d hurt them is someone I’d murder, probably.

Crowley : Are you busy?

Aziraphale : Yes.

Crowley : Cool, listen to this...

Aziraphale or Nina: How would you like your coffee?

Crowley: As dark as my soul.

Aziraphale or Nina: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

Crowley : I can’t believe all these people are wearing black. black is supposed to be my thing, they’re all just posers.

Aziraphale: Crowley, for the last time, we’re at a funeral.

Aziraphale: No more making fun of me when I misuse dated cultural references, alright? Are we cowabunga on this?

Crowley, sighing: Fine. We're cowabunga.

Crowley : *trying to get five seconds of sleep*

Aziraphale, poking Crowley ’s arm: Crowley Crowley . Crowley . Crowley .

Crowley : WHAT?

Aziraphale : …We’re out of Capri Suns—

Crowley : Valentines Day? I'm ready. *Sprays an entire can of AXE body spray on themselves*

Crowley : *makes Aziraphale a cup of tea but puts salt in it*

Aziraphale : *sips tea*

Crowley :

Aziraphale : *finishes tea*

Crowley : Didn't it taste bad?

Aziraphale : Yeah, but I didn't want to hurt your feelings so I drank it all.

Crowley, tearing up: Oh, okay.

Aziraphale : How petty can you get?

Crowley : I once edited a Wikipedia article to win an argument I was wrong about.

Aziraphale : Crowley, I beg of you. Please, PLEASE go to the doctor.

Crowley : Hey, I'm sorry. Is this OUR stab wound?

Crowley, to The Squad: You should change your passwords to “incorrect”. Then, every time you forget it, the system will remind you, “your password is incorrect”.

Aziraphale : Not to brag, but I can go into the Spirit Halloween without crying.

Crowley : I wanna sleep for 40 hours.

Aziraphale : You know that's called a coma, right?

Crowley :

Crowley : That sounds so refreshing, I could totally go for a light coma right now.

Aziraphale : Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Crowley : I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Aziraphale : But you’re always acting stupid?

Crowley : ...

Crowley : Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

Muriel : Hey, aren’t you Aziraphale ?

Aziraphale : You a cop?

Muriel : No.

Aziraphale : Then yes, I am.

Aziraphale : Crowley ! Have you no dignity?

Crowley : Of course not! How long have we known each other?

Aziraphale : What are you drinking?

Crowley : Vodka.

Aziraphale : Straight?

Crowley : No, gay. Why?

Aziraphale : So you like cats?

Crowley : Yeah.

Aziraphale : *tries to impress them by slowly pushing a glass off the table*

Cop: You ran a red light.

Crowley : So did you, hypocrite.

Cop: I was following you.

Crowley : That was dumb, I'm a terrible driver.

Cop: Get out.

Aziraphale : What is the one thing I told you not to do?

Crowley : Burn the house down.

Aziraphale : And what did you do?

Crowley : I made dinner.

Aziraphale :

Crowley :

Aziraphale :

Crowley : And burnt the house down.

Aziraphale : Do you need help getting up?

Crowley : Nah, I'm cool down here on the floor.

Crowley : Dracula had it right, sleep all day, live alone in a castle, and explode into bats to get out of all social situations.

Anathema: At first I thought you were foolish and incompetent.

Crowley : My apologies for whatever misstep I may have taken to dispel that impression. It was an honest mistake, I swear.

Aziraphale to Crowley : Turn that frown upside-down!

*a little while later*

Aziraphale : What are you doing?

Crowley , trying to do a handstand: You told me to “turn that frown upside-down” but it’s not working .

Gabriel: Think you can answer some questions without the usual level of sarcasm?

Crowley: If you can ask the questions without the usual level of stupid.

#azicrow #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x arizaphale #good omens incorrect quotes #good omens #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley

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bigfan1811 · 4 months

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Honestly, the original Z Broly devalued Super Saiyan WAAYYYY more than Goten, Trunks and the universe 6 Saiyans. The whole Namek arc was centered around Goku fulfilling the prophecy of the Super Saiyan, and it was really well built up (there’s a good video out there talking about the good writing of the super saiyan prophecy).

But then Z Broly goes “actually the prophecy was about me, Goku’s just a lame stupid poser”. IMO that’s way more egregious than Goten and Trunks learning Super Saiyan at a young age.

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #dbz #goten #trunks #caulifla #kale #cabba #broly

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perpetuallylate1890 · 5 months

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A short Bill fic!

Just a Little Arson

As far as pawns went, Stanford was as good as it got. After some buttering up, good ol’ Fordsy had played right into Bill’s hands, abandoning all other projects to work on the portal. The sucker had even handed Bill free rein of his mind and body.

Stanford Filbrick Pines was the perfect man for the job, but not all was well in paradise. Yesterday, one of the gnomes had let slip about their little library, tucked away in the enchanted woods and watched over by the Shmebulocks.

Ford, massive nerd that he was, wanted to investigate. It would’ve been cute if it weren’t for the contents of the library: Bill knew it contained numerous unfavorable, though not undeserved, descriptions of himself. The last thing he needed was his puppet growing wise, so as Sixer dropped off into sleep, Bill resolved to do something about it.

The possession was easy. Bill settled into Ford’s body, wiggling his fingers and toes. He blinked his eyes one at a time. Blah, the two eyes were still disorientating. Even worse was the weight of gravity, dragging him down. When he took control, he was chucking that first.

Grasping a chair for balance, he staggered to his feet. Walking took some getting used to, as did his inability to pass through walls. And breathing was just hilarious. Apparently, you had to keep breathing to keep your meatsack conscious. Only made that mistake once!

He staggered towards the elevator like a drunken ragdoll. Of course, he managed to get Ford’s long coat trapped in the elevator doors. Bill was always telling Sixer to ditch the jacket, but did he listen? Noooo. After extricating himself, Bill retrieved the car keys and stepped into the warm summer evening. He’d never driven before, but how hard could it possibly be?

After two minor crashes and a close call with a tree, Bill started to get the hang of things. The big pedal was the brake, or was it the small one? Man, he could barely see out of these stupid human eyes. Something darted into the road, and the tired thudded as they passed over it. Whoops.

In the dark, he nearly missed the turn. Cursing in R’lyehian, he plowed the car through the underbrush. Metal shrieked as boulders scraped the undercarriage. Sixer was not gonna be happy about this.

The dirt road extended into the blackness ahead. Bill followed it for a spell, then dumped the car by a ditch. He clambered out of the driver’s seat, cracking his knuckles, and popped the trunk. Inside lay a gascan and a matchbook. He seized both and headed off into the woods.

The enchanted part of the forest was a short walk away. He passed by the unicorn grove–eugh, now those guys were real posers–and entered the gnome’s territory. Warm light spilled from homes carved into tree trunks. Deer grazed in the sidelines, ears pricked. Snores rolled from the dimly-lit tavern.

