#i feel like i derailed horribly from this whoops...

[aria0fgold]

Also the idea of Kaito possibly having a Palace is spinning in my head. But I'm also a lil bit unsure of it cuz how distorted for one's desires to be for a Palace to manifest? Like, I feel like Kaito is nearly there, maybe. He'll be in a similar position to Futaba.

For the people that doesn't know much bout Kaito lore, basically an accident happened in one of his dad's magic shows (his dad a magician) and has been presumed to be dead for years then Kaito found a secret area in his house and turns out his dad was actually Kaito KID and then Kaito decided to take up his mantle to be the new Kaito KID to find out what really happened with his dad and then later found out that a secret organization is after him.

That secret org is looking for a special powerful gemstone called "Pandora" which is hidden inside another gemstone that no one knows which and the only way to know if Pandora is in a gemstone is by holding up that gem to the moonlight. If there's a red dot in the gem then that means Pandora is in there. And now Kaito puts on heists to steal gems when the moon is out to get to Pandora first before that organization.

Which is also why after he does his heists he'd leave the gemstone somewhere the cops can see or just anonymously mail it back to em if it isn't the right one. And like Kaito KID is an international criminal (the reason why it's KID too is cuz the number 1412 which was the number assigned by authorities was read as KID and it just stuck).

What was I talking bout again? Anyway this post just became an infodump with what else I know bout Kaito KID. Also like, imagine being 16/17 later learning that your dad was an international criminal, decided to take on the Kaito KID persona cuz you're still skeptical bout his disappearance, then later found out that a dangerous secret organization was after your dad, that you thought had died years ago but then later found ANOTHER person that has a similar outfit scheme as you but it's Black instead and now there's actually a possibility that your dad is still alive somewhere. How insane is that? I wouldn't even be surprised if Kaito did end up having a Palace at this point.

#aria rants #also his mom is a thief too which is also infamously known #i think she has a ''horror'' theme to her? cant remember cuz she barely appeared in the anime #thats the thing too like kaito has a mom that is living far away smwhr like #this boy is horribly neglected. also have i said he watched someone die too? #he has baggage yall. but he still chose to be kind like man. i actually love him #i feel like i derailed horribly from this whoops... #anyway like PALACE!!! if kaito ever gets one itd be like... magic themed i think #both his parents are magicians. hes a magician. it runs in the family #also am unsure if his dad put on grandeur magic shows as kaito kid #but its pretty funny to think bout how kaito just up and decided to yea #im gonna put on these GRAND MAGIC SHOWS for my heists cuz i can #he doesnt have to. but he did. and i love that for him. truly a theater kid

[sageinacage]

Pog :0 Based around the stream where they did a pvp - Boomer getting tired of losing so he wrecks Punz in hopes of getting a second win?

I hope that you’re doing well and have a great day/night!

Endurance Training summary: boomer wants to knock his cocky friend punz down a peg during their pvp training. a/n: i hope its okay i kinda derailed from the original prompt D: its still them and still in a similar setting but its just boomer being a cocky ass instead LOL warnings: swearing, lighthearted mocking (?), describing a fight in minecraft kinda LOL w/c: 1.4k IG, Platonic

~

“Haaa, I’m so good at this.” Punz stretched his arms over his head after yet another victory, shooting a shit-eating grin at his friend. “Isn’t that right, Boomer?”

Boomer fixed his frog hat, and let out an annoyed huff as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re just lucky, dumbass.” He spat back, grumbling something snarky to himself as he straightened out the light training armor equipped on him.

“I don’t think there’s anything lucky going on with you falling on your ass. Multiple times.”

“That’s because you tripped me, you asshole!”

“Oh, boohoo.”

Boomer opened his mouth to say something sassy back at his friend, but decided not to as Punz is definitely someone who could match his level of wits and he knew that. Instead, he let out an exaggerated groan and picked up his training sword, standing on the opposite side of the arena from Punz.

“Ready for round… uh… three? four? Definitely a number.” Punz rubbed the back of his head as he let out a few chuckles, composing himself after a few seconds and holding his sword and shield steadily. “Born ready, baby!” Boomer tried to jest, his goal being to distract Punz in any way he could.

Punz gave the man in the frog hat a confused eyebrow raise, rolling his eyes and beginning to approach him. “Punz, you do not want to come over here!” Boomer sang in a slightly worried tone, backing up and nervously skipping to the side. “Oh, but I really do, Boomer! C’mon, don’t be shy!” Punz sneered, his speed picking up a bit as Boomer let out a high-pitched giggle and ran off.

The man chuckled as his friend’s nervous giggles, shaking his head before equipping the fishing rod from his inventory, reeling Boomer in by the hood of his hoodie. “No!” He screeched, unhooking himself and skipping away again. “You slippery frog!” Punz exclaimed, continuing the chase.

The round ended like normal, some half-assed fight from Boomer then getting absolutely whooped after. “Boomer, c’mon! You gotta try harder than that!” Punz urged, trying to pull the sulking man up from the ground.

“Hm.” He hummed, his whole body going limp as his friend tried to lift him off the ground. “Don’t be a baby, bud.” Punz laughed, eventually just gently dropping him back down. “Am I just too good that you don’t wanna try again?” He chuckled, a smirk painting his features.

“No, I’m just thinking.”

“About…?”

“How to knock you down a peg or two- then I’d put the effort into fighting you.” Boomer grinned widely, a grin that Punz definitely did not trust. “How would you be able to knock me down if you won’t even fight me for real?” He crossed his arms, slightly tilting his head.

Boomer stood up, making the blonde take a small step back.

“I don’t like that look you’re giving me-”

“I remember a little something about you, Punz.”

“Boomer…”

“I remember you had a little… weakness… yeah. A weakness.” Boomer chuckled lowly, taking a step towards Punz. Punz squinted his eyes, trying to seem intimidating but took another step back as the white-haired man took another one forward.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Punz rolled his eyes, putting a hand on his hip. “I think you do, Punz! It’s probably why you’re blushing right now.”

“I am n- not! My cheeks are red out of anger. Yeah, that’s why.” He looked down, avoiding eye contact with the other. “Yeah? Out of anger, Punz? Totally not because you know I’m about to tickle you, and you can’t do anything about it. Y’know, how about we look at this like endurance training- you did originally ask me to train with you to improve, yeah?” Boomer continued as he kept slowly walking at Punz, until he got close to him.

“I’m- I’m n- not… ticklish?”

“Sure you aren’t, pal.” Boomer sneered before tackling his friend onto the grass, rolling around as he wrestled with him to get the upper hand. Eventually, the ‘CEO of Bedwars’ got the blonde pinned under him, but not after a good wrestle.

“Gotcha.” Boomer spoke low in Punz’s ear, before using his free hand to claw into his ribcage. “Sh- Shihit- Boohohomer!” He tried to hold back his giggles, shaking his head as the immediate sensation wracking his ribcage already tickled like hell.

“What’s up? I’m all ears!” Boomer laughed, deciding to pin Punz’s hands beneath his knees so he can use both of his hands. After he managed to pin them there, he wiggled his fingers at his friend. “Now, where should I go next? Your tummy is just right here, so cute and begging to be tickled… but I think I’m gonna go riiiight here…” Boomer gave a devilish grin before kneading his thumbs in circles into his upper waist.

Punz shrieked, arching his back forward. “YohoHOU- *snort* SUHUHUCK! STOHOP IT!” Punz cackled, trying to twist side to side to get rid of the sensations, but the damn feeling just won’t leave and it was causing ticklish shocks to spread across his whole torso.

