#i dunno i just like the imagery of them on a swing

[dlartistanon]

Something softer

#arknights #platinum #nearl #dlarts #wanted to try a different coloring style than what i'm used to #does it look nice? #i dunno i just like the imagery of them on a swing #it's freeing #which would be nice for them honestly

[bby-deerling]

break free (eustass kid x reader nsfw)

a demon literally possessed me while writing this! this is kinda late, i wanted to have this out for his birthday but.... here we are!

heed the content warnings!

18+, nsfw, mdni, wc: 1.7k masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader, overstimulation, roleplay, bondage, kidnapping (he saves you don't worry), violence/violent imagery, blood, kid kills people, humiliation, inappropriate use of kid's metal fingers, rough sex and everything that entails, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, degradation, established relationship, hole stretching

tagging: @mandiemegatron @starlightkitten19 @wrennyx

A sigh of relief leaves your lips as the door rips open off its hinges.  Though you were held dangling in the air by cuffs digging into your wrists, the sight of Kid storming into the room was enough to calm the panic swirling in your chest; of course he was coming to save you—and you hoped he was going to make it extra painful for the people who had dared to mess with what was his.

It's over in nearly an instant; Kid’s ability to disarm and repel weapons back towards their owners is enough to overpower nearly any normal man, but he makes sure to get a few powerful licks in with his metal arm, brutal with his swings and clashes as he gets his vengeance served on a silver platter—it was almost too easy for him, and if you weren’t the one at stake, he would likely consider the whole ordeal a waste of his time.

“Dumbass.  Don’t get captured again. On my fucking birthday too…” he scoffs as he looks at you, covered in blood as crimson as his hair.  Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he stares at you, and takes stock of the predicament you’re in, suspended in the air by your shackles; though your legs are free to move, they can’t touch the ground.

The situation you’re in has rendered you so vulnerable; so much so, that any annoyance at having to come collect you from a bunch of half-rate kidnappers was replaced with wicked and deviant thoughts.

“Lookin’ good there.” he says with a devious smirk, eyes slowly running down your body.  No being or obstacle could hinder his path as he stalks towards you, and the room echoes with the squelch and snap of bones as he stomps over the fresh corpses of your kidnappers as if they were nothing but pesky ants.  Passion overflows from his every movement as he snatches you by the waist and kisses you deeply, wasting no time slipping his tongue inside your mouth and pressing himself against you.

“Mmm, Kid, get these chains off me.” you mumble against his lips, wincing at the way the metal drags across your skin as you struggle against your restraints.

Wildfire brims in his eyes as he pulls back from the kiss and his metal fingers tilt your chin upward to face him, a silent demand for you to look him in the eyes.

“I dunno princess, I feel like I deserve a reward for coming all this way to rescue you.” he says teasingly, tracing his fingers down your side and dipping them just below the waistband of your skirt.

“Right here?  You sure?” you squeak out in surprise, rattling against your chains as you adjust the way your wrists are being held by the shackles holding you up for him.

“It’s either I tie you up back on the ship or I fuck you right here, and I don’t feel like waiting.” he says, voice gravely and rumbling like the soft purr of an engine.  His words make your thighs rub together as heat pools in your cheeks and between your legs.  The feeling of your heartbeat pounding in your face intensifies as his hand creeps up your skirt, calloused fingers roughly dragging across the soft expanse of your thigh.

“Be gentle with me, it’s my first time…” you say, feigning embarrassment and casting your head downward.  The flush on your cheeks soon becomes genuine as Kid’s booming, hysterical laughter rings in your ears, pulling you out of the fantasy.

“Not buying that one, babe—not when you’re dressed like that.” he says with a smirk, reaching under your skirt and snapping the waistband of your lace thong.

“Shut up!” you squeak, voice cracking and coming out much weaker than you intended it to.  “You’re the one who called me princess!  I thought we were—ugh, just forget it…”  Now, you really were too shy to meet his eyes, gaze fixating on a dark, expanding pool of blood on the concrete floor instead.

“Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ shy on me now…” he taunts, amused by your embarrassment.  Reveling in the burning heat on your cheeks, he leaves a trail of bites along your exposed neck, working his way towards your ear.  “Can’t promise I’ll be gentle, but I’ll make it worth your while, babe.” he murmurs, emphasizing his words with a hot lick of his tongue along the shell of your ear.

“Give it to me, Kid…” you whisper lowly, trying to tamper your tone to not sound so needy for him.  He gets to work as soon as the words leave your mouth, with his thumb traveling up to rub circles over your clothed clit.

“That’s my girl…” he says teasingly as you react to his touch, back arching away from the wall and towards his chest as he starts to unravel you.  “Such a little slut…” he murmurs as he slides your panties to the side and sinks a finger inside of you, earning him a dreamy sigh as you tilt your hips towards him.  “All dolled up and so eager to take me.” he hisses in your ear as he thrusts his finger into your glistening sex a few times before adding another.  The sounds your pussy makes as he fucks you with his broad and rough digits are downright sloppy, and he halts the desperate way you squirm against him for release by pinning your waist to the wall with his metal hand, insistent on getting you to your high with his actions alone.

There’s a underlying gentleness to Kid’s movements, an undying devotion hidden under the guise of rough touches and crude remarks.  He’s as jagged and broken as sharp shards of glass, but as he takes in the sight of you whining and whimpering for him as you cream on his fingers, he wants to both spoil you, and drag this opportunity out as long as he possibly can.

“That’s it, good girl, cumming around my fingers.” he praises, as he slips them into your mouth to lick clean.  He groans as you suck on them, throwing his head back for a moment before lining one of his cold, broad, metal fingers up with your soaked entrance.  The chill of the metal stings as he pushes into you, causing you to bite down on his salty fingers with a whine.  He doesn’t relent, and is brutal with his movements, not affording you a chance to adjust to the way his metallic digit filled and stretched you up.  His lips smash onto yours as he claims you greedily, possessively, and with a hint of bloodthirst still coursing through his veins.  He’s already turned you into a mess, but he can’t help going the extra mile and slipping a second metal finger past your folds; the stretch causes you to suck on his lower lip hard in shock, prompting him to grab a fistful of your hair and tug on it.

“Feel good?” he asks, pulling away from your swollen and bitten lips to admire the fucked out expression on your face.

“Mhm… Feels s’good, don’t stop…” you whimper as he nudges the tips of his fingers across your sweet spot with each pass.  He smirks at the way you’re so eager for him, even when you’re both bathed in blood, grime, and sweat.

“Little slut likes getting split open by my fingers, huh?” he taunts, getting you closer with each drag of his fingers along your walls.  He feels the heat of your face and the twitch of your legs, and doubles his efforts to push you over the edge.  “If you like ‘em so much, cream on ‘em.” he growls in your ear.  The vibrations from the rumble of his deep voice travel down through your side and into your core, giving you no choice but to cum hard around him, walls spasming as your body writhes against the chains holding you in place.

Kid stares at you hungrily, drinking in each flutter of your pussy and every whine and moan that leaves your pretty, bloody, lipstick covered mouth.  “Ready for my cock, pipsqueak?” he says with a wicked, toothy smirk as he stares you down; your pulse is still caught in your cheeks and you nod your head vigorously with a hum of desperation, begging him to give it to you as you yearn to be filled again.  “It’s a good thing ya’ want it so bad, since you’re all tied up with nowhere to go.” he murmurs before entering you; it’s almost too easy as the stretch of his fingers molded you like putty, leaving you ready and pliable for him.  You were his to completely own and wreck, and the way you moaned like a bitch in heat against his lips told him you loved every second of it.

The way his fat cock abused you and tightened the coil in your abdomen was almost unfair, and left you whining and writhing against your shackles.  Kid doesn’t let up—not for a minute as he brutally buries his cock deep inside you—but he slams you against the wall with a hand locked around your hips.

“The more you squirm against me, the harder I’m gonna make you cum.” he warns before returning his attention to your soft, raw, swollen lips.  The power and speed behind each thrust is unfathomable, but the way he kisses you is surprisingly soft by Kid’s standards; his wet tongue swirls against yours, eagerly catching every muffled and dampened sound that escapes you.  The dissonance between his kiss and the brutality of the way he is fucking you scrambles your mind, and brings you to your high a third time; it’s more intense, and stars fill your vision as you flutter around him, and nearly pass out as blood pools in your ears.  He’s not far behind as his hips begin to stutter, and he digs his teeth into your bottom lip and sucks hard as he shoots thick white ropes into you; the next few moments are soft, as he catches his breath and buries his head into your chest while he threads his fingers through your hair.

Panting and sighing, both of you take a minute to catch your breath before he slowly pulls out of you, groaning softly at the last drag of his cock against your tight walls.

“Any of them lay a hand on you?” he asks, cradling your face in his hand; you shake your head, and you catch the small hint of relief that crashes over his face like a wave.

“Good, ‘cause it’d be a pain in the ass to go down to hell and kill those bastards a second time.”

#one piece x reader #eustass kid x reader #eustass kidd x reader #eustass kid x you #eustass kidd x you #eustass kid smut #eustass kidd smut #one piece smut #one piece fanfiction #mdni #eustass kid #eustass kidd #x reader

[uncannyinthegrove]

Uncanny in the Grove Chapter Three: Something Wicked This Way Comes

Table of Contents

Previous

Chapter One

(Content Warnings for Violence and Disturbing Imagery)

“So,” Yarrow began after a long stretch of silence that had only been punctuated by the ambient audio of their trek through the undergrowth. “You come here often?”

The desk clerk stumbled, one foot catching in the other in a manner that sent him awkwardly hopping forward as he tried to reestablish his balance. He caught a branch to the face for his clumsiness and his groan of frustration was laced with both pain and what Yarrow assumed had to be embarrassment.

It was honestly a wonder that this sad, scruffy young fellow had at one point been a threat. Yarrow couldn’t help but liken him to a deflated, chastised puppy or something equally unthreatening.

They patted him on the back pityingly and ignored the way he flinched back from them like they’d wronged him somehow. It was deeply unfair given he’d just been trying to keep from getting buried alive. He’d started it.

Or the ghost possessing him had. Either way, Yarrow felt entitled to a little self-defence, though they did feel bad about his hand—still cradled against his chest protectively. That might have been a bit much. Still, it’d probably keep him from swinging any hammers at unsuspecting skulls or dragging any bodies around. So maybe it’d not been that unwarranted after all.

“Watch your step,” Yarrow cautioned, choosing not to pick a fight about how twitchy the desk clerk was. “Can’t have you getting too beat up!” They smiled winsomely, if not a little sarcastically.

The desk clerk tugged a branch out of his hair in frustration and sighed. “Sorry.”

Yarrow shrugged and patted them on the shoulder again. “What are you apologizing for? Accidents happen!”

The desk clerk’s face twisted, and he blinked uncertainly at the ground, refusing to make eye contact. “Right,” he agreed and looked a breath away from apologizing again, but chose to continue onwards instead.

Yarrow chased after him for a bit before they cleared their throat. “So. Do you?”

“What?” This time he didn’t trip, but the desk clerk did turn to peer through the gloom at Yarrow with a constipated expression that made Yarrow wonder if their question was a very difficult thing to answer, or deeply offensive for some reason.

“Do you come here often?” Yarrow took care to speak slowly and emphasize their words pointedly, their eyebrows rising in pointed expectation.

The desk clerk squinted. “I… work here?”

“Well, sure. But is it a recent gig? You local? Or did you move nearby recently? My family comes through these parts pretty often to visit Gramma, and I don’t recognize you.”

The desk clerk stared for a moment longer, before exhaling slowly through his teeth and turning back to face forwards. “Well, I am. Local, that is. Haven’t worked at Pinefort before though, so I guess that’s new.”

“Huh.” Yarrow peered at the desk clerk’s back suspiciously. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why’re you working at Pinefort?”

Now the desk clerk’s voice was certainly laden with confusion. “Why? What do you mean, why? I needed a job.”

“Hm.”

They both continued forward a few steps, stumbling over roots bulging forth from the ground, and ducking by the low-hanging branches in suspended tension before the desk clerk drew to a stop once more. He sucked in a breath in a clear attempt to wind himself up, and Yarrow ambled to a halt behind him, idly snapping off a twig from a briar when it caught on their sweater and flicked it into the distance while they waited.

“Alright, what are you getting at? You’re acting… well, I dunno. Weird. Why else would I be working here? Do you think I’m… hiding something? Is this because you still think I’m part of a cult?” The desk clerk finally blurted, turning to face Yarrow as he did. He still didn't manage to make eye contact. He directed his face anywhere but towards Yarrow’s own.

“Are you?” They rebutted.

“No!”

“Well, good then. But I was just trying to get to know you a bit. I need clues if I’m to solve this mystery! For all we know these are the embittered ghosts of your ancestors calling to you across the veil of time to act as their sword of vengeance.”

The desk clerk stared in frozen bewilderment for a moment and then turned back around and hurriedly continued walking. “I…that seems a little far-fetched. It's not like this is some Hollywood thriller”

Yarrow clicked their tongue and shoved their hands deeper into the pockets of their sweater. “Far-fetched? You’re saying that at this stage in the game?” Even though the desk clerk couldn’t see it, Yarrow shook their head pityingly. “You need to get your story straight. Oh, wait! I should have asked your name first!”

The beam of the flashlight the desk clerk was holding lowered slightly, sagging towards the forest floor in a way that expressed the emotions obscured by his turned back.

Yarrow pressed onwards all the same until they were aligned with the desk clerk, leaning around to peer into his face. “C’mon. What if you die? It’ll suck so bad if I have to tell the police that 'the desk clerk from the motel' died without even being able to give your name! And maybe using your name will help if you go all crazed killer on me again? That kinda thing does seem to happen in the movies and books quite often. You know, like it is an anchor, or whatever. My father always said that there’s power in names and it sounds weird, sure, but there is no guarantee it wouldn’t help. Probably nicer than another fistfight, for sure!”

The desk clerk cringed back from Yarrow partway through the explanation, shifting so that there was more space between the two of them and the moment he got a chance to cut Yarrow off, he did. “Okay, I get it! Yes, alright. I’m Colton. Buckley.” He shrugged, the motion dull, bordering on listless. “Happy?”

“Nice to meet you! Officially, anyhow. Nothing like a little attempted murder to get to know a person, am I right?” Yarrow joked. “I’m Yarrow.”

Colton grunted. “I know. I checked you in. And I,” he paused to clear his throat, “went through your phone.”

“What? When? Wait, no, when I was out of it, right? Why’d you do that? Where is it? Give it back!”

“I mean, mostly I was focussed on getting rid of you, but I just kinda… you know, figured it might be good to know who you were. And make sure…” Colton trailed off and shrugged. “You know. It all happened so fast and I was so out of it but, well, it seemed like something I should do. I, um, I got rid of it though.”

“Dude, how’d you even get into it?”

The desk clerk shrugged. “They’ve all got fingerprint scanners or face recognition. It’s not like you were in a position to stop me.”

At this, Yarrow squinted. “Are you sure you’ve never done this before?”

“No! I mean yes. I’m sure. But it's not like I’ve never watched a mystery or crime show, so that much is basic knowledge, right?”

“Huh. Maybe you’re just cut out for this kind of thing after all,” Yarrow mused and gestured for Colton to continue leading the way back.

Yarrow’s assailant did not have anything to say to their accusation, so silence settled over them again.

A cold gust snaked through the trees, and Yarrow shivered. They wiped at the layer of water that had been building on their face, swiping a hand across their eyes to clear their vision as they peered up through the forest canopy at the pre-dawn sky. Daylight was a long way off yet, though at least the rain had begun to subside to a meagre drizzle. Still, it was far too late to spare them from being soaked to the bone, never mind the mud that was smeared all over them from their fight with this odd Colton fellow.

At least it was serving to keep the blood from drying where it streaked down over the side of their face, and down their neck and chest. There’d likely be no saving of their sweater or shirt, but at least they wouldn’t have to spend an hour trying to get the gore to wash off. Then again, the thought of a warm shower after such a dreadful and involuntary venture into the woods was a welcome one. If they had been chilled when they arrived at the old motel earlier that evening, they were now completely frozen.

Of course, that begged the question of what they should do about the desk clerk in the interim. For all they knew he’d go all blood-crazed homicidal maniac and try to cave their skull in again without supervision, regardless of his injuries. He certainly hadn’t shown much of a reaction to pain when he’d been possessed before.

At the very least, Yarrow would much prefer not to be caught unawares again. If he was injured, regardless of evil spirits taking control of him, Yarrow could get clear if they weren’t taken by surprise.

Probably the best thing to do was let Colton do something about his hand and then tie him to a chair or something. Prevention, their mother had always said, was the best medicine.

Granted, he probably wouldn’t take all that kindly to Yarrow’s suggestion, which meant they were going to have to remind him again that they were a victim of unwarranted violence which would have typically been resoundingly traumatic, if not fatal. For the sake of their sense of security, the least he could do was comply.

Still, it would probably best to spring that on him when they weren’t in the middle of the forest.

Yarrow glanced up from where they’d been watching the uneven terrain, as if Colton’s dark silhouette in the woods could offer some insight as to how badly he was going to react to getting restrained, when something skittered out from the undergrowth into the path of his flashlight, startling the both of them enough that they jerked to a halt.

Staring back at them, seemingly as startled as they were, was a small rodent, spotlit by the glare of the flashlight, staring at them in frozen disbelief.

It twitched and shuddered slightly, but didn’t run off, even as the beat of surprise passed.

Colton cleared his throat and chuckled nervously. “Just a squirrel. They can be so brazen.” He stepped forward.

The squirrel twitched, its bedraggled tail spasming like a rattlesnake’s, but it didn’t run away.

Colton drew to a halt again.

Yarrow maneuvered up behind Colton, smirking slyly at his remarkable skittishness. “Is this your great evil in the woods? A gutsy squirrel? Pretty cute. But my fingers are about to freeze off, so if you wanna get going—“

The squirrel jerked upright, standing at attention when their voice crested out into the wilderness, allowing them to see for the first time that it was a mangled little thing. It had torn ears, its fur was matted, and one of its limbs was little more than matchstick thin bones dragging through the dirt.

Yarrow squinted in bewilderment. “Is that normal for wildlife in these parts?” Even as they said it, the squirrel’s skin heaved with a mass of small bugs living under its rotting skin.

“Uh, n-no,” Colton replied, voice rasping quietly against the unease in his throat.

Yarrow nodded. “Figures. Oh well. What’s it going to do? Bite us? One good kick should do.”

“After you then,” Colton muttered back.