Bill remained out of sight, in the shadows away from windows. The few gnomes he saw were utterly wasted. Finally, he reached a towering red cedar in the center of the town. It dwarfed the surrounding trees, swaying in the nighttime breeze. This tree was centuries old, and had served as the Shmebulocks’ library for generations.

He snatched the key from a fake rock (seriously, those things were completely useless) and let himself in, lighting a match. The inside of the cedar was a vast, hollowed-out space, every surface lined with bookshelves. They stretched into the shadows above, accessible by ladders on wheels. A spiralling staircase followed the walls to the ground some thirty feet below.

Bill paused to scoff at the bookcases. Centuries of knowledge, but they couldn’t hold a candle to his eons of existence. Really, it was pathetic they even tried. Stanford was just like the Shmebulocks, reaching for the stars, striving for the unknowable. Sooner or later he was gonna get burned.

Bill sloshed gasoline onto all of the bookcases, breathing in that wonderful smell. He tipped the can over his head to get the last few drops. Nothing like a good chemical burn to the delicate tissues!

Cackling, he tossed the empty gascan behind him. Time for his favorite part. He retrieved a match, struck it, and tossed it with a flourish into the waiting shadows. It caught instantly. Flames licked up the bookshelves, filling the library with delicious heat. Bill laughed, palms outstretched to catch the sparks.

Book covers peeled into thin strips. Paper curled and charred. Smoke filled the space with a thick, cloying fog.

Meanwhile, the fire loomed dangerously close, reaching for Bill with greedy fingers. He stuck in a hand and laughed at the pain. Come to think of it, his body hurt all over. Blistered skin, streaming eyes, struggling lungs… wait, humans couldn’t survive being burnt to a crisp? Since when was that a thing?

Bill hustled up the stairs, wheezing, as the fire roared beneath him. His puny lungs were closing up. He tripped once, twice, before spilling out the door to suck in clean oxygen.

Cool night air washed over his body. His ankles, however, were abnormally warm. He glanced down to see the coat going up in flames. Curse Stanford and his fashion choices! Bill swatted unsuccessfully at the fire, gave up, and chucked the coat down the stairs. As he caught his breath, he heard sirens and frightened chatter. Right, time to scram.

Bill bolted off into the woods. Before he could get far, he took a branch to the stomach and went sprawling. He sputtered for air, head spinning. Distantly, he registered flashing blue and red lights, painfully bright and growing closer. Crap.

“Hey, you!” called a voice. “Hands where I can see ’em!” A gnome scurried towards him, accompanied by a siren-bedecked deer. Okay, he was alone. Bill could work with this.

He affected a casual posture, patting down his smoking clothes. “Hiya, officer! What seems to be the problem?”

“A fire broke out in the library.” The gnome adjusted his belt. “Nothing wrong with the occasional book-burning, but the law’s the law.” He glared at Bill. “You wouldn’t know anything about it, wouldja?”

Bill grinned toothily. “No, officer. I have literally no idea how that fire started.”

“Is that so.”

“Oh, absolutely,” he said. “But your superiors won’t see it that way! They’re just not the understanding type!” He loomed over the gnome, lips peeled in a smile. “Howzabout we keep this between us? They don’t need to know about me, and they definitely don’t need to know about your little butterfly habit.”

The gnome’s eyes widened in terror. Oh yeah, Bill had him now. “That sound like a deal, buddy?”

Silently, the gnome nodded.

“Good. Nice chatting with ya!” He tipped a nonexistent hat and left the officer staring into nothing.

The trek back to the car was uneventful. Bill skirted past gnomes, unnoticed, until the noise faded behind him. Exhaustion weighed his meatsack down. (Already? He’d just committed a little arson!) Stumbling over roots, he made his way to the road, only to discover the car had taken a nosedive into the ditch.

Bill groaned. Of course he’d forgotten the parking brake. Looks like he was walking back.

Stanford woke to a litany of pain. His throat ached. His palms throbbed. His legs were sore, as if he’d run a marathon in his sleep. Knowing Bill, it was entirely possible.

He fumbled for his glasses, which were smudged with soot. He inhaled deeply. Why did his clothes smell of smoke and gasoline? And where had his coat gone? He rolled out of bed, dreading what he might find downstairs.

The kitchen was in shambles. Shattered windows, charred cabinets, crisped curtains. At the epicenter of the destruction stood the toaster, which Ford had once accused of inefficient heating. It now appeared to be equipped with weapons-grade flamethrowers. A sloppy handwritten note was tacked to the side: “FIXED IT.”

Ford rubbed his hands over his eyes. So this explained the burns, the bruises, and the sore throat–but what had caused the sore legs? And why had Bill deemed it appropriate to “fix” a toaster with weapons of war? Ford sighed. Sometimes, Bill’s lack of insight was profusely irritating. This required coffee.

He went to make a cup, just to realize the coffee maker had been blown to smithereens. A trip to the local diner, then. This, too, was thwarted when a glance out the window showed an empty driveway.

Ford sighed again. He would have to find a way to explain this to Fiddleford. As soon as he figured out where his car had gone.

#bill cipher #fanfiction #writing #gravity falls #stanford pines

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rickoio · 2 years

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#bodybuilder #poser trunk #posing trunks #bodybuilding men

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touchoflaughter · 1 year

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Nobody Likes Sore Winners

[Ragnarssons Tk-Fic ]

Summary: The Ragnarssons are throwing some axes to the bet with Ivar being the most skilled one as always. When he started making fun of his older brothers, they decide to make sure he won't be the winner after all...

Lee/Ivar ; Lers/Björn,Ubbe

sfw nsfw

words: 3413

Warning: This is a TickleFic! Noncon tickling & vulgar language (It’s pretty mean, folks) If that's not your thing I suggest you to skip this one.

"For Fucks sake!", Björn angrily stepped forward to collect his weapon. While putting one foot on the trunk, he pulled as hard as he could on the the axe handle in order to get it out of the big oak tree. The blade was sunken deeply into the bark due to his powerful throw.

"It's not only about strength, Ironside.", Ivar chuckled, enjoying his brother suffer from the defeat with a wide smile.

"Shut your goddamn mouth!", Björn hissed, getting back to the mark, ready to throw again.

"You're not actually expecting to hit the target like this, right?", Ivar grinned scornfully.

"Let me concentrate you cheat.", Björn growled angrily and positioned himself once again.

"You gotta keep your elbows-", Ivar stopped when his brother threw the axe already. Björn tried to suppress a growl of frustration when it missed the target minimally. "-back.", Ivar finished with a knowing undertone.

"You better stop making fun of him, brother.", Ubbe suggested while sharpening his own axe next to Ivar.

"I'm trying to help him!", the youngest lied with an amused expression on his face, he couldn't and didn't want to suppress. "Oh come on Ironside! It's not that hard!"

"Fuck off.", Björn countered before collecting his axe once again. "I already threw the axe when your feet were smaller than a shell."