“N’awww, Punz! I know you’re easily strong enough to escape. You really just wanna be tickled to tears, huh? Tickled so much that you won’t be able to lift a finger against me. Yeah? Is that what you want, Punzie?” Boomer teased, not letting up on those wonderful horrible ticklish circles on his lower ribs.

Covering his face, Punz dug his heels into the ground behind him to try to relieve some of the sensations, but Boomer was just so persistent. “SOHOMEWHEHERE ElSE! P- PLEHEHEASE!” He squealed as his friend’s hands immediately went to squeeze his hips, then to back up to sit on Punz’s knees, immediately scribbling his nails into his thighs.

“NONONO- NOHAHAHAHA-” Punz immediately retaliated, his legs being extremely ticklish. Boomer let out an evil laugh at this new discovery, repeatedly squeezing that spot right above his kneecaps which earned the most high-pitched giggles from the blonde. “No? Not here? Hmmm… I think I like it here, though!” Boomer announced, before scooting back up.

Punz breathed heavily, weakly pulling at his hands- but they remained stuck under Boomer’s knees. “You done?” Boomer asked, his voice expressing more concern than anything. Punz, always wanting a challenge, just smirked. “Never.” He continued to smile, but his eyes grew wide as Boomer slowly started to pull up his white hoodie.

“Ooh, look what we have here! An adorable tummy, just waiting to be tickled by yours truly. You ready, Punz? Are you ready for the tickles since you’re enjoying this soooo much?” Boomer didn’t give him time to answer as he immediately began to flutter his fingertips over his exposed stomach.

“COHOLD HAHANDS- BOOHOHOMER Y- YOU AHASS!” Punz squealed, throwing his head back as one of his worst spots was targeted. “N’awww, you have such a ticklish tummy! That’s so sweet, Punz. I wonder though… ah- ignore me, I’m just going on a ramble.” Boomer spoke to him like he wasn’t destroying him under his fingertips.

The fluttering fingers turned into raking nails, the feeling it provided tickling like hell. Boomer was still curious, though. ‘Do raspberries actually tickle? Would that be a good idea?’ He thought, his fingers not stopping his attack on Punz’s stomach.

Well, here goes nothing.

“PFFT- PLEHEHAHAHAHA- BOOHOHOMER NOHOHO!” Punz went completely limp as a raspberry was planted right on the pudge of his stomach, the feeling strange but extremely ticklish. He let out another screech as more raspberries were placed, followed by nibbles trailing up his sides and ribs as Boomer’s fingers continued to dance along his belly.

“This is so priceless, holy shit!” Boomer eventually sat up, fondly laughing at the dazed look on Punz’s face. “ALRIHIHIGHT!” Punz exclaimed, playfully shoving Boomer off of him and curling up on the grass. “There you go, you managed to escape!” Boomer joked, standing up and towering over his friend.

“That was fun, don’tcha think, Punzie?” Boomer teased, earning an ‘angry’ growl from the other. “Revehenge will be fuhun…” Punz mumbled through his after-giggles, glaring up at Boomer.

“Sure it will, giggles.”

“Shuhut up, will you?!”

#mcyt tickle #lee!punz #ler!boomer #my writing #SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG OMG AHKJFHDKJS

[procrastinatorimagines]

Could Have Been More Part 4

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Series: Could Have Been More

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 (Final)

Character/s: Voight x Reader, Sylvie

Warning/s: kidnapping

Word Count: 1,990

Summary: A bad break up with Hank Voight was only the start of Y/N’s problems, now, 12 people are dead and a dangerous killer is on the loose, and she might be his next target.

The morning brought rain, lots of it. You’d woken up around dawn to it pounding on the window, a little dazed as it took you a few seconds to remember where you were, Hank’s guest room. 

You’d had some clothes left there, you definitely hadn’t found the time to pick up your things in the few days since the break up. God, was that only on Friday? Everything had happened in slow motion.

Slipping out of the bed you went to wash your face, looking at your tired eyes in the mirror as your mind went over everything that had happened from that day. First, you’d completely derailed Intelligence’s investigation into the murder of a gang member and his waitress girlfriend, which had apparently been committed by the waitress’ boss. Then, you’d found out that the boss, Albert Strauss, had started cleaning house, his restaurant a front for moving a different kind of product behind the scenes. Now 12 people were dead, 10 more at a stash house Strauss had used, 3 more injured but on the mend. 

Voight thought you might be a target, having accidentally tipped Strauss off to just how close Intelligence was to him through your contact with a friend who also worked at the restaurant. They’d cleared her as a potential gang member, but she’d also been given a protective detail, just in case. 

The whole city was looking for Strauss, they’d find him, you told yourself as you ran your hands through your hair, wishing you could go back to work at 51, go back to normal. But Voight had insisted that it was better for you to stay off work until this was resolved, it wouldn’t be too hard for him to find you on a call, or even stage one to draw you out.

There was a knock at the door as you emerged from the bathroom, heading over to open it you found Voight, mug of coffee in hand for you.

“Morning,” he said, glancing down quickly before swallowing. He looked uncomfortable for some reason, which was when you realised you were only in your pajama top and underwear. Whoops, old habits.

“Sorry,” you flushed, quickly grabbing your jeans from yesterday off the chair in the corner of the room and hurriedly putting them on. Voight entered a little and set the steaming mug down on the dresser.

“Cream and two sugars,” he said as he placed it down, just the way you liked it. You noted his badge and gun then, you might not have been able to go to work, but Hank definitely had to.

“Thanks Hank,” you said gratefully, really needing caffeine right now. The whole night had been spent tossing and turning, you must have woken up several times, some following graphic nightmares about the recent murders, and now you were exhausted. “Any news?” You dared.

“Nothing last night, I’m meeting up with the rest of the unit at yesterday’s crime scene, it’s been cleared now so we can take a proper look around,” he explained what he could and you ignored the fact that there was clearly something he was leaving out; you knowing too much is what had gotten you into this mess in the first place. 

Hank went to turn away, clearly not really knowing what to say, when you stopped him. “Thank you,” he paused, not turning to face you exactly but definitely listening at the door, “look I know I shouldn’t have just dropped by like that, but you listen to me, let me stay here last night, and I know things aren’t the same with us now but- it means a lot, so thanks,” you finished and he nodded, the Hank Voight way of avoiding his feelings, and headed out the door.

Though you were a little deflated by that, you knew how he got, emotions weren’t exactly his forte. As soon he left the room you finished getting changed, noticing that Hank had also brought you one of your shirts with your pajamas last night, he’d washed it too. Putting it on you took a sip of the coffee, grateful that Hank always bought in the good stuff as you let it slowly wake you up properly. You heard Hank moving around downstairs as you finished getting ready, grabbing all your things and wandering downstairs.

He was on the phone when you reached the kitchen, hanging back as he talked, his back to you. “Another registered vehicle? Do we have a location?” You couldn’t hear the response but the way he sighed told you that the answer was no, “okay, well keep on it, I’ll be in soon, thanks Trudy,” he said, hanging up and turning to face you.

“Everything okay?” You asked, sipping your drink in the doorway as he pocketed his phone, snatching his keys up off the counter. 

“We’ll get him,” was all Hank said on the matter before he changed the subject, “I should get you back home, then I’ll head to the district, keep working the case.”

You nodded, downing the rest of your coffee and grabbing your shoes. No matter how much you’d rather be at 51, you knew better than to argue with Hank, he was doing what he thought best to keep you safe. 

