#-gestures to all of them- lookit all these Chickens

[spotsupstuff]

monkey design work for your viewing pleasure- and also finally an introduction for FT!Beng n Ba.. took long enough jaysus fuck its almost been a year

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk general beng #lmk general ba #lmk baiyuan #lmk wuzhiqi #fruit twins au #my art #-gestures to all of them- lookit all these Chickens

[kittymsmithwritesstuff]

Short fic - Balloons

Mirage x Wattson, a gift for @bamboozlingbritt . This ship needs more content honestly lmao 

ao3 link

I do commissions

Silly, fluffy dorks in love. 

---

“Elliott! Elliott? Oh, where is he?” Natalie hopped in the middle of the crowd, sending up a cloud of fine fair dust at her feet. She was somewhere in the food stall section, the most likely location for one Elliott Witt to go, but the crowd was like a school of fish, all so tightly together and moving so quickly, and for some reason everyone grew taller when she lost him. It was the second time that day and really, she would be more annoyed if she wasn’t concerned with finding the imbécile, since he was the one with all the money and their phones. She huffed and started squeezing her way through people, calling for him and cursing him in the same breath. Not at the fries stand, or the cotton candy, or the place that somehow deep-fried nachos.

“I am going to kill him,” she decided aloud, though she was looking directly at a child when she said this and quickly removed herself before said child’s tall scary papa could reach her. She came to the ticket vendor. “Pardone, have you seen m-“

“Hey, aren’t you a Legend?”

She puffed a stream of air from her lips, flipping her bangs, then put on a smile. “Oui, oui, mon ami. And I’m looking for-“

“Mirage?” The vendor was grinning. Elliott had mentioned how one of his favorite parts of being a Legend was that people were pretty much always happy to see you, and Natalie had been a little embarrassed to have not noticed, because people were rarely unhappy to see her.

“Yes, have you seen him?”

“Down that way,” he pointed to the right, the only thing in that direction being a large, bubble shaped building. “He signed my arm. Dudes pretty chill. Hey, would you…?”

“If you have a marker.”

The vendor grinned wider and pulled out a black marker. Natalie signed his arm, below Elliot’s scrawl, and then moved on towards the big bubble. On her way there she spotted a balloon vendor and got an idea, purchasing a yellow balloon and a blue one and then continuing into what turned out to be a big vendor convention of some type, with different sections dedicated to different crafts, like leatherwork, jewelry setting and local art. Elliott was found in the garden section, deep in a desert themed area full of cacti and succulents that Natalie was pretty sure made the balloons nervous. She tapped him on the shoulder, and he whirled around, grinning upon seeing her. “Nat! Babe! Lookit these little guys!” He held out his hands, small pots with a tiny cactus in each one. Natalie quickly tied the yellow balloon around his wrist, double knotting it. He stared. “Uh?”

“Stop running off!” She started tying the blue balloon to her own wrist while he stood, hands still out, baffled. He was so cute she hadn’t even sounded as perturbed as she was and maybe that was part of the problem, but oh well. He was too cute for either of their goods. “This is the second time I’ve lost you!”

“I, heh I’m sorry I just, well this guy gave me a pamphlet about this place and then I found plants.” He gestured weakly with the cacti; his balloon wobbling dangerously close to a saguaro. “I’ve always kinda wanted to, you know, try keeping something alive?”

She smiled slightly. “You barely keep yourself alive.” That was a lie, he was probably the healthiest of all the Legends, herself included. She’d spent the ages between 16 and 22 living off takeout and TV dinners, when she remembered to eat, but Elliott? He, like, cooked. He’d been horrified at the contents of her fridge the first time he came over.

“I know, but, they’re cute! They also have succa-suc-succ…soft water boys.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say, chou.”

“I don’t either.” He laughed at himself and then, having apparently decided he was going to purchase the cactuses, carefully navigated his balloon around the pokey pillars of death to the register. “Why’d you tie this to me, again?”

“So I can find you easier.” She lightly backhanded his side. “You’re no better than a toddler.”

He pouted. “You wound me.”

She smiled at him, taking the change from the vendor and shoving it in one of the pockets of Elliott’s fanny pack-blue with golden apples to compliment his outfit- while Elliot was handing over the cacti to be boxed. “This is terribly convenient, if very dorky.”

“It’s part of my charm.” He winked. “I think they call it “Dad Chic”.”

“You’re not a dad, though.”

“Excuse me, I have a beautiful wiener dog named Saucy and I resent the implication that he is anything but a loving son.” He thanked the rather amused clerk for the plants and held the bag in one hand, Natalie’s hand in the other.

She giggled. “Of course, my bad.”

They weaved through the crowd, balloons bobbing around them, the strings sometimes crossing so they hooked together, much like the couple’s hands. Natalie smiled when she thought of the fat little sausage dog who liked very much to sleep in the walkway and would wait, very patiently, for them to finish dinner so he could lick the plates. Elliott even had a set of steps so Saucy could climb into bed. She had a cat, Barbara, but she wasn’t nearly as charming unless you had chicken in hand.

Still, she found herself perusing a stall filled with custom knitted pet clothing, seriously considering a blue bonnet that Barbara would hate. Elliot leaned more towards a leatherworking stall, and she was thankful she bought the balloon, as she lost him twice more from there. They’d come to the fair for the rides and strange food, but Elliott was in a building with a whole square mile full of weird stuff to buy and armed with a credit card, so Natalie resigned herself to browsing and sometimes stopping Elliott’s strange purchases. (She didn’t stop him from buying the suit of armor, though, which made her wonder if they both needed an adult).

She stopped to look at a display of miniature tesla coils and only caught Elliott’s sleeve a moment before he vanished. “Hey!”

“Sorry! Sorry,” he stopped, and she opened up the fanny pack, digging around for her wallet.