"Probably even back then I'd have thrown it better than you!", Ivar ridiculed him, hardly taming the upcoming laughter.

"Careful you littler poser.", Björn growled cautionary. "First you gotta prove yourself."

"I've been waiting for this! Let me show you how it's done.", Ivar grabbed his axe full of anticipation.

"Hold your horses. I got another try.", Ubbe contained his brothers joy. He got in position and carefully aimed the target. "Any suggestions for improvement, littlest?"

"Plenty.", Ivar chuckled, his arms crossed, trying to ignore the term of endearment.

"Just go for it. He simply tries to unsettle you.", Björn encouraged his younger brother.

So Ubbe went for it, failing even more than his big brother before. Disappointed in himself, he walked up to the big trunk and got his axe.

"That's what happens when you just go for it by the way.", Ivar grinned. "You fail."

"You are such a pain.", Ubbe groaned fretful. It seemed the even-tempered Viking was close to reaching his limit of patience now as well.

"Since you corrected us the whole time you better hit the target perfectly now.", Björn came up to his youngest brother who looked at him nonchalantly.

"I only have to hit the target two times out of three to be better than you two fools.", Ivar countered with the confidence of someone who has already won.

"Don't waste time with long speeches.", Ubbe invited him, placing himself on Ivars left. "Show us."

Ivar sighed when he lifted the axe over his head. "My own brothers still underestimate me." Then he threw the weapon with enormous power and precision towards the mighty oak. When the sharp blade hit the mark on the bark perfectly he looked at his brothers with a meaningful glance.

"Oh come on!", Ubbe groaned even louder this time.

"That definitely was a stroke of luck!", Björn challenged while collecting the axe for his crippled brother who was sitting on a small trunk, about fifteen meters away. "You won't manage to do this another time."

"I'd manage to do this with my eyes closed.", Ivar provoked his brothers who looked at each other grimly.

"Bet!", Björn passed him the axe.

"Alright!", Ivar aimed the target like a predator its prey, then closed his eyes and lifted the axe above his head for the second time. Just at the same moment he lunged, he felt an unexpected sensation on his ribs and lost his balance. Accompanied by a shocked yell he let go of the weapon. He opened his eyes as the axe flew through the air and landed far off the trunk, onto the smooth forest ground.

His brothers bursted out laughing at once. On the one hand because he missed the target completely but mainly because of this unexpected reaction.

Now it was Ivar, who seemed pretty fed up: "What's so funny? You cheated!"

"T-Thahat noise you just made!", Ubbes eyes filled with tears due to all the laughing.

"How adorable, little one!", Björn chuckled, calming down slowly.

"What did you just call me?!", Ivars anger grew with every second the two laughed about him.

"It's adorable how ticklish you are.", Björn repeated himself, knowing exactly how much it upsets his brother.

"Wha-?! I'm not- You simply threw me off balance!", Ivar protested.

"With just one finger?", Ubbe still couldn't suppress the laughter. "Wether you're really weak or really ticklish. It's up to you to choose!"

"Pass me the axe! I'll throw again. There's still one attempt remaining.", Ivar hissed, because he didn't know what to counter anymore. He will win and wipe that sickening grin from his brothers faces!

"Good luck.", Ubbe chuckled when he complied with his offer and handed him the weapon. This time, Ivar left his eyes wide open. Once again he aimed his target but right in the moment he threw the axe, both his brothers clawed into his sides. The youngest screamed in absolute shock and curled up instinctually. Unfortunately he fell from the trunk in the process and and landed on the soft ground.

"Go to hell!", he cursed while trying to turn around so he could punish both of them with the angriest glance he got. But when he noticed the wolfish grin on his brothers faces he crawled backwards slowly. His facial expression turned from angry to scared at once.

"Back up you two! I'm serious!", Ivars heart beat got up with every step his brothers made into his direction. "I'll cut off your hands if you touch me!"

"Oh you're so fearsome, crawling for your dear life like that.", Björn mocked him. Then exchanged a glance with Ubbe, before both of them pounced on Ivar simultaneously.

"GET OHOFF!! I SWEAR TO THE GODS YOU TWO ARE SO DEAD!!", Ivar screamed, fighting for his dear life. Ubbe tried to wrap his arms around Ivars legs but the younger one managed to get him into a chokehold and immediately closed his grip around his neck. He'd have him knocked out in seconds, if there wouldn't be the oldest brother, clawing into the back of his ribs from behind. Ivar let slip a tortured growl and really tried to hold on to his brother but the second Björn started tickling his ribs frantically, he couldn't handle it anymore.

"FUHUCK! YOU BLOHODY BAHASTARD!" He nearly screamed while letting go of Ubbe who needed a moment to catch his breath again.

Without hesitation Ivar tried to rotate and catch Björns wrists, taking advantage of the short window Ubbe needed to recover from his attack. Since he was a responsive warrior, he managed to get one wrist after another, starting a trial of strength. But even though Ivar had the biggest arms and strongest core of them all, he still couldn't act as holistically as his big brother, who also had his legs to support him.

"No chance, baby brother! You're going down!", Björn triumphed, a reckless grin playing upon his lips.

"You're nuts!", Ivar countered, still holding onto his brothers wrists. Björn slowly overpowered him by pushing him onto the ground, when suddenly Ubbe appeared above his head.

"You actually tried to kill me, huh?", he accused his little brother in disbelieve, still placing his hand on his reddened throat.

"I warned you!", Ivar growled pretty strained already. "Björn! Get off of me! Now!"

The oldest, who managed to sit on the youngest thighs by now, exchanged a meaningful look with Ubbe, who understood immediately. And so did Ivar: "Oh FUCK no! Last warning! Let go of me or I'll put an end to your miserable life!"

The older brothers ignored his threats while pushing his arms to the ground above his head. Björn stayed at his thighs when Ubbe held down his arms by shifting his bodyweight onto the younger one's wrists.

Now Ivar laid flat on his back, stretched out completely, with his brothers kneeling onto him, meeting his cowed gaze with an evil grin.

"Listen!", Ivar started once again, scraping up his courage, but Björn interrupted him: "Nah you listen you cheeky little poser!"

"Nobody likes sore winners, Ivar!", Ubbe agreed with their older brother.

"Since you taught us so many lessons today, we probably return that favour, should we?", Björn asked addressed to Ubbe.

"Sounds only fair to me.", he countered with a wide grin.

"Hold on a minute!" They could clearly hear the undertone of fear in Ivars voice when he tried to defend himself another time. "I only tried to help you improve that poor excuses of axe-throwing skills!"

"Even now you're too cheeky for your own good!", Ubbe shook his head in disbelief. Ivar looked up at him blankly, seeming not to understand what he did wrong.