“You going to be alright on your own?” He asked as you both left the house, moving quickly to avoid the down pour.

“Sure,” you shrugged, “besides, I won’t be alone, I’ll have a detail outside by door.” Although you didn’t think it was necessary, again, you weren’t going to argue with Hank. If you’d just trusted him in the beginning none of this would have happened, Strauss might even have been behind bars already, murders averted. Who knows, you and Hank might have even still been together...

You shook that thought out of your head as you climbed into the car next to Hank, pushing back your now damp hair. It wasn’t even 7 o’clock yet, you realised as you headed back towards your house, it was going to be a long day.

Hank drove in relative silence, besides the constant swish of the windscreen wipers. The man never even really put the radio on, but you could tell he had a lot on his mind as you pulled up outside your house, an unmarked squad already there as you got out, the driver nodding to Voight. “Take care of yourself Y/N, call me if there are any problems,” he told you, his tone one of concern.

“I will, just do what you can to catch this guy Hank,” you replied and he nodded, singular focus clear. He looked like he wanted to say more but thought better of it as you closed the door, his eyes never leaving you until you reached your front door, practically running to avoid getting wet. An officer left as you entered, Hank must have called a head for a sweep before you were allowed to enter You watched him drive away before you closed the door, double and then triple checking to make sure it was locked. 

Okay, one thing at a time, you told yourself, putting away your coat and heading towards the kitchen. First, more coffee, you decided, then you’d think about what came next. 

The pot was still heating up when your phone rang, it was Sylvie. You put it in between your shoulder and ear as you answered, bending down to route in your fridge for some cream.

“Oh good you answered, you’ve got to get back here as soon as you can, they’ve given me Chout,” she said straight away.

“Good morning to you too Brett,” you laughed, glad that no matter the situation, Sylvie Brett never changed. 

She caught herself then and laughed too, apologising. “Sorry Y/N, good morning to you to, how are you? You got whisked away and we barely know what’s going on?” She rambled as you emerged victorious from the fridge. You quickly swapped hands with your phone as you made your drink, thinking about how to answer.

“It’s... complicated, what has Boden told you?” You figured the best place to start would be by figuring out what everyone knew.

“Not much, he said you were involved in a police investigation, this doesn’t have something to do with the murders yesterday does it?” She asked in alarm.

“Er, yeah, it does,” you answered as you heard her gasp, “but it’s fine really, I can’t get into it much, but I’m fine, Intelligence is on top of it,” you tried to reassure her. 

“Well stay safe you know, we want you back in one piece,” she said and you smiled.

“Aw Sylvie, you always know just what to say,” you told her as you leaned back against your counter.

“What are friends for?” You heard her jump and close the ambo doors, the chatter of the squad table in the background comforting as she continued, “yeah well if you don’t get back soon I’m going to be stuck with Chout, so you’d better-” you both laughed but it was cut of by the ringing of your phone, you had another call coming through.

Moving your phone from your ear you saw the name ‘Jenny’ pop up on the screen... your waitress friend from Strauss’ restaurant. 

“Everything okay?” You heard Sylvie ask, suddenly concerned.

“Yeah it’s all good, but I have another call that I have to take so we’ll talk soon alright?” You promised.

“Take care Y/N,” Sylvie said as you switched over. 

What you heard next was not what you expected. Screaming. Your blood went cold.

“Help!” You heard from the other end, following by the sounds of crashing and scrambling. With a start you dropped your coffee mug and dashed to your front door where the squad car was stationed outside. 

“Jenny? Jenny oh my god hold on, please talk to me, I’ll get help,” you said frantically, heart pounding - this had to be Strauss.

“Y/N! No! Please, no!” You heard her cry as you hurriedly unlocked your door, throwing it open and stepping into the pouring rain, the horrible pit in your stomach growing with every sound on the other end of the line. 

“Stay with me Jenny,” you tried as you took a step outside, looking to where the unmarked car was. You didn’t want to dare hang up even to call Voight, but they could call him, they could trace the call somehow...

The doors were open- the car doors were wide open, and no one was inside. 

A feeling of pure dread settled inside of you as froze in place a mere metre from your house. You could still here Jenny screaming as you panicked, attempting to take a step back to head inside your house, if you could just get back inside you could figure out what to do next.

But before you even made it have a step you felt one hand go around your waist, the other around your mouth, a cloth of some kind covering, stiffling the scream that tried to burst from your throat.

You thrashed with all your might, legs kicking and elbows jabbing as the phone fell from your hands, Jenny’s screams becoming hauntingly further away as your vision started to blur, your legs feeling heavier as you had no choice but to breath in the odour on the cloth. You were being drugged, you realised as the fight drained from you, the strong arms around you not loosening their grip as they pulled you away from your front door and down your steps. 

The last thing you saw was a van door opening and you were hauled inside. 

Someone would come for you, you thought, though it was more of a prayer as you started to drift away until you could just hear the clatter of rain on the van roof... Hank would come for you...

#hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #hank voight x reader #hank voight imagine #chicago pd imagine #hank voight imagines #chicago pd imagines #one chicago imagine #one chicago imagines #could have been more

[coldflasher]

okay HYPOTHETICALLY. out of all these coldflash fanfics which ones would people wanna read most bc i am a fic-writing goblin and i cannot choose so someone’s gonna have to tell me what to focus my energy on

also bear in mind these are in various stages of completion so i cannot promise when any of them will be finished but most of them are over 20k already lmao ripppp

- s5/6 rewrite mashup/fix-it where barry and len’s adopted son comes back from the future to save barry from crisis and ends up making it way worse, and also crisis doesn’t end up being derailed by oliver bloody queen

- body swap fic (barry and len are enemies with benefits, they get whammied by a meta and switch bodies during sex and they have to bang a lot to try and switch back, and barry almost singlehandedly destroys len’s criminal empire through sheer incompetence. i am very partial to this one i can’t lie) 

- fic where they get whammied by a meta that makes them fall madly in love and they decide running off to vegas to get married is the best idea ever and team flash have to chase them to vegas and stop them (this is actually just a long one shot and also i’ve been working on it on and off since 2016 so i should prooooobably do this one first... but will i? doubtful)

- devil wears prada au (okay but HEAR ME OUT. len as miranda. demanding. cold. doesn’t suffer fools gladly. decked out in designer clothing from head to toe. meanwhile barry fetches his coffee and trips over his own feet and they end up sharing a hotel room at paris fashion week and there’s only one bed, duh.)

- angsty infantino street inspired au where barry comes to len again for help with another meta problem, and cisco’s like “dude you have to stop doing this” and barry pretends he cannot hear because he’s got unresolved feelings for len that he’s obviously in denial about. but whoops, len finds out that he’s dead in the future and barry didn’t tell him and you can imagine how well he takes it. and then barry is in the horrible position of having to try and recapture len and send him back to the legends to die... (this one is an angst fest and does NOT have a happy ending just so you’re all forewarned lmao. it’s probably gonna take me longer than the rest of them cos im gonna need to be ~emotionally prepared~) (and considering i feel like i write at a snail’s pace anyway that is saying something)

- aaaaand finally i have a very fucked up one that’s basically what would have happened if family of rogues went in totally the opposite direction and instead of team flash saving lisa and barry and len’s relationship changing irreparably, they fuck up and lisa dies. then len snaps and goes on a deeply fucked up rampage and tries to destroy barry’s whole life ❤ (this one is the one i have the least for, it’s basically just a concept but it’s gonna be insane and messy and brutal and deeply violent *sighs happily*)

#my fics #also unfortunately i now work full time so im gonna be slower than i used to be... sigh #but i do love all of these and wanna get them written so maybe having them all laid out is gonna help #i didnt mention the hades/persephone coldwestallen monstrosity cos that one is gonna take a LONG time and im not even gonna pretend it'll be #finished in a timely fashion #long post for ts

[imastrangeone98]

Inevitable Confrontation

(A/N: Carlos is a baby. I just realized that all over again. He's an adorable man-child)

Warning: some canon deviancy here, all for the sake of adding drama ^_^ strap on your big boy pants- this is gonna be a long one! Horribly written fight scene ahead!!

