#A barrel full of monkeys

[theaigeneration]

What’s More Fun?

[servicemonkey]

a head full of monkeys

[luxthestrange]

LMK Incorrect quotes#88 2 for 1

Farmer!Y/n*Is holding a barrel full of peaches going back and forth collecting the crop to dumping it on the truck, they Got tired of ignoring the two monkies who follow them* why are you following me?...and how did you get pass my guard dog...

Mac: Because we’re dating now

Farmer!Y/n: okay… what about the other monkey boy?

Wukong: we’re a package deal, Sunshine~

Mac: Buy one idiot, get one free

The fearsome guard dog at the moment-

[petertingle-yipyip]

Question…? - Miguel O’hara

//the miguel brainrot brought this piece to life tbr. it’s kinda just for shits and giggles but there might be more. depends on how this one does//

Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Reader

Word Count: 3,868

Summary: The latest recruit to the Spider Society hits a bit too close to home for its head honcho. But with great power comes great persistence to get answers.

You landed on the roof of your building and pulled your mask up, wiping a hand down your slightly sweaty face. You looked at the bright display of the neon billboard across the alley and saw the breaking news story of your latest bust of the local Midnight Sons crime syndicate. You smirked slightly as you watched the reporter talk to the police who had to reluctantly admit that you, Arachne, had caught them. He tried to dance around it but the fact that your webs were covering the background made it obvious.

Just as you were about to head inside, you felt a tingle shoot down your spine. An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome sensation crawled across your skin so you quickly replaced your mask and spun around, web shooters ready. Instead of being greeted by a foe, you were greeted with a large and seemingly unstable orange circle that vaguely resembled a doorway.

Before you could say anything, you had to drop to your stomach as a motorbike came barreling through. You rolled to your back and flicked a quick burst from either wrist to latch a web to both tires. You kicked yourself back and pulled the bike with you, forcing its rider to disengage and land on the opposite side of the roof.

“Not bad.” She said, though her back was still to you as you stood slowly. “I knew you were quick, but I didn’t think you’d be that quick.”

“Right… And you are?” You asked carefully. You didn’t feel she was a threat, but something about the way she triggered that sixth sense made you tense. “I mean, you came at me full speed on a motorcycle so you owe me that.”

“Jessica Drew.” She turned to face you and the first thing you noticed was her belly. “And I’m just like you.”

“I’m not pregnant!” You decided quickly, a hand covering your stomach.

She laughed and shook her head. After a second, you hesitantly laughed with her. “I meant the Spider Woman thing.”

“Ah…” You nodded before slowly lifting your mask again. “That’s what I felt?”

“Mhmm..”

“I thought I was the only one.”

“Yes and no.” She moved towards her bike, which you hurried over to beside her. “If you’re interested, there’s someone I think you should meet.”

You followed her through the orange and ended up in a massive complex. There were dozens upon dozens of variations of… you.

A cat version. A monkey version. A dinosaur. A plushie. A cyborg. An avatar. A video game. Other girls, other guys. Any type of Spider variation you could imagine, it was there.

As you were taking it all in, you were hit with the sharpest pain you’d ever had in your life. It took over your entire body, felt as if you were being yanked apart and haphazardly put back together. Your insides felt rearranged and your head spun violently while everything seemed to be ignited. But the pain only lasted for a second.

Jessica told you it was your body glitching from being outside your own universe, which she also explained was granted the official title of Earth-3505. She slipped a blue band around your wrist and you felt every ounce of tension in your body disappear. She explained the device on her wrist, how it kept her from glitching while allowing for travel to any dimension.

You had to admit. All the tech and different universes blew every single theory and experiment you had ever known out of the water.

You were talking with Jessica through the long walk down a rather dark and drafty hall that led to a wide open work area. She called to the man on the platform, which began to lower at an agonizingly slow pace. Awkwardly, you rocked on your heels and fiddled with your web shooters, checking the cartridges and scratching away the dried remnants from your earlier endeavors. You tugged the neck of your suit and dusted imaginary dirt off before running fingers through your hair and giving it a small shake in an effort to look a bit more presentable.

When you heard the gears click into place you looked back and found yourself in utter shock, despite him not even facing you yet.

And as someone who would fight the Bloodstones, a werewolf, and the literal avatar of a god of the moon, it took a lot to render you speechless.

The man on the platform was massive. The width of his chest and shoulders alone was at least the size of a twin mattress. His height towered over yours and you could tell even from the distance he was at. His upper body narrowed ridiculously into his waist, though his legs were proportionately built as well. And covering that Hercules-esque physique was a fitted red and blue suit, just like everyone else you had seen in that building.

So why hadn’t he given you the same tingle Jessica did?

You were snapped out of your thoughts when an elbow came roughly into your ribs.

“What?” You asked quickly, an innocent obliviousness in your voice.

“Introduce yourself.” Jessica hissed.

“Right.” You nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I’m Y/N, from Earth 35-something.”

“3505.” She whispered.

“Yeah, sorry. Anyways, I’m like you and her and everyone else here�� Back home I’m called Arachne, like the.. The myth. I’m sorry, are you not gonna face me?”

“¿Mande?” He said sharply and the sound of his voice drove your pulse to jump.

“If you’re gonna have your back to me the whole time, why am I even here?” You pushed, though your resolve was slowly shattering as you watched him turn around.

The room may have been dimly lit but you could see what looked like a red tint to his eyes.

“Why are you here?” He asked tightly as he hopped off the platform and stalked closer to you. You swallowed hard and flattened your two middle fingers against your palm to feel the trigger for your webs. “Why are-“

His sentence cut off abruptly when he got a few feet away from you.

“Miguel?” Jessica asked from beside you. You had forgotten she was there but you felt a bit more relaxed to know you weren’t alone in that room. “What is it?”

“What did you say your name was?” He asked. His words were intended to be more gentle, more intimate maybe, but they still had enough of an edge to keep your fingers where they were.

“Y/N… And you’re..?”

His face fell at your uncertainty, though you doubted Jessica noticed. He recovered rather quickly, as if your words reminded him of something painful. Something he already knew.

“Miguel O’hara.” He stood a bit taller, if that was even possible.

“It’s nice to meet you… You built all of this?” You asked lamely in hopes to fill the silence that you felt would suffocate you if you ignored.

“Yeah.. It’s a way to preserve the multiverse. Everyone here was hand picked to serve a bigger cause, to protect each other’s universe and canons.”

“I assume that’ll get explained if I get in?” You turned to Jessica who nodded with a small, amused smile.

“¿Perdóname, si entras?” His head cocked as the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk that you felt was sarcastic. “No.”

“What?” You and Jessica asked at the same time.

“No.” He enunciated, hands at his waist and leaning forward.

“Why not?” You asked angrily, stepping forward with no regard to the size difference. “I can take anyone here!”

“Miguel, she’s really good.” Jessica tried earnestly. “I think you should give her a shot.”

“No.”

“C’mon.” She pressed.

“No.”

“What are you afraid of?” You challenged suddenly and the glare he shot your way made you hesitate.

“Afraid?” He laughed. “Afraid.. I’m not afraid.”

“Then what?”

“She looks just like her.” Miguel said, more to Jessica than you.

“Who?” She asked softly.

Miguel shot her a different look than the one he gave you. This one has more longing, more pain. You looked like someone he used to know. Likely someone he lost.

“Lyla.” Jessica said softly, waiting a moment for a hologram woman in a fur coat to appear at her shoulder. “Show Y/N around a little more, please.”

“Who- Oh.” The hologram spoke before disappearing and reappearing in front of you. She leaned in and lifted her heart shaped glasses before blinking away and reappearing up at Miguel’s side. A quick back and forth of hushed comments brought her back to you as she ushered you out of the room.

Lyla spoke quickly to you, bouncing around within your field of vision. She pointed out different Spider People, different villains. She showed you the machine that sent people home and the training center. While you were wandering the vast exercise area, you met two boys playfully roughhousing who seemed to create the golden retriever with black cat meets boys will be boys dynamic.