Yarrow sighed, and took a step forward, toward the squirrel, which continued to strain to stand upright. Something that might have been a chittering sound at one point escaped its hollowed-out face. “Sorry, little guy, but despite whatever’s going on, you should have just stayed dead.” Honestly, it was a little pathetic how easy it was to send it flying back into the brambles of the woods with a quick flick of their foot.

“Gross,” they whined, peering down at the toe of their shoe to see if any bits were still stuck to it, feeling at once sad and very weirded out.

Colton was staring off into the woods where the body of the squirrel had gone, his face a picture of discomfort. “What the hell was that?”

It seemed rather obvious to Yarrow what it had been, but they figured Colton hadn’t been exposed to the same influences as they had during their childhood. Colton, it would appear, had learned things like checking the phone of one’s victim and disposing of it, or how to fake a power outage to lure innocent and well-meaning individuals out in the woods for a little attempted murder. Yarrow, however, knew the undead when they saw them. “Zombie Squirrel,” they offered with a shrug. “Not the most effectual type of corpse to use, but everything has to start somewhere, right?”

“I’m sorry, did you just say a zombie squirrel?”

“Sure. Can’t think of anything else it could have been. I mean, I guess a ghost could have possessed it. Maybe that’s where your ghost went when it stopped possessing you—nearest available corpse-type deal.”

“What? That’s so gross. This is awful. What the hell is even going on here?”

“I know. Pretty stupid, possessing a squirrel, of all things. And a dead one too! Had to be better pickings out here in these woods. But I’ll actually take that over the first option. Zombie plagues are the worst.”

Finally, Colton met Yarrow’s eyes, staring with a slack-jawed sort of awe that Yarrow had a sudden intuition would turn to full-on distress in seconds. They were right.

“This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. You’re crazy. I’m crazy! I tried to kill you! And you keep going on about ghosts and zombies like it’s all real! This is insane! We need to call the cops. Or the ambulance. Jesus, I thought you were dead. Like for real, actual dead. I checked your pulse! You, your brains were leaking out. I killed you. And now you’re acting like this is some kind of supernatural ghost story and it's impossible and I-I-I c-can’t—”

Yarrow grimaced as Colton started to hyperventilate, rocking back on their heels as they tried to wait out the hysteria. They didn’t wait very long though, because Colton swayed on his feet, one hand—the one holding the flashlight—flailing out blindly to catch his balance as his uneven breathing short-circuited his brain. It sent a pale beam of light spinning into the dark mist, glancing off of wet bark and leaves like the worst strobe light of all time.

“Woah woah woah,” they exclaimed, stepping forward to catch the panicked young man before he collapsed. “Hey, this is good for you. If it’s ghosts, then we don’t have to ship you off to court for attempted murder. And I don’t have to call my family and explain why I also have to go to court and testify. And then they don’t have to get all freaked out and come here and deal with you. Although I guess we could just skip the police part and go straight to the 'take care of' part.”

“What?” Colton would have shrieked if he’d been able to breathe deep enough for that. As it was, his words were shallow pools of alarm crackling in the cold like thin ice. “Are you part of a gang or something?”

Yarrow wrinkled their nose. “No. Ew. What about this said crime ring to you?”

Colton couldn’t answer as he gaped like a fish suffocating on land.

Yarrow shifted awkwardly from one foot to the next, unsure of how to proceed. It was hardly as if they had a paper bag on hand, and trying to get him to breathe through their damp, filthy sweater would have probably been the equivalent of a war crime. Beyond that didn’t know what else to do to get their terribly skittish and fragile assailant to settle down. Managing emotional distress wasn’t their forte.

Belatedly, they realized there was another solution, and reached out to offer Colton a few reassuring pats on the back. This did not go over well, as he tripped over himself to get away from them, eyes wide as he collapsed back into a tangle of underbrush.

Behind Yarrow came a wet scraping, dragging sound and they stiffened. Colton, from his prone position on the forest floor, looked even more panicked. He pressed a forearm over his own face as he tried to muffle his erratic breathing, the whites of his eyes showing like he was a panicked dog being taken to the vet.

Yarrow slowly turned to look back at the source of the sound.

The deer could hardly be called that anymore. Its head lolled on its slender, broken neck, and its ribs were a hollowed-out cavity where scavengers had torn free its insides. its back legs barely functioned so that it had to pull itself forward in a horrific mimicry of seal-like movements.

Colton retched, and even Yarrow pressed a delicate hand over their mouth in disgust.

“Oh dear,” they quipped. “Or, deer, as it were. Your ghosts have terrible taste. If they’re trying to kill me, you’d think…” Yarrow shook their head. “Well, I can’t kick that one away, but I imagine we could outrun…”

Their words got cut off when a small bird, far too small to be out and about during the depths of the night, plummeted out of the branches above and smacked into the earth with a faint crunching sound. It did not still though, no. Instead, its wings weakly flapped against the earth as it tried to heave itself closer to Yarrow.

They were pretty sure they heard the desk clerk whimper.

“That,” they observed needlessly, “is probably not so good.”

Behind them there was a flurry of motion as Colton sprang to his feet, a string of curse words rupturing out of his mouth as he suddenly jerked towards Yarrow’s side and away from another bundle of bones and dried, mummified flesh that appeared from the undergrowth next to him.

“Huh. Maybe it is a zombie plague after all,” Yarrow pondered, quietly reaching out to start tugging Colton away from the slowly expanding hoard of animated corpses.

Another creature plummeted out of the air, bouncing off tree boughs as it dropped towards them, nearly landing at Yarrow’s feet had they not hopped back a step in time.

Whipping his flashlight between one shuddering, staggering creature and the next with enough fervour to induce a seizure, Colton asked, “What do we do?”

“Run probably. That motel is starting to look even nicer—“

The bugs descended on them, a thick cloud of tattered wings, hard shells, and tiny squirming bodies. It was a swarm of undead detritus that caught indiscriminately in their hair and clothes, crawling for their noses, mouths and ears.

They could hear the other creatures closing in, and there were more sickening thumps as things tumbled out of the air. Most of them missed, but not all of them. Feathers and talons crashed into Yarrow as they tried to bat at the air and shield their face.

It was nearly impossible to see, and the only real landmark they had was the weak flicker of the flashlight through the swarm—it was on the ground, dropped in the chaos. That, and the flailing body next to them, the sounds of his distress muffled as he tried to avoid inhaling the swarms of insects.

Blindly, Yarrow reached out a hand, snagging their fingers into Colton’s jacket, and then with an all mighty heave dragged him after them as they let their feet carry them through the trees. They had no target, and couldn’t have navigated their way through the forest without light and a trail at the best of times, never mind with a hoard of dead things trying to smother and pummel them to death.

A wet crunching sound came from where their foot fell, and the feeling of something giving made Yarrow flashback to when they’d stomped on Colton’s hand, but they knew in this instance that wasn’t what it was. They didn’t stop, continuing to pull Colton after them, heedless of the branches snapping against their face, their heart hammering in their chest. They surged away from the swarm, even as it clicked and buzzed after them, sounding like static in their ears.

A larger shape lumbered through the trees towards them, filling the air with a stench so putrid that even the cold mist couldn’t soften it, and Yarrow yelped in surprise at the speed it was moving with, clearly in better condition than the other creatures which had been thrown at them so far.

They swerved to the side, their feet skidding on the wet leaves as they went, nearly sending them crashing to the ground. It was only by luck that Colton managed to reach out and grab their elbow in a grip that was iron-tight and made something pop painfully.

The undergrowth ahead heaved around them, the dead leaves and needles, the soil and the dirt roiling with bones and decaying matter that wouldn’t still.

It was really no surprise that eventually their blind flight through the dark woods would be brought to an end one way or another. Even as Yarrow jerked them both away from the unnatural heaving mass, something in their head was telling them that this was all wrong, that they were being corralled. Shepherded.

And then, as they tripped and blundered passed a fallen tree, slipping over the rain-slicked moss that cascaded out from it, they came to a steep slope that surged down into the darkness. Their momentum tugged them forward, even as they dug their heels into the soft earth for purchase. But Colton, staggering along behind them, kept going. He was blind to the pitfall ahead, and he tipped them both over the edge with a strangled cry of realization that came far too late.

Abruptly they were falling, tumbling, their feet going too fast to stay under them until they were rocketing down over the drop, bouncing off rocks and roots and barrelling into branches and bushes. It was only by luck that Yarrow managed to twist their body in such a way that it sent them careening away from a tree that likely would have broken their fall by also breaking most of their bones.

And then they reached the bottom, tossed over the edge of a rocky ledge before dropping several feet down into cold, shallow water that did nothing to cushion their landing.

For a moment Yarrow lay there, the breath stolen from their lungs, their mind wailing in panic and shock. The pain took a moment to set in, but when it did Yarrow gurgled a choked moan of abject agony. It almost felt worse than having their skull smashed in, and that said something. They had definitely broken something. Multiple things, even.

Dazedly, they thought they needed to move. There were zombie animals after them, and Yarrow hadn’t a clue how much worse their night could get after being assailed by a hoard of undead creatures, but they figured it’d certainly be even worse.

They peeked an eye open, waiting.

Eventually, they realized the dead things weren’t coming for them. No swarms of insect shells, no ominous shapes surging out of the trees, no birds crashing out of the sky like tiny, disgusting meteors of rotting meat.

With a groan, they shut their eyes again and waited for their body to stop rebelling. The water they had landed in was doing a pretty good job of making it all go numb.

Distantly, Yarrow realized that they were forgetting something.

Desk clerk, they remembered in a sudden burst of clarity.

They didn’t know what happened to Colton. They’d lost him pretty much the moment they’d gone over the edge.

Briefly, they struggled to sit up, but they gave up on that pretty quickly and flopped back into the water with a small splash.

“H-hey,” they tried to call out, their voice wheezing quietly. “Hey!” They tried again, louder, though their chest ached just from inhaling. “You there?”

Nothing.

“Did'yah die?” Yarrow slurred, staring blankly up into the sky overhead and straining to hear any sort of answer, even if it was just a whimper of pain.

Still nothing.

Yarrow’s eyes slid shut in resignation. Either he was unconscious, which they couldn’t do anything about at the moment, or he was dead. Humans were terribly fragile, after all.

“Shit,” they swore, and waited for the pain to ease, for their body to right itself. It took a long time. They lay in the icy water, waiting for the white-hot pinpricks of pain dancing under their skin and along their bones to subside, attention snapping to every errant sound in the surrounding woods, wondering if it was the desk clerk, wondering if it was zombie animals come to trample them or smother them or whatever it was they would try to do. In their more delirious moments they thought it was their Gramma there to help, dragged out into the woods by the unnatural disturbance.

Eventually, after they’d either blacked out and had a weird dream, or a tree had informed them that hypothermia was setting in, they realized the sky was beginning to lighten. Just barely. Its deep black was easing into a dull denim colour with a gradualness that Yarrow hadn’t noticed until it suddenly wasn’t as deep and endlessly dark anymore.

That was also when a bloody and bruised Colton staggered into view, staring blankly down at them. He almost looked as bad as the zombie animals, his nose broken, and blood smeared all down over the bottom of his face, while ugly red-purple bruises ringed his eyes.

He’d lost his hat, Yarrow noticed blearily, before noting the rock he had picked up in the interim.

They groaned and struggled to push themselves up. However, there was no rapid fire lurching to their feet this time, no lighting quick turning of the tables. They flailed, not unlike the bird that had crashed to the forest floor, breaking itself against the ground and then struggling to move with shattered wings.

For a moment Colton swayed, and it seemed like he might have been too weak to do much either. Except there was that same wooden expression on his face that went beyond a case of shock or a concussion. He dropped to his knees, one crashing into Yarrow's ribs and sending a fresh wave of pain washing through them as he weighed them down.

Yarrow got the chance to see him robotically lift the rock over his head before they squeezed their eyes shut in automatic rejection of what came next.

They just hoped they’d be lucky enough to once again wake up before he managed to bury them again.

—

Yarrow had always had a tumultuous relationship with luck. This time, it showed them mercy. They came to right where they had been. This time they were feeling marginally better than the last time they’d had their brains beaten out, though the bright sunlight filtering down through the trees was blinding and stung their eyes.

When they managed to sit up, they found Colton in the mud not too far from them, bloody rock close at hand. He was so still and pale it seemed likely that he was dead. They’d almost thought that when he’d appeared after the fall, another zombie dragged into action by some unknown cause, but hadn’t had a chance to formulate the idea before he’d tried to kill them. Again.

“Told you,” Yarrow huffed, between the chattering of their teeth. “I’m pretty… pretty damn sturdy.” They dragged themself over to his still form and collapsed down next to him, sitting with their arms on their knees, their head bowed as they tried to figure out what to do next.

Fortunately, Colton had unwittingly given them a hint earlier that night.

They fished through his pockets for his phone.

“Salut?” Their mother answered on what was nearly the last ring, voice fogged by sleep.

Yarrow opened their mouth to answer, but the words caught on sudden emotion.

“Hello?” she asked again. And then, after a moment, “Yarrow?”

They blinked back sudden tears, and quickly fumbled the phone away from their ear, mashing a thumb against the button to hang up. For several minutes afterwards, they stared at it, half expecting it to start ringing. It did not.

The moment stretched. They sighed.

The desk clerk groaned, his eyes fluttering, and they lurched away from him like a crab, scuttling backwards on their hands until they were well out of his reach.

He didn’t move and after several more moments of tense waiting, they hesitantly scooted closer again. They tapped him with the toe of one soggy boot, but he didn’t react. So they did it again, harder. This time he exhaled sharply, and his eyes fluttered again.

“Great,” they snarked into the space between them. “Looks like I’m not the only sturdy one. Dammit.”

(Next)

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#fiction #strange fiction #writing #uncanny in the grove #oc colton #uitg colton #uitg yarrow #uitg #uncanny in the grove colton #uncanny in the grove yarrow #oc yarrow #uncanny in the grove chapter three #uitg ch3 #my writing #original writing

[achaemenidstar]

helped for the meme!

"HELPED: A time in Claude's life in which someone helped/saved him."

[rp meme can be found here. short story can be found under the cut!]

(fun fact: this can also be considered a part 2 of MORTAL)

The Hero of Daphnel.

Claude had only really ever heard stories about her--particularly from his mother--and now, oddly enough, he would be taken into her custody before meeting with his grandfather.

Something Claude could immediately gather about the woman was that she was... Strict. Her dull-blue eyes were sharp, always assessing the people around her, a sword always sheathed at her hip and her tone permanently etched with a stern bark. Traits that he would eventually come to admire her for would, at present, make him almost fearful. However, his mother had sent him to Judith with the intention of apprenticeship; Essentially, a crash-course to Fódlan with someone she trusted. He might as well get used to it.

"And you're sure have no further injuries?" She asks, continuing to bandage his hands with fresh dressing: burned raw upon his desperate escape down a fibrous rope, attached to the mast of the sinking ship he was on mere hours beforehand. Thankfully for him and the crew, their escape boat was found by some members of her fleet and hauled into their own boats, turning back to House Daphnel immediately with them in tow. Now, here he was, sitting cross-legged on the floor, wrapped in a blanket like a cozy burrito*, dressed in some spare Daphnel soldier's hand-me-down tunic and trousers while his Almyran clothes dried by the fireplace.

Claude shook his head quietly. He still hadn't spoken a word since getting off the boat--it rattled him, to some degree.

"Good." Judith replies simply as she finished applying the bandaging. That was another thing about her, Claude noticed. She was attentive when she wanted to be. That was something he'd always admired. "It's not often House Daphnel gets a new recruit in these conditions. Keeps my men on their toes though, so I suppose I have to thank you for that."

Claude nods this time. "Thank you... For rescuing me," he says slowly. His words had an odd inflection to them from his native language, but it was scarcely recognizable.

Judith raises an eyebrow. "Hah. So he can talk after all. You had me stumped for a while there, boy." Pushing herself to her feet, she dusts off her hands. "And you can express your thanks by putting in some work. First lesson: We have an army, land to maintain--And you can't call yourself a leader if you just know how to swing a sword. You have to be strategic and hold authority... And most importantly, know your enemy if you wanna survive. House Daphnel didn't get here by foolin' around." She pauses, putting her hands on her hips. "You got all that?"

Claude's young face stretches in surprise, as he nods vehemently. Maha, Claude's young wyvern, peaks out from behind his shoulder while matching his expression, as if she couldn't believe her small, scaled ears.

"Good." Judith repeats, holding out a hand for Claude to take, "Second lesson: A soldier marches with his stomach. Let's get you something warm to eat..." Her thoughts trail off, as if prompting Claude to finish her sentence.

The young boy accepts her hand, pulling himself to his feet with the blanket still wrapped around him like a cloak. However, after listening to her words, he hesitates, inhaling deeply. Just like he practiced. "Claude."

"Hm," Judith nods, a slight smile gracing her face as she begins to walk. "Claude. Alright. I have a good feeling about you, boy. Get some rest, and we'll see what you're made of."

*author's note: did they have burritos in fodlan?? i dunno but i'm trying to add imagery so i'll let it slide :"D

#fear the deer #ask memes #rp meme #headcanon #// this is basically just “judith pulls a boy out from the ocean and dubs him her son” but with more words #// not complaining tho bcz they have such a fun dynamic :] #// love writing claude lore (that i made up)!!!!! #// yay

[halfusek]

I saw your reblog of the Squid Game analysis and I was just wondering...Are you okay with communism/socialist ideologies? I mean, you're a commie/socialist yourself? Of yes, why? Don't mean to be rude or anything, it's just a genuine question

well! i think that post is pretty self explanatory? i dunno if you read it but it explains a few things that suck about capitalism that are portrayed in the show (because squid game is criticism of capitalism)

i really see myself as more of a centrist if you can even say something like that truly exist: most politicians swing to the right, what's called "the left" is usually something less right or centrist, at least from what i've observed in countries where i'm more familiar with politics

i actually had/have a pretty hard time talking about modern "communism" and socialism because i come from a country that got really traumatized by soviets and communism by extension so i've basically always associated it negatively but i try to be more open minded

i don't wanna dedicate myself to praising any sort of system, i want to be critical and see what's good or bad about each of them

i personally really dislike when people put up communism/socialism on a pedestal because from the history of my country i know very well its not perfect and in fact you can use that system for horrible terrible things too so when people don't think critically of it that makes me really worried history may repeat itself someday

(and if someone denies soviets doing anything wrong then i hope they get hit by a car </3 i've seen/heard of asinine takes like that)

also i'm not at all comfortable with using ussr imageries (even just in memes), they make me feel in similiar ways seeing nazi imageries does

like would it really be so hard for socialist to use a different flag and symbols haha people were tortured and killed and terrorized in the name of this one but whatever that's not what you're asking me about i just wanted to put it out somewhere

capitalism did help the situation in my country after it was freed from the influence of ussr so i dont and cannot think that its straight up evil

that made it also kinda hard for me for a while to be critical of capitalism and think positively of socialist ideas but i've been trying to educate myself, i talked to various people who have different views and my horizons got broader

so yes capitalism is flawed and socialism isnt perfect but it surely has a lot of good ideas that can improve our quality of life and its not like capitalism doesnt have fucked up past and well present

i take one look at america and its clear to me that it needs more socialist ideas there, like... god free healthcare just should be everywhere. period. i cant imagine being afraid to call an ambulance because of a huge bill that would come after

so i guess my position is complex haha? but yep i am okay with those and i think a lot of them are very good, its just that the image of socialism was pretty demonized because of the past

countries like the scandinavian ones implement plenty of socialist ideas and they are doing great and ive lived in one and i was amazed at how easy it is to just function as a citizen there

i'm being there a bit more honest than i should maybe but i think we should try to explain and conversate calmly about these topics, especially that i myself would get just angry at a mere mention of socialism few years ago because of the way i was raised and the politics i was mainly familiar with sooo maybe my progress on getting better with being critical of systems like that can help someone else idk

i know past me definitely would have used that instead of hearing "capitalism evil" or "communism evil" only all the time without no further (calm) elaboration lol

#halfask #my answer is that 'well yes but actually no' meme

[strabbyshortcake]

the truth about snaktooth

Gramble finally tells his partners what befell him and everybody else on the island.