Emma felt like her body had been set on fire. Maybe it was. God, she was in so much pain... Her ribs felt awful, as if they were about to pierce her from the inside.

She just wanted to sleep...

"-ma!"

So tired...

"Emma!"

A harsh slap to the face forced her to open her eyes. She sat up with a jolt, wincing at the stabbing pain in her side. "What the hell...?"

"Oh, thank God!"

She was suddenly swept up in a bone crushing hug by Jill, who looked about as bad as she felt. "...What happened?"

She slowly pulled away, giving her a sad look. "The train got blasted from course. I think... I think we're the only survivors."

Emma suddenly thought of the small group of civilians in the back car. Of the platoon leader, Mikhail.

"They're... they're dead?" she choked out, gripping tightly at Jill's shoulders as her friend pulled her up. "All... all of them?"

She was given a weak nod. "Yeah. That fucking monster just won't die."

Emma nearly growled. "That's it. Next time I see that thing, I'm blasting its head open."

"You and me both, partner," Jill agreed, and they grasped each others' hands. "But in the meantime, let's get out of here. I don't think this place is safe."

As quickly as they dared, they made their way through the sewers, making occasional stops to try and contact Carlos through the small walkie-talkie.

His face. His deep eyes. His bright smile.

What was he doing now? Emma knew he was on some important job- at least, that was what her friend told her- but she still wondered if he was safe.

And to think for even a moment that I'd be able to never think about him again...

ROAR!

The two women flinched, glancing behind them at the empty, pitch-black hallways.

"C'mon," Jill whispered, yanking at her partner's shirt. "Climb!"

She obeyed, scrambling up the rungs of the ladder and hauling her body onto solid ground. Her friend emerged quickly after, only for the two to nearly jump at another howl from below.

"That fucker's still alive," she muttered. "We can't stay here."

So they kept moving, hoping to find some sense of higher ground on the bridge. Jill immediately began to try reestablishing contact with Carlos while Emma sat heavily on a bench.

"Carlos? Respond!" she tried once more.

A crackle on the radio, then, "Yeah, what's up?"

She nearly breathed a sigh of relief before responding. "We didn't make it. The train derailed."

Emma listened to them closely, feeling the comfort at hearing his voice.

But it immediately sank when the water beneath them began to bubble.

She stood up and began pushing at Jill. "We have to go!"

"What do you mean- What the fuck?!"

The bridge groaned and shook with the sudden weight of the monster as it slammed onto the surface. Water sluiced off of its grotesque limbs as it snarled at them, not unlike a rabid beast.

"It's back!" she screamed, tackling the other to the ground when it swiped at them. She yanked Emma up and pulled her along, sprinting as fast as they could.

"Keep running!" Emma called out, pushing her friend forward before pulling down pieces of metal in the faint hopes it would slow the creature down. Without stopping to see if it worked, she jumped across the sudden gap in the bridge, grabbing her partner's outstretched hand.

They dropped in front of the clock tower, where the monster slammed down in front of them, releasing another bloodcurdling roar.

"I'm gonna kill you!" Jill shouted at the thing as she prepped her grendade launcher.

Emma sighed, snatching up her dual pistols in both hands and firing them at the monster's potential weak points, expertly avoiding any swipes from its tentacles. Her partner used everything she had- shotgun, pistol, grenade launcher- while she chased after the tyrant, muttering profanities under her breath.

She did her best to keep up. Emma used every grenade she kept stored and nearly ran out of bullets with how frequently she was shooting.

But it was working. Bit by bit, the monster began to slow.

"Jill! It's now or never!"

"Alright," she replied, turning to the growling tyrant. "Let's do this. Suck it!"

Grenades exploded against the monster, over and over. Bits of skin, rubble, and ash flew everywhere. It stumbled, then collapsed, nearly jolting the two women into the air.

Emma groaned, clutching her abdomen. "Hopefully we don't have to do that again."

"Yeah." Jill sighed, rubbing her neck. She grabbed the small radio. "Carlos? You still there?"

No response- just white noise.

"Oh, come on!" she hissed at the machine. "You're gonna crap out on me now? Goddammit." She briskly moved to the other woman's side, helping her get an arm around her shoulders. "We should get moving, find someplace safe."

"Sounds like a plan," Emma wheezed with a pained grin.

They passed through the gate, carefully stepping over the tyrant's massive hand before continuing down the passageway-

And she was suddenly pulled to the floor. Her skin burned as it was dragged against the stone.

"Emma!" Jill cried. Burning with fury, her eyes locked onto the small chain above the gate. She shot it, and the whole thing came crashing down atop the thing's arm.

Blood oozed from the wound. Emma scooted away from it. Shivers ran down her entire body. "Oh God... Oh God..."

"It's okay," she comforted her friend, helping the smaller one to her feet. "Let's keep moving."

"...Right."

They turned their backs on the wounded thing.

A horrible mistake.

Without either one noticing, it released a sharp spike straight into Emma's arm before collapsing once more.

She yelped at the sudden pain radiating through her, and pulled out the spike. A sense of dread overcame her. Then weakness. Then-

[...]

Jill had the pistol aimed at her friend's head.

She knew what she had to do.

After the Arklay incident, the two had made a promise that if something like it ever occurred again, and one of them got infected, the other would shoot them. No guilt, no pain- just the relief that they would not end up becoming one of those monsters.

Jill would keep her end of the bargain. She had to. She promised.

"No matter what happens, I'll always have your back," the rookie promised with a sweet smile.

"You know what? We should go snowboarding," she mused over donuts.

"There's a hundred things I could do, and I'd choose being your friend above all of it."

Tears slipped down her cheeks. The muzzle slowly met the ground. Gently, she adjusted her friend so her head rested on her lap.

"I'm sorry," she choked out. The taste of salt and regret were heavy on her tongue.

She could not keep her promise after all.

[Half a Day Later...]

Carlos was exhausted.

Ever since the haunting call with Jill, he had absolutely no idea what happened to the two women. Were they injured? Were they-

His feet skittered on the pavement. His hands felt clammy. Air refused to enter his lungs.

On the ground, pale as death... was Emma.

He couldn't lie and say he didn't get tunnel vision. He sprinted to her, rifle clattering to the ground as he scooped her into his arms.

"Emma?" he croaked, lightly shaking her body. "Amor? What happened to you?" He turned to the second woman. Anger blazed in his eyes. "What the fuck happened to her?!"

The sobs continuing to wrack her body, but she managed to get out the words "tyrant" and "some kind of infection."

A chill ran down his spine.

Infected. She was infected.

His hands curled into fists. He stared at the cracks in the pavement. Some dark, monstrous part of himself whispered that it should have been Jill who got infected.

He forced it down. This wasn't the time for blame. Logically, he knew that it was something beyond either of their control.

...But there was something within his.

"Tyrell, do you copy?" he nearly screamed into the comlink.

"What's goin' on?"

"Emma's been infected. I..." Tears threatened to clog his throat; he swallowed. "I'm taking her to the hospital. Maybe Dr. Bard can save her."