“Ooh! Who’s the new girl?” One of them ran up to you with a palpable excitement.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You smiled and the other one leaned in close.

“Look at that.” He said with a small smirk, seemingly changing color with each sentence. “Got little fangs and all. That’s mad.”

“Whaaaat? Let me see!” The first one pushed the taller one aside and replaced him, though he leaned in significantly closer.

“I’m guessing these aren’t normal for Spiderman.” You laughed and gently pushed him back. “What’re your names?”

“Hobie, Hobie Brown.” He offered you a short salute.

“Pavitr Prabhakar.” He gave an extravagant bow. “How long have you been a spider person?”

You blew out a sigh and tried to calculate the numbers. “A few years? It happened my senior year of high school, and then the two years there... And then.. All I know is its been a while. You guys?”

“Couple months.” Pavitr answered with a small hop. “It’s been so easy.”

“Three years.” Hobie answered simply. “And yeah, it’s not bad. Your universe a mess, then?”

“I think mine is a weird one based on what you guys have said.” You answered awkwardly. “Werewolves, swamp things, Egyptian gods, monster hunters.”

“Sounds like a fantasy book.” Hobie scoffed.

“That’s the Midnight Sons for you.” You shrugged. “There’s normal stuff too, like other vigilantes. Daredevil and Black Cat and the Widow.”

“Were they bitten by a spider too?” Pavitr added with wide eyes.

“Who, Widow? Not that I know of.”

“How’d you get the little-“ Hobie made a vague fang gesture. “You a vampire, too?”

“Well, no.” You rubbed a hand over your mouth, suddenly embarrassed of your teeth.

“You’ve got everything else. Figured you had the little blood suckers and allat.”

“There’s rumors of one guy but I haven’t met him.. Actually, the spider that bit me was a mix between the same thing that created my world’s Goblin and just the radioactive spider. It was supposed to be able to cure something but…” You shrugged.

“Do they do anything?” Pavitr asked, still looking at your mouth intently. He slowly reached a finger forward so you leaned away and gently pushed his hand to the side.

“Uh..” Your brows furrowed. “Idunno.” You mumbled as you shrugged.

“You’ve never tried to bite anyone?” He laughed and Hobie facepalmed gently. “I totally would’ve.”

“I’ll try it when I get home.” You laughed slightly. You glanced around and noticed the AI woman - Lyla - was nowhere to be seen. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Go for it.” Hobie nodded and Pavitr’s head bounced up and down like a bobble head.

“The little AI, Lyla… Does she see everything?” You asked quietly.

“You trynna do somtin’ you shouldn’t, aye?” Hobie quirked a brow.

“I wanna try to talk to Miguel but I get the feeling that she’ll keep me away.”

“Why?” Pavitr whispered loudly,

“Cause he sent me away, said I looked too much like someone.”

“Oy, Pav.” Hobie nudged the smaller boy before leaning down and plotting quietly. They went back and forth for a few moments before looking back at you. “Make it quick, yeah?”

“I owe you.” You grinned.

Pavitr and Hobie shared a small fist bump before Pavitr reached his fist towards you. You chuckled slightly and returned the gesture before the two ran off. It was only a few moments before sprinklers went off in the room. Lyla popped in and out of view, speaking rapidly and tapping small screens in front of her. She appeared in front of you, disheveled glasses and jacket hanging from her shoulders.

“Do. Not. Move.” She said firmly and you held hands up in surrender. She pointed two fingers at her eyes before pointing to you, gesturing up and down your body before disappearing again.

You leaned around slightly to ensure her digital frame was nowhere to be seen before you booked it out of the room. Your wet feet slipped on the sleek tiles so you opted to swing across the complex and back to Miguel’s workspace.

You wiped a damp hand across your face as you entered the hall again before you pulled yourself to the ceiling and crawled down the long corridor. Jessica left in a huff, muttering that he was unreasonable and that she wasn’t done. You watched her freeze and turn around, squinting her eyes in suspicion. You stayed still above her in hopes that she wouldn’t find you but with the water subtly dripping from your suit and hair, you thought you were caught. With a small smirk, she turned back and left.

You blew out a small sigh and continued down your path until you reentered Miguel’s wide open room. His back was towards the entrance as he vigorously typed and swiped various projections away. He was muttering to himself, broken Spanglish as he worked in that increasingly frazzled state. His head cocked over his shoulder as you clung to the space above the door.

“¿Qué estás haciendo?” He asked tightly, unable to face you fully. “And why are you wet?”

“I just…” You spoke, realizing you had no idea how to start. “May like some explanations.”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He spoke simply, clearly trying to shut down the conversation.

“Okay, but… What if I just ask some general questions that have simple answers? Is that okay? I mean, can I ask you a question? Well a couple, but you know what I mean.”

“Can you please stop, just for a second?“ He sighed and pressed his palms against the table. You pursed your lips slightly and drummed your fingers against the wall while you waited for him to say something. “You don’t take ‘no’ for an answer, do you?”

“I don’t usually have to beg like this.” You confessed. You shifted your feet and leaned your shoulders against the wall behind you, allowing your hands to aim webs at the edge of his platform. You pulled yourself over and stood in front of him. “Miguel, please…”

“Ay, dios mío. You sound just like her, too.” He spoke to himself, though the desperation in his voice was hard to miss.

“Listen, if you don’t want me here because whoever I remind you of, that’s not good enough of a reason.” You insisted. Your words finally got him to turn and face you, which really drove home just how big he was. You gave a nervous chuckle and crossed your arms in an attempt of defiance. “I can prove myself against anyone here. I know I can do this!”

“It’s not about whether you’re-“ He began before he leaned down closer. You pulled back and teetered the edge of the platform. “What was that?”

“You got a little close.” You defended with a shrug.

“Not that, cariño.” He shook his head. “Open your mouth.”

“Okay!” You said loudly, trying to push him by his chest. “That’s not how you- Ugh! Whatthehellare-“

Your words became an incomprehensible jumble of syllables when his hand came to your face, fingers pressing gently on your cheeks to keep your lips apart. His pointer finger was free to manipulate your upper lip, exposing one side of your mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he let you go.

“Thought so..” He offered a lazy smirk. “Lemme see your hands.”

“Is this like.. part of the initiation process or something?” You tried to joke as you held up one hand. He took it by your wrist and gave your palm a gentle prod, just missing the trigger for your web shooter. “What are you looking for?”

“You always talk this much?” He mumbled with a small eye roll as he let go of your hand.

“It’s just a question.” You muttered and poured slightly.

He sat back on the edge of a table behind him, allowing for a more even eye line. But even at the new lowered height, he was definitely taller than you.

“How can anyone focus around you?” He said with a shake of his head.

“I can put the mask on, if it helps.” You offered awkwardly, reaching for the side pouch you usually tucked it away in.

Miguel looked back at you and laughed. A seemingly genuine sound that, up until that moment, you weren’t entirely sure was possible.

You took the opportunity to move away from the edge of the platform and stand more in front of him. Your hands rested lazily behind you and you simply looked at him for a minute.

The obvious physical stature was still as intimidating as ever but there was something in his expression. Something haunted, something guilty. However, when his eyes met yours, there was a softness there. A certain longing.

How does anyone focus around you? You thought as you took in his features for a little longer.

“You always stare like that when you’re not talking?” His brows raised with a slight smile as his arms crossed over his chest.

“Not usually.” You answered with a shrug of one shoulder in an attempt to ignore the blush creeping across your cheeks. “I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for with my hand, but you didn’t send me away again so maybe that was a good thing… Maybe I can…”

“Go ahead and ask your questions.” He nodded, adding a tired sigh at the end as if to say he was giving in. You thought he was curious as to what you wanted to know.

“What’s the big deal about my teeth?”