“Whatcha doin’, Gram?”

The screen door clatters as it shuts behind Boots. It’s a nice summer night, one of the rare ones they got with little humidity, so Gramble had left the main door open, the sound of katydids and crickets drifting through from the outdoors. He looks up from the hand towel in his paws, shoulders hunched guiltily.

There’s a large cardboard box sitting on the floor, full of bits of kitchen décor. Ceramic plates with fruit stenciled on them, prints of vintage ads for bread and desserts, towels with produce embroidered on them. All the kitschy things Boots knew he liked decorating his spaces with, and Gramble spent more time in the kitchen than either her or Piesha, with how much he enjoyed cooking.

“Oh, evenin’ Boots,” he greets her, expression softening into a smile. “You remember we talked about Lizbert and Egg visitin?”

“Yeah…?” She pads over, frowning a little at the bare spots on the walls and shelves. Boots was acquainted with the two from attending expedition reunions with Gramble, and while she made it no mystery that she disliked Lizbert’s invasive style of exploration, it was all in the past. Liz had retired from that life after the whole Snaktooth stunt to become a museum curator. “What’s the matter, they allergic to tackiness?”

Gramble laughs at her affectionate teasing. “No, well… Actually, funny you should say that. Egg’s fine, but Liz has got… I guess you could say she’s got kind of a hang-up over food imagery. And while she’s doin’ well these days, might just make her a lil’ more comfortable to not feel so surrounded, y’know?”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you.” Boots nods, reaching up to take the clock off the wall. It’s a piece of painted wood in the shape of a strawberry. Nollie had made it in an art class. “Place is a little dusty, anyway.”

Together he and Boots work to mostly strip the place of any food-related decoration, leaving only a couple little accents up so the place didn’t seem too bare. Gramble sighs at the empty walls, leaning into Boots’ touch as she places a paw on his shoulder.

She and Pie had always been so understanding when he told them he couldn’t talk about what had happened on the island, but he hated to keep his loved ones in the dark. Not simply for the fact that there might still be danger lurking out there, but that he knew he could trust them, and yet, just telling them what had happened was almost as terrifying as the thought of being back there. The idea that just speaking of it would somehow make it manifest, bring it back into his life when he’d worked so hard to escape it, haunted him, but so did keeping it bottled up inside.

“…I need to tell you both what really happened,” he says quietly. “It’s been long enough. Just, after Liz and Egg are gone. Then we’ll talk about it.”

Boots blinks down at him in surprise. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

--

The visit went well. This was the first time Lizbert and Eggabell had seen the new house and the refurbished barn, the first they’d met Cardi and Dember, and Nollie had only been a year old when they’d last come around. They’d caught up, shared stories, enjoyed Gramble’s cooking and chatted about where their lives were going and where they’d been.

After they’d waved goodbye, gotten in Eggabell’s car and driven off to see Wambus and Triffany, after the dishes had been cleared and cleaned and the kids were all in bed, Gramble sat Boots and Piesha down on the porch swing in the back while he took the rocking chair.

“I need to tell you,” he says, fidgeting with his paws where they rested on his chest. “about what happened on Snaktooth.”

“Alright.” Pie nods slowly, leaning into Boots’ cushy side. Boots gives him an encouraging smile, rocking the swing back and forth slightly with her heel.

Gramble swallows, licking his lips. “So… Not all of what I told you was a cover-up. We did run outta food and I did almost starve to death. But… Geez, I dunno where to even start.”

“Why’d you go in the first place?” Boots asks.

“Oh, that I didn’t lie about either. My mama really did up and leave while I was at college. I went cuz… Cuz I guess I felt like I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I saw Liz on TV say she was gatherin’ people up for her team and I just… I wanted somewhere to go that wasn’t home.”

She nods solemnly, gesturing for him to go on.

“Well, Snaktooth… Liz said she found somethin’ there. These creatures she was documenting. D’you… Have either of you ever heard of bugsnax?” Gramble nearly whispers the last word, even though it’s just the three of them out here, just the three of them and the crickets and fireflies, the kids sound asleep.

Piesha tilts her head, thoughtful. “Mm… Maybe a long time ago,” Pie says. “One of those things they got lots of fairy tales about. Critters made of food, right?”

“Right.” Gramble nods. “But they’re real. And please- I know how it sounds,” he stammers, even though neither of them looked skeptical. “But I swear. I saw them, I picked them up and held them, I had a whole barn full of them that Liz and Buddy caught for me. I had names for them, and… and everybody said they were the most delicious things they’d ever eaten. B-but there’s a reason for that. Sorry, lemme go back a bit and explain.

“When we got there, we thought we’d be able to farm. That was Wambus’s thing, but no matter what he tried, the crops would wither, or the bugsnax would get in and destroy them. The only thing he could grow was the sauce that grew on the island, and that wasn’t anywhere near enough to live on. Pretty soon we ran outta food, but that wasn’t a problem for most folks. They’d just eat the bugsnax.”

“And I’m guessin’ you didn’t?” Boots asks.

He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t want to. I already didn’t eat meat, and the snax were always so cute and friendly and I couldn’t bear the thought of hurtin’ them. So I just… didn’t. I tried to live off the sauce, and I ate dandelions and weeds, I ate damn near anything that was edible, but it was never enough.”

“That’s awful, Gram.” Boots says, her brows knitted. “Why didn’t you leave?”

“Well, I… I thought about it,” Gramble wraps his arms around himself. “Even though I didn’t have nowhere to return to, I figured it might be better than starving. But it wasn’t too long after that Lizbert up and disappeared. Her and Egg, there was an earthquake and after that they never came back to town. Some folks thought they died, others thought they ran off, but without her nobody was bringin’ in bugsnax to eat and they started to eat mine, so I ran off with the rest of ‘em and that made everybody mad and I really did start to think there was nobody who cared about me but the snax and Wiggle, and… and even she was eatin’ them too, but I let her cuz I didn’t have nobody else... I was so afraid she’d leave me too that I put up with it.”

He pauses, taking a deep breath. “So, um… I guess a couple weeks after that, Buddy finally showed up. We’d been on the island almost a year at that point. They wanted to interview Liz, figure out what happened, and they managed to get all of us back into town within a week or two. I was really doin’ poorly though.” His claws absently scratch at his belly over the scar that the rake had left, concealed beneath his fur but never fully faded.  “Didn’t care much whether I lived or died. Nothin’ I tried worked, and one of the big snax I asked Buddy for nearly killed me. And then…”

Boots holds Pie’s paw between both of hers, stroking it, both of them patiently waiting for him to gather his racing thoughts. It had been so long since he’d even thought about all this, and much of the events were a haze of hunger and pain, he was amazed he could keep the basic timeline coherent.

“Then, one night… When we were all back in town, Filbo decided he wanted to throw a party. That was when everything… That’s when it all fell apart. There was an active volcano on the island, and it erupted. Eggabell suddenly showed up back in town and told us she knew where Liz was, and she and Buddy and Filbo ran off to get her while the rest of us tried to get to safety. B-but… You remember what I said before, about the bugsnax?” He lifts his gaze to the two of them.

Pie nods at him. “Yeah. They taste good, right?”

“They also…” Gramble holds his paws out, curling his fingers into fists. “They change you. Whenever you eat one, your body parts become it. I know it sounds silly, but everybody was walkin’ around with arms and legs made of strawberries and corn and cinnamon rolls and you kinda just… got used to it. I only ever ate one when I was sleepwalkin’, and I don’t even remember what it was like, but everybody else except Shelda ate ‘em all the time. You get used to it and then you start believin’ that they’re the only thing that can make you feel good anymore. Sorta like drugs, but sorta like… Wiggle used to say they inspired her, and Chandlo thought he could get stronger with them, it was whatever you wanted. I guess even I was fallin’ for it, thinkin’ they could replace my family, and I never even had to eat ‘em.

“But that’s the trick. You get dependent, but you don’t realize that… That they’re parasites. And I’m kinda fuzzy on the details, but according to Buddy, Liz was somehow stuck down in the main… meat of the hive,” Gramble brings his paws together, looking down at his intertwined fingers. “And that’s where she’d been all along, down in the darkness with all those food bugs crawlin’ all over her and into her mouth and… that’s why she’s got such a thing about food.”

“Ah…” He can’t blame Boots for looking a little numb, covering her mouth with her paw as Pie stares blankly at him. It was a lot to take in. “Yeah, I guess that’d do it.”

Gramble goes on. “They attacked us not long after Buddy and the others left, tryin’ to force themselves into our mouths, or kill us, either or. I guess they knew the jig was up, then and there. No comin’ back from that. But we all got away, in the end… And that’s what happened.”

He falls silent. The porch swing creaks slightly as Boots lets it come to a stop, letting the singing of the insects fill the air between them for a long moment.

“S’this place still out there…?” Piesha speaks up softly, glancing out into the darkness as if the snax might be watching from the trees.

“Far as I know,” Gramble says, slipping off the chair to walk over and take one of their paws in each of his. “But you gotta promise me you will never, ever go there.” His expression is grim as he peers up at them. “And you’ll never breathe a word to any of the kids about it, or to anybody else. Nobody should ever step foot on that awful place again.”  

“Gram,” Boots squeezes his paw in return, then leans over to scoop him up and pull him into her lap, the swing groaning in complaint as yet another grumpus is piled upon it. “…there’s gotta be somethin’ we can do-”

“No.” Gramble shakes his head, desperation creeping into his voice. “I- I don’t know. Maybe there is somethin’ that someone out there can do, but it can’t be any of us. I don’t want nothin’ to do with it ever again and if word gets out, it’s just gonna be more people goin’ there and that’s exactly what it wants. Please,” he tilts his head up at her, the porch light glimmering in his eyes. “Just leave it alone. It can’t get us here and I want it to stay that way. Promise me.”

When she hesitates, he repeats himself, teeth glinting as his lips peel back. “Promise me, please-”

“I promise.” Boots leans down to kiss him on the nose, wrapping her arm around him as the other draws Pie in closer. “I won’t tell nobody if that’s what you want.”

“That’s all that I want,” he murmurs into her fluffy chest, suddenly very tired despite the mental weight that had lifted. He’d spoken Snaktooth’s name aloud, finally uncorked what he’d kept bottled up for nearly two decades now. He should feel better-prepared, now that they were all on the same page, so why did he still feel like he was only summoning the beast? Perhaps he just needed to sleep, let this new information digest, and they’d face whatever came tomorrow together.

Hundreds of miles away, the island remembers them too.

#bugsnax #gramble gigglefunny #boots timberheart #piesha honeyclaw #fics #i wrote this a while ago and completely forgot to post it

[monst]

Meatiness (Spice things up)

All characters 18+

Bakugou Katsuki x Reader x Meatball! Kirishima!

Warnings: Meatball Smut… Dub/Con? Meatball lore…. It’s kinda messed up in the sense that it has slightly dark undertones….. Bittersweet? 

Either way this was voted on in the dungeon and everyone who voted said you’d like this one better. ^.^ Happy late Birthday you big goof! When the meatball pillows are back in stock I’ll totally buy you one you lovable weirdo <3 @lady-bakuhoe     Tagging the rest of the meatball brigade @secondhand-trash   @redbeanteax

                  Life hadn’t been the kindest as of late... Heroes tried their hardest in trying to make people feel safe again but with a hero going missing every other day it was getting exceedingly difficult. No one knew where they went, there were no leads, no witnesses, no evidence. Nothing. Nothing but 24 open missing hero cases. 

Despite the chaos going around in the world there were positives. One of which came in the form of union. Never in the history of Japan had heroes come together in such a way. Not when the threat of stain loomed over them, nor when AFO’s protegee threatened to shake the foundations of the hero society. In fact agencies grew so close that there were new bonds created, new friendships and in your case a chance at love in the midst of the grey. 

You had been a former acquaintance of the Pro-Hero Bakugou Katsuki, having met him during your days in U.A. As a student in class 1b you weren’t close to him but you did get along with his friends. In specific a cheerful red-head who loved to tag along with you and your good friend Tetsutetsu. You remember chatting with the bright teen for hours. 

A nostalgic smile tugged at your lips as you thought of the man. But you were brought out of your reminiscing by the man who cradled your heart. His rough fingers caressed your cheek and like a tilting tower you leaned into the affection. The pressure of his plush lips pressing against yours eased the ache. It eased the ache for both of you. 

“Wanna go grab something to eat before we head home?” Bakugou asked. 

“Sure.” You smiled, linking your fingers with his slightly sweaty ones. Your smile was soft as you recalled how hesitant he was to hold your hand at the beginning of your courtship. But, there was no other clammy hand you’d ever want to hold.

 “Can we get pizza?” You mused, squeezing said clammy hand. 

“I guess we can.” He hummed, and as if it were wired into him he changed the direction of his strut to head into the familiar direction of your favorite pizzeria. 

“So, how was your patrol?” You asked, hearing the faint chime of the bell as you entered the shop. 

“Shitty.” He grumbled. “Some dumbass thought that it was okay to rob a corner store while I was right outside.” 

You thought of Bakugou standing outside of the store with his arms crossed. You snickered at the imagery. 

“Laugh it up.” He scoffed, strutting up to the counter. “What’d you do?”

“I got stuck inside.” You sighed. “Had to fill out paperwork from the incident yesterday.”

“The villain that got stuck in the swing?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You huffed. “I still don’t know what the fuck made him get in there.” 

“Don’t complain babe at least ya caught the guy.” He ‘scolded’ sliding over his debit card. 

You couldn’t help but raise a skeptical brow. Bakugou telling you not to complain. That was rich. Before you could call him out on his bull your order was placed in front of you. Your brows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t remember ordering.

“Here you go, the usual. Right?” The man grinned. “Eh? Where’s the Red one? I put extra sausage on his slice.”

You squeezed Bakugou’s hand when you felt him tense. “Come to think of it I haven’t seen you guys for about a month now. You guys usually come twice a week.” The man mused. 

“Lot’s of work recently!” You answered curtly. 

“I guess so.” He paused. “Well you heroes stay safe!”

“You too sir.” You smiled grabbing the pie as Bakugou slid his card back into his wallet. 

.

.

.

“Eww you're so gross” You laughed at the exaggerated belch that came from the blonde. With your meals warming up your bellies the both of you sat leaning against each other on the couch. A squeal slipped past your lips when Bakugou rolled over on top of you. “Get off” You laughed. 

His strong arms only tightened around your frame. “Katsukiiiii” You whined. “You're heavy.”

“I know.” He murmured into your neck. Your hands came up to his head and you began to thread your fingers into the soft blond locks. A soft sigh escaped you when you felt his lips press against the sensitive skin of your neck. You hummed at the pleasant feeling of his hands massaging the flesh of your sides softly. And when he leaned back up his lips met yours in such a gentle caress that you had to pull back to see if you were indeed kissing Bakugou Katsuki. 

“I wanna try something new tonight.” He flushed. 

“Is this because of what Kaminari said?” You asked. His silence spoke volumes. “Babe Denki doesn’t know shit about what I like and trust me I’ll never grow tired of having sex with you, besides I love it when you fuck me into mush.” You grinned. 

“You sure?” He asked, his vermillion eyes vulnerable, searching for your validation that he would be enough. 

“Yeah.” You reassured. “But I’m still curious about what this ‘something new’ is. I mean we have done a lot so far.”

It was then that Bakugou’s face split into a familiar expression. His smug expression twisted your gut in feelings of nervousness and excitement. And you sat up on the couch when his body heat left yours as he stood and walked off into the bathroom. 

You made an inhuman sound when he came back with… a blob. You looked up into his excited eyes with unabashed confusion. 

“I thought we could use this to spice things up.” He offered, handing you the soft glob. 

You scrunched your nose at it. “Katsuki… What the fuck is this?”

“Haven’t you heard?” He scoffed. “It’s all the ‘rave’ some freaky asshole created these new toys. And, everyone is giving them good ratings.”

“...I dunno babe it looks kinda freaky.” You mused, squishing the ilable flesh of the creature? “Is it alive?”

“Yeah. They come with a rule book.” He replied, maroon eyes flipping the pages of the booklet. 

“Wait, you mean it’s seriously alive?!” You gasped, looking down to see it’s red eyes gazing back at you. “We can’t just-”

“Relax, it's their natural function. Apparently they die if they are not used like this. Something about the enzymes in arousal fluid is enough to give them nutrients to keep them alive. Huh weird.”

“That’s weird?!” You bristled holding up the strangely happy sack of meat. 

“No, not that, apparently you can’t finish inside of them.” You narrowed your eyes at your lover. You felt as if though he was trying to prank you. 

“....” You looked back down at the meat while the blonde flipped through the book. It was soft and smooth to touch. ‘It kinda feels like mochi….’ In a way it was kinda cute? Well it’s happy expression was what distracted you from thinking about the perplexity of the pulpy mass. Your fingers stroked the small patches of black hair? And a small smile slipped onto your face as it cooed and purred cheerfully. You then hugged the squishy thing to your chest. It reminded you of those stuffed toys called Squooshems. 

“What are you doing?” Bakugou smirked.

“S-shut up it’s cute.” You pouted. 