"Alright. I'll meet you there."

With that accomplished, he turned to Jill. "I'm gonna carry her, but I'm useless with my gun."

She nodded, a glint of her usual determination shining through once again. "You can count on me."

With a nod, he lifted her into the air. She looked so pale... so helpless...

"Hang in there, baby," he murmured, pulling her closer to his chest. "Stay with me. Be strong."

------------------------------------------------------

A/N: so yea- Emma ended up being the infected rather than Jill but yes drama

Blehhh XD

This ended up being much longer than I expected or hoped. Maybe I should've broken it down into pieces.... whoops 😅

Edit: read the sequel! :D

#resident evil 3 #resident evil 3 remake #jill valentine #carlos oliveira #carlos oliveira x reader #carlos oliveira x oc

[kaffeinic]

Caffeinic | Bang Chan

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | Epilogue

Pairing: Reader x Barista!Bang Chan

Genre: Fluff // Romance

Warnings: Fem!Reader

Preamble: You’ve been going to the same coffee shop for the past four years. You’ve ordered the same thing almost every single day, and you never, ever skip on that part of your morning. So, when Mrs. Park hired a new barista and the once serene café was suddenly flooded with people every second of the day, you were less than thrilled.

The next three hours proceeded as usual, with Chan taking and filling orders, flashing you charming smiles every now and then. You were reading the third book of Harry Potter for the umpteenth time, seemingly surprised with every event. The only thing that pulled your attention from the pages was Chan’s touch as he walked past you to serve a coffee or cake. When he would walk back to the counter, he would trace his fingers along your arm or poke your cheek, making them turn red and burn like fire.

He had just served an elderly couple two black coffees with a cake when he walked towards you and stood. You looked up and raised your brow.

“What’s up?” You asked. He beamed happily.

“I’m off now. Mrs. Park is taking over for closing.” He explained. “Get ready.” He briskly walked to the employee room and removed his apron and put on the same leather jacket he had worn at the party a few days prior. This time, he wore a white button up with the sleeves rolled over his forearms, mimicking it with his jacket so that they rolled over each other. He wore black pants that had large pockets on the side of his thighs, donning a pair of vans below. When he emerged, your jaw slacked.

“That.” He said, pointing to your face. “That look! You’re checking me out again, aren’t you?” He giggled at your embarrassed reaction as you hid your face. You heard his footsteps come closer as he crouched in front of your seated form. “Don’t be shy, love.” He softly grabbed your hands, moving them away from your face. He intertwined your fingers, giving your hand a squeeze. You returned the gesture, smiling. You heard an audible ‘awe’ from one of the tables of customers and immediately looked down. Chan laughed, patting your hair. “Let’s go.”

He helped you gather your things and took your coffee mug to the counter, finding his place next to you again. He dipped down and grabbed your hand, walking out of the café with you subtly trailing behind him. You were walked to his familiar black car, his hand releasing yours only to open the door for you.

“You’re really pulling out all the stops.” You commented.

“Did it ever occur to you that I’m a gentleman?” He asked, ushering you to sit.

“On occasion.” You replied, taking your seat. He closed the door as you placed your bag between your legs on the floor board. Chan got into the car on the driver’s side and fumbled with his keys, nearly dropping them.

“Whoops.” He said, catching them. He giggled at himself as he started the car, grinning at you. “Alrighty. We’re off.” He said, driving out of the parking lot. You looked at his side profile, then the road and smiled. You had been anticipating this for days now.

Within minutes, you were there. Chan pulled up in front of a loft style coffee house, removing the keys from the ignition and placing them in his pocket.

“Prepare to be amazed.” He warned, exiting the car. You opened your door as well, debating whether or not to bring your bag. You decided to stick your wallet in your pocket, but left your book and other items.

Chan closed the door from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. He seemed to be really touchy, possibly even clingy. You giggled at his behaviour, smiling at him.

“What?” He asked, puzzled. You rolled your eyes.

“You’re so physical.” You said. “It’s adorable.”

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” He said. “I bulldoze my friends on a daily basis.” He explained. You suddenly were imagining an excited Chan plowing into his friends, wrapping his arms around them as they hit the floor from the force. The scene earned a giggle.

The both of you made your way to the entrance, pushing open the doors. Moving towards the counter, you stood for a few moments before a barista came up to take your order.

“Hey, there, Chan. Who’s this?” The man asked, gesturing toward you.

“My... date..?” He said questioningly. He looked at you for reassurance. You nodded.

“I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” You said, slightly bowing.

“Jin! Channie finally got himself a girlfriend!” The barista yelled. Another man poked his head around the corner of the bar, eyes wide.

“Really?” He stood and moved to the three of you. “Took you long enough, bro.” Chan held his hands up to silence them.

“This is our first date. She’s not my girlfriend... yet.” He said, clarifying the situation. Both of the men nodded and smiled.

“I’m Minhyuk.” The barista behind the counter held out his hand, and you shook it. “It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.” Jin walked up to you and grinned.

“I’m Jin.” He said. He also held out his hand for a shake, and you obliged.

“Guys,” Chan began, “I’d like to start the date, if you don’t mind.” He said. You laughed, looking at the menu. “Would it be rude of me to ask to choose something for you?” Chan asked. You raised a brow.

“Well- Yeah. Probably.” You replied. “I’ll let you this time.” Chan smiled at you. “You know what I like.”

He looked at Minhyuk and grinned. “Two pure blisses, please.” He said. He turned to you. “Iced or hot?” He asked. You felt a bit warm in the café.

“Iced.”

“Iced it is.” Minhyuk nodded, entering the order into the computer, telling Chan the price. You reached for your wallet, but Chan stopped you.

“I asked you to come here. It would be wrong to let you pay.” He explained. You scrunched your eyebrows.

“I don’t want you to have to pay for both of us.” You said. “I want to pay for myself. Please?” You asked. He hung his head in defeat.

“Alright.” He shook his head with a laugh. “Stop it with the puppy dog eyes, please.” The both of you paid your share of the bill, finding a seat at a table for two. You took the time to look around the coffee house.

There were bits of landscape art adorning the walls, and the vaulted ceilings added a larger-than-life feel to the dining area. Chan smiled at you as you curiously took in the room.

“Do you like the decor?” He asked. You nodded happily.

“Yeah. It’s beautiful.” You replied. He hummed in agreement.

“Have you found your phone?” Chan asked. “I’ve been itching to get that number.” He smirked. You instinctively giggled.

“No, not yet. It’s really starting to bug.” You said, running a hand through your hair. Chan cocked his head to the side and shot you a worried gaze.

“I’ve been wondering who would feel the need to steal it.” He said. “Why would they send a text confessing your feelings to someone you didn’t like?” He thought aloud. You shrugged.

“Could be someone who wanted me to date him.” You said. “It could also be someone who just wanted to mess with Junseok. There are so many possibilities.” You leaned back in your chair. “It’s frustrating.” Chan looked at you with sympathy.

“I get it.” He said. “We’ll find it.” He added. You looked at him. He was smiling, a simple puckering his milky cheeks. You reached over and poked the indentation, laughing directly after. Chan’s face lit up as he took in what just happened.

“You’re such a dork.” He said. You rolled your eyes.

“Not as much of a dork as you are.” You retorted. He chuckled at your juvenile clapback.

“What a burn.” He commented. You lightly pushed his arm away. Suddenly, his eyes widened when he looked in the direction of the door. Seoyeon was standing in the entrance of the café, a smiled painted on her face. Chan audibly groaned, hanging his head low.