"Seems we have to frighten him even harder.", Björn grinned. Then he started undoing his brothers shirt. Once again every muscle in Ivars body tensed and he tried as hard as he could to break free. But there wasn't even the breeze of a chance with both of his brothers kneeling on top of him.

"Stop! Björn you fucking pervert! Let me go NOW!", Ivar got louder and louder. "And you're simply letting him do this?!", he asked, looking straight into Ubbes crystal blue eyes, looming above him.

"Nah I don't simply let him do it. I enjoy watching the panic on your face rise with every button he opens.", Ubbe mocked, when Björn suddenly exposed Ivars toned upper body.

"Look at those muscles our little brother built!", Björn mocked while poking into his abs a few times, knowing for his stubborn brother the teasing was at least as unbearable as the tickling itself.

"Such strong arms. Too bad all this muscle doesn't help you get any less ticklish.", Ubbe continued, squeezing into his brothers biceps a few times.

Ivar's head has taken a deep red colour and he'd love to threaten and insult his brothers so they finally change their minds and decide to let him go. Unfortunately he knew he wouldn't be able to say one single word without letting slip an embarrassing sound. Like or not, he had to stay quiet.

"He got pretty quiet, didn't he?", Ubbe asked his brother while scribbling his fingers up and down Ivars muscular arms, intentionally skipping his bare armpits.

"How relaxing. The little poison dwarf keeps his mouth shut for once.", Björn closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the silence.

"Y-You f-fuckehers!", Ivar growled with all the self-control he had left. But to his terror he stumbled like a little kid and some giggles slipped.

"W-What d-did you say?", Björn copied him gleefully before starting a rigorous tickle attack: He spidered his fingers up and down Ivars sides. From upper ribs to the hips, up and down, down and up. His hands were so quick, Ivar was thunderstruck for a second, then his whole body rebelled and he let go a shocked yell before bursting out laughing uncontrollably. Ubbe as well didn't tame himself anymore and started scribbling his fingers all over Ivars exposed armpits.

The youngest wasn't able to take any of this, let alone all of it combined! He started laughing hysterically while shaking his head in al directions, trying to break free with all he got. "AHAHAHAHA BAHAHSTARDS! GEHEHT LOHOST WHAHAHAH! I'LL KIHILL YOUAHAHAHAA!", Ivar still tried to threaten, while shaking and panicking like a fish out of water.

"Serves you right, litte rascal!", Ubbe started laughing along while Björns wolfish grin widened with every helpless word his little brother screamed.

"Look at our ticklish baby brother! Isn't it adorable how a few fingers make him all hysterical and helpless.", Björn teased. Then he leaned forward so his eyes were right in front of Ivars: "What a fierce warrior you are."

Between all that helpless laughter, all of a sudden, Ivar seized the benefit of Björn being so close, to spit on his face.

"BAHACK OHOFF YOU FUHUCKING CUHUN'T!!", his lungs must nearly implode from all that hysterical laughing, cursing and screaming.

Björn stopped torturing him for a moment and leaned backwards, trying to realise what his brother just did. Even Ubbe stopped the tickling and stared at the oldest with his mouth wide open. Björn slowly wiped away Ivars spit on his chin and nodded slowly. "Now-", he cleared his throat and continued speaking with a dangerously quiet voice. "Now you're in serious trouble."

Ivar seemed to not even listen to him. He simply savoured the urgently needed break by filling his lungs with air again.

Ubbe, who recognised the familiar glance on his eldest brothers face, tried to calm things down: "H-Hey Björn he didn't mean to-"

"Hell yeah I did!", Ivar shouted with all the strength he had left in his voice.

Björn nodded calmly. "Alright. Say your prayers.", accompanied by this words, he clawed into Ivars sides, digging into the strong obliques without mercy. Ubbe, who didn't exactly knew what to do, stayed on top of Ivar's wrists, holding him down but didn't assisted Björn any further.

He didn't need to. The oldest brother clearly enjoyed being the reason the youngest was in absolute agony. They have never seen the dreaded Viking leader screaming, laughing and almost crying like that.

"Apologise!", Björn wasn't smiling anymore, yet the wicked grin gave away how much he savoured the power he held.

"EHEHEAT SHIT AHAHAND DIEEHE AHAAA!! BLOHOODY AHAHA FUHUHUCKEER! CUT IHIT AHAHAA OUTAHAH!!", Ivar had a hard time trying to form complete sets while laughing on top of his lungs. Of course his provoking answer led to even worse tickling techniques.

"Take your time.", Björn conquered calmly, while spidering his fingers all over Ivars exposed armpits as well as kneading his ribs and sides. "Just know, you- Ivar The Boneless- will be tamed and defeated by some childish little pokes. He continued by additionally vibrating his fingers between each ribs.

Ubbe, who became a spectator since the situation got more serious, looked at his helpless brother with way more compassion: "Come on Björn, he learned his lesson."

"If he did, he'd apologise!", Björn hissed, continuing tickling mercilessly. "Say it Ivar! Tell me you're sorry!"

The youngest, who had tears running down his face while screaming and swearing his head off, now looked up to Ubbe. When the older brother realised the powerlessness of the youngest, he got up and tried to convince Björn once again: "He'd never apologise. You know that. That's just how he is. Now let him go."

But the oldest was unmindful of this attempt of persuasion, digging into Ivars hips and stomach now. "That won't wash with me! I won't stop until he begs me for it!"

Ivar, who got his arms to protect himself since Ubbe let go, tried to push his brothers bear paws away. Without success. He was simply too weakened and uncoordinated due to the pitiless and constant torture.

Between the laughter that started to grow silent, Ivar once again shouted on top of his lungs: "YOU'LL SUHUFFER FOHOR THIHISAHAHAAA!"

"Oh will I? What exactly are you going to do, huh? You don't stand a chance!", Björn was japing.

"What the hell is going on over here?!"

All faces turned when they heard Sigurds voice. No-one had noticed him 'till then. Too loud were Ivars bloodcurdling screams and hysterical laughter.

"Björn tries to teach him a lesson. But I think it's massively exaggerated by now.", Ubbe explained, watching the scene with more and more doubts rising.

"Oh I see that quite differently!", Sigurd glanced down to their squirming brother, who still was laughing and wheezing under Björns touch. "He's always sassy or broody so I think a good laugh is quite the perfect punishment!"

“Yeah show us how much you enjoy it by laughing your bony ass off!", Sigurd smirked what made Ivar boil with rage. The one thing that could make the torture even worse, was his biggest opponent, that also was his brother, making fun of him in such a vulnerable situation.

"FUCK OFFAHAAAHAHAA!! BLOHODY CUHUUNT!!", the veins were literally bulging out of his reddened throat. Ivar looked up to Ubbe, who tried to pull Björn off of him softly: "Come on now! Enough!"

"APOLOGISE!", Björn growled, tickling frantically but having a hard time, getting rid of Ubbe, who was pulling harder and harder.