“Goodness gracious, Elliott, if I knew you’d keep wandering like this I would have worn jeans with pockets!”

“Your jeans don’t have pockets?” He cocked his head, to any outsider looking like he was just staring at her crotch in the middle of the fair. She flicked the pocket, only the rim of it pulling out, not even enough to put a penny in. “Why did you buy them?”

“Because they’re cute,” she sighed, passing a fifty to the vendor. Sure, she could make the coils herself, but…no.

“But, but you don’t have pockets. Why would they make it without pockets?”

“To make women buy purses.”

He opened his mouth then paused, finger to his lip like a scientist who’d just had a breakthrough. “Oh my God.”

“You never thought of that before?”

“Never!”

She chuckled, taking the bag from the vendor and again walking with him. “Well, it’s a thing.”

“That’s so stupid.”

She laughed. “It is.”

They went about their day, exiting the big bubble building and wandering back out to the main part of the fair, the rides and food and games. Natalie kept having to run to Elliott’s fanny pack for her phone, or money when she spontaneously wanted even more cotton candy (“Seriously, how are you not dead?” He asked after her third trip) or the couple occasions she ran out of tickets while playing other games during Elliott’s quest for a giant wiener dog plush at the milk-bottle toss, or whatever the game was called.

Eventually Elliott seemed to tire of it, or at the very least got an idea, because when she returned from one of the more ridiculous stands with deep fried ice cream, he’d vanished from his spot near the ring toss. She looked around and didn’t spot his balloon and huffed. But he’d not wandered off the last few hours so she gave him a benefit of a doubt and stood where he had been, guessing (hoping) he had just gone to the bathroom. Of course, fifteen minutes meant otherwise, and by the time she saw his yellow balloon bobbing over the tops of the crowd, she was cross. At least he came back, she thought, hand on her hip. “Elliott, where the hell did you go?”

He jumped-she had that tone- and held up his hands defensively, small bag in hand. “I’m sorry, it took longer to find than I thought.”

“Find what?”

“This.” He handed her the bag and she looked at it suspiciously, passing him what once had been fried ice cream and was now bulbous, sloshing blobs of dough one pin prick away from becoming an unpleasant soup. “It’s kinda dumb,” he added as she began to reach into the bag. Then she pulled it out, and all at once her annoyance disappeared, replaced with a bubble of laughter. “Ha, yeah, it’s du-“

“Non, non, Elliott, I love it!” She said through her giggles, squeezing his arm reassuringly. She immediately fastened it around her waist, looked down and laughed again. It was blue, with electric yellow lightning bolts, almost matching Elliot’s gold apples. “Where on Earth did you find it?”

He was grinning like a doofus, pulling out her cash and phone, which she took and shoved into the pockets. “There’s a whole stall that just sells handmade fanny packs. I found it when I, heh, wandered earlier.”

She shook her head. “Only you could find something like this,” she said, getting on her toes and giving him a peck on the lips, making him laugh in relief, and thinking to herself that she would never have guessed she’d one day find a fanny pack romantic.

#ily britt #mirage #elliott witt #i tried to actually do the double t lmao #wattson #natalie paquette #apex #apex legends #apex legends mirage #apex legends wattson #mirage x wattson #wattage #apex legends fanfic #fanfiction #fluff #humor #silliness #dorks in love #chou means cabbage

[desdemonafictional]

Chicken Soup, Approximately

a zadr fic

rated G for everyone

On Ao3

The moment that everything went wrong was when Dib climbed into that giant robot.

At the time, Zim was sitting in a pile of fairly comfortable trash on the street side, temporarily vanquished. For a second there he’d assumed that the day was over, so he’d just been biding his time, waiting for his PAK recovery sequence to rearrange his tissues into their correct positions. The giant robot had been slumped, powered down after its defeat, with Dib at its heels poking around in the wiring to satisfy his curiosity. And then some neighborhood mud monkey had leaned over their fence and shouted at Dib, “Hey, boy!”

 Dib looked up.

The mud monkey, slumping over the fence and waving some kind of recreation beverage, said, “You got your--your damn robot all over my lawn! Lookit Marge’s petunias, they’re, uh, flat! You done smashed ‘em! You big headed little hooligan!”

Dib looked down, at some sort of foliage flattened underneath his boots as well as Zim’s giant robot. They’d started fighting at one end of Zim’s neighborhood and ended up on the other side, and they had taken out a fair amount of lawns with the big metal feet in the struggle as Dib tried to uncouple the power cells from the inside. The neighbor on the other side was missing a chunk of roof tile.

“Oh,” he said, “sorry? It wasn’t really my fault, but sorry anyhow.”

“You better get your car off my lawn boy!” the human said, jabbing his bottle at the robot. 

“Okay, okay,” Dib said, “I will, jeeze. Give me a second, I’m trying to figure out where the power lifting mechanism connects to the joint--”

The human neighbor squinted one of his bulging eyes. “I know you,” he said, “you’re Membrane’s wacky little nutjob kid. Hey, hey, how did that worm taste? I saw you hack it up on the tv.”

Dib flipped up his collar, covering his neck. “I wasn’t--I had been poisoned, I didn’t eat it because I wanted to.”

“I saws you,” the human insisted, rattling his mostly empty bottle. “I saws you eat that worm good. You a bug eater, boy?”

Dib turned to Zim, making helpless gestures at the human on the fence. “Tell him,” Dib said, “tell him you poisoned me!”

 Zim gave the situation a shrewd once-over. While he was still immensely proud of himself for poisoning the Dib Human with that swamp worm, as he was of everything he did, he was also wary of agreeing to anything the Dib asked him in front of other people. “Zim has no recollection of this,” he said, kicking his feet against the trash bag.

“Zim!” Dib shouted. “It was just last week! You put the worm in my milkshake straw! You called me on the phone while I was on my dad’s show just to tell me about it! I had to induce vomiting or I would have died!”