“Your teeth..” He chuckled slightly. “Most of the spiders around here don’t have fangs, cariño.”

“Right but why do you care?”

“Cause I have them too.”

“What do yours do?”

“Paralysis. Yours?”

“Dunno.” You confessed. “I’ve never bit anyone. Can I see?”

“No.”

“C’mon!”

“No.”

“Fine.”

You flicked a web at his chest and yanked him to lean forward, earning a small Spanish exclamation from him. You kept hold of the web with one hand and put the other on his shoulder as you leaned in slightly. His eyes darted between yours in slight shock before he broke into a small smile, enough for you to see a moderately more pronounced version of the same teeth in your mouth.

“Woah.” You said quietly as your eyes drifted to where your webs met his suit. “Wait..”

“What is it?” He asked lowly and the tone sent a shiver down your spine.

“Your suit. It’s all tech?”

“Mhmm.”

“That’s so cool.” You breathed with a smile, which faded as you squinted and noticed a falter in the colors. “It’s like a projection, which means if I…” You gave another slight tug on your web and watched the distortion of the colors where your palm was pressed against him. You laughed slightly before looking back at Miguel.

The web suddenly snapped and you stumbled backwards. You looked down and saw the excess still wrapped around your wrist. The tensile strength was much stronger than that so it shouldn’t have betrayed you so suddenly. It had never failed before. Turning your head back to Miguel, you saw the projections from the pads of his fingers.

“You were looking for claws?” Your brows raised as your head jerked towards his hand. “You could’ve asked.”

He simply shrugged.

“Let me ask you something…” He said calmly as he leaned back to his originally sitting position. “Why do you wanna be here so bad?”

“Good girl.” You gestured to yourself. “Sad boy.” You gestured to him and he shook his head with a scoff. You offered a small smile before wandering in a small circle, your back now to Miguel. “We all have this one thing going on.. And it’s always one thing after another, situations and circumstances and miscommunications. Losing people and losing fights, it’s all part of the job but… Honestly, I don’t know why. Maybe I just like the idea of not being alone, of not being the only one.”

You turned back to face him and saw he hadn’t looked away.

“It’d be nice to not be the only one with fangs, either.” You smiled, flashing your pointed teeth.

“You never told me why you’re wet.” He commented after a brief moment of silence.

“Oh.” You laughed nervously. “Funny story.”

You heard the muttered complaints come down the hall at the same time the tingle of another spider person hit your skin. Your eyes went wide when Lyla popped up in front of you, glaring at you with tightly crossed arms. You offered an innocent smile with hands up in surrender.

“Y/N!” Pavitr yelled with a wide grin as he entered the room, Hobie sulking behind him. The boy turned and began patting his friend’s shoulder excitedly. “It worked!”

“What worked?” Miguel turned to you.

“Those two-“ Lyla said angrily as she appeared in front of Miguel and pointed at the two spidermen. “-set of a fire alarm in the training center.”

“And that was your idea?” He looked to you again.

“Nah, mate.” Hobie answered casually. “Was all me.”

“You?” He shouted and then wiped a hand down his face. “I don’t- I can’t deal with you right now. Both of you, go help mop up and dry the training center. Just- Get out of my sight.”

Hobie offered you a salute before sauntering out, Pavitr quick on his heels. You smiled to yourself before you hopped off the platform, shooting a quick web to help control your descent.

“Where are you going?” Miguel called after you, causing your stride to pause. You spun to face him with a playful smile.

“To help clean up.. They did it so I could talk to you, after all.” You shrugged.

“Come back here when you’re done.” He tossed a device your way, the same device the other spiders had around their wrists.

“Gonna miss me already?” You teased as you fit it to your wrist, replacing the temporary band you were given.

“Always, cariño.”

You realized you hadn’t found out anything in regards to who you looked like from Miguel’s past, but with the confirmation that you’d come back, you figured you’d find out in time.

[sparklemaia]

Dear Maia, I just saw your substack comic about your growing disconnect from your body and journey to getting top surgery, and I found it deeply touching. As someone who doesn't feel the need to apply firm labels to themselves and their gender identity, there was something very comforting about seeing your journey, seeing you come out on top and feel at home in your body even if it means not having a simple answer. I feel as though nowadays young queers are expected to have perfectly defined answers about their identity and not stray from the chosen label (sometimes even ironically). Gender and sexuality aren't shameful or taboo topics, but must I wear it on my sleeve? Must it be obvious, neatly arranged for consumption? Isn't it enough to feel at peace with my body, whatever that might mean for me? Though I might be entirely wrong, I feel like I don't see enough stories of self discovery where the newly discovered territory can't be easily mapped for others to read. And that doesn't mean the place itself is any less alive and beautiful! I wish you the best of luck & a quick recovery from your top surgery. 💕

Right! Like, I know I don't neatly fit into any of the boxes we've got, and "nonbinary" as a catchall for "everything that doesn't fit in Box A or Box B" can sometimes feel restrictive too! So I'm just vibing I guess 😜. But oh wow my relationship with my body now that I'm tit-free is so much better, regardless of what gender terms it might suggest or elicit.

I'm very supportive of the right to bodily autonomy for *everyone*, without people needing to fit a script or follow the rules✌️ Babes if you have a body that developed breasts and you want top surgery for any goddamn reason, you deserve it. Full stop. (Actual access is another whole barrel of monkeys, but if you're asking yourself if you're *worthy* the answer is unequivocally yes.)

I also don't see many stories like mine, that stray from the more common binary transition experience (valid! important! but not mine!) which is one of the reasons I choose to share my journal comics. I hope they help others feel less alone ❤️

[itsskyvoltage]

A Taste of Adventure

Pairing: Monkey D. Luffy x female! reader

Warning: None

Masterlist

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Y/N L/N had always known that life aboard the Thousand Sunny would be anything but ordinary. Being a member of the Straw Hat Pirates meant constant excitement, facing wild and unpredictable challenges alongside an even wilder crew. But nothing could have prepared her for how one seemingly harmless accident would change the dynamic between her and the captain, forever.

Luffy had always been carefree, impulsive, and a little reckless. His boundless energy and unshakable dream of becoming the Pirate King inspired everyone around him, Y/N included. His infectious laugh and genuine love for adventure had drawn her to the crew in the first place. But what she hadn’t expected was for that same reckless energy to lead to the most unexpected turn of events. It all started on an ordinary day aboard the Thousand Sunny. The sea was calm, the sun was shining, and the crew was in high spirits. Everyone was busy with their usual routines—Zoro was napping, Sanji was cooking, Usopp was tinkering with his gadgets, and Nami was keeping a close eye on the ship’s course. As for Y/N, she was helping Franky with some repairs, but Luffy, being Luffy, was busy running around the deck, looking for something fun to do.

“Hey, Y/N! Want to train with me?!” Luffy’s voice rang out, full of excitement as he dashed toward her.

Y/N barely had time to turn around before Luffy came barreling toward her with his usual enthusiasm. “Luffy, wait, you’re going to—!”

But it was too late. Luffy’s momentum sent him crashing into Y/N, and before either of them could react, they stumbled, and Y/N fell backward. Luffy tried to catch her, but in the chaotic scramble, they both ended up tangled together. The next thing Y/N knew, Luffy’s face was inches from hers, and then—smack—their lips collided.

For a moment, everything froze. The world seemed to stop as Y/N’s eyes widened in shock. She could feel the warmth of Luffy’s lips against hers, soft and unexpected. It wasn’t the kind of kiss she had imagined—if she had ever imagined kissing Luffy at all. But here they were, lips pressed together in a totally unintentional, completely accidental kiss.

Luffy blinked, his wide eyes staring into hers in surprise. For a few seconds, neither of them moved. Then, Luffy pulled back, his usual carefree grin spreading across his face. “That was fun!” he declared, completely oblivious to the weight of the moment.