But Ivar stayed silent. Well, not silent exactly. He was still laughing, coughing and screeching uncontrollably. In spite of everything, he did not obey his brother.

"Leave him alone!", all of a sudden, Björn got pulled off the tortured Viking and landed flat on his back. Hvitserk and Ubbe pounced on him at once and managed to hold him down.

"Back off!", Björn growled warning, but none of them followed his instructions. "I said back off!", he repeated himself, trying to free himself.

"He has enough!", Ubbe determined emphatically.

"He spat on me!!", Björn argued, fighting back with all he got. "He'll pay for that!"

Hvitserk, who tried to connect the dots, looked at Ivar who didn't move an inch. He stared into the air, breathing heavily, with his whole body still shaking from the intense attack. "To me it seems he already payed.", Hvitserk tried to side with Ivar.

"He spat on me!", Björn repeated once again, as if it would change his brothers minds. He actually managed to push Hvitserk off, but fortunately Ubbe remained in his place, holding the eldest down until Hvitserk bobbed up and came to help again.

"Yea and you nearly tickled him to death!", Ubbe countered in an undertone of anger. "We wanted to teach him a lesson for being so smart alec, not torture him to the point of absence."

"What were you thinking!?", Hvitserk asked his oldest brother, checking on Ivar once again but nothing had changed since the last time.

Björn needed a moment to calm down, then he sighed: "He can be so provocative. Maybe I got carried away a little."

"We'll let you go if you promise to leave him alone.", Ubbe looked down at Björn with a serious glance on his face.

"Alright, alright.", the eldest nodded in approval. Hvitserk was the first to get up. He walked over to his exhausted brother with concern in his voice: "Are you ok?"

Ivar did not respond. All he could return was a slight nod.

"You look ridiculous!", Sigurd chuckled and earned the angry looks of Hvitserk and Ubbe at once.

"Hold your tongue!", Ubbe appeared next to Hvitserk and kneeled down, placing his hand on ivars chest, trying to calm him down. The youngest flinched when he touched him. "I'm sorry Ivar. I didn't mean to do this to you."

"So you learned your lesson, huh? Apologising now?", Björn crossed his muscular arms and looked down at Ivar without much compassion.

This time, Ivar actually seemed to listen to what was said to him. He raised one of his shaky arms and gave him the middle finger.

"Oh wow.", Björn shook his head, fiercely grinning. "You're such a gleep."

"So- love, peace and harmony?", Ubbe looked from one to another. "I mean you're somehow even."

"I'll never get along with that attitude of yours but at least I can tickle it out of you from time to time.", Björn moved up to his youngest brother and held out his hand to help him up.

Ivar rejected his offer by staying still, looking at him disapprovingly.

"Come on now, don't be a sorehead!", Björn still held out his hand. "I'm sorry if I drove it too far."

"Oh you'll be.", Ivar hissed, when he finally seized the proffered hand and got back onto the trunk he sat on before.

"And he's threatening again.", Björn whistled amused. "That's a good sign, right?"

"Now go for that throw and show us how it's done.", Ubbe handed him the axe with a granting smile.

Ivar threw with all the strength and concentration he had left and couldn't stifle a smile when the sharp blade cut the target in half perfectly.

The brothers rejoiced, clapped on his shoulder and gave him the bumps to honour their little brothers well deserved victory. Ivar felt so happy, he even forgot plotting his revenge for a moment.

#fics by aphro #vikings tickle fic #vikings fic #tickle fic #tword fic #vikings tickles #ragnarssons #ubbe ragnarsson #ubbe lothbrok #ivar the boneless tickle fic #ivar the boneless #hvitserk #björn ironside #ragnarssons fic

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originemesis · 3 months

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@kugel-bitch from xxx

"Wh—" A flurry of golden feathers casts a veil over her vision, a bleary meteor shower lashing across the glass display of her visor, the force of which sends her stumbling backwards until the heel of a boot meets with the footrest of a vacant barstool and she nearly topples ass over halo onto the floor. Reflexively, her own illustrious appendages burst out from beneath the shroud of her cloak, flapping in disjointed Succession until she manages to stabilize herself against the edge of the countertop. Stunned. Not only into silence, but perfect, unwavering stillness as well. Save for the frenzied rise and fall of her fluttering chest, that is to say. It's like looking through a rift in the spatial fabric of the universe, into a different time, a different place entirely. Those wings...or...that wing, rather...and the way that he carries himself, the scarcely checked derision in the gruff inflection of his voice voice, his shape, his stance, his attitude...even his choice in nutritionally bereft late night snack...it's all so...so...Adam. But how could that possibly be? She watched him die—looked him square in the eye as the light flickered and faded from his marigold hues—the light that had kept her world incandescent with passion and purpose for centuries. "Wh...what is...I don't...no, no, no...you're not--" There was nothing before Adam. There was nothing after Adam. So what is this? The only reasonable conclusion she can come to is that she has officially, irrevocably lost her goddamn mind. How can some two-bit poser mimic his mannerisms that flawlessly? Not even she, who has been stapled to his ass for longer than most of these infernal shit stains have been alive, could put on such a stellar performance. It doesn't make sense. It doesn't make sense. It does. Not. Make. Sense! "Take...take it...off...take it off--" She has to see it. Under the mask—she has to see it for herself. Grasping the age worn, wooden hilt of the knife, she lurches forward, hiking a leg up onto the closest barstool, which she then uses as a springboard to launch herself at the trunk of his body, one hand making a grab for a curved horn, the other swinging the business end of the blade for the shell of the headgear, intent on cleaving it open like an obsidian coconut. "TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, TAKE IT OFF, I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU, TAKE IT OOOOOOOFFFFFF!!!!!!"

It's only after he takes stock of just who had tried to get the jump on him that he noticed the wings. There weren't many of those down here, save an overlord or two that honestly weren't very bird-like in their own right and just seemed like they simply popped on a pair to resemble their fallen hell lord himself. Posers, in other words.

But those?

His crossed arms slackened and fell- lightly swinging slack at his side as he took note of the familiar shades of monochrome. He'd preened too many of those feathers in his immortal life to not recognize the wings of an exorcist. "You-...uh. You lost or something, girlypop?" He wondered almost to himself, not entirely sure of why one of his girls would be head-low in some seedy hell bar...and rolling up on him like he was a target acquired in some unannounced extermination. Was that what this was? Maybe an Intel probe? The gears in his commander's brain hadn't cranked in a while, but they struggled against the rust the longer he stared those wings down. Two of em...he tucked his in nearer to his flank once more as if suddenly aware of the state of his feathers.

Something wasn't quite right here, and he couldn't put his talon on it- but the exorcist before him was...well, he knew one of his girls by their stance and the slight pixelated differences in their facial displays. He'd named them all after such impossible to pick out discrepancies and all, but when he squinted over at this one, the glass visor that peered out at him from beneath the hood's edge was nothing he recognized- a blank surface reflecting the red light of the bar. Unnerving in the slightest sense that caused his unkempt feathers to ruffle. "I mean, you're a long way from home, arentcha?" A shake of his head prompted the fist he'd made to rest in the crook of his hip as he swung into it with a hapless shifting of weight from one foot onto the other, tongue clicking as he sized up the strange hellgoer.