“It’s a sex ‘fiend’.” He replied, You deadpanned. “Don’t look at me like that it’s in the book.” He flushed shoving the book into your face. ‘Sex fiend..... Well then….’

You looked down at the thing in your arms doubtfully. You couldn’t believe something this cute was so lewd. You were brought out of your pondering when Bakugou plucked the floofy thing from your arms. He motioned for you to follow him as he disappeared into the bedroom…. You were curious. 

The bed dipped under your weight and it made you press right up against Bakugou who was sitting atop the mattress turning the creature over.  The meaty sack seemed to be excited as it began to salivate when Bakugou’s thick fingers pressed into its mouth. You felt your face heat up at the slurping sounds coming from the exchange. Your gaze was fixated on the way it’s tongue rolled over Bakugou’s fingers. 

When Bakugou removed his fingers from its mouth, wet, his fingers glistened in the light of the room and when he spread them the strings of saliva also caught the light. You watched in fascination as the creature wriggled in need. It was when Bakugou’s fingers reached its other end that it made a higher pitched sound. 

“It just moaned.” You flushed. 

“Holy shit.” Bakugou gasped, pressing one of his fingers into the plump flesh’s hole. “It’s so fucking tight.”

You gave your lover a side-eyed grin. “Someone’s excited.” You teased. 

“Shut the fuck up (Name).” He grumbled, wedging another digit into the creature's body. The blob keened in pleasure what you assumed was it’s face reddened in a blush. You pressed your thighs together in questionable arousal. You didn’t have time to question your arousal as you noticed Bakugou’s cock straining against the fabric of his trousers. 

“Fuck.” Bakugou hissed when your hand brushed against his growing need. His lips met yours roughly as you palmed his hardened length. He kept fingering the blob as you undid the buttons of his pants. 

He pulled his fingers out of the whining ball of flesh with a slick pop. He disregarded the creatures whines of protest and swatted your hands away. 

“Nu uh princess this is about you.” He grinned, while placing the soft creature to the side. 

“Katsuki!” you yelped, when he pushed you backwards onto the mattress being mindful of the other occupant. His fingers made quick work of your clothes and they lay tousled wherever they landed. Just as his fingers were about to reach around to unclasp your bra you stopped him. Your fingers digging into the hem of his shirt to pull it off of his body. 

You swore that no matter how many times you’ve seen the blonde bare before you it never failed to leave you in awe. His dedication to his job was defined by all the rippling muscles that covered his strong form. Every dip, curve and scar that littered his body made up the masterpiece that was Bakugou Katsuki. To you he was the paragon of men. 

“Keep starin’ princess.” His cocky tease was met with a roll of your eyes. You didn’t have time to retort as he leaned over you his teeth grazing the skin of your neck with every blistering kiss he left down its wake. His calloused hand gripped your breast firmly, thumbs brushing over your pebbling nipples while his other hand trailed down your body. 

When he met the band of your panties he pulled the elastic back and let it slap against your skin. His name left your lips in an annoyed tone. He chuckled at the chide and slid his fingers underneath the flimsy material. Your fingers found refuge buried in his thick tresses when his fingers swiped over your trembling cunt. 

“Looks like I was the only one who was excited.” He sneered. 

“Shut up and touch me” You gasped. You were dripping, Bakugou didn’t even need to part your folds to collect the slick that had been seeping out of your pussy. 

“I don’t think so sweetheart.” He mocked pulling his fingers out of your damp panties. You gawked at him in disbelief. But, he disregarded your expression and tugged off your panties. You snorted when he sling shot them across the room. 

“You're such a dork.” You laughed, arching off the bed to unclasp your bra. He leaned over you and palmed your supple breasts. He squeezed the pulpy flesh and pushed his nose against yours. 

“Imma cuff you up now alright?” He asked. You nodded watching as the muscles in his torso flexed when he reached over to grab the fuzzy handcuffs from the drawer. He spun them around on his finger and you whined in impatience. 

Once they were closed around your wrist and attached to the bed frame you looked up at him curiously. “Only one?”

“Remember we're tryin somethin new” He replied, turning his head to motion the discarded blob. “This way you can stop whenever it gets to be too much.”  You nodded in understanding. His heated palms trailed down your body and stopped at the top of your thighs. 

“Ready?” He asked. When he received your nod he parted your thighs and reached over to grab the soft glob. 

You bit your lip as the creature was pressed closer to your drooling lips. The cool flesh of it felt good against your heat and when it’s tongue flicked out of its mouth to lap at your folds you sighed. Bakugou made sure to press the thing snug against your cunt and he leaned back to discard his pants and boxes in order to watch it work. 

“Hnnng” You mewled as its tongue swirled around your sensitive clit. It licked you feverishly and you couldn’t help the moans that tumbled from your parted lips. 

“K-katsuki!” You gasped. “Hmmm It feels so good.”

Bakugou’s vermillion eyes looked down at you in fascination. You looked delicious. Your eyes were screwed shut as you panted in pleasure. Your body was already glowing with a light sheen of sweat and your pussy? You were gushing, your stingy slick was slipping down your spread thighs and dripping onto the sheets. When the creature pressed it’s tongue inside of your needy hole Bakugou groaned. 

You made out the sound of him spitting onto his cock and ground your hips against the creature eating you out expertly. Hell, it was as if the meaty sack knew exactly where to touch you as it immediately found the zone in your cunt that brought you the most pleasure. 

“Such a dirty bitch.” Bakugou hissed, dragging his hand up and down his length as he watched the thing get you off. “Tell me (Name) how's it feel?”

“Gud~” You babbled incoherently. There was only one person who could eat you out this well and have you seeing stars and the thought of it had your free hand gripping the ‘sex fiend’ closer to your cunt. “It’s so good. Fuck Katsuki! Thank you~ Thank you, Thank you.”  

Bakugou flushed at the sight of you coming undone. “Please hnn Kattssuu please fuck it too. I-I want you to feel gud too~” 

Bakugou removed your hand from the blob and linked his fingers with yours. He guided the head of his cock to the meaty creature's hole. Your teary eyes caught how sexy Bekugou looked letting his drool seep down onto his throbbing length and you almost came. 

“You better not fucking cum.” He hissed pressing into the tight hole. 

“I wanna cum~” You whined. 

“H-hold it.” He gasped, watching as his thick length disappeared into the creature inch by inch. Bakugou was panting. “So fucking tight.” He pulled out only to slam back in a slick ‘slosh’ accompanying the entrance. You moaned loudly at the movement. Everytime Bakugou slammed into the sack of meat it pressed harder upon your needy cunt. 

“More~ Ah! Fuck harder.” You drooled. “Katsuki harder p-please.” You whined. 

“Slutty ass bitch” He grunted watching as your tongue slipped out of your mouth to lick at your lips. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” You whimpered. 

“D-don’t  you fucking dare its-” Bakugou couldn’t finsih his sentence. You had clenched around the tongue thrusting into your pussy and like a wave washing over the shore, your orgasm washed over you. You squirmed as it continued to lap at your folds it’s hands holding onto your thighs firmly to keep you from moving away. 

Bakugou’s jaw dropped when he felt himself get pushed back from you. He blinked in disbelief as he realized that he was balls deep in someone's ass. His bottom lip trembled when he saw the man pull up from in between your legs. 

“Katsuki don’t stop.” He panted. 

Kirishima felt Bakugou’s tears hit him back and pushed his ass against the thick cock that had been still inside of him. 

“E-Eijirou” He stuttered. 

Your eyes snapped open at the name. Familiar red eyes gazed back at you lovingly. And you couldn’t stop the ugly sob that tore itself from your throat. Your hand went up to warm around his strong shoulder as you sobbed against his lips that pressed against your. Bakugou’s grip on his ass tightened as he slammed back into the man. Kirishima groaned into your mouth, his fingers diving back down your body to press into your pulsing cunt. 

Both you and Bakugou had questions. So many fucking questions. But for now you would indulge in the fact that for unknown reasons your lover was gifted back to the both of you. 

.

.

.

Kirishima laid in between the two of you as you both hugged his sides. Neither of you planned on letting him go. Not now or ever. And in a mess of love proclamation and tears Kirishima explained what had happened. 

“So all the missing heroes....” You sniffled. 

“Yes….”

“Damn, it’s so fucking infuriating.” Bakugou seethed. 

“Hey, at least now we know where they’re going and we can put a stop to it.” Kirishima’s smile trembled. “...I was so scared.”

“You’re safe now.” You whispered hugging his arm to your chest. 

“Life was so fucking hard without you Ei.” Bakugou confessed. 

“We missed you so damn much.” You added. 

“I missed you guys so fucking much too.” He whimpered, and a pregnant silence filled the room as you all tried to process what was going on. 

“W-we got your favorite pizza.” You smiled breaking the silence while trying to lighten the mood. 

“Yeah, have something to eat and we’ll figure out what to do next.” Bakugou agreed. 

“I love you both so much.” He cried, shrinking into both yours and Bakugou’s embrace. 

#Meatball smut #meatball Kirishima #kirbaku x reader #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #Tw: Dub/Con #Meatball lore #bakugou katsuki #eijirou kirishima #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #Bnha smut

[cockasinthebird]

“Truth or dare?”

“What?”

When it was time to go home from yet another high school party, both Billy and Steve had agreed that they're definitely too wasted to drive, and Steve doesn't live that far away, and the sky is clear with a near full moon, stars painting the black above.

“Come on Stevie, I'm bored and the silence will literally put me asleep,” Billy blurts out far too loud, and swings back another sip of his beer.

In his other hand, he holds on to Steve,

Who's trying to balance on the edge of the sidewalk, normally not something all that dangerous, but given how everything dances around him, it's best to have a safety net in hand. Billy's hand. Clasped tightly and warmly. But they're both too far gone to realize.

“Fine,” Steve gives in, his gaze locked on his feet as he concentrates. “I gotta say I don't trust you enough to do a dare; I know how reckless you can be, so truth.”

“Hm, boring.” Billy smiles never the less. “What's your favorite color?”

And at that, Steve stops walking on the curb like he's a dancer on a tight rope. He moves up to where Billy's waiting, patiently, and smiles right back at him. “Really, Hargrove? We've been best friends for who knows how long, and you don't even know my favorite color?”

Their shoulders bump together, eyes stuck in a staring contest, hands lingering. “I'm not a very good listener,” Billy chuckles.

Moves his hand out of their grasp to run it through his hair. And even as he looks away, face flushed from the alcohol and lips wet with the taste of beer, Steve keeps staring. He can count the freckles from here as clearly as the stars in the sky.

“Blue.”

Billy turns to catch his gaze again.

“Blue is my favorite color,” Steve repeats with more intent; wants to be certain that Billy hears it this time.

And Billy hears him. Licks his lips clean, and maybe his face grows a bit more red, maybe he's suddenly so shy about meeting brown with blue, as he looks at the road ahead.

“Your turn,” Steve says and bumps their shoulders together. “Truth or dare?”

“Guess I'll say truth too, since we're being huge pussies tonight,” he laughs and bumps right back.

Steve's eyes fall a bit as they walk side by side. Billy's shirt is unbuttoned as always, showing off the tan pecs he works tirelessly on. “Do you wax your chest?”

Billy grins and sticks out his tongue. He bites briefly on it before nodding. “Yeah, but it's not the only thing I wax.” Winks at how Steve's staring, honeyed eyes goes from his bare chest to where his lips curl around the beer again.

“I don't need to know more than that,” Steve laughs, face red from embarrassment as if he's been caught doing something he's not supposed to. And perhaps he isn't. “I'll say truth again.”

“Have you ever walked in on your parents doing it?” Billy had that one ready real quick, and continues grinning wide.

And Steve laughs, a sound that quickly falters to something... somewhat pained. “Yeah, but... not with each other.”

Silence is quick to settle between them as Billy's drunken mind has to figure out just what that means, when-

“Oh.” They both look ahead. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-”

“No, no it's... it's ok, don't worry about it.” Steve tries for a smile, but it lacks that spark of joy. “So, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Hmm...” Steve hums in thought and runs a hand through his hair, before looking at Billy with a raised brow. “What's the first thing you'd do if you woke up as a woman?”

Billy's laugh is a pleasure to hear, and he looks at Steve with a knowing grin. “Oh I would find the nearest clean dick, and ride it till my pussy broke.”

And Steve can't keep his own guffaws down, throws his head back to let it out. “Of course you would!”

“What, like you wouldn't?!”

“Of course I would! What guy wouldn't just go chasing whatever available cock just to try.”

Billy's grin twists into something more... mischievous, and he bites down on his tongue. “You make it sound like something you've considered before, princess,” he teases.

Words that makes Steve's inviting lips part, gaze quickly looking down at Billy's bawdy, crooked smirk, then up before he's caught staring too long again. “Wouldn't you like to know.”

He would. But instead, he says, “Come on, pick dare this time, I promise I won't make you run down the street naked or anything! I dare you to pick dare.”

“Fine.” Steve cannot possibly be expected to deny Billy that pleasure; not when he's practically begging. “I choose dare.”

“Well, then I dare you to sing.”

“Sing?” Steve cocks a brow. Grateful and relieved that that's all.

“Yeah, just, sing me something.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.” Billy nods with a smile, ready to laugh his ass off.

“Okay, but don't forget you asked for this, right?”

“Right.”

So Steve takes a few long steps to get ahead of Billy, and grant him some mercy from what he's about to hear. But he did ask for it.

Then he whips around and points at Billy. “Won't you come see about me? I'll be alone, dancing you know it baby.”

Billy's cheeks hurts from smiling this wide, eyes just as expansive, as he watches Steve rather awkwardly move and “dance” with no music.

“Tell me your troubles and doubts-”

Oh.

“Giving me everything inside and out and, love's strange, so real in the dark-”

Oh.

“Think of the tender things that we were working on.”

Oh no.

It doesn't sound terrible; he's not going to make it in the music business if that was ever an idea, but it's... not as bad as Billy thought it would be. It's actually kinda... nice. Maybe if Steve wasn't super blasted on all the numerous things he's consumed tonight, it could be good.

Steve's voice excites his heart far too much.

“I'm not- I'm not gonna sing you the whole song,” Steve laughs and hides his face behind hands.

“Yeah, no,” Billy manages to utter and takes a final sip of his beer. “I've definitely heard enough.”

“Shut up, I warned you!” Steve smiles brightly and falls back into a rhythm with Billy, as they continue staggering home. “So, truth or dare?”

“I'll take a dare too.”

“Alright...” Steve looks around the sleeping street as he considers his options. When they pass by a house with the most gorgeous front yard, and his lazy smile turns for the worse. “Ok, I dare you to piss on that flowerbed.”

And Billy follows the way Steve's pointing, to a row of yellow somethings, what does he look like, a gardener? “You want me to... piss on a strangers flowers?”

“Yup,” he pops the p.

“Isn't that illegal or something?” Billy turns to look at Steve, who huffs out a little laugh.

“I dunno, but has that ever stopped you from doing something before?” He crosses his arms and waits expectantly.

Well, he does have to pee, but this is just... “Turn around.”

“What?” Steve laughs incredulously.

“Turn around!” Billy shoves at his shoulder. “I'm not about to whip my dick out and take a piss in front of you!”

“It's not like I haven't seen it before!”

“Oh so you're admitting to taking a look in the showers?” Billy feigns shock, as he knows Steve's been looking. Billy's been looking, too.

But Steve simply scoffs and turns 180 degrees. Hears the zipper, soon followed by a familiar splashing sound.

“So, truth or dare?”

“You don't... you don't wanna finish first?” Steve stutters awkwardly.

“Come on, Harrington, just pretend we're standing at the urinals or something. Truth or dare?”

“Uhh, truth.”

“What's the naughtiest thing you've done in public?” the grin on his face ardently clear in his tone, as Billy watches his steady stream knock down a flower.

And Steve hesitates to answer, but they're drunk enough for it to seem harmless to say, “I once got a blowjob in a drive-in cinema.”

A loud snicker escapes from Billy. “From who? Nancy? Can't imagine little miss perfect being ok with that.”

“For your information, no, I never asked her to do anything like that.” Steve shakes his head, but he keeps smiling. Cheeks warm with the memory of lips around him so publicly, the sounds and imagery of it still so vivid, it could excite him too much right now. “But that's it, I answered, you can't ask me about it any further, ok?”

“Yeah fine, don't get your panties all in a twist,” Billy groans and rolls his eyes.

“So are you done soon, or?” Steve plants his hands on his hips and strikes a rather impatient pose.

“Hold on, lemme just...” And the zipper goes back up.

He then pats Steve on the back and moves his hand up to squeeze by his shoulder.

“I take truth, if you're just gonna waste the dare on stupid shit like that.”

“Well it sounded like you really needed it, so-”

“I said truth, pretty boy, come on.”

Steve laughs at the irritation by the edge of Billy's voice, and turns his head to look at how close he's standing, shoulder by chin.

But Billy's set in just staring straight ahead, ignoring how near they are.

“What's the dumbest thing you've ever done?”

And there isn't an answer for a good long while; it feels almost as if they're just silently passing underneath streetlights for minutes, Billy's heart working overtime as it thrashes around in his chest.

He almost looks... scared, when he says, “Fallen in love.” And he doesn't meet Steve's gaze. Can't look at him now, not when his entire soul just feel so... vulnerable.

“So,” his voice suddenly all rusty, and he clears his throat. “Truth or dare?”

“Give me another dare, then!” Steve says with an upbeat tone, trying to keep the mood between them light, because it'll be all too easy to drink their sorrows away once they reach his home, and that's just... depressing.

He doesn't think twice about it when Billy stops walking, stands dead beneath one bright lamp. Not until he's several feet ahead, and turns with confusion written across his brows. “Billy are you ok-”

“I dare you to kiss me.” It feels like Billy's heart is about to break his ribs from the inside, stomach a hurricane of fire, but the words are out there now, and there's nothing he can do but wait.

Wait a whole two seconds, before Steve nearly runs at him, grabs him by that broad jaw, fingers dipping into golden curls, and lips softer than he could ever have dreamed. Billy has to take a step back or they'd fall onto the sidewalk here, Steve pressing into him with such unexpected vigor, as if he's the one who's been waiting impatiently for this opportunity.

The empty bottle clinks against the concrete below, as Billy swings both arms tightly around Steve's waist, fisting at his jacket and forcing them as close as possible, as if he's attempting to merge bodies with the other, who sighs something so satisfied into their rough yet intimate embrace.

Steve eventually pulls off, but keeps Billy's face in his hands, a thumb gently caressing his burning pink cheeks. “You have... no idea how long I've wanted to do that.”