“Are you sure?” Zim said, inspecting his gloves for damage. “This dirt monkey says you’re a bug eater. Maybe you just like eating bugs.”

“I do not like eating bugs!”

The human at the fence took a swig of his beverage. “You throw up bugs on purpose, boy? That’s some sick, that’s, man, that’s some crazy stuff.”

“Because it was poisonous!” Dib shouted.

“Hey Marge!” the human shouted, waving back at his house, “Marge, come laugh at the crazy bug eating boy!”

A distant voice shouted, “From the TV?”

Dib buried his nails in his scalp. “I’m not crazy! It was a rational--”

The neighbor human’s mate appeared at the fence, hair stacked precariously with curlers.  She pointed one of her claws at Dib, opened up her jaw, and erupted into caws of corvid laughter.

“Would you listen--”

A small child appeared at the fence as well, also pointing its finger at Dib and spewing laughter. More neighbors began to surface, curious about the epicenter of the amusement, and quickly joined in the ridicule. Public shaming was an activity that never failed to bring a group of earthlings together.

Zim watched with interest as Dib twitched visibly, in the middle of the garden, his whole body spasming. And then, rather than shouting and stamping and making a speech as he usually did when large groups of humans began to ridicule him publically, Dib simply turned on his heel and walked back to the robot.  He scaled the robot’s leg with a series of deft pulls, climbed into the dark cockpit, and then--quite matter of factly--punched the big red activate button. 

The arm cannons blazed to life.

“Who’s laughing now!” Dib howled, throwing his whole weight against the steering levers. The mecha rattled and roared, one enormous step heavy enough to rattle Zim’s teeth in his mouth. Black smoke poured off the auxiliary engines. Dib scream-cackled, his eyes huge and wild, as the mecha bore down clumsy and utterly unstoppable. He wrenched a knob and a hail of fire exploded the concrete all around them, chunks of it sailing up into the air as time seemed to slow down, and Zim-–in the middle of the smoke and shrapnel and wailing humans-–just stood there.

Watching.

He watched Dib, up there in that 20 ton deathbot, losing his Irk-forsaken mind, and Zim’s insides gave a horrible, perfect heave. It was like he was going to be sick, only, if he puked now there would just be little cartoon hearts all across his boots.

Wow, he thought. Look at the Dib Monkey go.

–

That wasn’t the first time that Dib had taken the invader’s breath away; it was only the first time he noticed it. There had been other moments, forgotten now—an aerial battle where their ships had been locked into a mirrored freefall, cockpit dome pressed to cockpit dome—an impromptu team-up, as Dib threw himself out the window of a building rigged to explode below him—a field trip in the park where Dib had casually handed Zim an ice cream cone, barely noticing what he had done in the midst of monologuing—

Zim’s attention was not entirely on the task of mixing radioactive isotopes into concrete solution. He turned the mixer with half a mind on the day before, turning over the memory of Dib’s nervous breakdown backlit against the yellow sky, the light glinting off the mecha around him—it was the most focused he had been on anything in a very long time, although he didn’t take any note of that change in himself. He was preoccupied with others.

Scowling, Zim thumped himself on the side of his head. “Be silent, brain meats,” he muttered, thumping himself harder. “Obey Zim.”

Across the laboratory, perched on a biohazard canister, GIR giggled and imitated him. “This is funnnn,” he said, clanking with each tap.

“It must be my brain meats,” Zim muttered. “Blasted wetware. Obey your master!”

“Maybe it’s your cute lil backpack!”

“Impossible,” Zim said. “My PAK is a state of the art piece of advanced computational brilliance. It is flawless! The error must be organic.”

GIR oooo’ed at nothing in particular. Zim gave up on his work and tossed the mixer into the vat, stalking across the lab as the isotopes quickly swallowed the mixer whole. He pulled his goggles from his head and threw them over his shoulder. The memory of Dib, sunlit and gloriously mad in his tons of deadly metal, had been troubling Zim for hours now, distracting him from even the simplest of his nefarious doings. It was like a tumor. A tumor obstructing the beautiful correct function of his intelligence interface. And if it was a tumor, well then, Zim would just have to remove it forcibly.

“GIR,” he shouted, “prep the medical lab for surgery!”

As the tiny robot went screaming ahead of him, Zim stripped off his hazmat gloves and grabbed a box of medical ones from a passing shelf. As he stepped into the irritatingly bright medical lab, the computer chimed in with, “REMINDER! Invader Zim is four solar orbits overdue for medical evaluation!”

“Ignore,” Zim said.

“REMINDER! Invader Zim is four solar orbits overdue for—”

“Ignore!” Zim shrieked. “Ignore all!”

“Acknowledged,” the computer muttered.

Zim took an uneasy seat on the edge of the operation table and pulled one of several extendable arms from the ceiling apparatus. He unfolded the square at the end and lined its edges up with his forehead, flipping down a series of lenses until the magnification on the video feed was sufficient for his purposes.

“Engage hard light scalpel,” he ordered. Heat immediately flared to life against his skin. “Incision area one by four by four.”

In a sizzle and pop, the surgical droid severed a square of skull and plucked it from the opened site. Zim squinted at the image projected across the wall in front of him.

“What have you hidden, Dib?” he said to himself, guiding the video probe deeper into his frontal cortex. There was a strange feeling as it passed into him, a fuzziness across his tongue and a static hum in his belly, but the pain receptors were neatly turned off by the PAK interface. After a minute or two of poking around in his own insides, Zim started losing patience.

“Where is it?” he snarled, poking hard enough at his brain matter that his left arm gave a spasm and knocked a spanner off the side table. “Computer! Scan for irregularities!”

“Beep,” the computer said. “Boop.”

Zim crossed his arms and tapped his heel impatiently while the program did an exhaustive malware scan. Finally, the monitor flashed in large letters: HORMONES.