Y/N, on the other hand, was utterly flustered. Her heart raced, and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. “L-Luffy, that was—!”

But before she could finish, Luffy laughed. “Let’s do it again!”

“What?!” Y/N’s face turned an even deeper shade of red. “Luffy, you can’t just—”

But Luffy didn’t seem to care about the rules of kissing or what was considered “normal” behavior. In typical Luffy fashion, he leaned in again, his lips landing on hers for a second time. This time, it wasn’t an accident—it was deliberate, and Y/N could feel the light pressure of his lips as he kissed her again, his smile still present.

Y/N’s mind spun as she pulled back, her heart racing. “Luffy, you can’t just go around kissing people like that!”

Luffy tilted his head, his expression innocent yet curious. “Why not? It feels good.”

Y/N was at a loss for words. How could she explain something so simple yet so complicated to Luffy, a guy who had no filter and no concept of boundaries when it came to things like this? She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could say anything, Luffy leaned in again, placing another quick kiss on her lips. This time, it was more playful, almost like he was testing it out, seeing what it was like to kiss her more than once.

“See? It’s fun!” Luffy said, beaming at her like he had just discovered a new game.

Y/N’s face was practically on fire. “Luffy, you can’t just kiss me whenever you feel like it!”

“But why not?” Luffy asked, genuinely confused. “I like kissing you. Don’t you like it?”

Y/N’s heart did a somersault at his innocent question. She couldn’t deny that there was something sweet about the way Luffy was acting, but it was still overwhelming. She had never thought of him this way before, and now he was kissing her like it was the most natural thing in the world. And the craziest part? Luffy wasn’t embarrassed. Not even a little. He was just being… Luffy.

“I—It’s not that I don’t like it,” Y/N stammered, feeling flustered. “It’s just… kissing is something special. You don’t just do it all the time.”

Luffy considered this for a moment, scratching his head. “Special, huh?” His grin widened, and before Y/N knew what was happening, he kissed her again, this time lingering just a little longer. When he pulled back, his eyes sparkled with mischief. “I like special things.”

Y/N let out an exasperated sigh, though she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Luffy…”

From that day forward, Luffy became addicted to kissing Y/N. Whether it was a peck on the cheek, a quick smooch on the lips, or a surprise kiss on the forehead, Luffy found every excuse to sneak in kisses whenever he could. It didn’t matter where they were or what they were doing—whether they were fighting enemies, eating together, or lounging on the deck, Luffy’s lips always found their way to Y/N’s.

At first, it drove Y/N crazy. She wasn’t used to this kind of affection, especially from someone like Luffy, who seemed completely oblivious to the deeper meaning behind his actions. But as time passed, she found herself growing accustomed to it. In fact, she even started to like it. Luffy’s kisses, though spontaneous and often out of the blue, were always filled with warmth and sincerity. It was like his way of showing how much he cared, even if he didn’t fully understand the significance.

One evening, after a long day of sailing, Y/N sat on the Sunny’s deck, gazing out at the horizon. The sun was setting, casting a golden glow over the sea. It was a peaceful moment, one of the rare times when the crew wasn’t in the middle of some crazy adventure.

Luffy plopped down beside her, his usual grin plastered on his face. “Whatcha doin’, Y/N?”

“Just watching the sunset,” she replied, smiling softly. “It’s nice to have a quiet moment every now and then.”

Luffy hummed in agreement, leaning back on his hands as he gazed out at the ocean. After a few moments of silence, he turned to Y/N, his eyes sparkling with that same playful mischief she had come to recognize.

“Can I kiss you again?” he asked, his voice casual but sincere.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. By now, she was used to Luffy’s requests, but it still caught her off guard every time. She turned to him, her cheeks warming as she nodded. “Yeah, you can.”

Luffy grinned, leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. It was gentle, sweet, and surprisingly tender. When he pulled back, his smile was softer than usual, his eyes filled with a kind of affection that made Y/N’s heart flutter.

“You taste like adventure,” Luffy said, his voice full of wonder.

Y/N blinked, her face flushing. “What does that even mean, Luffy?”

He shrugged, his grin widening. “Dunno. Just feels right.”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for the boy who had somehow managed to steal her heart without even realizing it. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

“Maybe,” Luffy said, laughing along with her. “But you like me anyway, right?”

Y/N’s smile softened, her eyes shining with affection as she leaned in to kiss him this time, a gesture that surprised Luffy but made him beam with joy. “Yeah,” she whispered against his lips. “I do.”

And from that moment on, Y/N knew that no matter where their adventures took them, no matter how wild and unpredictable life on the Grand Line became, she would always have Luffy by her side—kisses and all.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

There could be a lot more here about non-pharmaceutical interventions like masking, but some pretty good analysis of the climate of vaccine "skepticism" and disease minimizing we live in.

By David Quammen

Health officials would like to remind you that we are entering that time of the year still quaintly known as flu season. That means autumn to spring. Kids go to school, adults spend more time gathered indoors, people breathe and speak and sneeze and cough at one another, and the latest influenza virus spreads widely.

The reason flu season seems a quaint idea is that we now hear about and maybe worry about so many viruses all year. And well we should.

What if there’s a simultaneous surge of Covid and seasonal flu this autumn? What if infections of respiratory syncytial virus, known as R.S.V., peak at unusual levels, as they did in the 2022-23 season? What if the new strain of mpox, which is especially virulent, continues spreading in Africa and beyond? What if this year’s flu combines with the dreaded H5N1 bird flu and emerges as a nightmare flu? What if a novel virus destined to be called SARS-CoV-3 emerges from a horseshoe bat in a rural village somewhere, gains a few key mutations and comes barreling through the world’s airports?

Oy vey and déjà vu. It’s always virus season now. Maybe none of those worst-case scenarios will happen, but to assume so is to count on fool’s luck.

The notion of flu season is a relic of times when one virus could transfix our response efforts and dominate our collective consciousness. Influenza in 1918. H.I.V. in 1980s and ’90s. Ebola in 2014. We can no longer afford to react on a case-by-case basis. Today we need a broader vision. We need personal, governmental and technological responses that address the full spectrum of viruses that disrupt our lives.

Because they will continue to disrupt our lives. We live amid viruses. We eat them. We breathe them. We touch them on doorknobs and cafeteria trays. All the wild and domestic animals with which we interact, from mosquitoes to mice to the sparrows on the bird feeder and the monkeys in the temple gardens, carry their own freights of them in wondrous variety. Most of these viruses have no chance of infecting a human, but many do. The best way to protect yourself and your family is just what health agencies recommend: Get the vaccines if reputable ones exist.

The best way to help protect your community, your country and the rest of humanity is a more complex proposition. The answers range from public health measures such as better virus surveillance to ending our bone-headed science denialism and finally supporting pandemic preparedness. But it’s not my purpose to unpack those big topics in this small spurt of words.

My purpose is more modest: to refresh your awareness of something you can’t see, not without the help of an electron microscope. Even the human genome contains a sizable portion — roughly 8 percent of it — that was once the genomes of ancient retroviruses, acquired and internalized by our ancestors in the course of infections.

Viruses of concern to humans come and go on various schedules. American dairy cows began their flu season this year around March 25, when the first infections with bird flu were reported in herds in Kansas and Texas. Measles outbreaks tend to be seasonal but more complex. In the tropics they may peak in the dry season, while in temperate climates measles correlates more with school schedules. And now that warmer temperatures are welcoming tropical mosquitoes farther north and south — including ones that transmit viral diseases like yellow fever and dengue — people in Florida and Italy may find that their worst virus season is summer. Climate change is the new force applied to the viral calendar.

