#it's called nature you chucklefucks

[hazel2468]

I'm feeling salty so I'm just gonna say-

If you can't handle the idea of feeding live prey to something.

Do not get a pet. That requires you. To feed it live fucking prey. There are SO MANY OTHER OPTIONS!

Also don't be that fucking weirdo who goes on other people's socials and bitches about how it's "inhumane" or "gross". They'd be doing it out in the wild. It's a little something called nature. And no, you cannot find an "alternative" for your mantis.

It's a MANTIS. It is like. One of the most famous predatory insects. It is infamous for eating its prey alive.

If you're going to be a little baby about feeding live prey. Then get a pet that doesn't need that. And shut the fuck up.

#its just annoying as fuck like #if you don't like the idea of predation in animals then like... don't get a predator #i've been in the hobby for all of a month but this shit is everywhere #and its not new! #i used to own a pair of lizards when I was in high school and I was seeing this shit back then too #because I would give them crickets once a month as a treat instead of their usual veggies #and people are so WEIRD about animals eating other animals like #wtf is wrong with people? #it's a CRICKET calm down #like sure all life is sacred yadda yadda but fucking #all life being sacred doesn't mean that death never happens #because if my mantis doesn't eat he dies #if my spider doesn't eat she dies #it's called nature you chucklefucks #Reaper Man and Bracken would both be eating bugs if they were out in the wild #Bracken is actually a species native to my general area so like #there are spoods out there RIGHT NOW eating bugs #she just gets to have a cushy life with no predators and carefully controlled humidity and big fat flies on the regular #and a cute little hide #same for Reaper Man he gets a nice cushy home and all the food he could need #and people are really out here bitching about how its cruel fuck the fuck off #if you come into the bug keeping world and whine about this I just think you're a moron

[soumic]

About once a day I go through the mental gymnastics of going "god I should probably make an art insta, for ~professional purposes~ and ~networking~ and ~cultivating an audience~"

And then I scrunch my face up so hard my features cave inside my skull thinking about conceding to using an algorithmic social media platform in 2023, let alone a facebook product

(please don't take this as a call to suggest alternative social medias to me sdlkfjs I mega super promise you I am aware of them)

#you know what I'm fine actually with never being perceived #>he is having a professional crisis #I'm like do I really want to do that to myself again. to have metrics. to have randos find my shit and harass me and my peers? #tbh I really don't want too much discoverability I'd like to keep within my community- I want to be sought out not stumbled upon by whoever #twitter was such a goddamn hellscape- and I'm talking BEFORE the acquisition #I need it known that I was calling for everyone to leave twitter WELL before that chucklefuck pulled his stunt #he's easy to point fingers at but the thing was rotten to the core already- arguably he did us all a favor by derailing it so spectacularly #otherwise it would have stuck around and suffered a slow natural death like all platforms #I also wanna go on record and say I've been warning about discord for a while now too- she's reaching critical mass #the answer to all this is that I need to stop being a chump and just keep working on my personal website #text #personal

[jellazticious]

Meet this chucklefuck

His name is Pascal Short for Giuseppe Pascallis Jaleppino Edvard Stefano Dimitri Jaloro Pepperman-Spaghetti

That's right, you read the surnames correctly. He is a Pepperino fankid

ramble and more drawings under the cut if you managed to survive the first part

If I had a nickel for everytime I made fankids, I would have two. Which isn't a lot but it is weird that it happened twice.

And brother? I'm happy about it jsrgksrb

Pascal is a jaloro pepper and since his parents are so shit at naming him, they straight up put his pepper type as a name. but yes, they're a real thing and they're so cute. Jaloros are just yellow jalapenos

I also tried to make him simultaneously look like a pepper and a mango to complement how Pepperman looks like an apple. but also while drawing the sprite mock ups, I realized that at a certain pose he sorta looks like a pizza slice. I win either way bfsjbgksjr

He does not want to be an artist or a chef but he does have the inherited naturality of both which landed him a job as a barista. and of course, he could only work for one place which is the Noisette Cafe. It kinda gave him a little trouble getting hired cuz 1.) Peppino does not like how his son is about to work for his rival's girlfriend and 2.) Noisette is fucking terrified of Pepperman. You think she's gonna let his son who is one foot taller work for her 😭

But still, Noisette is way too kind that Peppino forgets why he has a problem with her and Pascal is way softer than both his dads surprisingly. It's ironic how Peppino and Pepperman are these barbarians of people and their kid ended up being the forestcore aestethic. He is never beating the allegations lmao, he's gonna be THAT softboy

But don't get me wrong, he can be a combination brutal and berserk when pissed off. He still has the same strength as his dads, mind you. Mostly Pepperman's brute and Peppino's street smarts

And their patience too.

People expect him to be as manly lol but like nahh he just wanna chill and be a nerd dork

And if anyone's wondering, it was obviously Pepperman who spawned him. In the human au tho? I have a perfect answer for that lmao. ahem

My Pepperman has and always been intersex lmao. That is it, that is all you need to know how Pascal can theoretically be made

Plants being plants man, they're really weird. Pepper is simultaneously mom, dad, uncle, and aunt lmao. Tho Pas calls him both mom and dad because it would be so fucking funny and he calls Peppino papi

He's very tender mostly cuz he did not inherit Pepperman's narcissism but he did inherit that kindness that Pepperman tries so hard to hide. And of course, Peppino's anxiety and impulses.

As a kid, Peppino is the brooding hen between him and Phil. He'd be the one who double checks triple checks if it's safe to let baby Pascal do his thing.

Pepperman on the other hand, he holds baby Pas like a rubber ball. Peppino tries not to get his kid killed because of how his wife holds it 😭

Oh also in a few of em, you can see little interactions with @beefy-the-stronk's Jude. They're simultaneously cousins and siblings. Also don't question it. Just imagine there's two Peppermans gbsjbgrksj

Also Gustavo is the godfather. I only had Pascal for three days but I would die for him

Anyway, if you made it this far, I thank you but alas. That is all for now bgjsbgjksr

#Pizza Tower #i drew this #Pepperman #Manpepper #Peppino Spaghetti #okay how do I tag him #Pascal Jaleppino #fleshed out Pas #Jude the Forksmith #yeah making his middle name look like his last name fbsjbgksr #Pepperino #Spicah Meatball

[daniigh0ul]

tag yourself i'm the unphased trio in the background

prev || next context + transcript under the cut. big shout outs to @madebycoffee for the poses <3

some contextual worldbuilding: werewolf pups are werewolves who have not shifted yet and do not have control of their abilities. while the abilities are innate for diego because he inherited them, it's still something that has to be honed in on. the werewolves he meets have the advantage of 1) embracing their werewolf nature, and 2) being in a pack so they have each other as mentors to learn from and refine these skills. even more context, rough housing is really common in packs. but still, lou bullying diego would be equal to a lab fighting a yorkie lol.

transcript:

LOU: In wolf mode, I can bench at least 350 lbs. Diego walking toward the abandoned steel factory. Lou stops talking to sniff the air. LOU: Who the fuck are you? Get lost. DIEGO: Just passing through, man. LOU: Get lost, runt. DIEGO: It's a free country. Just let me g— Rory exits the werewolf tunnels to her usual haunt, the abandoned steel factory. She sees her pack lounging around and a newcomer. She smells the anger before she hears it in Lou's voice. LOU: I can smell the fear on you, pupsqueak. Bet you haven't even shifted yet. DIEGO: Get out of my face, you freak. LOU: What are you gonna do about it? DIEGO: Fuck y— Rory sees Lou punch the kid and runs. RORY: Ah, damnit. RORY: HEY. LOU. STOP THAT RIGHT NOW. Lou is distracted by Rory's commanding voice. Diego takes the opportunity to roll them over. Diego cannot process any thought. Blood. Flesh. Rip. Tear. Throat. He is snarling. No part of him wants to stop. Lou's laugh cuts through him. Diego snaps back to his senses. Both look up at the commanding presence before them. RORY: Care to explain? DIEGO: He attacked me for no reason. LOU: He has a punchable face and I'm not sorry. RORY: Lou, you're too old to be fighting pups. LOU: Aw. It was just a bit of fun. Wasn't it, pupsqueak? DIEGO: What did you call me? Diego is still too close to the brink and he goes to fight Lou. Lou holds him back with his hand with little effort. LOU: Runt of the litter can't even get a punch in. RORY: Listen, chucklefucks. Stop that. Lou, go for a run. Kid, we should talk.