Somehow, you knew the date was going to be derailed. You didn’t know, however, just how horrible Seoyeon was going to be.

~

* DISCLAIMER: I do not own any gifs/photos used in this post. I do own the written content. Do NOT repost/edit. *

🏷 @a-toxic-galaxy • @hoshithehamster • @woo-for-woojin • @lovely-little-lesbib • @ethereal-chanracha • @joohowdy

#kpop #fanfictions #headcannons #reactions #ships #imagines #stray kids #skz #bang chan #chan #christopher bang #cb97 #boyfriend #caffeinic #barista #au #date #cliffhanger #bbg

[firelxdykatara]

damon salvatore

character: hate them | don’t really care | like them | LOVE them | THEY ARE MY PRECIOUS

ship with:  Elena. That’s pretty much it at this point. I enjoyed Bamon in the books but never cared for it in the show (Ian and Kat had decent chemistry but I always preferred Bonnie with other characters), and while in AUs I can enjoy Elena with other characters, I just... don’t multiship Damon. At all.

general opinions: Damon was a horrible person, a monster, for a very long time, and I’ve never, ever shied away from that. What he did to Caroline in season 1 was horrible, they way he used Andy in s3 was awful too, and his character are was a long and extremely difficult road with a lot of setbacks and twists and turns, because you can’t spend over a century being an awful person and then just turn on a dime because you fall in love with a beautiful girl. The thing is, the show never lets you forget he’s a horrible person, either (unlike Stefan ‘I’m the Good Brother’ Salvatore), and it’s kind of funny because there comes a point in the show where it’s been obvious for a very long time that he’s trying, he’s been getting better, his small list of people he’d do anything to protect has been growing, he’s happy and in love and the girl loves him back and even chose him over his brother (undercutting a great deal of his massive inferiority complex regarding his relationship with Stefan) and then... -sigh-

It’s like the show went ‘whoops, there’s not as much drama to be had when Damon is a good person, even if it’s still something of a struggle and we could write a compelling arc where he backslides a bit out of fear of losing Elena or his friends, but nah how’s about we just throw him right back off the deep end into monster-ville, have him talk about how toxic he and Elena are for each other, and then... never ever address it and eventually have them just forget all their problems like a whole entire season and a half never happened’ and I just..... it was horrible writing and frankly really fucking unnecessary, and I hated it so much that when I heard that Nina was leaving TVD, I was fucking relieved.

Considering the fact that a couple years prior, TVD was my favorite show? Yeah. It was bad. And so much of what I feel about Damon is tied up in how his character development was derailed for cheap ‘Damon is the Bad Brother and always will be’ drama and teasing the fucking love triangle that had finally been resolved and should’ve just stayed dead so like, I have a hard time w it because as much as I love Damon, he’s also kind of a constant reminder of where the show went so horribly wrong that I started actively hating it.

#Anonymous #asked #damon salvatore #delena #anti tvd

[mullettj]

in your bloodstream (a collision of atoms)

a tyrus spider-man au

chapter one: leap of faith

next chapter →

-

Cyrus is terrified of heights. So terrified, in fact, that when he was a kid and he'd go to the playground for recess he couldn't even swing higher than a foot off the ground without sweating from sheer panic.

So it's really unfortunate that he's currently standing halfway off the edge of the roof of the 10-story building he lives in.

How did he get here? He isn't entirely sure. In a metaphorical sense, anyway. He knows how he got here in a literal sense; he just took the stairs to the top floor (three floors directly above his apartment, to be specific) and then walked out onto the roof like it didn't immediately make him hyperventilate. Like he isn't still hyperventilating as he looks out at the city skyline, listening to the cars rushing below him. God, he's so high up.

The why he ended up here is a lot more confusing. Long story short, he landed this amazing internship at a prestigious research facility downtown, and it was super fun and he learned a lot, not to mention it'll look great on college applications, but that's not the important part. The thing that actually changed his life happened on the last day of the semester, his last time stepping foot in the lab.

Up to that point, they hadn't actually let him handle any of the specimens, mostly because they were afraid of letting some high school kid mess with stuff and accidentally ending up with a contaminated vial or something. But, on the last day, Cyrus was taking a picture with his attending researcher for their website, and he begged their supervisor to let him hold one of the spiders he'd been helping monitor for the past four months. The supervisor agreed after a lot of heckling, as long as they kept the spider contained in one of the little glass boxes they use to transport the specimens.

Except the dumb thing got out of its fucking box. Cyrus has no idea how, but one second it was safe in its tiny glass prison and the next it was sinking its stupid sharp fangs into the webbing of his hand between his thumb and pointer finger. Obviously he didn't let anyone know what happened, just shook it back into the box and held it closed tighter, but at this moment he's kind of wishing he would've made a bigger deal out of it because that spider bite has prompted some really concerning changes in his body.

And like, he knows correlation does not equal causation, okay? He literally just got done shadowing one of the best researchers in the country, and even before that he had enough common sense to realize that just because it looks too straightforward to be a coincidence doesn’t mean it isn’t. Sometimes weird shit just happens.

But not shit this weird. He woke up the next day considerably taller than he was before (which really just means he's average height now, because he's always been on the small side) and way more athletic than his level of physical activity could ever account for. He has actual biceps now, what the fuck. He isn't entirely sure why a spider bite would suddenly turn him into a jock (at least physically, anyway) but, well. Here he is.

And if that wasn't convincing enough, there's also the fact that he basically turned into a human spider. He doesn't have eight limbs, or anything, but he's definitely a lot better at climbing walls than physics should allow and suddenly he can shoot webbing out of his wrists. He doesn't really get why it comes out of his wrists, of all places, but that particular detail is pretty low on his list of priorities right now.

He also gets this weird tingly feeling every now and then, almost like a hunch but so much stronger, like his brain just knows when something bad is going to happen, even if nothing seems awry at the time. Like he doesn't have enough anxiety as it is. It’s kind of freaking him out.

Fast forward two weeks, and here he is, standing on top of his building in the least form-fitting hoodie he could find in an attempt to hide as much of himself as possible. His logic for doing this is - well, he doesn't really know. Maybe it's that stupid sixth sense he has that told him to jump off a building. In hindsight he's never been sure he should listen to it, but right now he's wondering if it's actively trying to get him killed. Can hunches get people killed? Is this even comparable to a hunch? Maybe he's hearing shit, maybe he needs to ask his shrink parents about this.

His (quickly derailing) train of thought is interrupted by a soft thump off to his right, and when he turns he sees some dude in spandex walking toward him. He’s wearing a red suit, with a ripped up blue hoodie over it, and a big black spider on his chest. The sleeves of the hoodie are cut off, but the hood is still intact and flipped up over the guy’s head. Cyrus doesn't know why he bothered with the hood, really, because he's wearing a mask anyway so it's not like it's doing anything to hide his face like Cyrus hopes his own hood is. He's also got a belt wrapped around his waist and matching cuffs on his wrists, plus little pouches strapped to his ankles, and Cyrus doesn't know how to feel about that one. He could have anything in there.

By the time Cyrus is done ogling him and trying to figure out what the fuck is going on, the guy is standing right in front of him. “Hey, dude, you don't wanna do this,” he says softly. “Or I mean, you do, I guess, but you shouldn't.”

Cyrus looks at him like he's insane, which he probably is, all things considered. “Who even are you?” he asks, instead of addressing any of the larger issues at hand. Like what this guy thinks he's doing on a roof. Or why he's wearing so much spandex. Or where he came from.