“I think I do,” Billy nearly sings along with how jubilant his heart is, and slips out of Steve's grasp as he dives for another kiss.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Childhood Friends AU #On AO3 too #fluffy fluff fluff #cw alcohol #tw alcohol #First kiss #sorry for the barrage of anons #so have this!

[princess-rosie]

Underneath The Spotlight- A Sanders Sides Fic

Taglist: @sophiexteresa (ask to be added!)

Chapter 10- Twin Duet

(Read chapter 1 here!)

(Read here on ao3!)

Warnings for this chapter: slapstick attempted violence, oh no everyone hide she’s trying to write comedy again /s

Not long into the second act, it was time for Roman and Remus’ twin duet. Over the past few years, this had become a tradition at performances, by popular demand of the audience. With some interesting choreography and complimenting costumes, Roman and Remus could easily deliver a very entertaining duet routine. This time, they were playing a rival Prince and Duke in a dramatic routine with lots of mirror imagery- the costumes were glittery with bold colours, Roman’s in red and white and Remus’ in black and green. They also had props- a katana and a mace, for a few moments of choreographed stage combat. Remus had begged and begged the teachers to wear a fake moustache on stage for this routine, and after being met with refusal countless times, that was when he’d started to grow a real one, and refused to shave it for the show.

“Remus, are you ready for our duet our what?” Roman asked, already standing by the dressing room door in full costume.

“Relax, bro, we’ve got ages!”

“No you don’t, you’re on next,” Logan said, knowing this without even looking at the spreadsheet. At this point, Remus was tying one of his shoes, Virgil the other, Janus doing some last-minute additions to his makeup and Patton spraying his hair. He’d actually had ages to prepare for his and Roman’s routine but had left it too late, leading to this scrambled operation from everyone to get him ready in time. When he finally made it out the door, Roman cast everyone else a brief frustrated expression before dashing towards the stage, the sound of audience applause already signalling them that they had not a moment to lose.

Now all the other four could do was watch the twins’ duet from the dressing room on Janus’ TV, hoping that all the brothers’ hard work would pay off. The lights came up on Roman and Remus, both in position for their routine. As they began to dance across the stage, everyone noticed their synchronisation beginning to break. Roman was impeccably in time with the music as always, but Remus was lagging behind as he seemed to be trying to get in Roman’s way, purposefully sabotaging the routine. Roman performed spin after leap with perfect technique while Remus got in his way over and over again, the one in red either dodging it or making it look like part of the dance, his presentation never faltering. The boys, watching in the dressing room, flinched at every near miss, yet Virgil actually began to chuckle. Janus also soon began to see the humorous nature of the situation, Remus deliberately sabotaging his twin’s routine... or trying to. To someone who didn’t know how the routine was supposed to go, Roman still looked to be flawlessly in time, his technique never ever failing him. Patton watched, in awe, as he dodged yet another of Remus’ swings with his fake mace.

“I didn’t know Roman could to a backflip,” the shortest mused.

“From the look on his face neither did he,” Janus said, burying his face in his hands at the antics, laughter slowly but surely spreading among the dancers as they watched the scene unfold.

The routine finally concluded and the stage faded to black, the sounds of angry shouting moving further and further towards the dressing room.

“What the hell was that for Remus?!”

“I dunno bro, just felt like it! You dealt with it way better than I thought you would, like I’d be surprised if the audience suspected a thing!”

“My impeccable performance skills are not the point here, Remus! Why did you deliberately swing that.... spike ball thing at me when it wasn’t even choreographed?!”

“No reason! Like I’ve said, there is no rhyme or reason to what i do, I just do! And what I do is wreak havoc! Although I failed to accomplish that today, thanks to Mister Perfect Dancer Boy over here and his... almost concerningly fast reflexes.”

Roman sunk down into his chair and huffed. “You are insufferable!” he hissed.

“Aww, bro, you’re too kind!” Remus said, descending into maniacal giggling. Roman sighed deeply, with another dance just a few minutes away and no time to dwell on his brother’s antics. He smiled at the thought that the boys’ next dance would contain Logan’s infamous tap solo...

Next chapter

#platonic creativitwins #creativitwins #platonic drlamp #sanders sides #ts sides #tss #my writing #underneath the spotlight #sanders sides dance school au #brotherly creativitwins #remus sanders #ts remus #roman sanders #ts roman #patton sanders #ts patton #janus sanders #ts janus #logan sanders #ts logan #virgil sanders mention #thomas sanders #ts fic #sanders sides fic #ts human au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides human au #ts sides fic #ts sides fanfiction #tss fanfic

[thekitchensnk]

and the spider lilies bloomed in the fall (chapter 9)

Rating: T Warnings: Violent imagery, trauma, allusions to potential past sexual violence Pairing: Gin/Ran Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9 “They say that lovers doomed never to see each other again still see the higanbana growing along their path, even to this day.”

A girl collapses on a dusty road one day. A boy takes her home.

The girl lives.

—

(The boy doesn’t.)

They carried out her plan to sell their fruit in town. They had so much that summer that it was close to spoiling on the tree, filling the garden with a sweet, pungent smell.

They filled a bag each to the brim, and set out, once again, for town. It was a sign of how many times they had done this that her legs no longer shook on the walk and she could make the journey both ways now without the need for an impromptu piggyback.

Nevertheless, the bags were heavy, and she complained vociferously the whole way.

"-and it's bad for our backs!" she rambled fiercely, getting into her stride. He shook his head fondly.

"This wasn't my idea," he said reproachfully. "What should we do with the extra money?" he asked in a bid to stop her rant early, before it could really get going.

That caught her out.

"I... Don't actually know." she paused. "We could do anything." A gleam entered her eye. "We could buy a servant."

He sniggered. "We won't have enough for a servant," he said. "And anyways, what do ya' want with a servant? Ya've got me."

"You're not my servant," she laughed.

"I dunno," he said. "I look after the garden, I sweep, and I sew up ya' clothin'." He swept into a low bow, and the fruit in his bag almost spilled over the top in his silliness.

"Hey!" she objected heatedly. "I cook! And I clean! And you stabbed me when you patched up my yukata, so you'd be a useless servant anyway." She pouted.

"I catch us fish," he insisted with a grin.

"Be serious," she giggled.

"I could carry ya' everywhere in one of those fancy boxes," he said, caught up in making mischief, "wash ya' feet and say 'Yes ma'am' and 'No ma'am' and 'three bags full ma'am."

She gave up. "And you'd do up my beautiful kimono every day and cook me dinners- at least thirty eight courses, otherwise I'd have your head chopped off. And you’d bring me sweets from town. And I'd make you sing songs without any dirty bits."

He feigned horror. "Choppin' a man's head off is one thing, Ran-chan, but makin' him take the dirty bits out of songs? Ya' cruel."

She gave him a smug smile and poked him in the arm. "See? You can’t call your mistress cruel. You'd be a useless servant. Too much backchat. You can't keep your mouth shut."

It could not be disputed, but he tried anyway.

"Me?" he said innocently. "I'm the picture of a quiet, obedient servant. Look me up in one of those books, and there I’ll be. Barely even hear a peep from me." It was a bare-faced lie, and even he was impressed that he managed to keep a straight face saying it.

She just snorted at him and bashed his leg with her bag. 

"And ya' a perfect, polite lady," he finished, grinning widely.

"Watch your mouth, you!" she protested, but there was a smile on her face too.

“What would ya’ do if ya’ were rich?” he asked, swinging his bag.

“Hire servants who don’t make all their songs rude and who can sew up a sleeve without stabbing me.”

He gave her a wounded look. “Very funny.”

She pondered a moment.

“I’d spend all my money. I’d buy fancy kimono, and sweets, and sake, and I’d have parties, and a giant mansion, with a garden and one of those wooden things the rich people have- y’know, the ones that go ‘bonk’.” She waved her hands around as she talked, and then paused. “I’d give money to poor children here too.” She sighed. “That would be the life, wouldn’t it? Comfort. Riches. Servants.”

As they walked, their feet picked up the dust of the road. She paused to try and rub some of the dirt from her feet. “What would you do?”

The question threw him.

There was nothing much in life that he really wanted- or at least, not much in the way of material things that money could buy. There were people he would like to see dead, and certain injustices put to rights, and money could potentially buy assassins to do it for him. But it would take the satisfaction of achieving them by his own hand out of the equation. How could he tell her that he revelled in the fear in men’s faces and felt a sick excitement at their pain- that his wants were simple- to have her, their garden, and to watch the theatre of misery and play out his part in it?

“I dunno either. Probably I’d buy ya’ that mansion and that feather bed and those kimono,” he said vaguely, scratching at his head. He’d like that at the very least, he thought, to be able to look after her and buy her what she wanted- to make her happy.

“And the sweets?”

“And the sweets.”

“You could buy a whole forest of persimmon trees,” she suggested.

The thought was a nice one.

“A bigger garden, maybe,” he said.

“Is that all?” She sounded disappointed.

He looked at her in confusion. “Got everythin’ I want right here. What else do I need?”

They both fell silent.

He paused and looked around. The streets were curiously busy, and he found it deeply suspicious. “Is it just me, or does town seem noisier today?”

He didn’t wait for a reply. He grabbed her hand suddenly, and started running in the direction of the bar. She had no choice but to follow. It caught her off-balance, and she almost fell.

"Hey! Hey!" she shouted in protest, but he only grinned in response. He ran like the silvery wind, dragging her along in his wake, and he leapt and bounded over all the rubbish in the street, and she staggered after. He was so quick and moved so effortlessly that it was almost unfair. He was not even out of breath when they arrived at their destination, and he grinned as she panted.

The square that the bar fronted was filled with people and the air was thick with chatter and laughter. People looked on curiously and occasionally craned their necks, as if they were waiting for something to happen.

Alcohol flowed freely, and for once, people only seldomly remembered to check their possessions out of fear of pickpockets. A few in the crowd were better dressed than usual. The whores who had makeup had used some, despite its rarity, and they mingled freely in the crowd, giggling and hanging on; the gangsters strutted about with puffed out chests and polished knives.

"What's going on?" Rangiku asked in fascination.

Gin could only shake his head suspiciously. "No idea. World's gone mad. Have ya’ seen this lot?"

She spotted a familiar youthful face at the bar with its greying hair. “One moment,” she told him. It was her turn to drag him around, persimmons still heavy in her bag.

"Hey!" she called out loudly, marching towards the bar in determination. "Hey!"

It was the whore who had accosted her the first time she had walked with him into town.

Kanae's head whipped around, and she froze initially when she saw who it was. Her lip curled into her ever-present expression of irritated disgust, and her eyes rolled in annoyance, but she beckoned them forward anyway.

"So polite," Gin remarked cheerfully, though who it was aimed at- Rangiku, who thought “Hey!” was an acceptable greeting, or the ever scowling Kanae- no one could tell.

Kanae eyed him warily. "Watch it, brat," she spat. She turned to Rangiku and spoke abruptly. "What?"

Gin could not contain himself. "I've always admired ya' way with people."

Kanae glared daggers at him, and turned towards the bar again in an exaggerated, slow fashion, conspicuously ignoring the two children. Rangiku shot him a disgruntled look.

"Wait! He's sorry- he didn't mean it. He's just messing around. 

Gin rarely meant half of what he said, but he never let that stop him. He enjoyed prodding at people, seeing whether he could get a rise out of them. It was a game to him, to play with other people's feelings. He rarely dwelt on the impact of his actions.

"What do you want?" she said icily.

"We wanted to know-" Rangiku said eagerly, "what's happening? What's going on? Why are people here?"

Kanae laughed nastily. "On the last one, I couldn't possibly tell ya'. They’re idiots, milling around. Who knows why they’re here? I, on the other hand, am here because it'll be a good business day. People are boozin' and laughin' and partyin'. For once, I might have enough money to pay my rent and my bar tab."

"Why are they partying? What's happening?"

"Why is ya' hair going grey if ya' don't have wrinkles?" Gin interjected. Rangiku glared at him and gave him a wallop.

“Shush you!” she hissed.

Kanae sneered at him. "It's the stress of havin' ta' live in a world with brats like ya’. Given how sick ya’ all make me, it's a miracle I have any hair left."

Rangiku felt the conversation rapidly sliding out of her grasp, and so she made one last bid to find out what was going on.

"Why are people here?" she asked again loudly and slowly, ignoring the animosity between the other two.

Kanae gave her a sideways look. "Are you always so obnoxious?" Gin's expression darkened, and his hands curled into fists, but Rangiku stepped between them. Kanae sighed in resignation, giving in. "There's a weddin'."

Rangiku gave Gin a look of confusion, and he paused and gave her a half-shrug in reply. "We don’t know what that is,” she informed the whore. “What's a wedding?"

"Obnoxious and ignorant. Wonderful." Kanae slammed her bottle on the counter. She drew in a deep breath. "A weddin', brats, is an empty sham where people put on clothes they can't afford and make promises they can't keep before gods that don't exist, givin' everyone an excuse to get drunk off their faces before fallin' into bed with perfect strangers and- hopefully- whores. Are we done yet? Anythin’ more? Will ya' leave me alone now?"

Rangiku paused, digesting the new information. "What kind of promises?"

Kanae's knuckles went white. "To share joy and sorrow together. To live peacefully together. To make a home together. To provide for each other. To honor the gods. Bullshit,” she sneered.

Beside her, Gin had fallen silent in thought.

"Okay," Rangiku said. "One last question, then I promise we'll leave you alone, Kanae-san. Whose wedding is this?"

"Nakamura and his whore," Kanae said with an ugly smile. Gin's face suddenly perked up in interest, and a slow, gleeful smile crossed his face too, which Rangiku did not miss. She elbowed him and gave him a look.

"Thanks for explaining everything to us, Kanae-san," Rangiku said. "We're very grateful." An idea suddenly occurred to her, and she began to rummage through her bag. "Here- you should have some of these. We have plenty."

Kanae gave her a searching look, and then her hand shot out to grab the persimmons Rangiku had offered. Rangiku looked at her pensively before turning to leave. Kanae paid them no more attention, tearing into the first persimmon, and did not look at them at all as they left.

"Why did ya' do that?" Gin asked curiously. “We could have sold that.”

"Did you see her?" Rangiku said pityingly. "Food is so expensive here. I think that might have been the first time she's had food in years."

He looked at her blankly. "So what?"

She turned to him sharply. "You gave me food. I remember what it was like to go without."

"That was different though," he said. "Ya'd have starved to death without it."

"They still crave it, even if they won't starve. It hurts to be denied what you want over and over again. She’ll get more pleasure out of it than I ever would have. And anyways," she looked at him curiously, "there are plenty of people about who have a small amount of power. They starve. Did you ever give any of them food?"

He hadn't, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew that, given how she was looking at him.

(How could he even begin to explain how she differed from everyone else? How his initial curiosity had transformed and evolved into something deeper, something so alien and so strange but so tender? He couldn’t. He couldn’t even explain it to himself.)

"We should set up shop on the corner," he decided, avoiding the question. "Too close to the bar, and people will ignore us in favour of buying booze. Too far and no one will bother."

She gave him a knowing look, but if she had something to say, she wasn't saying it.

The sun was beginning to set, filling the square with a hazy golden light, and paper lanterns were beginning to be lit when he hum of voices in the square suddenly escalated into a dull roar, and all of a sudden, people were whooping and cheering and stamping their feet.

Rangiku looked up in alarm, and he snorted at her reaction. "It's just the weddin'," he told her. "Nakamura-san and Mr Shop Keep's old girl are at the other end of the square. Guess she's just Nakamura-san's girl now, though." He paused. "How do you think he's keepin'? Should we pay him a visit?"

He sounded hopeful.

"Don't be mean," she chided. She arched her neck in a bid to get a look at the newlywed. "I can't see them." She sounded disappointed.

He sighed theatrically. "Guess it can't be helped," he said. He crouched and patted his shoulders. "Up ya' get."

She looked at him with wide eyes.

"I'll squash you!" she objected. "I'm too heavy for that now."

He grinned. "Then I'll be the most brilliant pancake that ever lived. Hop on.”

"You weren't supposed to agree, you!" She pouted at him, but a hidden smile played about her lips.

"Mou, how was I supposed to read ya' mind?" he complained. "Okay, alright- 'You'll never be too heavy for me to carry, Ran-chan!'” he said in a saccharine voice. “There, ya' happy now? Climb on."

She stuck her tongue out at him.

She got on to his back, and sat clumsily on his shoulders. His knees wobbled and they swayed ominously, and she clung to his head in panic, pulling at his hair. He grasped at her legs.

"Hang on, hang on," he gritted his teeth, and soon enough they were steady again.

She looked out, and her eyes were bright.

The district was too poverty stricken for even the bride and groom to wear new clothes, but they had done their best. The bride's hood had been sewn neatly together from whatever white fabric she could find, but from a distance, no one would ever be able to tell; her lips were a dusty red, and her hair had been pinned up. The groom laughed and smiled and bantered with his friends, but every so often he would look back at his wife, and his gaze was soft.

"They're beautiful," she breathed quietly.

He could not see her face, but he knew exactly the sort of expression she'd be wearing, and because he could not see it, he imagined it- lips parted in gentle wonder, eyes bright and sparkling, avid fascination written on her face.

He had no impulse towards empathy, but he could not help but feel the reflection of it. Nakamura and Mr Shop Keep's former girl meant nothing to him. He could quite easily run them through with a knife today, bury the bodies tomorrow, and eat his rice with no qualms the day after that with a clear and untroubled conscience.

But this, this warmth, this reflected wonder which she gave to him so freely, which played in his ribcage and which somehow sparked a warmth of his own, this meant the world. He would do anything to keep it safe.

But his legs were beginning to ache.

"Time to come down, Ran-chan," he said regretfully, and he crouched down to let her off. She slid down his back, and her yukata hitched up inelegantly as she did so, baring her legs. She quickly rearranged her clothes.

They hawked and shouted and bartered and their supply of persimmons began to dwindle quickly. Kanae had been right- weddings were good for business, and food was a rarity in this district. People were keen to celebrate, and when word of cheap, fresh fruit spread, demand quickly outstripped supply, and they had to beat back thieves.

The men, deep in their cups, cat-called and made lewd suggestions and undressed her with their eyes, and he glared and showed his knife. But she was in high spirits regardless, and paid little attention. In truth, the wedding had done a great deal of good for everyone; for once, the mood across town was light and festive, and its inhabitants, usually driven to rob and cheat each other from desperation, embraced each other and laughter rang in the air like bells.

To share joy and sorrow together, he thought absent-mindedly. To live peacefully together. To make a home together. To provide for each other. That was what Kanae had told them.

He did all of that for her already. It wasn’t much- if that was all it was, then they were practically wedded already, he decided.