#oc: diego #rory oaklow #lou howell #ts4 story #tw violence #the trio: parker lucy and selena #moonlight 2.0

[masterqwertster]

#31. "You came back for me" from the vague angst meme. For Ashton, naturally. ❤

Prompt Yeah. Figured someone would ask that one for Ashton "I have abandonment issues" Greymoore 😋 I'm gonna take this to the C2 Class Swap Resurrection, because I've been thinking about it on and off since I came up with it. 31 "You came back for me."

They all wait with baited breath after the offerings are made to see if Pike's resurrection spell will take.

Well, those of them that breathe. Fresh Cut Grass doesn't, and it's rather debatable if Laudna needs to or not with as far between breaths as she'll go at times.

Still, the feeling is there.

One second. Two sec-

Ashton's glass explodes with light and color as he gasps in a new breath, body bowing with the force of restored life. And everyone in the room can feel reality bend just the slightest bit from what the members of Bells Hells recognize as Ashton's strange and unique brand of magic.

That's as long as FCG waits to scoot forward to hover over Ashton's head so they can see a friend when they first open their eyes again. It's only a moment of waiting, watching their nostrils flare, catching their chest rise and fall out of the corner of his vision, alive alive alive, before Ashton's eyes flutter open.

"...Hey, Letters," Ashton softly says, voice raw from disuse in death.

"S-smiley day to ya, Ashton," Fresh Cut Grass replies, voice quavering with emotion. "I'm real glad you're back with us. Real glad."

Ashton hums in agreement as he sits up with a grunt. "Me too-"

He freezes, taking in that it's not just Fresh Cut Grass here. It's all of Bells Hells, standing around some magic circle he's in the middle of in what looks like a living room with happy smiles aimed at him. Maybe even for him.

And it seems that sitting up and getting eyes on them is all the waiting the rest of the Hells are willing to do, as Ashton finds himself buried under a pile of bodies all hugging him. Finds his ears filled with overlapping voices calling his name, expressing joy at his presence.

It's a lot.

A lot of good that Ashton never expected to have in their life, not after The Fall. They never expected to have people again, a family to call their own. Not when they'd been left behind again and again. They'd been shown how broken, how unwanted they are time after time. Then these chucklefucks fucking wormed their way into Ashton's life and just... didn't leave. And they didn't let him leave either. They fucking chased down his broken pieces, put him back together. They hadn't flinched, hadn't pulled away from what he was and is. How-? Why-?

What the fuck is up with these people?

"Oh! Don't cry! Is it too much? We can back off. Everyone-"

Ashton doesn't let them pull away. Instead he lets those overwhelming feelings fuel his tired body to shift and expand so he can hug all of his people at once. Hold them close.

Their laughing admonishments as he squeezes them tighter brings a pleased rumble out of his chest. Fuck, it's been so long since Ashton's had this.

What a fucking time to be alive.

#MQ&A #MQfic #MQ AU machine #bells hells c2 class swap au #critical role #ashton greymoore #fcg #bells hells #vague angst quote prompt

[catchyhuh]

What would be the gang's favourite places to spend vacation in?

could you imagine having just landed at (DESTINATION OF CHOICE), exhausted and jetlagged as all hell, the hotel is having trouble with your booking, and then you see one of these chucklefucks go enter the premises? i'd swim back home.

lupin:

being lupin, he’ll love anything outlandish or special enough to warrant being called a “vacation.” but most vacation activities are just… his normal life? so he (much to the chagrin of the others he always forces to go with him) needs something more… solidly unique.

lupin the third is banned from every major theme park in the world. however, only twelve of his disguises are.

he’s not stressing about getting the most out of his day-- he snuck the guys in through the back anyway, and he’ll come back in a few years if he feels like it. this makes him one of the few people to actually get to experience these places in a casual, actually fully enjoyable way. but also he and Fujiko (she was sick of standing) internally busted up the “skip the line” pass system so they’re fucking set to go wherever they please

probably broke into one during the night once too before he realized how eerie it is to experience this without unhappy parents at every turn

i could go on about this. it’d be funny. i could do it for all of them. but that’s NOT THE POINT LET’S GO JIGEN

jigen:

“i don’t care” (he cares immensely)

jigen is a proud contrarian, and for someone who says he hates noise and racket and all that shit, he LOVES big cities. which… given their line of work, almost always perfectly works out for him!

the specific kind of dense and natural history they have is interesting to him. not in an actual historical way, of course, but in the sense of walking out of a pizza hut and seeing a building constructed 300 years ago. in perfect condition. next to the pizza hut

cliff(hanger) notes: new yawk baby (jokes aside google lupin iii cliffhanger)

fujiko:

LUXURY RESORT BABY

THE SPA THE POOL THE IN-HOUSE RESTAURANT. OOH BABY SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO LEAVE THE PREMISES FOR ANYTHING. she will. she hates being tied down. BUT THE POINT IS SHE DOESN’T HAVE TO!

it’s harder to steal a vacation than it is to steal a big ass sapphire or some shit. hence fujiko’s talent in swindling bitches and just walking around like she owns the place. nobody questions it when a woman in 6 inch heels with the sharpest sunglasses this side of homestuck shows up

fujiko LOVES people doing shit for her. real for that, honestly, and the way they wait on you hand and foot would just delight her to no end. someone comes by the pool with a lil martini and she's like hm, thank you but internally she’s like Heh… As It Should Be

goemon:

i don’t have to tell you our guy is not one for the sins of this world. he says. allegedly. call it a vacation and he’s like hmph. waste of time. call it a retreat and you get a lil eyebrow raise

so what does he want? CABIN IN THE WOODS BABY

NOT THE MURDER KIND. JUST THE NICE, CHILL KIND. but don’t go too far here: it’s a retreat, not a hideout. he will be expecting one of those fancy cabins, the kind built on stilts with two floors (and balconies, maybe even a wrap-around porch on the ground floor. there will be a hot tub. he will claim the hot tub is excessive. he will be using the hot tub

after all, it’s a RETREAT, so it’s okay to splurge :) (he is just as bad about this shit as his rotten friends)

zenigata:

zenigata? vacation? oh, you jokester,

if you could somehow force him to pick a place and actually enjoy it, he… would have an incredibly difficult time settling on one thing. so many things would delight him but also so many things would be grating as hell. which is just how life works so. tough luck, pops.

i don’t usually double up, but i also feel like a good city vacation would be nice. there’s NO way to get understimulated and bored in an environment like that, he gets to find all these tiny undiscovered nooks and crannies, those horrible kitschy tourist knick knacks (he’s not above it) and just being in the middle of It. it does him good. plus you can lie and say “getting to know this city ahead of time will give you a leg up if lupin steals some shit here” and then he’ll be onboard entirely

also a chance to subtly flex his freakish preparedness. you run into some specific ass problems in any vacation environment, but with the hectic energy of big cities, there’s even MORE. and you better believe this motherfucker has it ALL on him. he packed sunscreen AND hand warmers, either way the weather goes, he’s got bandaids, safety pins, spare change, spare bills, he brought one of those like anti spill thermos things, which is REALLY handy-- did he pack his toothbrush? c’mon, don’t underestimate him. of course he did. toothpaste? …uh. damn...

#disclaimer: the author knows nothing else about homestuck i just wanted to make that joke n couldnt remember that anime guy's name #an insane tag to put on this without context but one i feel is necessary #lupin iii #lupin the third #lupin #jigen #fujiko #goemon #zenigata #asks

[youbecameart]

Got into an argument with some chucklefuck because somebody liked one of my posts and I went to check out their blog, turns out they're like anti coffin game sure whatever so I felt a lil smug and was like why interact with my post about my fictional serial killer blorbos if you don't like them? Then some other fucker called me gross and asked why I liked coffin game I said cause of the cannibalism and they ho oh so you condone incest? I said I guess if you can't read I said that. Then they're like you're a sicko. I said listen fucko my blog is about the enherent sexual nature of killing and eating someone you love I'm not gonna get on a high horse over a game about two consenting adults who made a decision and are bad people. It feels like when people don't like something they turn into 4th graders just trying to see who can yell the loudest also

Check the tags of the content I post if you don't follow me, this blog is extremely fucked up, it's a place for me to post theoretical phantasy kink not for me to describe real world events

#the coffin of andy and leyley #vent post #angry #fell for the bait probably

[a-couple-of-notes]

There's a lot about EXU Prime that is fascinating to think about in the context of C3 (like, for example - Orym and Fearne absolutely have experience with a party member being tempted to the dark side, so their reactions to Imogen make a ton of sense - that's basically how they reacted to Dorian taking the crown), but I keep coming back to this quote from episode 6:

"[Magic] is undifferentiated. It is not divine. It is not something wrought by man. It is not nature. It is whatever it needs to be. It is simply power. The decision, the deciding makes it a thing. [...] All of this place, all of Exandria, holds potential, holds energy, grabs it, takes it, makes it and gives it. But it is the decision of you reaching into a place, full and ripe, and deciding to bring something into being. That is the power that some call of the gods, that some call the arcane. It is power and it is beautiful."