“Oh, fuck, my bad. I’m the Scarlet Spider.” He sticks his hand out, which Cyrus takes tentatively. The Scarlet Spider uses this opportunity to pull Cyrus off the edge and into his arms.

Cyrus huffs. “Could you please let me go?” he asks as he struggles to get out of the Scarlet Spider’s grip. It's a futile attempt. The dude is way stronger than he looks.

“Nope,” he says, popping the “p” like the annoying little shit he seems to be. “Not till you promise you won't jump.”

That's when it clicks. Cyrus rolls his eyes. “Oh my god, you think I’m trying to kill myself?”

The Scarlet Spider hesitates for a half a second before going back to normal. Or what Cyrus guesses is normal for him, anyway. “Aren't you?” His eyes get wide as he realizes how that sounds. “Awh shit - no, wait, I didn't mean it like that! I just, I heard there was someone up here trying to jump, and I don't know why else somebody would want to jump off a fucking building so I thought -”

Cyrus rolls his eyes again. He’s starting to think the Scarlet Spider might be an idiot. “I’m not trying to commit suicide, god. I was just -” He cuts himself off, realizing how delusional he'll sound if he tells the truth. “And wait, even if I did want to kill myself, you did a horrible job of trying to talk me down.”

The Scarlet Spider squints at him for a good thirty seconds before he says anything. “Look, dude, I don't do this a lot. Usually I just beat up muggers and shit, I don't know how to keep people from hurting themselves.”

“Well clearly you should learn, because if you ever meet anyone who's actually suicidal, talking to you is only gonna make them want to jump more.”

“Damn, you're sassy. I like that.” The Scarlet Spider finally lets him go, and Cyrus considers bolting right then and there but he thinks that would probably be really conspicuous. The Scarlet Spider takes a couple steps back, giving Cyrus some space, and folds his arms. “So tell me, what were you trying to do?”

Cyrus still doesn't know how to answer that. He weighs his options, glancing from the Scarlet Spider to the edge of the rooftop and back again. He takes a deep breath. “I think I might be like you.”

He can actually see the Scarlet Spider’s eyebrows shoot up underneath his mask, which should be impossible but there it is. “Like me? You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

Something dawns on Cyrus then. “Is that hoodie from Jefferson?” It's the exact same blue as Cyrus’ high school’s colours.

The Scarlet Spider takes a step closer, frowning. “Why?”

Cyrus shrugs. “If it is, then we go to the same school.”

“So?”

“So, we have a lot more in common than you may think.”

The Scarlet Spider sighs, tapping his foot against the gravel. “You're being really cryptic. Just tell me what you mean. How are you like me? And how the fuck would you know that anyway? You don't even know me.” He's getting defensive. Whoops. Maybe Cyrus shouldn't have pried so much.

Cyrus decides the best way to clear things up is to show him, so he runs to the edge of the roof and jumps.

He’s not even a foot in the air before the Scarlet Spider is tackling him, shooting a web and swinging them both back to safety on the roof of a different building. “I thought you said you didn't wanna jump!” He's clearly distressed, and refuses to let Cyrus go despite his struggling.

“I never said that, I said I didn't wanna die.”

“That's the same thing!” the Scarlet Spider protests, exasperated. Cyrus figures he probably doesn't have this much trouble convincing people to let him save them, for the most part.

“No, it really isn't. Just let me go and I'll show you.”

The Scarlet Spider eyes him, searching Cyrus’ face for any hint at what the fuck is going on. Eventually, he nods. “Fine. But I’m gonna save you, so brace yourself.”

Cyrus rolls his eyes again, moving the Scarlet Spider’s arms out of the way so he can walk to the edge of the roof. This building is taller than his apartment building, and he's stressed as all fuck, but if he doesn't do this now then he never will. He has the Scarlet Spider to save him if anything goes wrong, so now is the best time to be reckless.

Cyrus jumps. And for a split second, he thinks he might actually die. He's so high up, and the street below is so far away, and if he fell from this height there would be no coming back from that. But then he looks up, and he sees the endless sky, the lights of the city sparkling above him, and he thinks maybe this isn't so scary. Especially not when he locks eyes with the Scarlet Spider, who looks about a nanosecond away from jumping out to catch Cyrus and save him again.

It's now or never. Cyrus’ eyes dart around, searching for anything to aim at, and his gaze lands on a building off to the left that's about the same height as the one he just jumped off of. He sees the Scarlet Spider in his periphery, leaping off the roof to come save him, but Cyrus is already shooting a web at the building in front of him and swinging through the air right at the roof ahead.

He hears the Scarlet Spider whooping in surprise, and he can't make out the words but that's mostly because he's too busy laughing from the sheer adrenaline of it all. He's never felt this free. He's never let himself be this free before.

Unfortunately, that becomes pretty obvious once he realizes that he isn't going to clear the rooftop. He didn't get the angle of his swing right, or maybe he didn't shoot the web high enough, but either way he's headed straight for a window. He braces himself for impact.

“Underdog!” he hears the Scarlet Spider yell, and suddenly he’s pushing Cyrus up higher as he swings in from behind.

He flies up, and the Scarlet Spider shouts at him to shoot a new web. He aims higher this time, and it connects, and then Cyrus is landing lightly on his feet on a new rooftop and taking a deep breath and he can see the whole city and it's absolutely magical.

“That was exhilarating!” he yells as the Scarlet Spider lands beside him. Cyrus almost wants to hug him, but he doesn't.

“So that's what you meant when you said you're like me?” the Scarlet Spider asks, and Cyrus nods, beaming at him. “You wanna be a hero?”

Cyrus purses his lips in thought. “I mean, I didn't really plan on trying it, but...I didn't really plan on any of this.”

The Scarlet Spider shrugs, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie, which are uneven. “You don't have to, but you might as well use it. This shit will make you restless real fast if you don't channel it somehow.”

Cyrus cocks his head, and he really looks at the Scarlet Spider for the first time. Maybe he does want to know more about him. “Will you teach me?” isn't what he plans to say, but his brain is too adrenaline flooded to really filter his thoughts properly.

“Of course I will, Underdog.” The Scarlet Spider sounds almost fond when he says it.

Cyrus shakes his head. “My name's Cyrus. Cyrus Goodman, maybe you know me from school?”

The Scarlet Spider freezes for a second, then he's walking toward Cyrus with a weirdly determined stance and Cyrus is stressed out again because what the fuck is he about to do?

He's definitely not expecting the Scarlet Spider to throw back his hood, pull his mask off and say, “Hey, Cyrus. I’m TJ Kippen. You might know me as captain of the basketball team.”

This night really could not get any weirder.

#tyrus #crossposting this for tyrus week bc i have no new content lmao #my fic #shut up ash #andi mack

[lhs3020b]

Some notes on recent polling developments (long, fairly depressing)...

The YouGov MRP figures came out last night. This is notable because in 2017, the multilevel-regression approach was the sole one that spotted the possibility of a hung parliament. We all ridiculed it at the time - I'll confess that I side-eyed it too. And then - well, we all know what happened to Theresa May, don't we? So, the MRP thing deserves to be taken seriously. And unfortunately, this year, it's looking grim for us. Briefly, the MRP is forecasting a Tory majority. They're also predicting that all opposition parties (bar the SNP, who only stand in Scotland) will lose seats. Labour in particular look in the danger-zone for a collapse, and contrary to their bullish predictions, the Liberal Democrats are also forecast to lose seats. (Note that this is with respect to their current strength - technically, the MRP result gives them a gain of 2 seats on where they were on the 9th of June. They currently have 19, due to defections from various other parties.)