If he was expecting an answer and not a crackled, distorted demand from the exorcist opposite of him, then he didn't show it apart from an agitated twitch that shifted the stunned expression displayed across his visor to one of confusion- then just as quickly, startled as she headed straight for the throat. He jerked, taken aback at her rounding so suddenly on him from a quiet state to a snapped frenzy.

"Hey-whoa! Th'fuck you mean?!" Take it off? Man, his fans really were deranged, but that sort of request from an exorcist? The hell would he do a thing like that? For what purpose even? He didn't have much time to spend with his whirlwind thoughts on the matter, because when she launched herself at him, he hit a blockade in the form of the bar's edge he'd backed into and bumped his lower back on- oh. Shit. His wing barely had time to even twitch in preparation to deploy, so he flung an arm up instead. It caught the crazy bitch across the gut in a last ditch effort to keep her at an arm's length away, but did little to deter the stranger's grip around his horn and the steak knife's handle. Whiplashed by the yank, he had little time to issue a firm jerk and a smack with the curved appendages when a capable crunch momentarily stilled him.

Images of data and various sound files flashed across his screen, his facial display flickering violently as various, mutilated sounds escaped the helmet. The gig space in the thing was filled with music, chords composed or simply recorded and spliced over and over again until it had fully distorted the original sound from which it was derived. And although he did keep an astonishing record number of voicemails from the office and the like just to hear something familiar now and then, he and his own noises had been irreparably altered from the first breath he'd drawn so long ago. His favorite of said voicemails was one where Lute was-...well, she just was.

Krrrzzzt-tch-krzzzzzzz...hey s̷̨̨̝̼̜͖͔̟̘̥̮͈̰͔͔̹̔̎̂ō̴͕̪̗̳͈͗̎̃͌̉̕͠-zzzzzztttttthey're out of friesssssstzzh...you want sssschhhhhhomething else?? Cawwwwzzzwl me back? A̵̛̫̘͇̳̬̘͐̎̀͌́̈̓̎̒̅̊̀̆͠͠ͅͅḑ̷͓͓͇̩̙̘͎̲̰̯̗̻̝̱̞͔́̀̈́̏͊̊̇͂̈́̀̊̈́ą̷̺̜̝̘̗̞̘͚͇̙̺̦͉̪̔̆̓̈́́ͅͅm̸̨͙̗͎̻͉͍̭̝̯̣̄̋̚̕͜͜͝-

The sound escaped amidst the sound bytes escaping his helmet like exorcised demons fleeing a host- all through the cracks around the serrated edge sunk into the glass of his face directly between the eyes. It's only after he feels half the display of his face return and the other remain blank and dead screened does he pitch a vicious throw of his horns against their hold. With a forceful fling, he slammed the weight of them backwards with enough fury to try flipping her onto the bar top behind him.

"Get OFFA me, you psycho B̶̙͎̓̌̈́Ị̷̕ͅT̵̟͙͕͌͂̉̓C̸̰͒̇̊̚H̷̟̗͆!!" His voice was trapped in a swirling spiral of frothing static. He didn't need two or even one wing to beat this assailant into the bar with the size and strength he employed behind those helmet horns. They would do the job just as well if she kept beneath the cruelty of their curve. After all-he had a fairly thick skull and that just meant he was free to smash it into whatever surface he saw fit. Head-banging was just a warm up exercise compared to this.

"RRRrrraAUUgghh-!̶̲̹͔̀͐̋͌̿̎̅̑͛̀̾͂͝!!"

#//hims gonna cry if he can't get that voicemail of her back btw #//but now she probably thinks hes a crazed demon hacker downloading everything about ad.am now 8')#verse ; // dead on arrival #kugel-bitch #suggestive cw #long post

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alister312 · 1 year

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Summary:

Ike wants to do some ghost hunting. Firkle thinks that's some of the stupidest poser shit he's heard.

my first attack for the @spinthetags sp olympics!! some fike shenanigans for @fandomhammer

Read now on ao3 or below the cut!

“You want what? ” Firkle scowled up at the guy in front of him.

“To do a seance,” Ike repeated. Firkle let out an annoyed huff. He knew the goth code stated he really shouldn’t care about the weird nerd that was Ike coming and talking to him, but the stupid preppy grin on his face got under his skin. Also, it was a ridiculous request. That was his seance stuff for serious goth demon-summoning business, not a prop for some YouTube ghost-hunting stunt that Ike had just pitched to him.

“Come on!” Ike groaned. “There’s gonna be trespassing! That’s pretty goth and hardcore.”

“Wandering around the SoDoSoPa ruins at night isn’t ‘hardcore’, it’s what middle schoolers do to try and feel hardcore,” Firkle muttered. Ike looked down at the ground, clearly in agreement but reluctant to admit it. He started drumming his fingers on the side of his leg, trying to think of some other way to convince Firkle. It was pretty impossible, since Firkle doubted the ruins were as haunted as Ike claimed. Not anymore so than anywhere else in town, at least. They just sold the creepy story the best.

Dicking around with a camera and pretending to feel a chill in the air for clout sounded like the ultimate preppy poser thing to do, but Firkle didn’t really have much else to do that night. The other goths had all graduated at this point and he was getting kind of sick of drinking coffee and smoking behind the school alone. It made for some excellent poetry material, but it sucked. He needed someone to do stuff with again.

“Fine,” Firkle said. He was half regretting the decision already from the shit-eating grin now on Ike’s face, but he also got the feeling that Ike wasn’t going to back off. Now at least he’d get to do a real seance and, if Ike was right about how much “bad vibes” the ruins had, he’d get to unleash a demon on the town or something. Now that would be pretty hardcore and goth.

“Meet me at my house at 8?” Ike asked.

“Whatever,” Firkle rolled his eyes, but when 8:00 came, he was in front of the Broflovski house, wondering if he should knock or throw rocks at the windows to announce his presence. Luckily for the Broflovski family windows, Ike noticed him from his bedroom. He waved to Firkle, then disappeared from sight.

A few moments later, a window on the side of the house opened and Ike jumped out from it onto the nearby tree. Firkle blinked in surprise, watching Ike shimmy down to the base of the trunk and jog to meet him in the street.

“Hey,” Ike grinned. “You ready?”

“You didn’t use your door,” Firkle said, still dumbfounded.

“Of course not,” Ike said. “My mom would pitch a fucking fit if she knew what I was up to. I can’t just walk out through the living room. She’d see me.”

“You don’t care? But… aren’t you, like, a mama’s boy?”