Aside from it being beautiful on its own, this is effectively the thesis statement on power for EXU Prime as a whole. And I think it's really cool that we're seeing this theme woven, too, through Campaign 3: that it's about how you use the power, not where it comes from. It's about the power of choice. Even Opal's exchange after this quote, where she calls bullshit and questions whether she really has control over her own life, hits on a lot of the feelings Bells Hells (and Imogen specifically) have right now.

EXU Prime and Campaign 3 are different stories, and they do stand on their own. (I don't think EXU Prime gets near enough credit for how solid of a story it is--that's a post for another time.) But I really like how they build on each other, sharing not only a world but themes, philosophies. A party of NPCs in a wizard moon conspiracy, a party of level 2 chucklefucks carting around a Vestige in a pie bag. Corruption, darkness, power, choice. Family chosen and grasped for. Even more than being set on the same fantasy planet, it makes these narratives feel connected, and it helps me appreciate them that much more.

#exu prime #cr3 #bells hells #the crownkeepers #clickbait title: exu prime walked so cr3 could run #I overlooked a lot of the cool stuff in exu prime during my first watch-through #and it's been really interesting rewatching the series over the past couple of days #I definitely see the flaws and why it may not have hit for everybody #but the emotional threads of the story are incredibly solid #and surprisingly complex #and there are things about it I love more than calamity or the current campaign #maybe for another post though

[bandedbulbussnarfblat]

Remembrance-Chapter 5

Latest chapter of my Daniel/Armand fic. Read it below or here

Daniel needs a fucking smoke.

After watching Louis suck off Damek and reliving the memories it brought up, he needs something. It's not only that, but remembering his past is also making him remember how much he was using. Remember how it good it felt. He's getting the itch, and he hasn't gotten it in a long time. He's mostly settled in his sobriety after this long.

The worst thing is, it isn't even for smack. It's for that sweet vamp blood. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. Once an addict, always an addict.

So yeah, he needs a fucking smoke.

He's not enough of an asshole to smoke inside Louis house without asking. He goes to the balcony off the living room. It's still dark outside, only around ten. Truthfully, he could fit in more of the interview tonight, but he's tapped out. Thinks Louis is too.

Daniel pulls a single cigarette out of the crumpled pack he keeps for emergencies. He only smokes when he needs to settle his nerves now. Digs his lighter out of his pocket and thumbs the wheel. It sticks, and he flicks it again and again. No luck. To top it off, his hand starts to shake.

“For fuck's sake,” he swears, nerves frayed.

“Allow me to assist you,” comes a voice from his left.

Jesus! The asshole scared the shit out of him. Daniel hadn't even noticed Armand was there on the other end of the balcony. He sweeps over to him and plucks the lighter from his hands. Daniel thinks he'll never be able to light him up with those gloves on, put the lighter flicks to life for him on the first try.

It brings him intimately close to Daniel, and Daniel's chest aches. Armand steps back and hands him the lighter. There's a polite amount of space between them now, but it feels like an ocean. It pisses him off that he wishes he could close it.

“Thanks,” Daniel says, then because he can't help needle Armand a little “What are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be serving your god?”

“I'm on my break,” Armand says easily. Lying comes as naturally to him as breathing. As breathing did when he was a human. Daniel is loosing the metaphor. Armand nods out to the skyline. “I like to enjoy the view.”

Daniel takes a drag and looks out. “It's something.”

He takes another drag and out of some ingrained force of habit, passes the cigarette to Armand. It's ridiculous; Armand doesn't even smoke, really. He only smokes when Daniel and Louis do, and only then because he wants to be included. At least, that's what Daniel had assumed. He was never so presumptuous to ask.

Armand blinks and takes it. Wraps his lips around it and pulls and lets it dangle from his fingers as he exhales. Daniel thinks smoking wouldn't be so popular if it didn't look so sexy. He wordlessly passes it back to Daniel. Daniel sucks on it and imagines he can taste Armand's mouth.

Because even pretending to be someone else, Armand is a little shit, he says “Should a man in your health be smoking, Mr. Molloy?”

“Hey, do I criticize your poor life choices?” Daniel says. He passes the cigarette back to Armand.

Armand takes it with a roll of his eyes. He takes a long drag and tilts his head back, blows the smoke out. It exposes the long line of his throat. Daniel looks away. “You know nothing of my life choices, Mr. Molloy.”

Armand passes back the cigarette. Their fingers brush and Daniel has never hated a scrap of leather more. What is wrong with him? He feels like he's a twenty-something chucklefuck again.

“I know fucking your boss is typically a poor choice,” Daniel says, because he wants to press his buttons. He always did love winding up Armand.

He's expects indignation and denial. What he gets is a wry smile from Armand and, “Am I really so obvious?”

Daniel shrugs, keeps going, “Powerful men like fucking their secretaries. Assistants. Whatever they call it these days.”

“You think Mr. de Pointe du Lac is so unoriginal?”

Daniel decides to really try his luck. Go big or go home, right? “Maybe you're just that irresistible.”

Is he flirting with his ex? His ex who probably erased his memories? This must be what going mad feels like.

Armand laughs, and it's as seductive a sound as it always was. “Careful, Mr. Molloy. One might think you were flirting.”

“Mm, and what might one think of that?”

Armand smiles ever-so-slightly and grabs his Ipad off the railing. “One thinks their break is over.”

Then Armand strolls back inside and Daniel watches him leave. He's got goddamn butterflies in his stomach. Oh, he needs to be careful here. It's too easy to get caught up in nostalgia.

Nostalgia, that shit's better than smack.

/

It's the next day, after a long, fitful day of restless sleep.

“Hold on there,” Daniel says, holding up a finger. They're in the living room, working on tonight's part of the interview. “You're saying Lestat wrote the 'Wolverine Blues'?”

“I can't be definitive,” Louis says, “So much of that year as a blur.”

Daniel lets Louis drone on while he searches for the song on his laptop. “This.”

He plays it and Louis bops his head along. It's kind of adorable. Daniel's not going to think too hard about that thought.

“Yes, that's it.”

“Uh-huh.” It's time to address the issue. “Yeah, you know, I gotta say, it's not so much the minute details, Louis, rather the total rewrite that's giving me pause here.”

Daniel brings up his recordings of the tapes. “I mean, 1973.”

He presses play and Louis voice rings out “He was a sow's ear out of which nothing fine could be made. I was his complete superior, and I had been sadly cheated in having him for a teacher.”

“2022.”

“It was a cold winter that year, and Lestat was my coal fire. And I found myself, for the very first time, to anyone other than Paul, confiding my struggles to another man.”

While it plays, Louis picks up his copy of Daniel's memoir. He thumbs through the pages.

“San Francisco.”

Louis voice again. “He appeared frail, and stupid to me, a man made of dried twigs with a thin, carping voice.”

“Dubai.”

“I had never allowed myself to feel emotionally close to anyone, much less a man. Lestat had surrounded me.”

Daniel pulls off his glasses and looks at Louis expectantly.

“The version we speak of now is a more nuanced portrait.”

“Hmm. Or the more rehersed.”

“Perhaps I was mistaken about the 'Wolverine Blues.'” Louis says.

Daniel wants to laugh. Does he really think this is about some damn song? “Fuck the 'Wolverine Blues.' Ken Burns can choke on the footnotes.”

Daniel leans in a little. “It's the abused-abuser psychological relationship I'm talking about.”