Each year another seasonal vaccine is offered because influenza viruses evolve and mix continuously; their genomes entangle like shape-shifting snakes. The most concerning threat is different each year. This year’s flu vaccine in the United States is what’s called trivalent, or three-powered, meaning it contains elements from three different influenza viruses, all of which are circulating and any of which may prove most pervasive and problematic. Manufacturing flu vaccines takes months, so calculated decisions, mixing science and foresight, must be made long before autumn. Increasing efforts to produce even more kinds of vaccines, including some that target multiple virus strains, signal scientific awareness of the point I’m trying to make: We know a virus might get us, tomorrow or next season, but we can’t say which.

Hence the need for a universal flu vaccine, such as one that’s now in clinical trials at the National Institutes of Health. Hence the need for a universal coronavirus vaccine, toward which scientists at the California Institute of Technology, among other places, are working. Hence the need to create combination vaccines that protect against Covid-19 and influenza in one shot, which are also under development in the United States, China and elsewhere. Hence the need to improve ventilation systems for public and private buildings, which can significantly reduce the spread of respiratory viruses.

These are urgent challenges, at which laboratories and public health authorities all over the world are laboring busily. Science takes time; applying its findings takes patience. Persuading the public to adopt behavioral changes — some of which involve a prick in the arm, some of which require placing community welfare on a level with individual independence — is a task that may seem almost Sisyphean, but it remains crucial and doable.

Flu season in America is no illusory concept, and I don’t mean to deride it, merely to expand it. Get the jab if you’re not disqualified by special health conditions. Don’t disqualify yourself by indifference or groundless suspicions. But bear in mind that virus season doesn’t end with the first swallows of spring. We’re in it for the duration.

[lacontroller1991]

Lead the Way (RJ MacCready x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Author's Note: Posted on A03 as well. It was really a matter of time before I posted a fanfic for him or Valentine. Am I taking requests for MacCready? "You're damn right!"

Warnings: 18+, Gun Violence, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Like 3 sexual comments, Drinking, Mention of Drug Use (Uh Hancock, nuff said), MacCready being the dumbass that he is

Word Count: 3.1k

==========

The first time MacCready crosses paths with her it’s between buildings in what was formerly Downtown Boston, with him narrowly dodging stray bullets while she takes down raiders left and right. Ducking behind a wall, he tries to take a peek at her face, but it’s obscured by a mask that blends in with the rest of her ammo clad armor. In fact, the only way MacCready can really decipher that the shooter is a female is the smaller, slender frame and the slight protuberance in the chest area.

Normally, MacCready isn’t the one to shy away from a firefight, but from his standpoint, it’s not his barrel, not his monkeys. He also has a kid to provide for and getting himself into trouble for no reason isn’t a great method of survival.

Crouched down on himself, his crystal blue eyes watch the way the unnamed figure easily dodges bullets, taking down raider after raider. He has to admit, for a lone shooter, she sure knows what to do. 

With the gun smoke settling, MacCready moves out from his spot behind the wall, standing 30 paces away from the stranger. 

“You gonna try your luck or you gonna walk away?” Her voice is modulated by the mask and sounds distant while she crouches over the dead bodies, picking random objects from their pockets, causing MacCready to scoff. 

“Why waste your time with sh-junk like that?” The figure stands to her full height, adjusting her bandolier across her chest. Hopping off of the platform, she reaches for her rifle and slings it along her back.

“Maybe next time I get to see you actually fight.” Her comment is sharp off her tongue and it takes MacCready by shock. Nodding to MacCready, she takes her leave, leaving him in his thoughts. Who is she?

MacCready’s legs burn as they race up the ever winding stairs. He needs to get a good vantage point. His target is making their way through the Commonwealth way faster than his lead had originally planned. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

His rifle slings from his shoulders into his hands as he gets a clearing. High enough for a good vantage point, low enough for his target to not escape his scope. He needs the caps more than anything, and his client, well, is paying a hefty sum. Enough to hire some help with Med-Tek.

His fingers fiddle with the setting on his scope, focusing the hairline on the oblivious target, walking in the middle of the road, in broad daylight. MacCready scoffs. “Idiot.” Before his index finger even brushes the trigger, a resounding static crackle echoes off the destroyed buildings and his target falls into a heap on the ground, unmoving. MacCready jerks away from his gun in disbelief. His one chance of caps, gone. Now who’s going to hire him? “MOTHER FU- UGH!” His eye peers through the scope and settles on a hooded figure, dragging his target through a valley. Taking a deep breath, he narrows his eyesight, trying to make out any telltale signs about the second, unwanted party. The only thing he can make out is the all black attire and a mask hanging from the belt. Wait. “That bitch!”

Grumbling as he gets up, MacCready dusts off his pants before grabbing his rifle with a scowl. What is he going to tell his employers? Sorry boss, someone else killed him before I could even get my finger on the trigger. He kicks the ground beneath him, bringing up a plume of dirt and dust as his mood sours by the second. He needed that money. If she starts picking off more of his targets he might just have to take matters into his own hands and get rid of the competition. Can’t have two mercenaries in the Commonwealth.

“I need a drink.”

----------

Magnolia’s singsong voice echoes throughout the repurposed subway station as MacCready downs another round of whiskey. He should be saving what little caps he has, but his mood demands alcohol, even if it’s not the best idea. 

“You better have enough caps to pay up Mac. You know what he will say if you leave your tab open,” Charlie comments, filling up MacCready’s glass while he scowls.

“Yeah yeah,” MacCready dismisses the robot abruptly, swirling the glass in his hand, ignoring the person sitting down next to him.

“Bourbon, neat.”

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing in a place like this, lass?” MacCready peeks at the person beside him from the corners of his eyes and nearly chokes on his drink. A woman, a gorgeous woman, sitting next to him. He can’t recall the last time he saw a woman that clean with straight white teeth and washed hair. 

She takes the glass from the Mr. Handy and raises the glass to her mouth, parting her perfect, plump lips. Hell, maybe MacCready drank way more than he should and is imagining things. “Hello to you too, Charlie. It’s been a while.”  MacCready can’t help but to tilt his head as he tries to get a wrap around her voice. Why does it sound so familiar? She takes a sip of the amber liquid and MacCready watches the way her head slightly tips back, accentuating her smooth neck and damn he wants to place his lips on it. Turning fully in his seat, he looks at the bar patron drinking in the sight of her jacket wrapped around her waist, revealing a clean, white tank top that left something to the imagination. His mouth dries in response but she doesn’t make a move to acknowledge him. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” A familiar voice to MacCready joins in on the conversation, leaning against the bar on the other side of the stranger. “What are you doing in Goodneighbor sunshine?” The merc watches the woman on his left down the rest of her drink before smiling at the mayor.

Charlie refills her glass while she gets down from her seat, wrapping her arms around the ghoul. “John. So good to see you.” Hancock immediately hugs back, hand creeping lower on her back before giving her butt a small grab much to MacCready’s shock. Sure, Hancock has always been flirtatious, but he doesn’t think that he’s ever seen him openly grope a person outside of sexual situations. The hug lasts for another second or two before they pull away, resuming their positions at the bar while Robert watches, drink in hand forgotten. 

“You didn’t answer my question, doll. What brings you around to these parts? Last I heard, you went out west.”

“I did, ran into some NCR soldiers, blew some shit up, hunted down some people. Was good fun, but I heard some rumors that the Commonwealth has an uptick in jobs, so here I am.” 

Hancock’s black eyes gaze her over, licking his lips while MacCready scoffs. “So here you are. Had any luck?”

“Yep, took care of a bounty earlier today. If bounties like that keep coming in, I might make the Commonwealth my home.” Mac’s blood freezes as it all sets in. She’s a bounty hunter. She’s the one he saw taking out the raiders. She’s the one who caused him to lose his job. She stole his kill. He can’t believe this! He oughta draw out his gun and blow a hole in her head. The sound of glass shattering brings the whole bar into silence, drawing MacCready out of his rage only to look around for the source of the shattered glass.

“What’s wrong with you Mac? That was a perfectly good glass!” Hancock chastises, grabbing a towel from behind the bar and moving towards the merc. It wasn’t until Hancock put the towel on his hand that he noticed that he was the one who shattered the glass and was bleeding. 