“Hooooormones?” Zim read, “You mean the Dib introduced foreign chemicals into my Zim Veins?”

The screen flashed snow and then returned with the words corrected to: IRKEN HORMONES

“Computer!” Zim snapped, “Explain this!”

The computer hummed. “You appear be exhibiting primitive BONDING HORMONES, resulting in ATTRACTION and HAPPINESS.”

“The Dib did this?” Zim said. “How dare he make Zim happy against his will!”

“Uh,” the computer said.

GIR spit out a mouth full of broken syringes. “Sounds like Looove.”

“Preposterous,” Zim said. “Zim is a hardened combat veteran, not to mention an elite invader! It’s just some kind of… slow acting poison. Kinda thing. Computer, initiate blood draining protocols!”

“No toxins have been detected in the blood of Invader Zim.”

“Well drain it anyway!” Zim shouted. “I want it out of me! Right now!”

“The hormones are being produced by several of your key glands,” the computer said, sounding a little reproachful. “The source is too complex to be removed with traditional surgical procedures.”

Zim sighed and dug a scalpel out of his supplies. “Zim must do everything around here,” he said, examining the joint of his arm where he knew there to be at least one major hormone producing gland. There was also a major artery but, eh, he’d cross that bridge when he burned it.

“The source of the hormone production starter enzyme is located in the organic brain,” the computer continued. “Even if you removed the glands, once they regenerated, the enzyme would only order production to resume.”

“Curses!” Zim said. He lobbed the scalpel across the room, where it stuck in a secondary monitor with an electric fizzle and a puff of smoke. After a moment, he smoothed a hand over his uniform and righted himself.

“No matter,” he said. “I will simply have to hack my fleshware.”

He stalked over to the monitor and pulled down a keyboard from the suspended apparatus. 

“I have researched this ‘love’,” Zim said, making quote-y marks with his claws, “before. I recognize the symptoms. If I have contracted this 'emotion’ then the Dib has certainly infected me with his primitive disease in order to take me out of the game. How cunning. Not!”

Zim swung back around to the keyboard, inputting a search for “rmoance” which he belatedly, after cursing at the error404 screen for a few moments, corrected to “romance”.

“Foolish worm baby,” he muttered, “for I am Zim! Master of all research and HOLY QUIZNACK what is that?”

GIR toddled up behind him and took a look at the screen. “Pogo stick,” he said. “Weeeee-hoo, lookit em go.”

Zim had already smashed the escape key. “Okay,” he said, “never mind that. I don’t need to research romance specifically, I can just research earth diseases. COMPUTER, search the 'inter webs’ for information on curing this disGUSTING affliction.”

The computer buzzed with static for a moment, and then popped open a neatly formatted Gadzooks Answers page across the screen

The computer announced, “Mommy blogger 92 says to feed a fever, starve a cold.”

“Hmm. HMMMM.” Zim peeled back one glove and pressed it against his forehead. “But I am neither hot nor cold! Useless!”

GIR piped up, “Try thinkin about smoochies!”

“Ugh,” Zim said. “No way. There will be no swapping of the spit for this invader. The Dib would have to beg me, beg me on his weak little human knees, crawl through the mud on his hands and knees and then PERHAPS in my beneficent glory I would allow him to kiss… the mighty boots of… Zim…” He paused. A terrible expression passed over his face.

“GIR!” he shouted, “Get the thermometer!”

Two minutes later Zim threw the thermometer across the room, splattering mercury over the far wall.

“FINE!” he shouted. “Fine! The illness is a fever! How does one feed a fever?”

GIR listed a number of items, most of which were not edible. When he got as far as soap, Zim let out a heavy groan and threw himself into the spinning chair.

“Sources say,” the computer interrupted, “chicken noodle soup will DESTROY YOUR FEVER.”

“But it’s…. all meaty… and full of water,” Zim said, barely holding in a gag. He tapped his claws on the arm rest for a moment, considering. “Noodles seem harmless enough,” he decided at last. He levered himself up from the chair and marched off towards the elevator, hands clasped behind his back.

“Come along GIR,” he called, “I’m sure we have some extra soda around here somewhere….”

–

When Zim took his seat for homeroom the next morning, Dib was already at the blackboard trying to explain something to a blank-faced and uninterested audience. He was covered in white dust, practically vibrating in place, and jabbing a piece of chalk at a rudimentary graph of some footprint. He paused in mid jab as Zim walked into the room.

“…What on earth are you holding?” he said.

Zim looked down at his bowl of soup. Then he looked up at Dib. “None of your beeswax, Dibberton.”

“That’s… not my name,” Dib said.

“Hey,” a kid in the front row said, “lay off him, Dibberton.”

“That’s not my–ugh.” Dib turned back to Zim, who had neatly perched himself in a seat toward the back. “That looks like noodles in grape juice.”

Zim shoved a tangy purple noodle into his mouth. “That’s because it is, Dibberton.”

Haha! From the look on the monkey’s face, Zim has thwarted him indeed! The flavor of sucess is sweet! And also, a little carbonated.

#zadr

[drunklander]

Drunj!Der Yells About Outlander

Thoughts on Ep. 313

Ermagherd guys, Droughtlander. It’s here. But it’s here with Hamilton stuck in our heads, cheesetastic secksi times and the knowledge that the beginning of next season is probs the most like the oh-so-high-up-on-that-pedestal-S1A than anything else in the series. (In a strange new place! Trying to build a home! Except this time they’re doing it together! With the kiddos! Plus a doggo! *grabby hands*)

I know I’ve been on the *cough* less than positive *cough* side of things a lot this season. And last season, if we’re being honest. And I was going to apologize for that, but honestly, I’m not sorry. That’s just how I fan. I flail about what I love, I rant about what I don’t. I’m *very* aware that’s not everyone’s cup of tea and that I’m the sort of fan the cast and crew shit on in interviews and on twitter. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But I enjoyed the finale for what it was. I squee’ed! I yelled things at the teevee! I side-eyed like whoa! So basically the same-ish reaction I’ve had to most of the episodes.