Which, Daniel knows is pretty rich coming from him. He fell for a guy that at one point did intend to kill him. He likes to think after they crossed that bridge it ceased to be abusive. Toxic, yes. Abusive, no.

“I do not consider myself abused.” Louis cuts in.

“I mean, usually when you're a little too close to it, the abused still loves the abuser, but you flipped it completely on its head.”

“I'm not a victim.”

Daniel realizes he's pissing Louis off, but maybe he needs to be. How can be reconcile his relationship with Lestat, when he can't even acknowledge what it was?

“Fifty years later, you talk like he was your soul mate, like you were locked in some fucked up gothic romance. Why?”

Pot meet kettle. No wonder Louis is irritated. He flips open Daniel's book and begins reading. “I'm in my Buick, staring in the rearview mirror at my daughter in the car seat, an hour after I gave Derek, a guy I don't know, the last thirty bucks I had. My editor reminds me, it's seven years before car seats are mandatory. My ex-wife reminds me, I never owned a Buick.”

Daniel looks away. He can't look at Louis. He's so angry he's practically shaking. His memory is fucked up, yes, but it's not his fault. He knows with a certainty that he feels down to his soul, either Louis or Armand are responsible for him not remembering them. And what does the brain do, when it's missing memories? It creates false ones. It fills in the gaps.

“This is the odyssey of recollection,” Louis finishes. “The tapes are an admitted performance. This is the premise of our interview. Half a century later, allow me my odyssey.”

Yeah, and where does Daniel fit into his fucking odyssey? He can't do this right now. He's close to lashing out and ruining everything. He needs some air to clear his head. Daniel rises to his feet. “Let's take a break.”

His hands are shaking when he fumbles his cigarettes out of his pocket. Louis eyes him with concern. “Daniel are you alright?”

Daniel drops the pack of cigarettes. Fuck everything. “Shit.”

Louis moves to pick them up for him. Daniel barks, “I'm old, not decrepit.”

Louis sits back down. Daniel picks up the packet and moves outside to the balcony. He lights up and takes a shaky inhale. The nicotine is like a balm to his nerves. A moment passes, then Louis joins him. “Got a spare?”

Daniel wordlessly passes him the pack. Louis pulls one out, then holds it in his hands. The end suddenly lights in flames.

“Neat trick.”

“Being dead has it's advantages,” says Louis. “Are you going to tell me what's wrong?”

“You gonna pull it from my head if I don't?”

Louis frowns, almost looks offended. “Of course not, Daniel.”

Daniel glances over at him. Keeps smoking while he thinks. “I'm old, I'm dying, and I slept like shit last night.”

Louis is observing him closely. Too closely.

Daniel snuffs out the cigarette. “Let's get back to it.”

Daniel brushes past Louis back inside. Louis still seems mildly concerned, but not pressing. Daniel needs something to distract him. “You want your odyssey, fine.”

He plucks the tapes up and drops them in the trash before sitting back down. Louis returns to his seat and opens his mouth. Daniel holds up a finger and slips his glasses back on his face. Goes to his laptop and deletes the audio files of the tapes. He has backups at home, but they won't help him here. Besides, it's the gesture that matters.

Louis smiles then focuses his gaze on the trash. It lights on fire, flames dancing high.

Daniel doesn't let it distract him, even though he wants to. He'll have to comb through his memories later to see if Louis ever used that particular trick in front of him. “You were the prince of your district. Lestat chased an American icon outta town because he loved you. 1917 doesn't sound like it was such a bad year.”

“Ridged to burn, Daniel.”

Louis tells how Lestat filled in for Jelly, how he and Miss Brown brought dazzled admirers back to the Rue Royale. “So the last one to leave never left.”

“No. He would do his killing away from me now, out of respect, he said, for the choice I had made.”

Well, that sounds like bullshit.

Louis goes on, talking about Lestat and this woman frolicking. About how his new diet affected his libido. How he let it happen. It sends a sharp stab through Daniel's heart. Was Daniel himself just something Louis let happen?

/

The thrill from them finally confessing their feelings is still fresh for Daniel. It's only been a few months, and it's been a whirlwind. He's thinks that he's never been happier than he is right now, lying beside Armand in bed as the sun is just beginning to rise into the sky. They've been out most of the night, first the opera, then some up and coming painter's debut show, then the after party of that show. He's a little buzzed on champagne and lack of sleep, but he's happy.

So naturally, something has to ruin it.

“We should visit Louis tomorrow,” Armand says while idly stroking a hand down his arm.

Daniel freezes and his heart pounds heavily. “Louis attacked me.”

Armand wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him back against him. “That was before you were mine. Louis would rather harm himself than harm someone I love so dearly.”

Daniel says nothing. He's not sure what to say.

“And of course, he's ashamed of what he did. He wants to apologize properly”

Daniel turns over and looks up into Armand's eyes, “You want me to meet with him.”

And Daniel doesn't really think Louis is a bad guy. He's a nice guy, really. But so was his high school girlfriend's dad, until he lost his temper. Then he would smack around her and her mom. Not that he thinks Louis would hurt Armand. Daniel is a mortal and a stranger and he loves Armand.

“You'll be there?”

“Yes, I'll be there,” Armand says and kisses him on his forehead. “Don't be afraid, my love. Louis will never harm you. We'll both keep you safe from all else.”

Armand won't force him, Daniel knows that. If Daniel says no, Armand will let it go. For now. But Armand always does find a way of getting what he wants in the end, doesn't he? Might as well get it over with. “Okay. But first I gotta ask—Is Louis okay with this? With us?”

Daniel can't figure out why he would be. Why isn't he jealous? Is Daniel that inconsequential? Armand cups his jaw. “Never think that, beloved. Louis isn't jealous because he knows he is one of the great loves of my life. You are the other.”

Daniel's hear skips a beat. He feels himself smiling like an idiot. “I am, huh?”

“Yes, Daniel.”

Daniel leans forward and kisses Armand. His lips are still warm from feeding earlier. Daniel lingers a moment, then says “Okay, let's do it. Let's meet with Louis.”

/

Daniel listens without interruption as Louis talks about Lestat's affair, his own encounter with Jonah. About seeing mud on Lestat's shoes. While he's speaking, Armand comes in. He's preparing drinks. He's wearing all black again, and he looks as good as ever. Even if his eyes are wrong.

Daniel lets himself get distracted, just a second, but tears his eyes away once Armand glances back at him. If he's reading his mind, all he'll hear are thoughts of how pretty he looks. There's the smallest of smiles on his face when they meet eyes, but it disappears as quickly as it comes. Daniel places his focus back on Louis.

“...weren't paved at the time. The mud on his boots could have come from anywhere,” Louis says. He's standing now, walking toward Armand. Daniel hadn't even noticed him get up. He needs to focus.

“Was it raining that night?”

Louis is quiet a second, lost in contemplation.

“Did it rain?” Daniel presses.

“I don't remember now,” Louis says. “It could have been dry on the bayou and wet in the Quarter. It's Louisiana.”

“The odyssey of recollection.”

“Hmm.” Louis turns his back to him, moves to the drink cart. “I would meet Jonah decades later.”

That's probably a lie.

Louis takes two drinks and strolls back towards Daniel. He pauses and says, “You're lingering, Rashid.”

It's dismissive and sounds exactly like a boss speaking to an employee. Daniel wonders how Armand feels about this whole thing. Whose idea was Rashid? He can't help but glance back at him.

“Apologies, Mr. du Lac.” Armand begins to leave. Daniel finds his eyes drawn to him, silently watching him go. Louis clocks his interest, glances back at Armand himself then back to Daniel.

“Have I introduced you to Rashid, Daniel?”

Armand pauses near the door. Daniel gets his shit together. “We've met.”

Louis nods at Armand, and Armand walks out. “You seem interested.”

His voice is neutral, but there's something curious in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“He's easy on the eyes,” Daniel says, taking the drink Louis offers. Time to change the subject. “What did he say when he met you again, when you were young and he wasn't?”

“What they all say eventually say in one articulation or another,” says Louis, going back to his story. He seems to have moved on from any curiosity regarding Daniel and 'Rashid.' He tells of visiting his family and how poorly it went, of coming home to a house full of soldiers, power being cut at his club, finding out Tom sold him the Azalea because he knew the end was coming.