Charlie’s motors whir in annoyance as he brings out a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the shards off the floor but all Mac can see is the woman right in front of him, confusion written on her face. “That’s going onto your tab!”

“What was that about Mac?”

“You stole my kill.” He points an accusing finger in her face as her eyes narrow. 

“I didn’t steal shit. There was a bounty. Game is game."

“No. I was paid to take him out and you stole that from me.” She scoffs as Hancock backs away, eyeing the two people.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been slow. Maybe then you would have your pile of caps, merc.”

“Woah woah, I don’t need more blood spilt in my bar. Why don’t you two take this outside.” MacCready rolls his eyes as the rest of the bar watches on in anticipation. Why should he have to leave because of some stupid girl. 

Scoffing, he slams some caps onto the table. “Whatever. Good luck trying to get the next one.” With not another word said, he leaves the bar, hellbent on beating the stranger at her own game. 

----------

He doesn’t know who or why she continuously gets bounty after bounty, but it’s well past the point of him being nice. He’s 0 for 7 and if he doesn’t get one soon he might actually kill her in cold blood. It doesn’t help either that anytime he sees her all he can think about is slamming her against a wall and shoving his dick in her mouth to wipe that smirk off of her fuc-freaking perfect face. 

“Face it Blamco, you’re just too slow. You’re not as good as me,” she comments from beside him at the bar, glass of bourbon in her hand as he scowls.

“Oh wow, you came up with another name. Good for you.” This is how it’s been. Trying to beat each other to a bounty, her eventually winning, him coming to the Third Rail, her following and gloating, him drinking, her teasing him, him scowling more before eventually leaving. Then it repeats.

“Have you ever thought that maybe this isn’t the line of work for you? Maybe you should do something simple, like farming.” Ok, now he’s livid.

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up and leave me the hell alone.” It comes out more soft and depressing than he was hoping for. He was wanting it to sound angry, to be intimidating, but the softening of her facial features tells him that it had the opposite effect.

“Damn MacCready. What’s got you down in the dump? I’m just teasing you.” She places a tender hand on his upper bicep and he can’t deny how nice the contact felt, but he shoves it off, standing up and towering over her.

“I’m sick of you and your stupid teasing. You don’t know how much I need those caps. You’re so selfish, taking all those bounties. Maybe leave some for other people. Why don’t you go back out west where you belong. And God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know whether I should shoot you in the mouth or kiss you just so you would shut the hell up!” She closes her mouth, brows bunched together in thought. MacCready scoffs, downing his watered down whiskey. “What. Don’t you have anything to say now?” 

“You’re such a fucking dick Robert. You don’t know shit.” She sets a bag down on the counter and he can tell it’s full of caps. He watches as she turns to Charlie who hovers ever so slightly, eagerly listening in on the conversation. “When he isn’t throwing a temper tantrum, give him the package.”

“Sure thing Miss (Name).”

“Oh and put his bill on mine. It’s covered.”

“Will do ma’am.” She doesn’t spare him another glance before grabbing her stuff and setting off, leaving the pile of caps on the counter.

“Is she actually just leaving that?”

“She left it for you, wanker. Honestly, your behavior as of late is unsavory. No wonder why you have had no clients.” He floats away for a second before retrieving a box and setting it down in front of the former gunner. “Now are you going to grow up or am I going to have to leave this with me until you fix yourself.” Mac’s curiosity of what lies in the box automatically shifts his mood to tolerable. Removing the lid of the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside the brown box lies a red syringe with the words “Med Tek: Prevent” printed in white.

“Is this what I think it is?” His heart races as he picks up the syringe. This can’t be it. Can it?

“Miss (Name) went there the other day with Mr. Hancock. Took out the whole subunit of ghouls to bring you this. I do hope you reconsider your abrasive words.” How the hell was he supposed to know that she went to Med Tek to get this cure? How the hell was he supposed to know that she knew he was looking for this?

“Who told her about Duncan?”

“I imagine the same person who went with her.” Hancock. He should’ve known. Grabbing the syringe and the pile of caps, he races up the stairs and out of the building, running right into one of the people he wanted to see.

“Slow your roll MacCready. What’s got ants in your pants?” Hancock’s cool tone questions him as MacCready pockets the syringe, his hands itching in nerves.

“I want to kick your ass so hard, but first, why the hell would you tell her about Duncan, let alone Duncan’s disease? You know damn well that that is none of her business! I trusted you to keep that between us, not to tell some random ass stranger who just happens to be good with a gun. Second, where the hell did she go? I need to give her a piece of my mind.” MacCready makes a move to brush past Hancock, but Hancock is physically stronger and stops the young man in his tracks.

“One, she asked why you needed the caps so bad since you were being a bad sport about a kill and I had one too many hits of jet. Two, good luck finding her. You can be a dick when you’re drinking and pissed off.”

“I had every-”

“Every right to, yeah yeah, but still. She has a heart of gold and maybe if you didn’t have a fire lit up your ass, you would’ve known that.” MacCready calms down in Hancock’s grip, letting the ghoul loosen his hands. “I don’t know where she went, but I bet she doesn’t want to be found. Sunshine is one of those people who if you seriously piss off or hurt, they like to lick their wounds in private.”

“Why would she care what I said? She doesn’t like me.”

“I forget how naive you are, kid. A girl like that doesn’t just hang around people to hang around people. She obviously digs you. Gives her some… competition.” Robert scoffs.  

“As if she needs any, she’s too damn good on her own.” Hancock shrugs, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, walking him over to Daisy’s shop.

“If you manage to find her, let her know how you feel.”

“I don’t-”

“Mac, yes you do. You like the competition too, and you know it. Now get this cure to Duncan.” Hancock slaps him on the back forcing MacCready forward, hand in pocket.

“Hey Daisy.”

“Hello RJ, whatcha got for me today?”

“I got the cure.”

----------

It took MacCready a solid month to track her down. Whenever he would get to where she was, she was already gone. Despite wanting to give up and get back to work, he couldn’t drop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. If anything, he wanted to thank her for getting the cure for his son, but he can’t deny how lonely the past month has been without her presence. 

The gates to Diamond City stand tall in front of him as his stomach tangles in knots. She should be here, he thinks to himself, hoping Hancock’s information is correct. What is he even going to do once he finds her? What is he going to say?

Nodding to the guard, he walks through the entrance to the baseball stadium where the city rests before him. “Well, now or never.” Taking a deep breath, he inhales the smell of Takahashi’s ramen and it makes his mouth water. “What’s a few more minutes?” Sitting down at the makeshift bar, MacCready absentmindedly sticks his hand in his pocket and runs his calloused fingers over the pile of caps. Once she had left and he had delivered the cure to Daisy, Mac counted the caps in the pouch she had left on the bar and couldn’t believe that she would leave that much. It was around 800 caps, which was practically the amount he could’ve gotten had she not collected the bounties before him. “What’s up Taka? Set me up with some of your shima… uh… whatever they’re called.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yeah, yeah! That’s the stuff.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“You’re damn right I’ll take two servings!” The robot sets the noodles down in front of him as he lets out a groan. Maybe he’s more hungry than he thought. Digging into the noodles, the real purpose he came to Diamond City slips his mind. Until it’s right across from him, oblivious to his eyes. Slurping down the last bit of noodles, MacCready wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before setting a few caps down, quickly hopping off the stool and rushing towards her. 

Skidding to a halt, he stops a few feet behind her, his blue eyes piercing her back. “Took you long enough to find me Macaroni. Are you always going to stand behind me?” That’s it. MacCready huffs out in frustration, taking large steps towards her as she turns around, a soft smile on her gorgeous face. “Still getting upset over nicknames?”