I'll admit that I don't want to believe the MRP results, but this has never been a data-denialist blog, and I don't intend to start on that road today.

One caveat is that the reporting on the MRP results has ben remarkably-bad. The actual YouGov page is here: https://yougov.co.uk/topics/politics/articles-reports/2019/11/27/yougov-mrp-conservatives-359-labour-211-snp-43-ld- Buried a long way down the page, they say this: "Taking into account the margins of error, our model puts the number of Conservative seats at between 328 and 385, meaning that while we can be confident that the Conservatives would currently get a majority, it could range from a modest one to a landslide." As far as I can tell, the "majority of 68" figure is derived by treating 317 as a working majority and assuming that the Tory vote lands right at the upper end of their confidence-interval. This is poor statistical practice for a variety of reasons. It's also a bit questionable in terms of parliamentary arithmetic - the "working majority" thing depends on how many Sinn Fein MPs Northern Ireland elects (they don't take their seats, so count toward neither Government nor Opposition tallies). And we won't necessarily know how many that is until, well, December the 13th.

(Also, a further health-warning is that apparently the model isn't able to fully-represent some local phenomena, such as independent candidates, and the effect of the Brexit Party's partial stand-down is also apparently somewhat-unclear. The last caveat is that the analysis assumes data that has already been collected - that is, if public opinion changes between now and polling day, then obviously existing projections could become obsolete. This will still be a possible source of error even if the MRP sample is statistically-unbiased and the underlying theory/analysis is all sound.)

However, even the best-case scenario for us gives the Tories 328 seats, which is both a working and a (very small) absolute majority.

Obviously, this is not a good situation for us.

While not quite a landslide, nonetheless an inflated Tory majority will be devastating for this country. The stuff they'll do will be awful. Brexit will happen. There'll be a bus crash late next year, when the transition period ends. (No, they will have no plan for this - they won't feel they need one, as they'll be secure in power until 2024.) There'll be a Windrush for resident EU citizens. They'll trash the economy. They'll probably crash the NHS - the only question there is whether they do it through accidental negligence or through deliberate malice (say, an ideologically-driven trade "deal" that gives President Trump everything he wants on a silver platter). Nothing will be done about the country’s escalating housing crisis. They'll double down on all the maddest of the madcap "law-n-order" stuff - expect an explosion in jailable offences, accompanied by lengthy minimum-sentence tariffs and further restrictions on legal aid. They'll also resuscitate their plans to manipulate the parliamentary boundaries, and change electoral laws in their favour. The media? Expect no surprises from them. The newspapers are largely already Conservative Pravdas. The BBC - nervous about its precious Royal Charter - seems to be in the process of declaring itself for the Tories too.

Bluntly, if the Tories get re-elected this year, they'll gerrymander things so you have little chance of getting rid of them in 2024.

Perhaps this is the key thing to understand about Boris Johnson: really, he's less Britain's Trump, and more Britain's Victor Orban. He'll leave just enough vestigial democracy intact to make what he's doing plausibly-deniable, but he'll busily rearrange the furniture to favour himself and his friends. If he gets re-elected this December, you can expect to be seeing his face into the 2030s. The only reason I put the cut-off as early as that is that I expect the coming climate-crisis will wreak havoc with the Tories' internal coalition. (Oh you've built all your luxury millionaire mansions by the seaside? How nice for you, especially now that the sea is literally in your parlour. Umm, whoops.)

What can be done? Well, the first thing is to reiterate some discussions I've seen on Twitter recently. The TL;DR of them is that hope doesn't have to be something you feel - it can be something you do. (And that's just as well, because I'll admit that 2019 has destroyed what traces of social optimism I was clinging to. I'm dreading the bad end that's coming to us next month, but I also fully-expect it.)

So, my advice remains as it has been: on December the 12th, turn up, and vote for whoever you judge most likely to beat the Tory.

Remember, the MRP approach is fallible. "Mortal, finite, temporary" is absolutely in play here; no model is any better than the data that went into it. Or, indeed, the date when it was calculated. And at the end of the day, the only poll that genuinely-matters is the one on December the 12th, and that hasn't actually happened yet. (Though admittedly, given the storm-surge of pre-emptive grief that's flooding Twitter today, you could be forgiven for thinking otherwise.)

As for the horrible mess that are our opposition parties, I'll repeat what I said in 2017: it's OK to vote for a least-worst option. You're not perjuring yourself or committing any moral sin, rather you're trying to be a grown-up. Part of the package of being an adult is making the best of bad situations.

It absolutely does suck - believe me, this is one of the most soul-destroying election campaigns I've ever seen. Every single party has clown-show'd itself. All of them have done things that are ridiculous, inept or otherwise ghastly. (Well, maybe not the Greens - I haven't heard of any specific scandals surrounding them - but their cardinal sin is that they have no plausible prospect of winning the election.) But even then, the barrel we're going to have to stare down is going and voting for them anyway.

(As a related case-in-point, one factor that seems to have helped the Tories win their unexpected 2015 majority was that a contingent of left-wing voters simply stayed at home on the day. While it's hard to find concrete statistics on, nonetheless anecdotally, this absolutely was a thing. A lot of people were demotivated by Labour's confused and incoherent campaign, left cold by all the bothering about fiscal rules, and alienated by things like the mug with "controls on immigration" on it. All of those are 100% valid criticisms. Except, except, except ... it helped an even worse party back into office. The theory of "if the choices are bad, sit it out" has been tested to destruction. It turns out that looking the other way is also a choice, and not necessarily the best one.)

I would add that there are also real questions to be asked about the utter vacuum of political strategy of people nominally on the anti-Tory side - it seems the Opposition spent the summer fixated on the minutiae of House procedures, while never stopping to ask why they were on this battlefield to begin with. Meanwhile the Tories largely-ignored Commons process, and instead sent a political appeal straight to Leave voters. It lost them a lot of individual legislative battles (and I'm not minimising their defeats - they were important!), but it put them in a good strategic place to win an election. And in the long run, it turns out that was what mattered.

It's hard not to feel bitter while thinking about the events of spring and summer. Perhaps if Jo Swinson had been less blinkered about Jeremy Corbyn, perhaps if Labour could have had the minimum sense to call a Vote of No Confidence when BoJo was vulnerable, perhaps if the collective Opposition had been able to recognise the huge wave of unharnessed political energy washing through the country during the petition back in March, perhaps if Change UK had managed to be something other than an unfunny joke, maybe if Corbyn had taken the anti-semitism problem seriously in 2018 and had actually done something instead of sitting on his hands and letting it metastasize to the point where it derailed his election campaign ... but, no. That's for some other, better timeline, not the one we live in. We seem to live in the world that resolutely and firmly chooses the wrong fork in every road. I don't know whether our timeline quite qualifies as the Bad Place, but it's certainly a place full of bad choices.

In a weird sort of way, though, this brings us back to the key theme. Whatever you might think of what's happening in this election - and goodness knows I'm as appalled as anyone else - nonetheless, your vote matters. Use it. As we're seeing, this is the ultimate limitation on their power, and the one chance we have of stopping them.

So once more, let me reiterate: turn up. Vote against the Tory. Do it as a hopeful action, even if you don't feel hopeful. If nothing else, do it so that when the bad things happen, at least you can say you tried to stop it. I wish I had something less bleak to offer here, but this is where we are.

#UK internal politics #diary of a disaster #needed to get that wail of despair out of my system really #still feeling quite despairing though