Louis is sitting across from him again by now, long minutes having passed. Daniel is mostly trying to reconcile his memories of Louis and what he hears now. Louis heard the alderman's thoughts, loud and clear, but years later, he had trouble reading Daniel's. Either Louis had been starving himself longer than he thought, thus weakening his powers or Armand had lied before. Either is equally plausible.

What's the vampiric equivalent of an eating disorder?

“When your mother sees the Devil in your eyes, it's a hard assessment to abandon. Am I from the Devil? Is my very nature that of the Devil? I had hedged against the question, but now it completely overwhelmed me.”

Daniel gets it; nobody likes letting down their parents. Everyone wanted their mother's love. Though if his mother was like Louis', he'd have probably given up long before Louis did.

Louis goes on to talk about hanging a sign on the door saying it was for colored folks only. How it invited chaos, how the hubris on display caused him to neglect his thirst. How his temper rose and eventually he could stand it no longer. Animals would no longer suffice.

“Take a black man in America, make him a vampire, fuck with that vampire, see what comes of it.”

He kills the alderman, of course. Daniel could see that coming a mile away. The gruesome way he did so and the garish display of the body aren't as expected. Lestat's reaction seems perfectly in character, though Daniel supposes Louis was too close to it and expected otherwise. The violence it wrought is equally predictable.

“And then...one of those inconceivable moments where who you were before and who you would be forever after is marked in time.”

Daniel understands that. For him, that moment came with meeting Louis and learning he was a vampire.

“A rooming house, now a fire trap. I could not save the Azalea. I could not save Storyville. I could not save the aunt on the wrong side of the wall, but I could save her. My light. My Claudia. My redemption.”

#iwtv fic #daniel molloy #armand #daniel/armand #armand/daniel

[royalberryriku]

Okay not to be political on main but I have to laugh at something, okay.

Half vent and ramble, half shitpost, whole messy social commentary I guess.

Like, y'all are so fucking stupid like how tf you gonna argue "well people should be treated differently on the basis of if they have a dick or pussy" and pretend that's feminism?? Woman's rights?? To what, segregation and being treated different? We had that in the 18th century and I don't wanna go back to that. There's no way to justify this shit, there just isn't. "Treating people different on the basis of sex" is literally what sexism is, by definition. How tf you gonna justify sexism as a good thing and keep the feminist label??

And all the while crying that "men can't wear dresses", like damn that'd be like women wearing pants! Can't have that! This is the 1920s and it's gotta stay that way through the 2020s onwards because what's woman's rights and being treated as equals or changing from what men said women should be when you can just push to have sex treated as a personality trait? And then call that biology, as if women grow flesh frills and pink dresses from their bodies and makeup is a natural thing that appears from nowhere. "Ummm that's womamface!!" No if it's anything it's whale-blubber-and-wool-face because dresses and makeup aren't made of women's flesh. It's made from other stuff you dipshits. I can't believe a male whale is now a woman according to you because it was used in a cosmetic lipstick, wow that's so biologically accurate! Like, do you hear yourselves?

Y'all so silly, how does anyone give TERFs any genuine interest or credibility when they say this obviously illogical horseshit with their whole chest? How are they all not embarassed?? I'd be so mortified if I ever said any of this with any sincerity and would look back with so much embarassment that I'd hide in a hole for all eternity out of shame.

Y'all be like: "Boo hoo! The men and women are being treated the same and that's bad! Women shouldn't be playing sports and using bad language because they'll hurt their little womanly bodies and not be able to be baby machines! Or wearing pants, that's so not cool because pants are for Men and dresses are for Women! That's why if men wear pants they're taking womanhood away from women! Also they can't use makeup! That's only for women because all women wear makeup and it defines who we are!! Go back to the kitchen!! I'm a feminist clearly though so if you say I'm sexist you're a misogynist!!"

Goofiest stupid ass logic ever actually. A villain from a tv show can come up with more believable reasoning and morals than this.

I also laugh when they're like "but but! The trans rights activists are enforcing gener roles" by what? Deciding that sex doesn't fucking matter! Oh my god, that's so sexist! Clearly! Or what, because men wearing a dress is conforming to the gener roles of the 1500s when men used to wear tights? Or because of the butch women going by he/him while also saying they're women still?? But also say they're men? Is that so confusing that it somehow loops back into "that's the gener binary" because damn, what one? I'd like to know what world you're living in where men wearing dresses and women wearing suits is seen as the binary norm. Last I checked, it was YOU chucklefucks who have been having giant tantrums over a man wearing a dress because "a gay man can't wear a dress, that's for women!!" Like come tf on, who are you fooling?

I'm pretty sure the only people stupid enough to fall for this are politicians, which I guess is all sexist people with an agenda need since politicians are idiots. But damn, most people, boo fucking hoo, aren't gonna fall for the "yeah but dresses are biologically a woman thing" no tf it isn't you turds. No one's gonna believe that unless it's for some other agenda. Guess that's why all the men who are women are also TERFs, it's almost like there's something sexist underneath the movement about sexism.

But what do I know? I'm just a bearded trans man (female to male) who wears dresses and likes pink and calls himself a pretty handsome girlboy. I know, its not a good look as someone clearly conforming to gender roles and betraying womanhood by having a beard and deep voice and calling myself a boy. As someone with a vagina, I shouldn't have a beard while I wear a dress, that's too sexist for the poor poor TERF women. Just so very misogynistic of me to not use the nouns I'm told I should "biologically use", because the English language is a living organism, and even, shockingly, the wrong adjectives.

#gender critical #more like gender dependent lmfao #politics #humour #meme #shitpost #sexism #feminism #terfblr #this one for u terfblr #nerdy ass name #being a terf is a fandom now apparently I'm cackling imagine making sexism a fandom #“don't tag wrong” #haha don't give a fuck this is an @ idc #TERFs are just whale and silk identified human females

[chaos-event-horizon]

A Phone call

"I hope you're not expecting more than a vaguely civil conversation, Yagi."

Toshinori smirked at the tone of the chucklefuck he had on the other end of the line. He was leaning heavily against the side of a building several blocks away from his home, and already could tell this was going to be a fun conversation.

"Aw, so prickly. What's wrong Todoroki, didn't you miss me?"

"Not even a little. I'm getting sick of you trying to punch me in the face."

"Well... From what I hear, you won't have to worry about that for a few days."

The line was quiet, then a growling voice ground its way through the receiver. "If you've done anything to my son--! Yagi, I'm going to--"

"Cool your jets, Flameo. Shouto's fine. You know better than to think I'd hurt a kid."

"...What do you want?"

"Just a yes or no answer. Is your impromptu vacation happening because the main association branch is making a deal with the Shie Hassaikai?"

"... So, you heard about that?"

The blonde smirked as he remembered the night that Rian had gleefully gone to pick up Midoriya from the Todoroki compound and used his quirk to sneak around while leaving a hefty stack of papers on the hero's desk, though he was immediately cooled off by the chilling memories of other lives where things had gone horribly wrong by this point. "Come on, Endeavor... Who do you think provided you with the tip in the first place?"

There was a lot of cursing from the other line, then another strangled growl. "That kid--"

"Is very good friends with your son, yes. Consider him my 'Shouto', and take that into account before you try anything funny."

Near silence, then the sound of rustling papers as the phone's speaker setting kicked on "...Then the information is accurate? Don't toy with me, Yagi, and don't worry about being recorded. I'm de-bugged for the moment."

"As accurate as my people can figure. That's no technology they're developing, it's a girl being used for her quirk. Six years old. The Yakuza plan to hand her over to the government in exchange for a profit and conditional immunity."

"And those damned dogs up top have no problem giving it, as long as it gives them another way to keep the status quo going..."

Toshinori fought with two different emotions: being impressed at how angry his old schoolmate was, and the sudden curiosity at how Todoroki might react to hearing about Rian's story. Maybe he'd tell the hothead someday, if they ever became more amicable. "Which is what we figured... And why we sent you the information. Thought you might be interested in cleaning up."

"Cleaning up?"

"I'm already poised to move on them. We're going to get that girl out, and your buddies in the Hero Association won't be any wiser. Consider the tip and this warning an invitation for you to come in once we leave and make it look like you were just mopping up. You'll notice from the documents we left you that they're also deeply involved with exploiting local businesses and committing rather violent harassment. On the day of, you'll receive a call from a civilian begging you for help. You'll arrive, end whatever party is still happening in there, and be hailed as the hero who put a stop to the Shie Hassaikai."