“Hell no,” Ike snorted. “That’s Kyle. You don’t know me. C’mon.” He headed off towards the defunct train tracks at the end of the street. Firkle hesitated a moment before following him. He wasn’t the type to smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. Maybe tonight would be some fun after all.

***

The SoDoSoPa ruins were as disappointing as they always were. Firkle hadn’t really seen them as edgy since some of the other kids had started using it as their cool hangout spot. Once people like Clyde Donovan regularly came around to a spot, it could not in good consciousness be used as a goth hangout.

Ike was doing a really good job playing up any remaining edginess though, making up stories of murder while pointing to blood splotches that Firkle knew weren’t from anything so exciting. He would’ve heard if there was a murder over here. Still, he had to admit that he found himself believing Ike a little bit. There was something about the way he kept wagging his eyebrows at Firkle (or the camera he made Firkle hold) and the confidence with which he declared he’d totally seen a shadow once.

“It was probably just one of the homeless guys who camp out around here,” Firkle said, still not convinced there was anything interesting around.

“Then how do you explain the fact that it didn’t have feet?” Ike grinned, refusing to be dismissed. There had to be a good explanation but Firkle dropped the subject instead of fighting. Ike was… fine. Not goth, but not awful company. He didn’t want to take the wind out of his sails before they were able to conduct the seance.

They waited for midnight to roll around before setting up. It wasn’t the witching hour, which would be preferable, but Ike’s camera didn’t have the battery life to last until then so they had to make do with the next best time. Thankfully, Ike followed Firkle’s every instruction and didn’t step on his toes at all. He didn’t even flinch when Firkle took out the rabbit he’d brought and told Ike he needed to kill it. The only comment he really had was that Firkle was pronouncing the Latin in the chant wrong.

“What would you know about it?” Firkle said.

“My brother made me help him practice all through high school,” Ike said, “and he was super anal about it.”

“Ugh. I don't need to listen to some prep correcting me,” Firkle muttered.

“Fair, but if pronouncing it right mean we will actually summon and talk to a ghost, don’t you think we should trust the preps on this one?” Ike shrugged with his eyebrows raised, trying to get to Firkle to go along with it. Firkle sighed like the whole thing was such a chore, but nodded. He was also curious if this change would be what summoned a ghost. Pete had done most of the chant reading back before he graduated and Firkle hadn’t been successful since. Besides, he’d already spent the rest of the night humoring Ike. Why not one more time?

With the revised pronunciation memorized, Firkle lit the candles and sat across from Ike in the summoning circle. There was an odd chill around him, but he shrugged it off as just being what Colorado at midnight was like. Without blinking, Ike let the rabbit’s blood spill as Firkle started reading the summoning chant. He almost hesitated, impressed, but kept going. The air grew colder until suddenly the flames on all the candles flared up, surrounding them in a circle of fire. From the center of the circle, a bloody mass started to form.

“Holy shit!” Ike grinned.

“Holy shit,” Firkle echoed, unable to bring himself to do anything but stare at the shape taking place. It wasn’t a ghost like Ike wanted but it was definitely something. Some small black demon, all pointy and a bit… silly-looking, honestly. It hopped around, babbling for a moment, before leaping at Firkle, fangs bared.

He reflexively held out his arms, blocking in self defense, and the demon bit through his sleeves with ease. Firkle shouted in pain, flinging it off and rushing to the other side of the circle to get as far away as possible. Ike also seemed freaked out now, his eyes darting around, looking for something. They were still in the circle of fire, so escape would involve burning themselves. Having burn scars from escaping a demon sounded like a pretty goth concept, but Firkle hadn’t set down salt or anything so the demon could probably leave the circle too. The demon was regaining its bearings from being flung and looked ready to leap at them again.

“Quick, get it in the cage!” Ike said, pointing toward the cage Firkle had brought the rabbit he’d trapped in. From out of his pocket, Ike got a string of firecrackers. He lit them on the surrounding fire and threw it at the demon. This didn’t seem to hurt the demon in any way, but it did distract it. Firkle grabbed the cage next to him and shoved it trap-door first on top of the little demon. The demon snapped back to its senses and started rattling around the cage.

“I have salt in my bag!” Firkle said, laying on top of the cage, trying to keep it from jostling. “Hand it to me!” Ike scrambled to the bag and dug around for the container of salt inside, then tossed it to Firkle. Firkle opened and dumped it through the openings of the cage, engulfing the demon.

As suddenly as it’d started going feral, it stopped. The flames of the candles died down too until the fire circle was extinguished, leaving them again exposed to the chilly Colorado night. Firkle rolled off the top of the cage, heaving a huge sigh. He glanced over at Ike, who was checking out the footage on his camera.

“You just keep firecrackers in your pocket?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Ike said, not even looking up from his camera. “They’re pretty helpful. Damn, I don't think we got any ghosts on camera.”

"I told you we wouldn't," Firkle said.

"Yeah," Ike sighed. "I guess the demon works though. Pretty cool pet now, too. I can bring you some mice to feed or whatever if you let me visit it." Firkle let out a “Hm” in agreement and actually smiled a little. Ike wasn’t goth or even emo or a vampire, but he was alright. His own brand of hardcore. And when he asked Firkle if he wanted to do this again sometime (“I’m thinking the graveyard near the church next”), Firkle didn’t tell him that he’d been there more times than he could count and that going there was nothing new to him. It wasn’t, in a way. After all, he’d never gone with Ike.

#south park #sp olympics #sp fanfiction #sp fike #ike broflovski #firkle smith #GO DOUCHES

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carcrash429 · 1 year

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FIC REC FRIDAY

(template acquired from @sugaraddictarchangels, switching up the format a little bit for this one for Reasons)

Watch the Sky Go Dark by @thepartyresponsible

Rated: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Notes: so here's the thing- everything thepartyresponsible writes is INCREDIBLE. every fic is so good, I could recommend all of them but I am gonna limit myself (for now) to the 2021 whumptober collection. the whump is not that bad by and large because the author "has the constitution of gelatin when it comes to gore" (paraphrasing) which I greatly appreciate as someone of a similar constitution

There are EIGHT chapters in here that I want to particularly highlight but honestly check out all 31 to see if the others pique your interest!

Chapter 2: Talking is Overrated, Gagged Relationships: Tony Stark/Clint Barton Fave Quote: “Holy shit,” Clint says. “Are you a mortician?” The man blinks twice, looks from Clint to the guts of the coffee machine and then back up again. Clint covers his entire face with his hand. “Just don’t,” Clint says. “Don’t listen to me. I think I meant electrician. Except you were—you know, it looks dead.”

Chapter 9: Presumed Dead, Blind Rage Relationships: Jason Todd/Tony Stark Fave Quote: “I actually,” Cyclops says, a little rushed, “have some questions. Related to the, uh. The fight? So if we could just--” “Yeah, definitely,” Captain America says, hustling quickly across the blood-splattered asphalt. “Happy to talk about that, sure.” “Gotta make a report,” Hawkeye adds, hurrying to follow.