When she smiled, he smiled; when she woke with nightmares, he got rid of them. They sat together in the evening in front of the fire, and did not even need to share a word, because they knew what the other was thinking. He tended the garden where they grew their food, and she cooked their lunch and their dinner. What was home without her? There was no such thing; in the simplest sense, wherever she was would be home, always and forever.

"Ne, Rangiku?" he asked curiously. "Would you like a weddin’?” 

She laughed at him, as if what he had suggested was absurd. “What a weird question!”

“It isn’t,” he insisted.

“Yes it is!”

“It isn’t.”

“Yes it is!”

They squabbled back and forth for a few moments childishly.

“I don’t know!” she said in exasperation, throwing her hands up in the air. “Maybe! One day! I’d need to find someone who would want to marry me though.” She crossed her arms and leant against the wall in a huff.

His eyes narrowed. He had not considered even for an instant that someone else might marry her, and now that the thought had occurred to him, he did not like it one bit. He seethed quietly for a moment, and kicked a stone down the road.

“I don’t think it’s any different from how things are already,” he announced arrogantly.

She did a strange thing then, and gave him a scathing look. “What?” she growled.

He gave her an odd sideways glance. “It’s just what we do already, but they’ve put on fancy clothes and thrown a party.”

“It is different,” she insisted loudly.

“How?”

“It just is!”

There was a strange tension brewing in the air between them.

“How?”

“It just is!”

“How?” he pressed insistently, unaware that he was poking at a tender spot.

“Because he’s never going to leave!” she shouted, rounding on him. Her voice had cracked half way through the sentence, to her shame, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

It was like he had been punched in the stomach.

If he loved basking in the reflected glow of her happiness, then this was its terrible shadow, the painful ache that he felt in his chest whenever tears came to her eyes, and the dreadful, clumsy knowledge that he would do anything to make it stop. It was the price he paid for happiness. No matter how he had looked at it and analysed it, he could not extricate the one from the other. If he was to feel her happiness, then he would also feel her pain and he would have to let himself suffer it.

It made him writhe inside with a horrible discomfort and a muted horror. She and her feelings and the feelings she provoked- they were a weakness and he could not afford weaknesses, not here, not in this cruel and brutal place, and maybe nowhere else besides. He had spent long enough here to have that lesson carved into his bones. Her existence made him so-

(vulnerable.)

No signs of softness, no signs of weakness; never let them know where your heart lies, he had been told as a child.

He had never thought it a problem, because he had always been sure that he didn’t have a heart.

Her eyes were furious.

The pain was tinged with the shame of knowing that he was the cause of those tears, that he had been their instigator.

(And he would be again. And again, and again.)

He had to leave. No matter how much it would hurt her.

(No matter how much it would hurt him).

“Yeah,” he said blankly. “Guess ya’ right, Rangiku. Sorry.”

She fell silent.

They did not speak the entire way home.

The sun set, and the golden haze of the day retreated leaving behind a black and starless sky. They had no moon by which to light the way, and he walked on ahead, leaving her to stumble after him.

In the darkness, she could barely make out his shoulders.

He was gone when she woke up.

#bleach #gin ichimaru #rangiku matsumoto #ginran #ichimaru gin #spider lilies #gin you dumbass #there comes a point when you're writing GinRan #where you forget how it all ends #and you can convince yourself that it's all going to turn out okay #if he just scrapes his act together

[thoughtfulfangirling]

it's not always like this, Pharah and Tracer

Omg I am so out of the writing mood. I had to sit in front of my computer and stare at the handful of prompts before I could get anything started. It’s rusty and forced but HEY! It’s a THING and it’s DONE. Oh and of course I’m drawing heavily from Doc’s Hon Hon Hon series here, though there’s at least one nod to Rose’s OW stuff ☆～（ゝ。∂） (Prompt comes from here)

Fareeha set her steaming mug of coffe down on the furnished oak desk inside her in-home office before opening her laptop and bending over her chair to type in the password — something long and secure which Lena would never guess. The little monster jested about pranking her one of these days after guessing an old, easy to remember password Fareeha had had on all things she liked to have quick access to. Lena wouldn’t do anything truly bad of course, but that didn’t mean she wanted to give her smug friend the satisfaction of getting into her accounts a second time. 

As her settings booted up, Fareeha pulled out the chair, bemoaning again that she hadn’t gotten herself a standing desk herself yet. She had meant to, but Angela’s had been needed first, and after Lena flitted around Angela’s, vibrating with excitement, Fareeha had given hers up to Lena’s side of the office, knowing she’d be utterly insufferable if Fareeha herself had one but Lena did not. 

The sacrifices she made. 

A grin she’d suppress in front of Lena broke across her face as she indulged that thought. 

Sitting down, Fareeha sipped from her mug as she pulled some old Overwatch archives up. It had been natural somehow, that Pharah had ended up in charge of parts of the new Overwatch launch, but having never had anything to do with the original group, she found herself unprepared in ways Mercy and Tracer took for granted. This meant Pharah found herself digging into the old case files, reading reports of old incidents, trying to catch up with the practices and procedures of the past, not just in theory, but in practice. It’s not that she wanted them so much as a road map, but as a means of understanding the language Mercy and Tracer and Winston spoke about those times, things they would take for granted about the way they would respond and operate. Mercy for one seemed to have her hesitations about Winston’s new launch, and Pharah knew her wife well enough to trust that they were well founded and might mean some changes of things that otherwise may be assumed. 

And after all, wasn’t part of the reason they’d put Pharah in the position she was in to keep from repeating the mistakes of the past? One might see that and assume they could operate from there, not bog themselves down in what came before, but Pharah felt that this would only be blinders to her perception of how her team worked, and so she read about the uprisings, Overwatch’s actions, their Blackwatch files and their webs of influence and deceptions — except many of those she was finding was so far redacted, that despite some protests, she found herself having to reach out to members of those old operations, people the others might rather stay away. 

Pharah sipped slowly at the hot drink, using the bitter taste to keep her mind from wandering as she read: 

“Agent 12 responded to the main corridor, heading outbound of the city where the reports of omnic activity were sighted. The agent reports responding in quickly after hearing the sound of a scream. Off the main corridor, 12 meters outbound from the river crossing, he encountered a civilian being held by the throat by an omnic unit, a metal baseball bat at the civilian’s feet. 

“Agent 12 reports that there were five omnics in the immediate vicinity, and he had not yet met back up with the rest of his scouting unit. He reports the omnics did see him, and two approached. In his accounts, he surrendered to their inspections, losing his firearms and emps to their confiscations before moving on down the street. 

As they passed, Agent 12 moved to inspect the civilian who had been later dropped by the omnic. Upon checking the civilian’s welfare, he found their throat had been crushed, and he attempted first aid without success.”

As Pharah read the report, a section of story she had been reading the night before from a horror book came to mind. She’d taken it up to suit the season. In it, a man had tried to fend off an uncaring monster who proceeded to smash the man’s skull into the side of a building repeatedly, written in loving and careful detail by the author. 

“CHEERS Dear!” Tracer’s booming voice made Pharah start, nearly coming out of her chair but banging her knee under the desk instead. She cursed loudly and pressed her palms against her knee to soothe the ache.

“Good grief Tracer,” Pharah groaned through clenched teeth. 

Tracer was nearly rocking on her feet as she stood just inside the door of their office. “You didn’ ‘ear me coming?” Tracer asked, a note of concern in her tone. She moved further into the room and came to sit herself down on the edge of Pharah’s desk, swinging her feet. “You always hear me comin." 

Pharah closed the files in front of her and pulled up her email. She hadn’t told them how far she was digging into the old reports yet. They might think she was silly or worry that she was trying to reconstruct the old ways, so she hadn’t been quite sure how to broach it. Sometimes it didn’t really feel necessary, as it seemed they could forget she hadn’t been right there with them on the team. Sure, she was a soldier like they were, having worked with other organizations, but Overwatch had still been… different. 

"Well I didn’t this time.” Pharah replied as she did this, still annoyed after her start. Her heart was beginning to calm down at least, but she still was a bit disconcerted by the imagery that had seemed to come from nowhere. 

“Still reading our old files?” Tracer said it so casually, that Pharah looked over at her, eyes narrowed. 

“You do Not know my password.” She said it with conviction, certainty, but she was far from certain now. 

“Nah,” Tracer said, waving the thought off and laughing at Pharah… as she did. “I just know you. An I know Win sent everything over. So, you’d read it. S'a lot though to go through." 

"It’s a lot you went through.” Fareeha noted, a bit soberly. She’d seen death enough — pretty much any amount, especially any not of old age, was enough. But mostly it had been soldiers, medical emergencies. They had been hard. 

“it’s not always like this, though.” Lena said, looking down as she rubbed her hands up and down her thighs. “I dunno, there’s something about official files that manages to capture the horrors that we saw out there, but they just don’t manage to show the hope. Y'know?" 

Fareeha gave a short laugh. "Not everyone’s you Lena; we don’t all see hope where you do." 

Lena gave a big shrug. "But you do. Okay. Not like I do, exactly, but a way… in a way that means you can do this. And you’ll make it impactful.” The small woman gave a curt nod. “It’s why we trust you. And you’re gonna do great! Just follow me and Ang’s lead!" 

"Lena, I am leading." 

Lena hopped up off the desk and waved her hand dismissively. "Only officially. Just a title. You know who’ll really be in charge." 

Fareeha put her elbow on her desk so she could rest her forehead in her hand. "Gracious, you are just going to do whatever you want aren’t you.” It wasn’t really a question. 

Lena hopped over to her desk, on the other side of Fareeha’s own. “Yep! I always do. That’s how I ended up with this glorious office space! It’s it wonderful, dontchya think?" 

Fareeha took a deep breath, held it a moment, then let it out slowly, saying in self reassurance, "It’s not always going to be like this." 

#look i just really enjoy the dynamic thay Pharah gives off more soldier vibes than Tracer but Tracer has almost certainly seen More Shit #and i feel like we think of mentors always 'much older and more experienced' #when sometimes its our friends and peers who can mentor and #people can be so many different things to us all at once #bubbly and insufferable friend? also experienced and wise and mentoring! #and yet still maybe a subordinate #i wanted to work fall into this more but kinda dropped the ball woops :( #Fareeha #Lena #docholligay #prompts #la de da #Hey at least something was written #i hate how adding tags to asks means you can't hit enter without posting early #good lord

[fortyflightower]

artist ask babey!!😌🤙 the smiths, charli xcx, LANA DEL REY. i could do more. we shall see

CAITLYN YOU MADE THIS SO HARD FOR ME.... thank u but also i hate you 😤 sorry this is so long i just have a lot of thoughts and i don’t know how to shut up. i told you this was going to be a novel and here it is. writers doing nanowrimo wish they were me.

THE SMITHS.... one time i mentioned that i listened to them to one of my art teachers & he asked me what my favorite songs by them were & i completely blanked. it still haunts me to this day but i’m stronger now and i will not make that mistake again

1. back to the old house

this song has everything. the depression. the softness the yearning. ALSO these lyrics...

and you never knew / how much I really liked you / because I never even told you

2. the headmaster ritual

this is the song i listen to when i’m depressed, angry, and considering dropping out of school.

i want to go home / i don't want to stay / give up education / as a bad mistake

belligerent ghouls / run manchester schools / spineless bastards all

this line makes me think of my vid prod teacher 😊😤

3. still ill

had to stop myself from copy pasting all of the lyrics from this one. i also have it on my adam playlist SO.

england is mine, it owes me a living / but ask me why, and I'll spit in your eye

what can i say... i just like the rage and entitlement of this

but we cannot cling to the old dreams anymore / no, we cannot cling to those dreams

no thoughts head empty. i think i like it because it reminds me of that line from ribs by lorde.

does the body rule the mind / or does the mind rule the body? / i dunno

this is so adam core. will not explain any further

4. this charming man

BASIC I KNOW but it was the first song i ever listened to by them (i found it on a gansey playlist on 8tracks back in middle school😔🤟) don’t have any favorite lyrics from this one but the opening is ICONIC.

5. well i wonder

this one.... is SO emo but that’s okay... also the way he sings these lyrics... TOO MUCH 4 me

gasping - dying - but somehow still alive / this is the final stand of all I am / please keep me in mind

honorable mentions are there is a light that never goes out, the boy with the thorn in his side, never had no one ever, cemetery gates, and I WANT THE ONE I CANT HAVE because i’m THAT indecisive

miss Charli XCX... i’m going to be real i don’t listen to her much but when i do i am DOWN TO CLOWN.

1. vroom vroom

i have a playlist called “music to get into a car crash to” and this is the only song on it.

lavender lamborghini, roll up in a blue bikini /bitches on the beaches, lookin' super cute and freaky

Ugh the vibes of this 😩 wish my friends and i could pull this look off

bitches know they can't catch me / (vroom vroom) cute, sexy and my ride's sporty

used this for as a caption for that one tdt drawing i did & i have no regrets. this really embodies the vibes of any scene where ronan & kavinsky are racing.

beep beep, so let's ride

i just think the sound effects are funny

bubblegum-pink ferrari, yeah, I'm so bossy

these are the vibes i would like to embody but never will. also i think barbie & elle woods gave me a primal respect and desire for a pink car.

2. dreamer

nothing to say abt this one except that all i can think abt when i listen to it is that one maggie steifvater copying charli xcx meme. also it’s an absolute banger and one of the songs i blast when i’m going unhinged but in a sexy thot type of way

3. boom clap

this song changed my life when i first heard it on the tfios soundtrack. not that deep but does music have to be? no.

first kiss just like a drug /under your influence / you take me over you're the magic in my veins/ this must be love

boom clap / the sound of my heart / the beat goes on and on and on and on and

HER MIND WHEN SHE WROTE THIS... pop music peaked with this song

LANA. i like listening 2 her music in the winter because the summer depression vibes cancel out seasonal depression like pemdas. she was litchrally my spotify artist of the decade which is so baffling because i don’t feel like i listen to her that much. ALSO every few months i get sucked into a hole of watching concert vids on instagram & it ruins my life.

1. salvatore

the vocals in this... she truly has the range.

I adore you, can't you see, you're meant for me?

catch me if you can / working on my tan / salvatore / dying by the hand / of a foreign man / happily / calling out my name / in the summer rain / ciao amore /salvatore can wait / now it's time to eat / soft ice cream

all of her ooohing and aaahing is great but THIS PART is so sexy. also i almost made a post comparing “dying by the hand of a foreign man happily” & “the choice was death or hurting adam which wasn’t much of a choice at all” but i figured it was too much

2. video games

basic but it’s a classic. also the radical face cover re-ignited my love for this song.

i say you the bestest / lean in for a big kiss put his favorite perfume on / go play your video game

there’s a video of her singing this live where she’s on a swing and she waves her hand when she says “go play your video game” and i think about it every single day

he holds me in his big arms / drunk and i am seeing stars / this is all i think of

this part makes me want to be held 😪

it's you, it's you, it's all for you / everything i do / i tell you all the time / heaven is a place on earth with you

honestly so romantic. what else can i say

3. off to the races

this is my favorite to see live videos of.. the little dance she does to it has me feeling some type of way 🥺😪 one of the classics. lana slapping the roof of this song like “this baby can fit to much daddy kink, drugs, and sex in it”

swimming pool / glimmering darling /white bikini off with my red nail polish

my old man is, a tough man / but he got a soul as sweet as blood red jam / and he shows me, he knows me, every inch of my tar black soul

the imagery of this... UGH

4. california

THIS ENTIRE SONG IS TOO GOOD. i don’t even know what to say abt it except that lana really went off with nfr

you don't ever have to be stronger than you really are / when you're lying in my arms, baby / you don't ever have to go faster than your fastest pace

you're scared to win, scared to lose / i've heard the war was over if you really choose

5. old money

this one makes me cry the hardest out of all her songs because it’s so sad and desperate

blue hydrangea, cold cash divine / cashmere, cologne and white sunshine / red racing cars, sunset and vine / the kids were young and pretty

once again the imagery in her songs is UNPARALLELED.

the power of youth is on my mind

this makes me think abt that lorde quote abt how teenagers sparkle or whatever

and if you call i'll run, run, run / if you change your mind, i’ll come, come, come

bonus: music to watch boys to

SORRY i needed to put this one on here. this one should be near the top but i completely forgot abt it until it came on shuffle play & i don’t feel like renumbering the entire list. this one truly is a ronan song i don’t make the rules (the music to watch boys to is the murder squash song). once again it’s the imagery of it all that gets to me.

i like you a lot / putting on my music while I'm watching the boys / so I do what you want

live to love you / and i love to love you / and I live to love you, boy

nothing gold can stay / like love or lemonade / or sun or summer days / it's all a game to me anyway

diet mountain dew didn’t make it onto this list but i have 2 pairs of heart shaped sunglasses because of it so it has a special place in my heart... lanas impact

other honerable mentions are the greatest, fuck it i love you, venice bitch, dark paradise, BURNING DESIRE and cherry because it’s the only good song on lust for life

#blah blah blah #would put this all under a read more but i do not have a computer on me 😪 #SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #truly nobody cares about this but i have opinions #asks

[aerialsquid]

Metashipping?

Title: The Men Upstairs Fandom: The LEGO Movie, The LEGO Batman Movie Pairings: Batman/Joker (…sort of), The Man Upstairs/OC Characters: Finn, The Man Upstairs, Batman, Joker, Original Male Character Tags: Meta Fic, Dating, Legos, Metafiction, Symbolism, Parenting, Fatherhood, Businessman Description: Borrowing from the meta reveal at the end of The LEGO Movie, where we find the plot to be a metaphor for a child playing with his father’s Lego sets, this offers a ship-ish look at the meta subtext behind The LEGO Batman Movie. Closet nerd Jack goes on a lukewarm date with a closet LEGO collector, and finds a Batman in dire need of a Robin…and maybe a Joker too.

"-so the main goal is increasing our audience base by 40%. Which let me tell you, is hard when we've got a 30% churn rate, but our senior initiatives team is expanding the database capabilities to-"

Jack made eye contact with the overexpensive coffee maker on the other side of Hank’s overexpensive kitchen. This was he didn't date people in the business. Why in the heck had he decided he should go on a date with someone in the business? Especially one who was just some stranger he’d met on a dating app?

Oh, right. Because he was an idiot who had a hard time saying no.

“Yeah, audience segmentation’s tricky,” Jack said with as much passion as he could manage, which was the same amount of passion he raised for an extra ketchup packet at McDonalds.

“Exactly!” said his date, raising his glass of wine emphatically. “Especially when the sales demographics are changing so fast.”