"What, you're planning on playing hero and just letting me take the credit?"

"Let's say that I have a personal stake in this, but don't want to ruin my reputation."

Silence.

Toshinori sighed. As he thought, Todoroki needed more convincing. "I'll send along proof that the kid's okay. According to our Intel she can't just be let loose anywhere, due to the nature of her quirk... But we have ways to keep her from getting hurt, and more than enough manpower to get the job done."

More silence.

"I can feel you scowling, Enji."

"I'm not a fan of being ordered around by a villain, Yagi."

"Come off it, asshole, you'd be mad if I was a hero too," the blonde grumbled. "Look, your hands are tied, right? Pretty much the only way to keep from being used like a $20 whore by that association is to protest by using vacation time. So let me do the dirty work. Tell your bosses you were there to try to stop me. Let those jackasses save face by letting the world think this was a win for the heroes, with you leading the charge. You and I both know that this deal is morally bankrupt, and saving that little girl is the only right thing to do here. I can stay the bad guy, while you use that godawful fire quirk of yours to spread a bit more light in the world."

"...I hate to admit this... But we've had a deal for the last seven hours. If you hadn't called I was planning on coming to find you."

"Come again?"

"You think I don't hate all this corruption and political nonsense? I tried to get the association to back off so we could save the kid, and you don't want to know what they told me. You and I aren't friends, and we probably hate each other, but even I know that you have a point. Go save that girl. I'll burn any evidence... Ever since he's been around your kid, Shouto's started smiling again. I trust you on this one, Yagi."

The line cut off, and Toshinori was left staring at his phone.

#darkened daydreams #smitespace #this counts as lore.

[noninatter]

oh ,  did the imp REALLY want the greeting of the goetian royals’ worst in line ?   long lashes flush once in a slow blink ,  the thick glossy shine of lip gloss  ( or was that just a natural sheen of spit )  glinting as she adjusts her stance ,  large hand coming to hip as hourglass figure cocks its weigh out towards one side .   well for starters ,  this rough  &&.  rowdy yeehaw man was certainly staring all too obviously for the likes of a  ‘ royalty hater ’  to just simply sweep under a rug .

gaze keeps its preening amicable sharpness as jaws move ,  unhinge to speak under sweet falsettos that purr those same velvety tones one might find a succubus whispering now  &&.  again .             “ you heard me ,  rope-burn .   gonna make me repeat myself ,  gonna make a pretty little thing like me have to greet you twice ,  maybe thrice if you’re feelin’ intimate ? ”

“ your call ,  chucklefuck . ”

--    @freaxshow

#IC. #HELL VERSE. #freaxshow #bullies you bullies you bullies y

[thepartyresponsible]

another soundtrack fill! this is for the anon who asked for  bucky barnes/jason todd and “vengeance” by neoni, which i had never heard before, but which is definitely a “killing monsters with giant robots” song.

so here’s a pacific rim au. the only surprise here is that it’s taken me so long to write one.

                                                        ---

Echo Lazarus and Bullseye Lucky throw Scorpio back into the Pacific, but the Kaiju’s barbed stinger rips a hole clear through Laz’s chestplate first. Twenty seconds later, Lucky executes it with a shot through a weak point in its cranial bones. Jason would take that less personally if the damage had been on his side of Laz, instead of Frank’s. Probably.

“Fucking assholes,” he says, fighting free of the harness, elbowing his way out of the Conn-Pod. “Kill-stealing chucklefucks,” he continues, right over the top of Frank’s half-assed attempts to calm him down. “I’m sick of this shit, Castle.”

“I’m fine,” Frank says. There’s a bit of blood on his mouth, but it’s from smashing his lip against his helmet, not from neural overload or internal bleeding. When he wipes it away, no more leaks out to replace it. “Nice of you to check in.”

“I know you’re fine, Castle,” Jason says, ignoring the still-panicked thudding of his heart. “Fuck off.”

He stomps his way free of Lazarus and shoulder-checks Frank seconds later, relieved by the solid warmth of him. Relieved, also, by the exasperation in Frank’s face as he shoves Jason out of his personal space.

“I’m fine,” Frank says. And then, a beat later, a bit more intent: “Jason. I’m fine.”

“I know,” Jason says. Because he does. His brain was Frank’s brain was their brain when the hit landed. The fear that flooded them was Jason’s, not Frank’s.

Frank’s not scared of dying. Jason’s not that nervous about it, either. But being linked while the other dies? Feeling Frank fade away like water down a drain?

Yeah, sure. That scares the hell out of him.

“Jason,” Frank says, looking at him, sidelong and flat. Outside of the Drift, he never seems to know what to say.

“You’re fine,” Jason repeats, sullenly, dutifully. “I know that. I do. I told you.”

He flattens himself obligingly against the hallway wall, lets the techs swarm past him to get to Echo Lazarus. None of them even make eye-contact, and Jason knows what that means. Their Jaeger will need extensive repairs. They’ll be out for a week or two, minimum, and they won’t even get a recorded kill out of this little shitshow.

Bullseye Lucky will get the kill. Again.

“If I break their knees,” Jason says, as the crew of techs scuttles between them, “they’ll stop stealing our fucking kills.”

Frank rolls his eyes. When they’re in their own brains, he likes to pretend he’s indifferent to this whole business. But Jason’s been in his thoughts. He knows how Frank feels about the Kaiju. He lost his whole family to these ocean-borne bastards, his wife and his little girl, his son. He likes the kill just as much as Jason does.

It’s a balm. A comedown. It’s a moment of catharsis they both need more than they want to acknowledge, and Lucky has stolen three of their last four, and Jason’s losing his mind about it, a little.

“If you cause a big scene about this,” Frank says, “I will not have your back when Barnes knocks you on your ass.”

Jason scoffs. Audibly. And then, just to be sure Frank hears him, he does it again, louder, with more emphasis in his jaw and shoulders. “Fuck you, Castle,” he says. “You’re gonna have my back forever.”

Frank rolls his eyes again. He doesn’t argue.

Forever means for as long as he can. Forever means today and, if they’re lucky, tomorrow. And they have tomorrow because Jason flinched when he saw the hit coming, because he threw everything he had into moving, directing that hit anywhere that wasn’t right at Frank.

They have tomorrow because Clint Barton and Bucky Barnes shot Scorpio through the skull, and so now Jason will never know if he and Frank could’ve saved themselves. He can’t come down, can’t feel safe.

“I’m gonna fucking kill them,” Jason says.

   Barton and Barnes aren’t generally known for partying, but a beer or two seems to knock the taste of Kaiju ichor out of their mouths. Jason finds Clint tucked away at the little on-base bar, which exists primarily to stop Rangers from going out among the civilian populace and regaling them with the most recent stories of how close they all came to absolute annihilation.

“Hey, shithead,” he says, as he slides up next to Barton at the bar, “quick question: are you at least getting off on giving me blue balls? Because someone should be getting off. And it’s damn sure not me.”

“Christ,” Frank says, with a heavy sigh. He elbows up between them and directs bleak, beseeching eyes toward the watchful bartender. “Help me.”

“Sure,” the bartender says. “Is that a single or a double?”

“Please, yeah, tell me all about your balls, Todd,” Clint mutters, in a tone just as deeply skeptical as Frank’s. “They definitely don’t feature in my brain enough.”

“A double,” the bartender says, with a decisive nod. “Sure.” He starts pouring. Frank grunts what would probably be a thank you, if he took his head out of his hands.

“What the fuck does that mean, Barton?” Jason says, leaning half over Frank’s shoulders to see him. “Are you daydreaming about my balls? Because I’ll give you a free sample if you stop sniping my fucking kills.”

Clint swivels his head to stare at the side of Frank’s. “Can you,” he says, low and deeply felt, “believe this shit?”

“Absolutely,” Frank says, as he takes a hearty swig of whiskey. “Believe it? Yes. Hate every minute of it? Also yes.”

“Can I tell him?” Clint asks. “Can I just--”

“Hey,” Jason says, because he’s finally caught sight of Barnes, skulking in the shadowy back of the bar. Barnes is like that. Jason’s noticed. It can be full summery sunshine, and Barnes will find a way to be evasive and out of sight. Jason always manages to catch sight of him anyway, though. He’s not hyperaware of the guy. It’s just basic situational awareness. “Hey, asshole.”