(I never bothered doing a full S2 rewatch, but I might do one for S3 just to see if it flows any better when watched all in one go, but I have a feeling it’ll still feel more like individual units than a cohesive whole.)

Anywho, beer-fueled nonsense that offers nothing of substance under the cut.

Finding more and more that I miss the old-style title cards.

Hard pass on doing this VO twice, tbh. Like we know obvi she’s not going to die. Just have it be where it plays out in the story.

Ok but all I can think about when the carriage stops and the crowd of people walk by is the part in The Mummy when they’re all like zombified and chanting Im-Ho-Tep.

I was just about to snark on Claire apparently having a change of clothes in the damn carriage but alas, we didn’t have to headcanon that she went and changed somewhere. No snarking for me.

Although for fucking serious? She changed back into the same damn outfit?! Ffs. Let the damn woman wear a different dress.

Aw, Fergus lets his wife come with him and doesn’t leave her behind in the woods with Willie. (I heart Marsali.)

“I’ll gut you” is apparently Young Ian’s go-to threat. It’s cute he already has a signature murder-style. Now you just need a rad serial killer name, dude. Take the hiatus to think about it.

This whole thing with Claire and Geillis is like ♬ I know, you know that I’m not telling the truth. ♬

I love that the Army/Navy rivalry spans both time and country.

But for real. Lord John in this scene is my goddamn everything. Sorry, Captain Babyface. I like you, but I need my dude out of those handcuffs and LJG is fucking *bringing it* right now. Can Jamie keep the handcuffs though? They might come in handy once he’s back on the Artemis... ;)

Ok but the final lingering shot of the pining face. Why. It was such a great scene. Lord John helping his buddy. Jamie being like yep, I still get in trouble, thanks for the assist. A nice goodbye. And it could have just ended there and been perfect, but nah, gotta smack everyone over the head with 1000% commitment to my least favorite trope.

#GetJohnABoyfriend2k18

Ah a “why are you here” callback to ep. 111.

For real though, Geillis is fucking nuts. Claire knows Geillis is fucking nuts. Claire knows Geillis has Young Ian. WHY ARE YOU LIKE HAVING CASUAL STORY TIME WITH HER, CLAIRE! DON’T TELL HER THINGS!

CLAIRE WHY ARE YOU TELLING GEILLIS ABOUT GOING BACK TO THE FUTURE! WHY ARE YOU TELLING HER ABOUT BREE! THIS IS A TERRIBLE IDEA! STOP SHARING THINGS WITH PSYCHOPATHS!

Also, we’re just casually talking about time travel in front of Hercules? I mean, I guess since he’s enslaved, no one gives a shit what he hears because it’s not like he can do anything?

“He was one of my favorites.” She’s fucking nuts but I still do love Geillis.

*zones out through discussions about the mechanics of time travel*

Did you really think you *weren’t* going to get locked in, Claire? YOU KNOW WHAT GEILLIS HAS DONE, YOU WERE CLEARLY GOING TO BE LOCKED IN. BREAK THE FUCKING WINDOW OR SOMETHING IF YOU WANT TO GET OUT.

I get that this is a parallel to the pilot when Claire’s watching the dancers at Craigh na Dun with Frank from the grass, but part of me is still wicked uncomfortable that they’re again using Black people as basically set dressing. I know it’s in the book, I wasn’t a fan of it there either.

How I think of Margaret during her Visions R Us office hours, basically.

Man, they really committed to this damn rabbit and bird thing. Maybe it’s some folks’ jam, but it never really struck a chord for me and the more they kept bringing it up, the more it makes me roll my eyes. Maybe because birds and rabbits were never a thing with Jamie and Claire? So it just seemed wicked random and kind of forced? Whatevs.

Hated Margaret channeling Bree in the book, hate it here.

This whole thing is so much weirder in the book, but just because they made it less weird for the show doesn’t make it good.

Like if we’re getting an exposition dump from Archibald about the prophecy, we really don’t need the weird Bree thing about someone coming to get her.

Yi Tien Cho channeling Inigo Montoya is kind of my everything. “I’m Yi Tien Cho. You are not worthy of this woman. Prepare to die.”

Petition for Rihanna’s “We Found Love” to be Yi Tien Cho and Margaret’s wedding song.

Omg so much explaining what we’ve already all figured out. We need to headcanon like 75% of Jamie and Claire’s reconciliation, but let’s spell out 2378235 different ways what Geillis’ plan is. (Maybe it wasn’t that many ways. But we’re doing a fuckton of exposition dumping in this episode.)

Ok seriously. The guy with the alligator head drinking chicken blood. Ugh. We got white savior stuff last week, but at least Temeraire had a part in the plot and got some agency at the end? Still problematic, but (maybe?) as minimally problematic as it could be if it was going to be included? This is literally just a backdrop for a conversation with Margaret. Blergh...

And then they have them carry off Archibald Campbell as Yi Tien Cho and Margaret look on in horror and omfg this is not good.

(ETA -- In which Roxane Gay says it better than I could: “It’s all very colonial fever dream, not so vaguely racist, and I honestly forced myself to let it go so I could continue with the episode.”)

“We lost Faith. We will not lose Brianna.” This line sure would have hit home a little harder had we actually seen Jamie give a crap about Bree at any point during the season. In the moment it works, but looking over the whole season *weakly gestures, tired of wishing things had been done differently*.

The goodbye kiss just in case though hits me in the feels. 

Well isn’t Geillis telling Claire “a life for a life” a nice perversion of Claire telling Jamie that he owed her a life in season two.