Jack’s plan had been to get to the bar, have two drinks, and if the guy wasn’t done being dull by two drinks Jack would find an excuse to go wash his hair. Unfortunately, when they got to the bar a sign in the window indicated it was closed due to “Personal Issues, Don’t Ask, But It’s All Her Fault”. Jack’s date had mentioned that his own house was right up the road, and his kids were at tutoring. They could still enjoy a few glasses of fancy nineteen-whatever French wine, and they wouldn’t have to worry about overpaying for imported cheese and French bread.

And Jack was an idiot who had a hard time saying no.

Jack was considering discretely texting his BFF an SOS for GTFO support when the door opened. A kid with a frizzy, curly mop of hair and a solemn expression usually reserved for priests conducting funerals entered, one hand tugging along a younger girl and the other holding a tiny bag of bulky toys.

Hank snapped around, wine sloshing out onto the cheese platter as Jack leaned out of splatter range. “Finn? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be with Susan!”

Finn looked up at his father with a dulled expression. “She didn’t show up.” The kid sounded as if this sort of thing was business as usual – being left behind, left out, ignored, forgotten. The younger girl took the bag of toys from his hand and wandered off into the depths of the house with it clutched tightly to her chest.

Hank rose to his feet, nearly snapping the stem of the wineglass in his hand. “And how did you get home?”

“Bus.”

“Bus? You went on the bus alone? The school just let you get on the bus alone?” Hank’s voice was rising in pitch with each sentence, heading towards a shriek. It didn’t seem to make a dent in Finn’s dulled demeanor.

“Yeah.” He gave an idle shrug.

“Oh, I am going to murder them!” Jack’s date stormed upstairs, likely to get his phone, leaving Jack forgotten next to the fancy cheese.

Jack and the kid stared at each other.

“You’re…Finn, right?”

“Mhm. He’s pretty mad,” the kid noted. He grabbed a slice of cheese with cracker and stuffed it into his mouth. “Who are you?”

“Jack. I’m a friend of your dad. We were…talking.”

“About business?”

Jack opened his mouth for a yes. Then he looked the kid in the eye as Finn stuffed grapes into his mouth, and considered the sad way that the word ‘business’ had tumbled out of his mouth. Hank had barely talked about his family life but Jack knew enough about Hank’s job to practically do it himself.

“Honestly, I hate business,” he said instead. Jack leaned over, elbows resting on his knees. “What do you like, Finn?”

Finn shrugged. “Stuff. TV shows." When it was clear Jack wasn’t going to move on to another topic, he mumbled, “Legos.”

“Oh. Cool. I love Legos.”

The sound of a very angry middle class white man tumbled back down the stairs. Hank’s exact words were muffled but the intent and emotion behind them was fairly clear.  Jack winced.

“I think your dad’s gonna be busy for a while.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think I should leave?”

“I dunno.”

Jack sucked his teeth and considered the matter. Something about the kid just made him ache. It was that look in his eyes, like this was inevitable. A kid shouldn’t feel like he was an extra load.

Jack knew that much from experience.

“Hey, Finn? You want to show me your Legos?”

“Wwwwwwow. When you said Legos, I didn’t think you meant you were running an entire Lego store out of your basement.”

“Dad collects them,” Finn said. “And builds them. He’s got all the sets. He likes to build the sets.”

Jack’s jaw hung open as he wandered the basement, staring at models of Isengard and the Sears Tower that were almost as tall as he was. The figures could have been shop models for how perfectly they were built, each Stormtrooper storming the plains of Hoth and pirate swinging across the ratlines of the Black Pearl in perfect position. “Your dad collects enough Legos to build a literal house and he had me talking about demographic segmentation?” That asshole.

Jack followed Finn around as Finn named off the sets in regimented order. The constructs were built box-picture-perfect but each had some endearing little quirk to it. Firefighters were trying to get a kitten down from the Eiffel Tower. Gremlins had invaded Hogwarts and built a crude airplane on the parapets so they could sit on its wings.

“He used to keep them to himself, but now we play together sometimes. When he’s not doing business.” Finn said the word business like it was a slur, which was something Jack could get behind.

“I love it. This is amazing. Oh my god, is that a Batman set? That’s huge!”

“That’s Arkham Asylum. It’s from a set. This is Wayne Manor, I built this one, and the Batcave one.”  Finn pointed to an immense house construct.  It was furnished with at least two dozen rooms, each with small chairs and tables or cute little plastic toilets. On the shelf below it was what was indeed the Batcave, full of at least a dozen Bat-appended vehicles.

“Have I mentioned I’m a huge Batman fan? Huge.” First crush huge, but he wasn’t going to say that in front of the nine-year-old.

“Really?” Finn gave Jack a once-over. Jack realized what an absolute square he must look like, wearing his finest business casual and looking as professionally average as possible. It made him regret everything he was doing with his life.

“You want my cred? I got cred.” Jack whipped his phone out and swiped through Facebook, back through the carefully curated archive of incredibly dull, employer-safe vacation and brunch imagery. He stopped on a specific photo and held it up, gloating.

“This was me last year at Halloween.” he said, pointing to the central figure in a generic ‘badly lit people at table in bar with beers and arms around each other but not in a sexy way’ shot. “Check out what I’m wearing.”

Finn leaned in to look at the picture, then giggled. “You have Batman pajamas?” he squeaked, one hand over his mouth.

“Batman pajamas with cowl.” More of a onesie, really. There’d been a sale at ThinkGeek.

The first real smile Jack had seen on Finn for more than a few moments began to creep to the surface. Upstairs he could still hear the faintest of yelling—if Hank was the kind of guy Jack thought he was, he’d be there a while and ask to speak to at least two managers. Jack’s eyes roamed the table until he found the airport set (with a little TSA and metal detector, wtf).

“So now I’m going to need you to show me your Batman cred. Trivia time. What if, uh….so what if there was a plane coming into Gotham city that was full of bombs, and explosives.” He leaned over to the ‘Old West Gold Mine’ set and grabbed a pile of TNT. Finn looked mildly concerned as Jack distributed the explosives around the plane like salt on pasta.

“Aaaaand it got taken over by ninjas!” Jack ran to the Samurai set and plucked up fistfuls of ninjas. Finn’s expression went from concerned to alarmed.

“You’re mixing up the sets…”

“It’s fine, I’ll put them back later.” Jack was on a roll now. He grinned eagerly, distributing the ninjas on top of the plane and walking a few of them inside. He looked over his shoulder and eyed Arkham Asylum. “They’re toys, right? What’s the point if we’re not playing with them?”

Damnit, he was going to entertain this small child if it killed him.

“—and I always come to work with a smile!!!!”

Jack grinned wide, wiggling the tiny Joker menacingly between his fingers. The little pilot cap balanced on the molded hair fell off and he quickly balanced it back on top of one tiny green spike.

Finn was silent, staring at him from the other side of the table. The little pilot figure that Jack had forced into his hand hung loose between his fingers. Jack could feel his pulse pounding in his throat. “You should be terrified,” he prompted.

Finn offered another of the apathetic shrugs that were starting to be cheese graters on Jack’s soul. “Why?”

Jack pitched his voice high again. “Because! I will be taking over the city!” he made the little Joker dance back and forth.”

“Hmmm.” Finn’s eyes roamed around the model city as he let out a noise of unclear emotion response.

“What? I mean it!” The high pitch in his voice grew higher and just a shred more desperate. He felt like someone trying frantically to start their car by turning the key again and again, each roar of the engine even more subdued and upsetting.

The moment of ‘hmmmmmmmm ‘ stretched out again, until finally Finn looked up, humor dancing in his eyes, “Batman will stop you.”

Yes!!!!

Jack blew a gleeful raspberry. “Pffft!”

“He always stops you.” Finn insisted.

“No, he doesn’t!”

“Yes, he does.”

“No he doesn’t!”

“Like that time with the two boats?

“Your dad let you watch—I mean, this is better than the two boats!” Finn was still looking up in skepticism. Jack wracked his brain, trying to yank in what little shreds of his improv classes hadn’t been violently repressed by his mind. “Tonight is going to be different! Tonight is my greatest plan yet! And trust me, Batman’s never gonna see it coming.”

“Like that time with the parade and the Prince music?”

“Hey, quiet! Your city is under attack by Gotham’s greatest criminal masterminds! Including...”

Jack scrambled for the Arkham Asylum set, ripping tiny plastic figures off their pedestals and out of their cells.

“Riddler! Scarecrow! Bane!” He snapped the characters down to the table one by one, their arms upraised in defiance of the law and common decency. “Two-Face! Catwoman! And let's not forget Clayface! Poison Ivy! Mr. Freeze! Penguin!”

Jack dove into the plastic bin of spare minifigures and started yanking out random bodies, slapping capes and hats onto scowling figures and setting them down on the table one by one.

“Crazy Quilt! Eraser! Mime! Tarantula! King Tut! Orca! Killer Moth! March Hare! Zodiac Master! Gentleman Ghost! Clock King! Calendar Man! Kite Man! Catman! Zebra-man! Annnnnnd the Condiment King!”

He paused, panting as he set the last little caped figure on the platform, tapping a tiny red bottle into its hand. A row of hastily cobbled second-stringers stretched out down the length of the table, all glaring menacingly towards the perfectly constructed cityscape.

Finn raised an eyebrow at him. “… Okay, are you making some of these up?

“Nope, they’re all real!” Jack winked. “Probably worth a Google.”

Hank came down the stairs just as Batman was delivering t-shirts to the orphanage, and stayed silent until the Batmobile slid elegantly into the Wayne Manor and Batcave sets.

“What are you doing?”

Both Finn and Hank froze, their expressions of childish guilt almost identical.

“We’ll put it back, Dad,” Finn mumbled.

“We just saved Gotham City anyway, so I think this episode’s wrapped up.” Jack sat back on his knees, disconnecting the Joker from his little balloon harness. Finn was already collecting up the ninjas and running away to quickly put them back into position.

“Well. I’m glad you have that handled,” said Hank, his expression carefully free of every emotion, including that of apathy, which on reflection was kinda impressive.

Jack rolled the airplane back to its landing pad next to its little government-empowered metal-detecting autocrats.

“Why didn’t you tell me about this? Heck, why isn’t this the first thing in your dating profile?”

“Some people think toy collecting’s a little childish.”

“Some people can suck my Loot Box Exclusive Batarang Multi-tool. Seriously. This is great.” He began stripping the plane of tiny bombs.

“Hey, Hank? Why don’t you have a Dick?”

Jack’s date stopped, jaw working as he tried to muster up a reply. Jack’s penny dropped and he rushed in with “A Dick Grayson! A Robin! Red shirt, yellow cape, green tights. Sorry. Finn says you have about fifteen different Batmans but there’s no Robins.”

Hank blinked. “Oh. I think the dog ate it. I haven’t replaced it, I haven’t been into the media tie-in sets for a while.”

“You should get one. Actually, I will buy you one if I have to.”

“Uh. Why?”

“Batman’s got all this crap but he hasn’t got a family. I had to dig the Alfred out of the back of the Wayne Manor set. Batman needs people to back him up, always has. And Robin’s his son. I mean he’s adopted, or at least the Dick Grayson one’s adopted, and they’ve got this really tight bond, and I feel like Finn would really relate to that.”

“You sure you’re not getting a little too into this?”

“It’s not me who’s getting into it. I mean, not just me.” Jack looked over his shoulder at Finn, who was cleaning up the discarded piles of Batvillains and neatly placing them back into Arkham. “It’s him. Kids work out stuff through play, and his idea of a strong person isn’t one that needs to deal with sidekicks. His Batman doesn’t need a family, and he definitely doesn’t do ships.”

“Ships?”

“Relationships. Connections. He’s not even that into the Joker and lemme tell you, every good Batman has some twisted fixation on Joker. This the kind of Batman you get in the Nolan movies where he’s emotionally stunted, not the kind that winds up opening up to people like in some of the better comics. I’m not sure that’s…”

Jack abruptly stopped the word fountain flowing from his mouth, biting down hard on his thin lip to keep the words inside. His gaze fell away as the weight of adulthood abruptly fell down on his shoulders. Here he was, a grown man with a professional job, messing around in some other guy’s basement with his Lego models like he was one of Finn’s colleagues here for pretend play and video games after elementary school, talking his head off about the significance of superheroes having sidekicks.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m a huge dork.”

“No. It’s, um.” Hank peeked over Jack’s shoulder. “Hey, Finn? We’ll clean this up, why don’t you go start your homework?”

“Okay, Dad.”

Hank lowered his voice once Finn had scrambled up the stairs. “It’s hard to get him out of his shell with other people,” he whispered. “He’s up in his head so much of the time, and he’s so shy with other kids. I’ve never seen him just click with someone like that. I’ve been trying to play with him more but I can never seem to get it right.” He reached over and readjusted the angle of the airplane, almost looking guilty for needing to do so. “I don’t think I’m on his level. I spend so much time around people hyperfocused on the profit line that I forget how to be a kid.”

“You’re saying I’m immature?”

Hank smiled. He reached out to take the Joker from Jack’s hand, and his fingers lingered a few moments longer than necessary against Jack’s skin. “I’m saying that’s not the worst thing in the world for me right now.”

#lego batman #the lego batman movie #lego batman movie #lego batjokes #batjokes #batman #joker #squid writes fanfic

[saifey]

this is a list mostly for my own reference, but for anyone else interested, here’s the list of films i’ll be looking into for my essay on male homosexuality in hollywood movies during the code era:

first off, goes without saying (i hope) that i don’t recommend these movies for someone hoping for, like, love simon. dunno why youd want to watch love simon in the first place. and i don’t know why you’d want to watch code era movies for fluff anyways. that’s why yall got love simon in the first place. cause yall couldnt shut up and watch maurice. anyways.

films with homosexuality or subtext in the final product:

wings (1927)

you’ve almost definitely heard of this one. it was the first hollywood movie to feature a kiss between men. it’s not really a gay film, though; it skirted censors by having the relationship between men be purely platonic (flapper icon clara bow has a prominent role as the Real love interest for one of the men. the other, of course, dies.)

maltese falcon (1941)

criminal joel cairo’s character (a ‘simpering, sleazy fairy’) brought the ire of the code office down on the filmmakers. in the original script, sam spade notes that cairo’s business card ‘smells like lavender’; in the final script, this was changed to gardenia. he carries around a cane, which he is constantly fiddling with. this was seen as phallic imagery.

red river (1948)

it’s.... a western.... i mean

some like it hot (1959)

this is from a letter written by a literal bishop and chairman of an episcopalian film censorship board about it. (a VEHEMENT protest!)

spartacus (1960)

in the released version, the wealthy character crassus takes a male slave (to be his ‘body-servant.’) there was a deleted scene in which the master and slave use eating ‘snails and oysters’ as a metaphor for being gay.  it was added back in in the 1991 re-release of the film.

victim (1961)

first english-language movie to actually use the word ‘homosexual.’ this was a british film, but the PCA screened it, and rejected it. it was released anyways. i’m watching this one this weekend, i’m pretty sure the guy ends up straight so my expectations are in the dirt.

films that were originally slated to have ‘pansy-types’ in them, with subtext removed because of the PCA:

tea and symapthy (1956)

originally a stage play about a closeted boy whose father sets him up with a girl to ‘cure’ him, the adaptation changes him from being a straight-up sissy to being a sissy who happens to be straight.

fellas is it gay to have divorced parents

swing time (1936)

cafe society (1939)

sweet sweet pansy flavor........

rope (1948)

in a similar situation as tea and sympathy above, the murderous couple in the movie aren’t actually a couple! the real-life story of the two was familiar enough to audiences (via a popular stage play of the same name) that people were aware that they were supposed to be homosexuals, and rope is credited with starting a new age of films where homosexuals were allowed as perverts whose behavior should never be emulated. of course, that idea has existed forever. from the adaptation’s time review: ‘much of the play's deadly excitement dwelt in the juxtaposition of callow brilliance and lavender dandyism with moral idiocy and brutal horror... in the movie, the boys... are shrewdly plausible but much more conventional types.‘

every adaptation of a tennessee williams play i can find (big shock)

not an exhaustive list even going by the restrictions the class has put on me, just the most notable ones. there’s obviously a lot of joke characters who are sissies for laughs who can really be covered in one broad stroke.

also as a random aside: there was a b-movie, outrage (1950) with a premise about a girl being raped. the pca responded to it by saying it was a horrible topic to cover, but since the provision against on-screen ‘sexual perversion’ in the code was meant to cover the topic of homosexuality, it was allowed.

#yosha is online #long post #gd i hope this works on mobile #this is all so i have something to refer back to when i get around to writing my paper #im watching boys in the band tonight. #homophobia / #rape m

[bewarecreepercomics]

Showcase #73: The Coming of the Creeper! (Image Heavy)

The cover just says it all, doesn’t it? Everybody wants this guy. And by ‘wants’ I of course, mean ‘hates’. It’s not a bad cover; it has eye catching colors, it has no glaringly empty spaces, and it has our hero, doing something dynamic. That something being falling through the air, ripping up papers, while gunmen in wildly differing positions all over the city try to shoot him at this one, single moment.

Yeah, okay that’s a little goofy, but it looks cool.

The first page gives us some creepy imagery involving what becomes something of a theme in Ditko’s main Creeper story: Masks, false and hidden faces.

Our comic opens with a (literal) bang-

-As scientist Professor Yatz is kidnapped for ransom, and his assistant shot.

Smashcut to Jack Ryder destroying his own career on live television.

Two thoughts on this dialogue:

1. No Jack. Those two things are not the same at all.

2. As for police violence, well, my present-day self can see where this guy is coming from, but this was written in 1968. Let’s see, can we think of anything that might have been going on around that time that might get people looking more closely at the topic of police brutality?

...No, I couldn’t think of anything either.

So the network is rife with cronyism and Jack gets himself fired-wait, unemployment? Isn’t Ditko an Objectivist? Doesn’t he inject that into every single project he’s involved with? Aren’t they super not on board with social programs like that? Then again, even Ayn Rand had to get onto Social Security eventually, because it turns out the “If You’ve got Yours, Fuck Everybody Else” method of social policy is less solid than one might initially believe. 

Well whatever. Jack does the No-Job Jig, while dumping what I assume is his contract and...throwing up the horns? Get used to this bizarre gesture because our pal Steve Ditko cannot get enough of it. It is used three times on the page this panel comes from alone.

However, luck is with Jack on this day!

Turns out the head of security for the network likes the cut of Jacks jib, as well as his constant hand signals for rockin’ out, and hires him for the security team right on the spot. I have no idea if that is legal or not, but opportunity knocks, when one door closes another opens, yaddadee, yaddadoo.