“Thank God,” Clint says, and Frank taps his tumbler against the side of Clint’s glass in a show of solidarity that Jason finds both deeply disloyal and completely unacceptable. He steals their drinks as recompense and then stalks across the bar.

Bucky looks up at Jason gets closer. His hair is too long again, still wet from his post-fight shower, falling across his face and curling, a little, at the ends. His eyes are bright blue and narrowed, wary like a stray cat. He’s wearing a PPDC t-shirt and old jeans. He looks ridiculous. He’s an asshole.

Because Barton will come through when you need him, but he’s not the mother hen on the team. Lucky’s been stealing kills because Bucky Barnes can’t keep his hands off the trigger.

“That for me?” Bucky asks, pointing at the whiskey in Jason’s hand.

“No,” Jason says, and he takes a quick sip to establish ownership. It’s smoky as hell, because Frank likes that kind of old man garbage, but Jason drinks it anyway.

Bucky points at Clint’s drink. “So the beer’s for me?”

“The beer is also mine,” Jason says. He downs a bit of that, too. “Why the hell would I be bringing you a drink?”

“Gratitude?” Bucky says, eyebrow cocked. “For saving your ass?”

“My ass was never in danger,” Jason says. “Fuck you for worrying about my ass.”

“I don’t know if you’ve seen your ass,” Bucky says, “but it’s really difficult to--”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Jason puts the glasses down on the table. “We’re gonna skip straight to the part where we fight?”

Bucky steals Frank’s stolen whiskey. “You brought me a drink. I figured ass talk was allowed.”

Jason’s jaw drops. He rescues the beer before it falls victim to similar machinations. “Sure,” he says. “Sure, Barnes. We can talk about asses. We can talk about how I’m gonna kick yours all the way to--”

“Jason,” Bucky says. He leans forward, elbow on the table, and he looks good, when he comes out of the shadows like that. The light does nice things for his cheekbones, for his eyes, for the sharp line of his jaw and the soft curl of his smirking mouth. “Is that really what you want to do with my ass?”

Jason swallows. He takes a long, fortifying drink of the beer in his hand. He’s been learning about these kind of tactics from Frank. Stalling, Frank tells him. Tactical misdirection.

But he’s just a kid from Gotham, and he plays by Gotham rules. The Joker’s always wild, the stakes are always high, and you call every bluff you find, because you’ve always got less to lose.

He sets the glass on the table. It’s empty, anyway. He’s great at tactical stalling. A Goddamn natural.

“I dunno, Barnes. Do you have any suggestions of something else I could do with your ass?”

   Hours later, Barnes still isn’t out of ideas, but they’re catching their breath through another round of tactical stalling. “Jesus,” Jason says. “Did you see those shitheads high-fiving when we left? Frank won’t even let me high-five him.”

“He and Clint have a history,” Bucky says. Which Jason knows, thank you. He’s seen plenty of Barton in the Drift. “Anyway, Clint’s been bitching at me about you for months.”

Jason furrows his brow and looks over at him. The sheets are bunched up at mid-thigh. Bucky doesn’t look any less beautiful than he did when he shoved Jason backwards onto this bed, but he at least has the decency to look winded and considerably mussed.

“Months,” he repeats, trying to infuse the word with all the dubiousness a single syllable can hold. “What the hell do you mean, months?”

The look Bucky gives him indicates that maybe he’s not interested in Jason for his brain. In fact, it seems to suggest that he doubts Jason has one. “Oh, fuck you,” he says. “What? You want me to say it?”

Jason doesn’t know what the hell Bucky is or isn’t saying. When they left the bar, he figured they were going to work out their shared aggression in a way that wouldn’t get either one of them demoted or transferred. He’d held onto that assumption until Bucky started treating him like he was something worth putting effort into, and he’d been too busy after that to do any complicated reanalysis.

“Yeah,” he says. “I want you to say it.”

Bucky makes a face at him, a sideways smush of his mouth and a long look up through his ludicrous eyelashes. He reaches up to touch the side of Jason’s face, fingertips gentle as they run across the freshly bruised skin, the only sign on Jason’s body that he almost died today.

If Bucky had touched him like that four hours ago, Jason would’ve slapped his hand away and told him to go to hell.

Right now, he wants to lean into it. He holds himself still.

“I’m not stealing your kills on purpose,” Bucky tells him, gaze dropping from the bruise on Jason’s hairline to look him straight in the eyes, pinning him to the bed. “I just hate it when you get hurt.”

Jason swallows. He tips his head into Bucky’s hand, and Bucky leans in and kisses him like he can’t help himself.

“You’re still a kill-stealing piece of shit, Barnes,” Jason says, mouth an inch from Bucky’s, staring up into the bright blue of his stardust eyes.

Bucky looks down at him for a moment, mouth caught between a smirk and a smile. “Uh-huh,” he says. He kisses him again, on his cheek, on his jaw, in a line down his throat to his chest. “Let me make it up to you.”

#writing #fic #fill #soundtrack fills

[kimabutch]

“So,” Kima says, from across the dinner table, “tell me about these adventurers of yours.”

It’s Allura’s first evening back in Tal’dorei following her hasty trip to Nicodranas. Kima and the Council both successfully pleaded with her to come home instead of waiting nervously in Yussa’s tower, and Kima even prepared her trademark roast chicken as a welcome-home dinner. From their dining room window in their tower, Allura can see the bird’s eye view of Emon, its stone streets blooming to life with the coming spring. It’s a beautiful and comforting sight — despite the Menagerie Coast’s fine sea views, Emon will always be home. 

Allura sighs, turning to her wife. “I don’t even know where to begin. They’re rather… perplexing.” 

“Well, you’re always saying to start with what you know. Which ones do you know the most about?” Kima says. 

“Right. Well. There’s the wizard, Caleb.” 

“Of course you’d start with the wizard,” Kima says with a playful grin. “Have you met him before?”

Allura returns the smile. “Wizards don’t all know each other, and no, I’ve never met him before. But I’m fairly certain he’s from the Zemnian Fields.”

“Zemni… that’s where we were, right? Rexxentrum? With all those guys that you hated?”

Allura nods in approval. Kima’s never been one for politics, but she tries for her sake, and Allura appreciates the effort. 

“Hate is a strong word, perhaps. I found many of the methods at the Soltryce Academy and the politics among the Cerberus Assembly a little unsettling.”

“Yeah, they were creepy fuckers,” Kima says. “So is this wizard from the Academy?”

“Well, that’s what’s interesting — I’m fairly certain that he’s not aligned with them anymore. Certainly Yussa would not involve himself with an active member of the Assembly, or anyone involved with the Academy. He has a stronger distaste for Rexxentrum than me. Not to mention that he was wearing a cloak that I believe is of Xhorhassian design.”

“Could he have been raised in Zemnia and defected to Xhorhas?”

“Maybe? I can’t imagine how he survived, however. The Empire is not easy on traitors, and Xhorhas is not known for its love of humans.”

“Huh. A tough wizard. Reminds me of someone I know,” Kima says, and Allura can feel her cheeks redden slightly. “Okay, so who else?”

“There’s another human, Beau, but not from Zemnia, as far as I can tell. I can’t quite pinpoint her accent, but by her clothing, she seems to be a monk. She was so clever with Yussa’s notes... I would hazard a guess that she trained with the Cobalt Soul.” 

“Those weird, Ioun-loving librarians? The ones in Vasselheim are always giving us a hard time at the Sanctuary.” 

“Actually, she reminds me a little of you when we were younger,” Allura says.

“How so?”

“Headstrong and… very blunt.” Kima begins sputtering protests, while Allura continues: “But passionate and protective of her friends. Thoughtful and resourceful, too.”

Kima’s protests turn into a blush. “You talk to all your girls that way?” she teases. 

Allura laughs and extends her hand across the table, intertwining her fingers with Kima’s. “Only to my dearest wife.” She rests for a moment, looking into Kima’s impossibly green eyes, crinkled at the edges with a fond smile. “It is strange, however,” she resumes, “that a member of the Cobalt Soul might be adventuring with a wizard who defected from the Assembly. The organizations are separate and Ioun knows that they don’t always get along, but they’re supposedly allies. Perhaps they fled the Empire together. That might explain how Caleb survived.”

“Huh. Well, I like her a bit better now.”

“I thought you would.”

“So that’s two. What about the one that you gave the mirror to?” Kima says. 