Chapter 14: Under Pressure, Crush Injuries Relationships: None (pre Roy Harper/Frank Castle) Fave Quote: [this is actually from the author summary but I love it lmao] If you're worried about the "crush injuries," don't be. The injuries in question are pining-related injuries incurred as a result of Roy's damn near debilitating crush on Frank Castle.

Chapter 17: "Please Don't Move", Hemmorhage Relationships: Frank Castle/Clint Barton Fave Quote: “I didn’t offer to have sex with you for money,” Clint argues. “I asked you for money cuz I needed cash for the laundry, and then I tried to hit on you. I was just talking really fast because you answered the door half-naked, and I panicked.”

Chapter 20: Lost&Found, Trunk Relationships: Jason Todd/Dean Winchester Fave Quote: “We’re going to Gotham,” Dean says. He shrugs his jacket off for no real reason, drops it so it drapes across the Soldier. “If we show up without a body in the trunk, they’re gonna think we’re posers.”

Chapter 22: Cursed Relationships: Clint Barton/Tony Stark Fave Quote: “Oh.” Clint huffs out a breath, tries to reset the knight and bishop around him. “Well. Well. I don’t—you’ve just. Your penmanship,” he says, looking at nothing. “It’s very. You’re. I like the way you cheat at chess.”

Chapter 25: Escaped, Hiding Relationships: None (pre Frank Castle/Dick Grayson) Fave Quote: The wolves break into Frank’s cabin at dawn and steal his breakfast, expressing their general displeasure by ensuring that he, too, is generally displeased.

Chapter 29: Too Weak to Move, Overworked Relationships: None (pre Clint Barton/Bruce Banner) Fave Quote: “You’re doing the thing,” Clint says. And then, unhelpfully, he gestures at Bruce. “I am doing,” Bruce repeats, looking down at himself, checking for anything askew or amiss, “the thing.”

#fic rec #marvel #dc #clint barton #this post crashed on me while writing it lmaoooo

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wulvert · 1 year

Note

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2uoa6MHwVJmRBxLXSgwGho?si=S7ggezwiSrqzQ_26YKSnvg

Went through red's trunk to find his mixtape... 👀

Yeesh, found THIS too?

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/59NMrMvXJKqnKwnpmbTWLC?si=BlvRl6BQSyK9K5obbVOexw

this is so real reds poser self vs "not red"'s true self... the ego vs id...

be true 2 urself </3

#asks

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transformation4life · 2 years

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A New Sponsor

Hyde gawked at the posters lining the wall at his local mall. The posters were all of bodybuilders promoting various products for the grocery store at the end of the hallway. Hydi always had a hard-on for big and strong men so it was like heaven.

"It wouldn't hurt if I grabbed one right?" But before Hyde could get his hands on one a poster fell onto him making him collapse to the ground. After Hyde regained his bearings he took a look at the poster that "attacked" him.

"Hadi choopan... never heard of this guy before. I don't think this poster is for me though," Hydi somewhat put the poster back on the wall and sighed. Hyde came to the mall to buy groceries and other items so he had no time to just stare at pieces of paper and went inside the store.

The beginning of his escapade getting his items wasn't too interesting. Although a nagging feeling started to grow within Hyde as people inside the store seemed to stare at him more than usual. One person even went up to Hyde and said that their outfit was a bold one. What's so bold about a t-shirt and shorts Hydi though to himself, but he finally get everything he wanted and dashed to the nearest checkout lane.

"Oh hey Hydi! It's so nice to see you back so soon!" The cashier spoke like they knew Hyde for a long time. Hyde gave a bit of confused look at the cashier for calling him Hydi. That definitely wasn't his name.

"Umm it's not Hydi it's..." Hyde paused. He felt like his name was Hyde yet being called Hydi felt more right and correct so he must've just had a dazed moment.

"Ah... sorry you're right it is Hydi," Hydi put more items on the conveyer belt and engaged in some small talk with the cashier.

"So I see you still walk around in nothing but your blue posers huh," The cashier gave a quick laugh. Now that really perplexed Hydi. He for sure put on a full set of clothes, but to his surprise when Hydi looked down at his body he was really just wearing a shiny blue poser and nothing else. Hydi recalled the things he did today and he could now clearly remember putting just the posers on and doing the same thing the day before. Hydi did really love the freedom after all how could he forget?

"It's okay I understand why you do that. I would do the same thing if I were a big guy like you..." The cashier laughed again

"Me a big guy? I'm as skinny as a branch!" Hydi argued back.

"Aw don't sell yourself short Hydi. You're the biggest guy in the store!" That's when like a switch hit, Hydi's muscle instantly bulked up. Biceps as strong as old tree branches, big juicy and poppable pecs, solid six pack abs, a big ass, sausage-size fingers, tree trunk thighs, and big feet were the many things he now had. Not to mention some visible veins.

"Yea... you're right I am the biggest guy here!" prompting Hydi to give a good bicep flex to the cashier as his voice lowered with every grunt.

"That's the spirit! Let's not forget the persian features and sexy beard that compliment those big muscles~" the cashier said with an interesting implication.

Like clockwork Hydi instantly gained a manly beard and his white features were replaced with more persian ones. A brownish color of skin seeping and taking over his former white as his hair slicked back. Hydi didn't seem to notice the changes as he continued to flex for the cashier.

"Alright enough of that Hadi here's your bag. Goodluck on the photoshoot!" The cashier smiled as they handed the bag to Hadi as he stopped flexing.

"Thank you for luck... Sorry my english isn't good..." A thick persian accent quickly plopped itself into Hadi's speaking ability. Hadi quickly walked out of the grocery store as he strut with his massive ass.

When Hadi made it to the entrance a quick thought hit him. He was always the legendary Hadi Choopan right? It was a weird question to ask but it just seemed to be something that bothered Hadi. Hadi had to eventually shrug it off as he had a photo shoot to attend to. Hadi was still in just his posers as he walked to his car and drove.

"Ah Hadi you just arrived in time! I see you brought a good prop for the shoot" the director looked down at Hadi's groceries which turned into a evogen promotional bag.

"Alright now pose with those big muscles of yours and... Click!"

Hadi wasn't smiling in the photo but he very much enjoyed what was going on.

"Perfect! Alright I need one without the bag now. Just show us your stuff okay?" The director pointed to where Hadi could put the bag and then immediately went into position.

"*Click*"

"Great! Perfect! Amazing! Alright just one and I need you to smile for this one. Think of your loyal fans and sponsors and... pose!"

All the thoughts of his fans, family, and supporters really meant the world to Hadi. That's what he always was. The big persian wolf that loved to build his body about to give the smile of a lifetime with a strong thumbs up

#reality change #muscle tf #mental change #pec growth #race change #bodybuilder tf #hadi choopan tf

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