“Just shut the hell up.” He takes her face between his hands and brings his lips down to hers, the force of the kiss causing her to stumble back, dragging him with her. Needing air, MacCready pulls away, a string of saliva connecting them to each other as he rests his forehead against hers as they catch their breaths, ignoring the way people are looking at them. “Got anything to say now?”

“Kiss me again you idiot.” He doesn’t hesitate as his arms snake around her waist, holding her close to his body while her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”

MacCready chuckles, his hand moving lower and lower on her back before resting on the swell of her butt. “Lead the way.”

[sourscratched]

can i interest any of you in a secret recording of two z&j songs and a full every place i cry show

every place i cry tracklist:

- no i can’t

- many ways to have faith

- how’d you get that barrel?

- i will love you forever for four months

- i hope two

second to last song also includes zach and ross lost in the sauce singing We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together in the background

the two z&j songs are TSA Precheck (improvised) and What Is A Blouse (scripted). and there’s also a wonderful mini-musical by demi adejuyigbe about the ikea monkey (there’s other stuff in that video but ill be real with you i skipped it. but follow your heart)

go take a look here if you’re interested 🎵✨

[steampunkforever]

When I see (American, online) leftists post Guillotine memes about politicians and then turn around and plead with the very government they threaten to further disarm them I begin to question if they can really back up their rhetoric. After all, the deadliest things they're throwing at politicians are milkshakes. Power comes from the barrel of a gun, so why are you begging the bad guys to take away the means to a revolution?

Tackling indigenous rights and neoliberal centrism, Clearcut asks the same thing. In a failed system that breeds injustice, why aren't we doing what needs to be done?

Clearcut is a film rich in questions. Unlike many movies surrounding the ideal of native land rights, it has no clear(cut) ending, choosing instead to leave the audience with questions that it chooses not to answer.

The film focuses on a bleeding heart neolib lawyer who has lost the court case contesting a logging conglomerate's deforestation of native lands in Canada. Out loud, the lawyer wishes he could murder the logging company CEO. Enter Arthur, a native of nondescript ancestry who serves as the monkeys paw and curls each finger. "You want to kill this guy?" Arthur asks "Why not?" And so he kidnaps the CEO, throws the lawyer into a boat, and takes them all on a nightmarish trip full of torture and unspoken philosophical questions.

The main conflict of the film comes from the Lawyer's staunch devotion to his centrism. His mantra "we'll appeal in court" rings hollow as everyone around him universally acknowledges this act as a useless gesture. If the lawyer would just take the knife, give the CEO a couple stabs and go on about his day the film would be much shorter. But he doesn't.

Instead, we watch in a dreamlike haze as Arthur makes the lawyer face the harm that justice requires, the torment compounding with every sequence the lawyer refuses to abandon his pacifistic ideals. "You wanted to debark this man like a log? Then help me peel the skin off his leg." Clearcut is a film about putting your money where your mouth is.

As the lawyer insists on this sympathetic neutrality, it becomes clear who the helpless handwringing benefits. There's lots of talk, but its all noise, serving only to build up the status quo, providing a space for vocal dissent but no change. The lawyer can protest the beatings and blood of the logging operation, but will not step in to prevent them. Who does this help?

He will not pick up that gun. The CEO gets out alive, and none of the guilty get arrested. Clearcut posits that to surrender the monopoly of force is to admit to the legitimacy of the monopolizer, an endorsement through obedience.

The movie leaves you with so many questions, but chief among them was "is it worth it?"

[dndhistory]

363. Gary Gygax and Frank Mentzer - AC4: The Book of Marvelous Magic (1985)

A pretty unique source book for D&D (with an appendix containing rules to adapt its content for AD&D) The Book of Marvelous Magic is both weird and pretty funny. Basically it's a 80 page book of magical items, loads of them, as well as listings for other magical items previously published. For example under "Amulets" one of them has already been explained in the D&D Expert Set so the entry will just tell you that.

This means that the majority of this are original magical items and if there is one thing you can tell from browsing through the book is the fact that Gygax and Mentzer clearly were having a bit of fun doing this list. It's full of just amusing items such as a Barrel of Monkeys, a Can of Worms or a Can of Can't, or even a Sun Deck. 

However, there are other items which just feel a bit crazy today. You can see that in the very first item of the list, the "Alternate World Gate", a listing of gate items which can transport characters from other TSR games into your D&D campaign, like a Violin Case that can transport a mobster from the Gangbusters game or a Medal which can bring a first world war ace pilot into your fantasy campaign. There's a lot of fun to be had with these items but there are also useful ones and particularly useful randomized tables of items which will really help you furnish your campaign.  

[miserymerci]

<- Day 5: Planet Day 7: Recovery ->

Fluffy February Day 6: Fire - Fire Meets Flame

@ // fluffyfebruary

Fandom: Lego Monkie Kid

Characters: MK and Sun Wukong, Sunburst duo

(Father-son relationship, silly shenanigans with angst undertones)

Warnings: Some maggot mentions, mentions of life on the streets

Summary: Set during S3 E8 (Benched). While in Lantern City looking for the third ring, the gang explores the Ring of Light Festival. With MK and Wukong paired together, they find themselves seated at a food stall with an owner full of gusto and too many hot peppers.

“ Stop doing that!”

“Dhrn whuff?”

“Picking up stuff and putting it in your mouth!”

Wukong grabbed MK’s face and wrestled a half-eaten rice cake out of his mouth. It was tinted a weird green, and he wrinkled his nose at it before tossing it into the nearby trash bag.

“It’s not my fault that people are throwing away perfectly good food!” argued MK, rubbing at his cheeks. “ Look ! Look at that baozi in the garbage! Nobody even took a bite out of it? Why!? ”

“I know, bud, I know, but you can’t just eat food that’s been marinating in mystery trash soup.”

MK frowned, watching someone literally pick off the edges of a xian bing as if it were some sort of stinking bread crust and throw it away.

Wukong caught MK’s hood and pulled him back to his side.

“Keep your little paws out of the trash , MK!”

“This is unethical,” grumbled MK underneath the chattering festivities. “I would’ve eaten that.”

“Yes, well, you can’t exactly control everyone, bud— here, let’s— wait .”

On the lively streets of Lantern City, Wukong and MK watched a young man toss a baggie of glimmering peach slices into the fly-infested garbage.

“…Well I– MONKEY KING NO! ”

“This is different!” snapped Wukong, clinging to the brim of the bin as MK tugged on his arm, “they’re in a baggy! They haven’t technically touched the trash!”

“Technically, technical, technic-I-don’t-care! You’re gonna do what you told me not to do!?”

“I’m immortal. It won’t kill me,” said Wukong, chewing on what MK hoped wasn’t those peach slices.

Someone cleared their throat, and the pair snapped their heads up to look at the startled man before them.

Wukong stuck out his tongue and let the half-chewed slice plop back into the trash.

“Hi!” he said with a wide smile.

“…Hello,” said the man. “It’s such a festive night… won’t you seek refuge at my stall? I could provide the two of you with a nice, warm meal.”

“That’s really nice of you,” said Wukong, and then added before his stomach could speak for him: “But we are kind of busy with something. Say, have you maybe seen a ring that kind of looks like this–” he made a circular motion “–but it has some little waves in the middle. Does that make sense?”

The man nodded very, very slowly. He stared at Wukong, glanced behind Wukong, and then looked back at Wukong.

Wukong frowned. He turned around and quickly grabbed the sides of MK’s face.

“SPIT IT OUT , MK !”

The man laughed after Wukong managed to wrangle the mystery dumpling from MK’s teeth.

“I won’t keep you very long,” promised the man, “just a quick meal, and then you and your son can be on your way.”

“It couldn’t hurt,” said MK, quietly.

Wukong, who had felt like a little plastic monkey in a barrel being shaken around the entire time they’ve been here, looked at MK and saw the most heartbreaking eyes known to man.

“ Alright ,” sighed Wukong.

Well , maybe a dinner break would lift his spirits. And stop MK from eating from the trash.