And then Jamie grabs her hand all gently and I have feelings about the two of them at the stones/pool, guys.

Why does dead!Geillis look super fake? I have questions.

Slash Young Ian is gathering up jewels or something, right? Before he runs out of the cave? He’s like picking shit up off the ground...

Still could have done without the bones in Joe’s office bit, tbh. But whatever.

I know she’s like a bit traumatized, but Claire holding a bloody machete is my aesthetic.

Awwww, lookit that lil family. *heart eyes*

Omg but the stuff on the ship is the eye of the storm. Like the episode is the storm. And the sex is the eye. Because in the eye of the hurricane, there is quiet. For just a moment. GET IT?! GET IT GUYS?! OK FINE I’LL JUST KEEP SINGING HAMILTON OVER HERE BY MYSELF.

I’m way too proud of myself for this tweet though:

“Surprised I dinna have a full head of white hair, after all I’ve suffered these past few months.” ONE LAST WTF, JAMIE *SIDE-EYE* FOR THE ROAD! (I know Jamie has been through some shit. But literally ever since Claire showed back up, he’s managed to make almost everything about him so even though it’s a little joke, this line is just icing on the omfg, you’re killing me Smalls cake.)

#TeamClairesVeryFineSkin

I for real thought this wasn’t going to make it into the show. I didn’t think the quickie in ep. 309 was going to make it either. Glad they both did.

Claire being like yep, I can remedy the I’m still wearing clothes situation, stat, is my everything.

It’s so cheesy, guys. I love cheese.

Jamie’s bangs though, guys. Can we get the man a new wig haircut before next season?

Omg, that ass grab. That ass grab is my everything. Idk why. But omg. RIP me.

They def have made the sex a little less explicit this year. Except for the rape that they decided to shoot like a softcore porn, wtaf. But like, that doesn’t matter? It’s never been about the amount of skin showing? It’s about showing the two characters being wicked into each other, because if they weren’t then going through all the shit they go through wouldn’t be worth it? I’m *rull* glad that the show has finally realized that that’s an important thing to actually have on screen instead of condescendingly telling us that it doesn’t matter or we should headcanon it like they did all last year.

Ok, here for Claire going full mama bear at Young Ian, but girl. How much doctoring do you really thing you’re going to be able to do in this exact moment if you go up on deck.

Slash, what was she waiting for the whole time everyone else, including the two people she was with, was clearing the deck? I know, I need to just go with it, but this is silly.

Ok this is the only time we needed to see this/hear this VO. Beautifully shot. The Faith music is gorgeous, but like I’m not reading anything into it like she’s watching over them or anything. More just like Claire’s in a liminal state between alive and dead like she was when Faith died.

Dude, kiss your wife when you’re both on the surface and it’s been established she’s alive. (I mean, it’s super sweet, but SWIM, JAMMF, SWIM!)

All snark aside, there’s something a little beautiful about Claire spending half the season basically drowning, unable to really save herself and no one else around who cares enough to save her. And now here she is again, literally drowning and unable to save herself, but this time there’s a handy ginger around to lend a hand. Because she’s not alone anymore. And I have feelings. So many feelings. All the feelings. Feelings.

As they’re floating on their scrap of wood, let me take the obligatory detour into the 20 year old grumble that there was definitely enough room on the door for Jack too. WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, ROSE.

The thought of crawling around in the sand in wet clothes gives me hives.

“I told you I’d never leave you again.” ilu, claire bear.

Ok but they’re both so sad that the ship went down and everyone’s dead and stuff and it’s moving and yay for hugs, but like. You know nothing about where you are? Why jump to the worst case scenario? The beach is literally littered with stuff from the ship? You made it so other people might have too? Also, clearly all of the important people lived because otherwise this whole half of the season was pointless?

That being said, these two are really good at making their faces show feelings.

It’s really not a strange question to ask where you are, Jamie. You were in a shipwreck. GPS isn’t a thing. I’d say it’s a pretty normal question to have, bro.

OK BUT LOOK AT CLAIRE’S FACE WHEN SHE SAYS AMERICA HERE COMPARED TO HOW SHE WAS FEELING THE LAST TIME SHE ARRIVED THERE. EVERYTHING IS OK NOW, CLAIRE! I HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THE FRASERS GETTING TO FINALLY START A LIFE TOGETHER, GUYS.

Literaloling over the rando family just walking away like yeah, uh, you guys do you.

fin.

#* #drunj!der yells about outlander #outlander starz #outlander 3x13

[border-to-insanity]

Committed

  ~** Merry, Moober and I conjured up this wonderful idea and I am here to present it on a silver platter. Here’s a new event unfolding in the Gamma-Psi Team between Glitch, Horns and Jolly.

Words: 1792 (SFW)

Enjoy**~

   “Ah, I love when we get the afternoon off!” Glitch unceremoniously plopped down onto the couch beside Jolly. She tucked her feet under her and rested her head on her friend's shoulder, peering over at the book she was reading.

    Jolly hummed in agreement as she flipped the page.

    Horns and Callow padded into the room a few moments later, talking about their next assignments from Delta. Horns was carrying a mug in one hand and gesturing widely with the other, clearly frustrated with something. As soon as he spotted the two of them on the couch, he made a beeline to sit in the open seat by Glitch, cuddling up to his girlfriend. She grabbed his mug and sipped from it as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pressing a light kiss to her cheek before stealing it back. Callow took the other available couch across the coffee table, continuing their conversation.

    Not even a few seconds later Jolly was untangling herself from them and getting up. Glitch made a noise of protest as she was shuffled and flipped to lean against Horns as Jolly got up and smiled at the two. She murmured something about needing to finish the project and headed off toward her room quickly. The three turned and watched her leave, all in slight states of confusion and she disappeared down the hallway.