A quick side note- Even though every single other iteration of Ryder ever written has him as a talk show host/newscaster/journalist, that panel of him snarking at the pacifist is the only mention Ditko ever makes of him being in that position. For the rest of Steve Ditko’s body of work involving him, Jack has a job in security.

He gets offered a pretty important job right out the door. Especially for someone who hasn’t even read the employee’s handbook yet. Taking over for his unfortunate co-worker in an...investigation into ties between the underworld and foreign communists...involving the forced ‘repatriation’ of communist defectors...

...at the behest of the C.I.A.

Hold on a sec.

Why is the C.I.A. leaving this to a nobody security team of a nameless tv network, in an unspecified city?

Guess it doesn’t matter! There is never a second word said about this. Jack, with his thirty seconds of security experience, takes the job immediately. Tasked with scoping out a party thrown by one Angel Devlin (Really?) and Major Smej (Really???) he heads out, only to be deterred by one missing fact: It’s a costume party, and his costume of ‘White Man With Terrible Fashion Sense’ just isn’t going to cut it.

I’m a little confused as to how a special order, an order you make specially, can have odds and ends left over, but okay, let’s see what you can throw together, Jack!

This box of odds and ends seems to contain a yellow zentai suit, matching makeup, a green wig, a sheepskin rug with the longest and straightest wool I’ve ever seen, and stripperific gloves, underoos, and boots. Uh, what kind of “special adult order” was this? Not that I’m judging or anything. We all have needs!

Also, Ditko never shies away from ass shots of this character. Ever. 

Cue instant mugging! Jack, you aren’t even the Creeper yet. You just now put that costume on. Why are you doing that? 

Oh look, time for an intermission!

...Okay...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Behold, our bad guys; Angel Devlin, and Major Smej. Further proof that if yor name sounds like anything (or is a tortured string of mostly consonants) you are destined for villainy. 

Jack does attempt to snoop around, but he is wearing a huge sheepskin rug and man-panties, so he gets called out pretty quick.

Here’s a little bonus cameo of the pacifist and the ex-boss, seen here as a teletubby and Judge Claude Frollo. Hi guys, we really needed to see you again.

In his complete lack of subtlety, Jack as been found out by several of the costumed goons that are strewn about the party. He gets into a fight that no one notices, knocks one of them through a secret door that no one notices, and ends up stabbed by a second foe. Does anyone notice? No. It is so unnoticeable in fact, that we have to be told it has happened. Probably the good old CCA in action.

This secret tunnel is exactly what Jack has been looking for, so he goes exploring. With a knife wound in his side. He also has to fight a few thugs while he’s at it. With a knife wound in his side. Are we sure he was really stabbed, or was he maybe lying to us?

Nah we can absolutely take his word for it that he was totally stabbed. You see? By the time he locates the abducted Professor, his completely bloodless knife wound has left him slightly winded!

But the dastardly goon who stabbed him went and did the sensible thing: instead of chasing after his wounded prey, he went and told his boss! Unheard of! They, along with their henchmen, start trying to pry open the conveniently jammed secret door.

Totally unnoticed by anyone else, of course.

To be fair, we don’t get much of the layout of this house. They could just be far away from any of the other partygoers. It seems like, as far as most of them are concerned, this is just a legit party. Our villains are fairly secure in their assumptions that nobody suspects a thing.

Giving us this nicely creepy panel. Good job. Aside from a small color mishap around the eyes, this panel looks extra good.

But while our villains are posing like they are in a Looking Sinister contest, they are apparently giving Jack and the Professor about a years worth of time to do stuff. 

Turns out the Professor isn’t wanted by the Reds just because he dared to leave home. He is a very talented scientist who has learned how to play, if not god, then certainly a demiurge with molecular physics, as explained(?) here:

Fearing that neither of them are getting out of this alive, the Professor decides tho burn his notes, inject Jack with an experimental serum that enhances strength, agility, stamina, and healing speed(which his captors didn’t confiscate for some reason), and implant his molecular rearrangement device into Jacks open wound.

Sure Prof! Just shove that right up into my perforated kidney! I’m sure everything will be juuuust fine.

They have enough time to do all of this without interruption, by the way. Not a single acknowledgement of pain from Jack in this entire time. This guy flies by the seat of his pants so hard that he has to wear his underwear on the outside.

Unfortunately, one of the goons Jack clocked on the way through the secret tunnel wakes up right about now.

Most unfortunate. Poor Professor Yatz was as good at bullet catching as he was at molecular physics. If only he’d had a device of some sort, something that could, I dunno, rearrange molecules to disguise him as one of those goons, so that he might escape. If only.

Jack re-clocks the murderous mook, and our villains, after eighty-four years of not being noticed, finally lever the hidden door open, only to be confronted with smoke and surprise fists as our hero escapes!

Behold! The quickest thinking henchman ever!

Somebody give that clown a raise!

The ruse works perfectly, especially since Jack manages to stomp on the pacifists head on his way out the window. Jeez Steve, we get it, you were pro-war. No need to rub it in.

Escaping into the yard isn’t much help for our hero, as he is still severely outnumbered, and, y’know, wearing one of the most saturated color schemes the Silver Age could offer. He does start to pull himself together though, noticing that his wound is practically gone, and that his appearance, as well as a few belts of cackling laughter seems to unsettle his opponents.

However, he gets a little too into the, uh, ‘swing’ of things...

...And accidentally pops a cop. Now, this gives plenty of setup for the police to have problems with him in later issues of the story-instead of the cops being corrupt, or disliking him for being a vigilante, or making them look bad, he full on assaults an officer of the law mere minutes after properly becoming the Creeper. He makes a very big mistake, and it mars his relationship with the police for the rest of his story. 

Switching back to just plain Jack, he manages to throw the cops off his trail, but also overhears that they have been unable to locate our villains. This clearly will not stand. A man has died here! And that annoying pacifist is still pontificating about violence! Unacceptable! Something must be done!

So Jack goes right back into Creeper mode because let’s face it, Jack is boring. Thus we are given my favorite panel in the entire issue...

Heck yeah. I love high contrast shading you guys.

Creeper tracks the villains and their remaining gang into the garage, which also seems quite a lot bigger on the inside. and manages to ambush them while making the most noise that he possibly can.

Raucous laughter is sneaky!

What follows is roughly seven pages of pretty good fight sequence, before the police finally hear what’s going on and get their blue butts in gear.

There’s action!

Thrills!

Spills!

Ass shots!

And the witty banter the Silver Age is famous for!

Heh.

When the police finally arrive, they find the corpse of poor Yatz, the defeated villains, and a fleeing Creeper. Jack manages to escape once more by ducking out of the pursuing officers line of sight and switching back to himself.

He does this all the time. It becomes a kind of running gag.

In the end, the cops bust that gang for good, the Creeper is given his eternal moniker, and both the underworld and the overworld finally agree on one thing.

They gotta, gotta have that man.

And so the comic comes to a close, with Jack cheekily declaring that he won’t let anybody know about Yatz’s revolutionary device, so that only a responsible person can use the power it holds.

Himself, of course.

Stay tuned, for as the comic promises, more Creeper is coming soon.

#The Creeper #Jack Ryder #Showcase

[dungeonmasterpoisonbite]

Wednesday Friendsday Mission Logs: Goblins in Suburbia

Keeper Representative #298:

Interparty Communication Hub Rules

1-no explicit nsfw content such as overtly explicit text or imagery

2-more rules will be added as the need arises

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens.

🚐Jevans🎷: thats jevans mate

whats up?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: i have a mix CD. Can i bring it?

🚐Jevans🎷: depends

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: on what?

🚐Jevans🎷: whats on it?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: you know. Good music.

-posts link to bass boosted "Down Under" by Men At Work (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wC-dS7JmCbY)

🚐Jevans🎷: is there anything else but that song on it?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: absolutely not

🚐Jevans🎷: good

oh oh

El 🐍: do you mean you have twelve to fourteen of the same song on one CD?

🚐Jevans🎷: im pickin you up first sweets

El 🐍: also, um, Mr. Evans? Is it okay to bring food in your car?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: B]

🚐Jevans🎷: so long as theres enough for your driver

El 🐍: okay, well. I'm not sure but my sister ordered Chinese food. She may finish it before you get here, though. Would you like the fortune cookie?

👊Dee Foster thats the best part though el!!!!!

El 🐍: they gave us two... I was thinking he could have mine.

Jev: sure ill polish yer leftovers

👊Dee Foster BUT

fine he can have it -frowny imp emoji-

El 🐍: did....did you want them both?

🚐Jevans🎷: hey dee can have it

i read the docs and dont want her mad at me

👊Dee Foster NO you have it L.O.L.

i was only teasing!!!!

-XD emoji-

🚐Jevans🎷: alright hahahahsdfsdaf

oops

El 🐍: Mr. Evans, would you like any of this ma po tofu?

🚐Jevans🎷: only if yer not eatin eat

its ahrd to eat when im driving with passengers

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: are you texting whilst driving??

El 🐍: are you implying our driver would break the law???

🚐Jevans🎷: hahahaha

👊Dee Foster O.M.G. he better not be!!!!

🚐Jevans🎷: HAHAH

El 🐍: :\

🚐Jevans🎷: absolutely not

speech-to-text mates

Nelherin: that can still be distracting!!

El 🐍: Wow your dictation software must be very advanced to know to capitalize your laughter with emphasis!

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: magic SIRI

El 🐍: oh my gosh, if Mr. Evans has a magic phone, i want one.

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : is it okay with everyone if i photo document our adventures?

🚐Jevans🎷: this is expensive hardware, you gotta work a long time to get it

but all in good time El

and so long as you dont flash in the vehicle sure

El 🐍: I mean, i've got an iPhone, but it isn't magic.

Nelherin, I'm fine with that, as long as you don't make them available publicly online. Last semester one of my students posted a picture of me on Facebook and tagged it "That Weird Nerd" and I thought that was really unkind.

👊Dee Foster WHAT!!!! YOU DIDNT TELL ME THAT!!!! WHO WAS IT!!!! WAIT IM IN THE ROOM WITH YOU

El 🐍: It was super unflattering too. :(

👊Dee Foster -three red angry emojis-

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : i won't release them publicly! I think that might get me in trouble with the keepers, hah...

El 🐍: okay, that's fine! If you tag me, please tag me as EL SHRIVER.

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: i have stickers

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : okay!

What kind of stickers?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: stickers for a scrapbook

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : oh i love scrapbooking!

Maybe i could photodocumennt with a scrapbook!

El 🐍: I have stickers for coding my planner! There are different ones for meetings, classes, study sessions, and even a little cup of coffee! I'm coding these missions as "gym" so that Dee thinks I'm exercising.

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: well now she knows

El 🐍: Oh shoot.

🚐Jevans🎷: no one tell el they can delete messages

El 🐍: Oh this isn't a static record of our communications?

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : you just told them by saying that??

jevans; well yeah im the cool driver

and no el its not static

El 🐍: Well. I still think we should be keeping some record of what we do and if I just go back and edit what I say, that's like changing history.

🚐Jevans🎷: you could hop over to Keeper Chat and bug 298

👊Dee Foster HEY!!!! I JUST SAW THAT!!!

🚐Jevans🎷: they could prolly change it for you

👊Dee Foster next time i go to the gym youre going with me el!!!!

El 🐍: oh... oh boy.

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : do you think the keepers would be okay with it if i photo document our adventures?

🚐Jevans🎷: dunno

i mean

i snap all the time

no ones said nothin yet

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : in my experience, if anything... strange shows up in pictures, most people usually assume its just photo editing and sfx makeup, so i don't think there should be a problem? But i don't wanna get in trouble!!

🚐Jevans🎷: i dont think theyd mind

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : okay!! i dont think anyone outside of this group will be seeing most of the pictures, but i wanna be safe just in case!!

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens do you have snapchat

🚐Jevans🎷: yee

note

that statement is a BITCH to get speech-to-text to get properly

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : did you have to spell it out??

🚐Jevans🎷: nah i gotta say it like just right

like if i go too much towards yeah itll get that instead

but yeah doesnt have the right spirit yaknow?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: incredible

avery: so like is this the chat or whatever?

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : yep!!

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: hi miss avery

its me, the green one

avery: am i supposed to talk to you guys

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : if you want to!!

avery: um

hey

who are you

El 🐍: Nice to meet you, Avery! The dossier says you're a student?

Avery: who are any of you

yea i guess

i'm in high shook

school whatever

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: im sweet. Sweet ghoulman. We've met. With the wizard?

👊Dee Foster O.M.G. hello!!!!

avery: oh you're the creepy guy

cool i guess

hi?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: oh, thank you.

El 🐍: ... that isn't very nice. :\

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : why is sweets creepy

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: nelherin you havent met me yet

avery: wait if you're in this chat im gonna have to like. Interact with you

yikes

i guess i'm not very nice

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : uhm, you're free to call me henri instead if you wish

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: miss avery we're on this mission together

avery: just avery's fine dude

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: avery we're on this mission together, you have my condolences

but i made a mix cd so it should be fine

El 🐍: I feel like this is an inappropriate use of the word "mix."

🚐Jevans🎷: shhhhhh

itll be a surprise el

unless avery reads from the start

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : i agree with el...

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: only jevans understands me

🚐Jevans🎷: but i dont think avery has that much interest in seeing what weve talked about

El 🐍: thank you! Henri? May I call you Henri?

🚐Jevans🎷: sweets want my snapchat?

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens can i have your #

yes absolutely

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : you can!

Avery: wait we're allowed to have snap chats?

🚐Jevans🎷: alright buddy ill shoot it at you privately mate

avery: dammnit i deleted mine

🚐Jevans🎷: oops

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: B]

avery: can i curse here

🚐Jevans🎷: what kind of curse????

avery: is that allowed or whatever

like can i say fuck

🚐Jevans🎷: cuz like i know yer a wizard-ankle-biter

oh ye

fucking say fucking fuck as many fucking times as you fucking want

avery: literally the fuck now i have to make a new snapchat

god fucking damnit

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: B O

👊Dee Foster -BO emoji-

🚐Jevans🎷: sweets i read that as bow and thought odd but afreed

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: B0

avery: oh not emojis

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : what's wrong with emojis??

avery: come on y'all are older than me right

👊Dee Foster -frowny imp emoji- WHATS WRONG WITH EMOJIS????

🚐Jevans🎷: that one is slightly less bow

like a quieter bow

soft bow

avery: just childish

🚐Jevans🎷: avery yer like 12 chill

avery: but if you wanna play it that way then be my guest

El 🐍: I read it as B.O. and was hoping I wouldn't be the only odd-smelling person on the trip...

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : but emojis are fun

👊Dee Foster -worried emoji, anguished emoji, frowning emoji-

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: emojis... are timeless

youll be in good company el

🚐Jevans🎷: except for -watch emoji-

avery: bad joke jevans

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : i thought it was funny!!

El 🐍: L O L

👊Dee Foster L.O.L.!!!!

🚐Jevans🎷: eeeeeeeeeh henri can sit in the front

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : yay!! :D

avery: can i bring my headphones to wherever we're going

🚐Jevans🎷: -another different watch emoji-

sure mate

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens is great

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : jevans, will you be picking anyone up soon??

🚐Jevans🎷: OH SHIT

right yeah

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : ...

🚐Jevans🎷: ill be-CALCULATING

fuckin gps

avery: who're you getting first

🚐Jevans🎷: uuuuuuh

right sweets

okay sweets im gonna be like swinging by you gotta hop in through the window

not comin to a full stop either you gotta just jump in

El 🐍: WHAT???

avery: UM WHAT

LIKE FOR ALL OF US

👊Dee Foster CAN I DO THAT TOO!!!!!

Avery: wait a fcking second im a fucking vampire

never fucking mind my caps lock

El 🐍: DON'T ENCOURAGE DEE TO DO THAT

👊Dee Foster -flexing arm emoji followed by mischievious imp emoji-

🚐Jevans🎷: nah only sweets

if i run sweets over hell be okay

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: thanks

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : uhm....

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: im flexible. Roll down the passenger window

👊Dee Foster IM NOT GETTING IN THE CAR UNLESS ITS THAT WAY

🚐Jevans🎷: didnt you guys get the psych profiles and background check documentaion?

Avery: the what

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : no??

dee, you might get hurt

El 🐍: I read them all very thoroughly

avery: will there be a test on that

El 🐍: Don't worry! I have an annotated copy!

Avery: or um anything actually

oh. gee. How exciting. Thanks

El 🐍: Will there be a test?? : D

👊Dee Foster O.M.G. I WANT TO THOUGH

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : i'm a little bit scared...

🚐Jevans🎷: okay sweets

like five minutes

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens just snapchatted me a picture of a rolled down suv window

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : does your car accomidate tall people??

El 🐍: not a concern for us! : D

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : it is for me

El 🐍: Yes, I know.

Avery: how tall

like 6'0"?

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : exactly

avery: whatever i'm like 5'6"

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : ... am i the tallest one??

🚐Jevans🎷: okay one down

okay

henri youre next

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: i landed a little bit on the stick. Its fine i dont bruise

🚐Jevans🎷: ill stop properly

SNERK

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : okay!!

El 🐍: Are the doors locked?

🚐Jevans🎷: not when I stop

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : this music is... strange

El 🐍: Oh, man, someone down the street has a really intense subwoofer situation.

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: thanks

👊Dee Foster I MEANT IT WHEN I SAID I WANTED TO JUMP IN!!!!!!

avery: what music

are y'all near each other

🚐Jevans🎷: dont worry avery

youre the furthest out

might be a bit before we can get you

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: youll hear it soon miss avery

avery

🚐Jevans🎷: but dee and el, ill be there in a mo

avery: of course i'm the last one. Of fucking course

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: move into town avery

avery: couldn't have gotten me first huh?

El 🐍: Oh okay. Never mind about that subwoofer thing.

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: B]

avery: am i the only one left

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: MADE IT!!!!

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: you'll hear us coming

🔥 Nelherin ⚡ : dee landed on the floor!!

avery: are y'all like in the city city? It's gonna be fucking while before me then

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: we are going very fast though

almost inadvisably fast

🚐Jevans🎷: yeah were looking at like thirty mins or so?

👊Dee Foster avery do you want something from 7/11!!!!

avery: dr pepper

and a honey bun

👊Dee Foster good choices!

🚐Jevans🎷: nvm were gettin you first avery give us five mins

LATER AT THE 7/11

🚐Jevans🎷: i want a six pack of something!

Hey

heeeeeeeeeeey

someone get me something

Sweet Ghoulman 💀: jevens what can i get you

jman

juice

🚐Jevans🎷: nah not juice

like

oh

six redbulls

or something like that

i got twenty bucks

#wednesday friendsday #long post #text #emoji #discord log