“Ah, yes. Jester. A tiefling — from the Menagerie Coast, I believe, given her accent. Certainly they are more prevalent by the Coast.”

“So is she the leader?”

“Perhaps in the same way that Scanlan still calls himself the leader of Vox Machina,” Allura says, and this gets a good laugh out of Kima. “But perhaps I’m being unfair. She is a little bit of a… jokester, as her name would suggest, but she’s clearly very powerful. She’s a mage of some sort, though I doubt that she’s a wizard...”

“So all wizards do know each other!” Kima says triumphantly.

“... Although if she makes use of divine magic, then she was not wearing any holy symbols that I recognized,” Allura continues, with a smile at her wife. “Caduceus, the firbolg, on the other hand — I’m fairly certain he wears Melora’s swirl in his clothing and earrings.”

“Fear… bulg?” Kima says, rolling the word around in her mouth. 

“A reclusive race — I don’t believe I’ve ever met one in Tal’dorei. They’re giant-kin, I believe, but somewhat bovine in appearance. They supposedly have an affinity with nature, which would explain his ties to the Wildmother, but not his interest in continental politics. But we are not bound by the general tendencies of our ancestors, I suppose.” 

“I hope not. Still haven’t met too many halflings that can kick ass,” Kima says. “So what’s the cow-man like?”

Allura stifles laughter at Kima’s unorthodox word choice. “Interesting, once again. He seemed a little confused.” 

“At what?”

“Everything, I suppose. He asked me whether I was a good archmage or a bad archmage.”

Kima rocks back in laughter. “Well, which one is it?”

“I told him that was a difficult philosophical question. Still, he gave me a… discerning look. Not magical, but thoughtful. He’s perhaps more insightful than he might initially appear,” Allura says.  

“Huh. Well, so long as he didn’t enchant you with his nature magic, that’s fine by me.”

“Indeed. His companion didn’t give me much to work with, either.” 

“Companion?” asks Kima.

“Fjord, the half-orc — his armour also seemed to have Melora’s symbol on it. Perhaps I’m assuming too much, however. I don’t know much more about him. He was polite, but quiet. An accent like mine, but that’s not exactly uncommon, even in Wildemount. You might have liked his sword. It was very ornate.”

“Better than my Holy Avenger?” Kima says, gesturing to the platinum greatsword that hangs on the wall. Allura sometimes wishes that she had won the debate about whether weapons should be allowed in the dining area, but she admits that the sword is beautiful. “I’d love to spar with him, though,” she continues. “Sounds like he’s the only one of these adventurers who can hold a sword.” 

“I’m sure you’d take him handily,” Allura says with a smile. “Although, I think there’s one more who can fight. The, ah, goblin, Nott.” 

“A goblin? Now that’s interesting. Haven’t really met one of them since Kraghammer.” Kima wrinkles her brow. “Better not tell Scanlan. He’d have a fit.” 

“I wasn’t planning to, no. I confess, I was surprised by her presence. Excepting Wensforth, I haven’t met many goblins who have ventured out of their clan. I would think that she’s from Xhorhas, where goblins are more openly accepted, except that her accent does not appear to be Xhorhassian in nature. Nor do goblins typically associate with humans — though, I suppose they don’t usually go adventuring into extraplanar device, either, so she’s unusual on several counts. Sneaky, too. She was hiding behind one of Yussa’s books for several minutes before she introduced herself.” 

“Huh. And you said she can hold her own in a fight?” 

“I believe so,” Allura says. “She carried a well-made crossbow with some confidence, and I saw a shortsword by her side. I could have also sworn that she had a pistol on her, but there wasn’t sufficient time to ask.”

“Ha! Better add Percy to the list of people you can’t tell about this.”

“I suppose so. I believe he’s abandoned the notion that he’ll stop the proliferation of his devices, but it does make him so upset.” Allura sighs. “Anyways, that’s the six of them. They call themselves the Mighty Nine.”

“So on top of all that, they can’t count?”

“Perhaps. Or they have other companions that are not with them at this moment. I should really call in some favours with my contacts in the Empire and ask them whether they’ve heard of this party, but I’ve been so busy trying to research this Angel in Irons.” Allura runs her hands through her hair in frustration. “A threat this level, and there’s barely a word on it —” 

Kima gets up from her seat, steps over to Allura, and gently takes her hand. “Ally, it’s okay. I know everyone keeps putting all of Exandria on your shoulders, but if Yussa’s made friends with a bunch of chucklefucks, that’s on him. It’s not your fault, I promise.” Holding her face, Kima kisses Allura deeply. She feels Allura relax in her hands and lay her arms around Kima’s waist. 

As they pull away, still holding each other, Allura smiles and whispers, “I missed you.” 

“Missed you too, babe,” Kima says, kissing her forehead. 

#critical role #fanfiction #my stuff #have you ever wanted 1500 words of Kima and Allura #just talking about the M9 and being cute? #I didn't until this afternoon #when I was consumed with the urge to write it #after I wrote that textpost about what allura must think of them #but then it kind of got derailed cause I missed my gf #this is 100% the sort of conversations that we have #cr spoilers

[rhinocio]

the weapons of mass destruction the two of us are going to distribute into public circulation are banal and unattractive because, unlike the rest of you chucklefucks, we roll decent Wisdom

[Image ID: A monochromatic comic featuring Davenport, Magnus, Merle, Barry, Lup, Taako, and Lucretia from The Adventure Zone: Balance podcast.

In the first panel, Davenport, a gnome with pale skin and hair, an English moustache, and large, rounded ears, is depicted holding a monocle on a chain in one hand. He says, “Tomorrow we split the Light of Creation into seven vessels. I’ve given you all time to design your relics, and this is our moment to explain their uses. With this, any imagined concept can become reality. The Oculus.”

The next four panels are split into equal quadrants. In the upper left, Magnus, a large man in a flannel plaid shirt with bushy sideburns, medium-tone skin, and a scar over his right eye, holds a bejewel goblet aloft, and says, “This is the Temporal Chalice. It allows you to undo mistakes in the past.” In the upper right panel, Merle, a dwarf with a topknot, fluffy white beard, and medium-tone skin, holds a strip of elaborately-braided cloth between his fists, and says, “To build and control anything in nature: I call it the Gaia Sash.” In the bottom left panel, Barry, a pale-skinned man with slicked back hair and square glasses, leans forward with one hand cautiously tucked in front of his lips. He holds a bejeweled bell aloft in his left hand, and says, “A tool to strengthen bonds -- the Animus Bell.” In the bottom right panel, Lup, an elf with medium-tone skin, long pointed ears, and a pale undercut hairstyle, presents a highly-decorated glove that she wears on her left hand. She says, “And this... is the Pheonix Fire Gauntlet. Pure handheld power.”

In the next panel, Taako, an elf with medium-tone skin and short pale hair, wearing a jacket with several patches, and Lucretia, a dark-skinned woman with dark hair in partial twists, wearing a robe, are sitting side by side at the end of a table. Taako is holding a plain stone in one hand, and Lucretia is supporting a large, unremarkable branch. Taako says, “Ya boy made a rock,” and Lucretia says, “Stick.”

In the seventh panel, the entire table is visible, with Davenport standing on a chair at the far left end and Taako and Lucretia on the far right. Davenport is sighing an exasperated, “Taako. Lucretia. You had... one job.” Magnus is bent over laughing, and the rest of the occupants are staring in disbelief. Taako looks mostly unaffected, and Lucretia seems confused. Both say in tandem, “And we did it.”

In the final three panels, Taako says, “Oh, wait, no, I got you--” and casts a spell over Lucretia’s stick. It appears to change colour, and becomes white instead of brown. He high-fives her, and presents the relic as, “COOL stick.” Lucretia laughs and adds, “Booyah.” The final panel shows Davenport pinching the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted, Barry pressing a hand to his mouth as he tries not to laugh, and Magnus doubled over and pounding the table as he cracks up.]

#guys I LOVE these two #taako #lucretia #TAZ #TAZ Balance #the adventure zone #barry j bluejeans #lup #merle highchurch #magnus burnsides #captain davenport #IPRE #image described #rhinociart #I'm practicing comics can you tell #I think Lucy's hair is supposed to be white even as a kid oops #everybody else just wanted their chance to be Extra I guess #what is even happening with the Gauntlet's design #team ride or die #the zone cast