    “... Well…” Callow raised an eyebrow when he heard the soft click of her door shut, turning to look as the displeased duo. “Whats going on between you three? Jolly doesn’t usually leave our cuddle puddles…”

    Glitch threw up her hands, Horns quickly jolted away using both hands to steady the mug so no liquid would splash out from her abrupt movement.

    “I wish I knew!” She hissed in a low voice, clearly frustrated, but also a little worried. “She's been getting more and more flighty around us!” She gestured between the two of them. “If it's just either of us, she's fine, but as soon as we’re both there she hightails it out like someone set her tail on fire!”

    Horns looked downcast in agreement as Callow ran a hand through his hair. “You guys didn’t have a fight?” When Glitch shook her head he asked “Maybe she doesn't want to cuddle you both?”

    “That’s absurd.” Glitch huffed. “Jolly always cuddles with us.”

    “Maybe.” Callow said “But that was before you guys were, ya know, together together. Maybe now she feels like it's intruding. Kind of like how someone I know should feel.” He gave her a pointed look and Glitch raised them in mock surrender. “Hey! Don’t lookit me like that! Gamma had an open door policy! It's not my fault you needed to sex her up in my one time of need!”

    Horns rested his chin on her shoulder. “No Kitten, maybe he has a point.” He thought for a moment and said “I never thought our relationship would affect her, or anyone else for that matter… Do you think she's upset?”

    “Her upset? I’m upset she doesn’t cuddle us…” Glitch pouted but then said, “She's not much into what either of us... do... ya know? We know she’s asexual, so we don’t flaunt anything in front of her… but still, do you think it grosses her out? We gross her out?”

    "I just... I'm just afraid she thinks there's boundaries here that she can't cross, when in reality they never existed for her." Horns nodded to her.

     Callow nodded his head in understanding. “She's not as.. sexual as you guys, maybe talk to her about it and see what she’s okay with and not. Conversation is key for any healthy relationship.”

      “Wow Cal, thanks for the brotherly advice.” Glitch teased and he blushed slightly.

--

     “So, I’ve been thinking.” Horns started.

     “Oh no, I’ll call the hospital in advance.”

    Horns rolled his eyes and Glitch snickered. The two were laying spread across her bed with tangled limbs late in the evening, just lazing after a rather grueling day of training.

    “It’s about Jolly...”

    “Oh.” Glitch sobered up.

    “It feels like…I don’t know, like, something's missing with her not around. She's just been so... distant lately. I mean, you two used to be nigh inseparable-"     Glitch snickered and rolled over onto her stomach to glance at him. "Nigh. You fancy ass."      "Focus, woman!" Horns semi-jokingly said, his foot nudged her to keep her on track. "You two used to be so close. It's been a while since you've had a good cuddle puddle."     "Since we’ve had a good puddle. She probably thinks you'll get jealous..." Glitch teased, poking him in the side, her train of thought going back to their conversation with Callow.     "But I wouldn't though." Horns mumbled, mostly to himself.

    Glitch was silent for a moment and Horns had to roll over to look at her to to see the intense look of thought she wore. “I wouldn’t either.”

    “Yeah?”

    “… Yea”

--

    "You're, um- ugh how do I say this...? You're always- nope that's not it. Uh... Jolly-"     "Horns." Jolly cut him off. "It's just me. Calm down."     "Uh, erm, well, that... that's not." Horns hung his head with a sigh. He had tried talking to her for almost a week now, ever since his conversion with Glitch, but had finally managed to get her alone in the house, knowing that if anyone else was here he would chicken out and needing to get it off his chest despite glitch saying they should tell her together. "I don't know why this is so hard. Ok. Ok. Here we go."     "Ok." She laughed as he seemed to almost be warming up, shaking out his arms and whatnot.     It all tumbled out as soon as his mouth opened, knowing that if he stopped he might not finish. He just wanted her to hear it all and understand what was going on in his mind. "Glitch and I have been noticing lately that you've been a little distant- I mean not from everybody, you and Peony are thick as thieves- which is kind of worrying me what is she getting you into- wait that's not where I was going with this I swear there's a point here- you've been super distant from Glitch and me, and I have a feeling it's because of our relationship and I just want you to know that even though we're together that doesn't mean you're not welcome you're totally welcome the more the merrier-" He had to stop to breathe. "And we love you."     "Wait what?" Jolly backed away a little, waving her hands in front of her. "Oh, no no no. I'm fine. I'm just glad you two are happy."     "Yeah, but-" Horns made an unintelligible but unsatisfied noise, his arms flailed a bit, searching for the right words. "But you deserve to be happy too."     "I am." Jolly insisted.     "But you're-" He frowned. "But the cuddles!"     "Yeah?"     "You've been less inclined lately- which is fine if it's, like, a preference thing. But if it's something you feel you have to do-"     "Horns, I'm fine." She cut him off, almost a little impatiently, turning her body as if she was about to leave.

    At that moment, the door to their home opened, Glitch, with her arms full of stuff sauntered in followed by Callow, the two back from the grocery store.  Upon seeing the two, she almost dropped the bags she was carrying. Her eyes widened and then slitted accusingly and she dashed to the kitchen to drop them off before coming back in and grabbing their wrists. She hollered back to Cal, saying something to him as she lead the two to her room. She ushered them in and closed the door behind her, arms crossing accusingly at him as if saying ‘We were suppose to do this together’.

    Glitch turned to Jolly as Horns hunched his shoulders slightly. She could feel Jiji’s nerves amping up.

     “Jolly. It's just us.” She said, trying to calm her. “We're just here to talk.”

    “Okay…” Jolly took a breath.

    “Um… so, uh…” Horns gestured between himself and Glitch. “We… were talking.”

    “And recently we've been noticing how distant from the two of us you are.” There was almost a pout in Glitch's tone. “We were wondering if this is because of our relationship? Because if it's us we don't want things to be weird, I liked it being the three of us.. and I kind of want this,” she made a circle gesture motion of all of them “to be something.”

    Jolly pursed her lips, nose wrinkling slightly and she cast her gaze down “Well I.. don’t know… I’m not really into what you two...” she vaguely gestured to the two of them “do.”

    “And that’s fine!” Glitch says hastily “But! We still like you, and want you. You don't have to do anything you don't want. We just want you-”

    Horns cut her off, offering a sweet smile "We were hoping you'd be our-"     "No." Glitch interrupted him.     "What?'     "You have to say the thing." She insisted.     "No."

    “If you're gonna rudely interrupt me then you have to say the thing.”

    “No. Fine. You have the floor.”

    “Clearly you've taken the floor.”

    “I don't want it.”     "Horns you gotta!"     "I don't wanna!"     "Say. The. Thing."     Horns sighed, turning to Jolly with a slightly sarcastically strained look. "Would you go steady with the two of us?" He deadpanned.     Jolly couldn't help but laugh at the old-timey expression. "I... well I'm touched, but are you sure you want that?"     “I've figured you out now Joll." Horns said, waggling a finger at her all investigatively squinty eyed. "And what you need to know is that even though I'm a satyr, it's not all about sex. I love just being with you, and I want to do that in whatever way makes YOU comfortable."     "I dunno what he's talking about I just wanna be able to cuddle you again." Glitch added.     "I...Um… Okay.” Jolly said as she tilted her head with a soft smile.

     Glitch grins “Yeah?”

     “Yeah.”

     “This is gonna be awesome” Glitch practically purred, drawing Horns and Jolly into her arms to hug and press a kiss to both their foreheads.

    “Good to have you.” Horns mumbled softly, making Jolly blush furiously as Glitch embraced them.

     “Horns is sooo lucky.” Glitch whispers into her ear. “Now he gets two cat girls, one for each arm. Lucky bastard.”

    “Oh my goddd.” Jolly groaned, hiding her red face in her hands “Can I take my statement back? I can’t date you anymore.”

    Glitch mock gasped in horror and Horns chuffed out, “Too late, you’ve committed yourself to the biggest dorks ever.”

    “... I think I can live with that.”

#Team Gamma-Psi #Horns Khaos #Glitch Sanity #Jolly Merry #Callow Gator #i love my dorks.

[imaginesteverogerss]

Imagine Steve finding a bunch of newly hatched ducks outside a hydra base about to be destroyed and he saves them causing them to imprint on him.

Brief reference to thisearlier fill I did.

 ~~~~~

“At least they aren’tchickens.”  Bucky quips, wry smile on hislips.  

Steve huffs, but doesn’trespond.  He’s a little busy trying tofigure out how to keep six ducklings safe on the quinjet.  He eventually settles for carefully tuckingthem into the various pockets on his uniform. The one in his left pant pocket keep wriggling out and waddling towardshis face making little peeping noises.  

“Pokey’s the cutest.”  Clint muses from one seat over.

“Huh?”  Steve glances up from trying to gently putthe duckling back in his pocket.  

“Pokey.”  Clint gestures.  “The one that keeps getting out.  He’s curious.”

“You’re naming them?”

“As if you’re not.” Clintshoots back.  

Steve shrugs; Clint’s notwrong.  “Daisy’s delicate, she gets tosleep in the cowl.”  She’s the smallestof them all and was chilly when he scooped them up in his mad dash away fromthe HYDRA base.   

“I want that one.”  Bucky points to the ducking in Steve’s rightpocket who is  actively poking andprodding at the seams of the tac gear as if it’ll give.  

“Because he’s anass?”  Steve smiles, smug.

Bucky glares.  “Because Einsteinis smart.  Lookit him tryingto break the seams so you can’t put him back.”

“Einstein?”

“He’s a problemsolver.  Fight me.” 

Steve groaned.  “Fine. When he’s old enough, he’s yours.” 

Bucky grinned and satback.  “Perfect.  And I think Kitty is Thor’s.  He was making noises about the ‘Fluffy one that curled up in a tiny ball.’”

“Aye!”  Thor was finished cleaning his armor, itseemed.  “I would be very pleased indeedif you would gift me the tiny creature. I have already named him Kitty.”

“Kitty.”  Steve didn’t ask so much as re-state.

Thor turned his phone soSteve could see the screen.  “Darcy feelsthe name is perfect.”

“Ah.”  Steve didn’t have anything more eloquent tooffer, and he turned his attention to keeping the ducklings still while theytraveled back to the Tower.  

**

It was only after theystopped following him along in a little orderly line that he adopted them out.  He gave Pokey to Clint, and Kitty to Thor (aspromised).  Einstein (Steve secretlycalled him Asshole) to Bucky, and Weeble went to Sam.  After complaining about ducklings and duckfuzz from the moment they were brought into the Tower, Steve gave Pig-Pen toTony (the one who was a little chubby, molted a little more than the others,and always managed to end up the dirtiest). He kept Daisy for himself (small, delicate, feisty Daisy), and wasteaching her how to come when called and to sit on his shoulder for movie night.

#Anonymous #steve rogers #clint barton #thor #bucky barnes #trish #steve and daisy are there cutest things and she has sweaters for when its cold out #he may or may not have knit them himself #einstein and bucky are a devish duo and steve wishes that bucky weren't so good at training #because einstein has totally stolen bags of chips on buck's behalf #pokey generally follows clint around and is happy to be up high sitting next to his dad #Pig-Pen usually has a smudge or two on his feathers and Tony is incredibly careful to give him a bath after every lab visit #kitty has the softest feathers and is a lap-duck #thor is pleased with his choice #weeble has the best balance and is a very responsible duck #always where he's supposed to be #and is the one to quack at his siblings if they try to get into *too much* trouble #i know nothing about ducks but i enjoyed this prompt immensely