“I make chuàn,” said the man, clinking something behind the stall. He peeked up at his two guests. “Lamb, beef, pork…?”

“We’re not picky,” replied Wukong, sitting on one of the stools beside MK. “Thank you.”

With a nod, the man turned to his work.

Wukong crossed his arms against the table and leaned his head toward his protégé, who was distractedly looking off into the busy street. A group of kids watched on as a lady swung two whizzing cups

“That’s a yo-yo,” he said.

“I know what a yo-yo is,” said MK, but he didn’t sound offended.

“I did a lot of yo-yoing back in the day.”

MK turned to look at him, eyes sparkling.

“Were you good at it?”

‘Not at all. Absolutely terrible,’ Wukong wanted to say. But then, he also wanted to say; ‘Yeah. I was kind of the best.’

“Probably,” he said.

“You don’t know?” asked MK. He had that little quirk on the side of his mouth that told Wukong that he had already seen through him.

“Uh…”

“Yáng ròu chuàn,” said the man at the stall, two paper plates sliding over to the duo.

“This smells amazing ,” said MK, Wukong’s only warning before he started shoving the lamb into his mouth– and then tried to cough it back up.

“ MK ,” said Wukong.

MK only wheezed.

It was then that Wukong realized that the kebab was smelling something so fierce that it itched his nostrils. He leaned back and looked up. This stall, written in beautiful bold letters, said: ‘Fa’s Superior Spicy Kebabs’ .

Wukong placed his hands on top of the counter and swallowed.

“Is something the matter?” asked the man when he turned back to look at them.

MK, in all of his red-faced glory, shook his head.

“S’gret. Thnks,” he said.

The man smiled brightly and turned his back to his customers. His knife, shiny against the festival lights, sliced the meat into cubed pieces.

“I see people struggle on the streets every day of my life. That used to be me, you know? Digging for scraps; picking the pieces that people wouldn’t want to eat, but I had to,” said the man, chopping away. “It’s a hard life. And I wish I could help every other person who has maggots in their belly and hunger in their hearts like I did– but then I would have nothing. And I wouldn’t be able to help anyone else.”

Wukong nodded along, watching MK warily in his peripheral vision. The kid was actually trying to down the entire thing. There were tears pricking his eyes, from the spice or the story or both.

“But I still like to help, you know? My fiancé scolds me but I’ve got a soft heart, he says. So when I saw you two picking in the trash–” MK ‘haCK’ ed at that “–well, what’s an old man to do?”

MK, his eyes blindingly wet, sniffled and looked like he might really start crying.

“That’s so kind of you,” he said. Before Wukong could stop him, he rubbed his tears away with his tainted spicy fingers. “Guk–.”

“Oh MK… ”

MK squeaked very, very quietly. He pressed his palms against his eyes and leaned forward onto the counter.

The man, who hadn’t noticed MK touching his eyes at all, went to pat his back.

“It’s okay, young boy,” he said. “I know it’s difficult. I hope I’m able to make your festival night a little more lively.”

“Guuuuh,” sniffled MK painfully.

The man turned away and continued prepping his food.

“Do you have anything to drink?” asked Wukong. “ Preferably something with dairy.”

“That’s a strange request. On a night like this? With a meal like that ? Why, it’ll ruin all the flavors! How about a nice alternative?”

Two cans clinked in front of them.

“Thank you,” said Wukong, grabbing one of the cans, opening it and handing it over to MK– who was making progress in fighting against the stinging of his eyes.

“Don’t feel bad,” said the man, leaning in, “about me giving you free food. It looked like you two needed it. So please, eat up.”

Wukong pursed his lips. He stared at the passionate stall owner, then at MK’s warning gaze, and then took a bite of the kebab.

…Okay, Wukong might be able to die. The savory, rich taste of the kebab was blown into pieces by how spicy it was. It was like biting into a hive of wasps. All the saliva that he might have had poofed into a dusty wasteland.

“Ho gawd,” said Wukong, intelligently. He coughed. To his side, MK squealed with what would probably be the dying equivalent of a laugh. “It’s ho gewd. Hanks .”

The man beamed.

“So, tell me about yourselves. How long have you been in Lantern City? What do you like to do? Do you have more family?” he asked, turning on his little sink, running water across his blade.

Wukong made a face. All of his saliva had tripled back and he couldn’t help but continue chewing the meat without swallowing. He turned helplessly to MK.

MK took a swig of the drink and sputtered it back into the can. His sleeves, the poor things, came up to wipe what it could from his face.

“Hownk ink it,” said MK.

“I habe no ‘dea hwhat you’re saying,” said Wukong.

The man turned back to them, smiling. Wukong crossed his arms and grinned while MK prompted up his head on his palm.

“Great,” said Wukong, cracking open his can. “Just passing through. We like to pass through. We’re passing-throughers. There’s also a few more of us but you know can’t keep track of them all ahah.”

Wukong, in all his glory, ignored the way MK was looking at him as if he had just gotten stabbed by a very mangled knife, and took a sip of the can’s contents.

The spice massacred his tongue. It flowed in between every crevice and crack until it had every single inch of Wukong’s mouth under its nasty little claws.

Wukong drank the whole thing and swung it down onto the counter.

“ Wow !” he said, not at all in a good way. The spice was slipping down his throat and gnawing in his belly.

“Ah, so you like my family's spicy soy milk recipe?”

“Your what !?” croaked Wukong.

“Okay, it’s only really been in the family for about ten years but it’ll be passed on from generation to generation– I can already feel it! You see, I choose only the best Thai Peppers, and I let the soy milk simmer with a nice handful of them for an hour. Then, I let the peppers marinate in the soy milk for about three days…”

In the end, they did end up paying the man at the stall.

“I think that might have been a murder attempt,” said Wukong, half an hour later. He took a long sip of his peach-colored drink and then added, “but the guy was just so gosh darn nice . You think he was messing with us?”

“I hope not,” said MK. “But he looked like he was really genuine about it all. I don’t think he knew that his food was killing us from the inside out.”

“And yet he was trying to do good anyways,” said Wukong. He leaned back in his chair and nodded. “ That’s poetic, huh, bud?”

MK laughed.

“Passion fruit iced tea, four servings of chicken dumplings, and eight servings of tonkotsu ramen for MK?” called out a worker.

MK handed Wukong three of the takeout bags, and then took the other two.

“You know, this won’t solve the whole problem,” said Wukong once they were outside. The breeze tonight was cool and gentle, and he was thankful for it.

“I know, but it does mean something, right? Even for a night. And then one day, the solution won’t just be temporary, and we’ll be able to do more.”

Wukong peered over at MK over the rim of his cup as his successor dug around in one of the bags.

“I’m proud of you, bud, for not falling victim to a spicy grave earlier,” he said after a moment, with the carefully-leveled tone of someone who had maggots in their belly. He didn't mention how MK had handled the spice a thousand times better than he had.

MK turned to him, flashed that ‘I-see-through-you’ look, and then handed one of the ramen bowls to the many people on those lantern-lit streets with hunger in their hearts.

[servicemonkey]

ah yeah a barrel full of monkeys

[lackablazeical]

Addams! AU snippet 8: 'Lair Games 2- Fire Cracker Relay'

FULL CREDIT TO WRITER NewFallenLeaves ON A03! SHES GREAT TO THROW IDEAS AROUND WITH AND WAS SO GENEROUS TO DO ALL OF THESE WRITINGS. GIVE HER ALL THE LOVE AND KUDOS AND HITS!!!!! GIVE HER THEM!!!!!

Have a snippet redraw for the soul <3 suggested by miss NewFallenLeaves herself! Perfect for it <3

Full snippet below the cut! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

---

“All right,” said Donnie. “The next event is–”

“Mine!” Mikey shouted. “My favorite! Mine!”

“Yes, Michael, hold on.” Donnie tugged loose the lid on a barrel full of fireworks and withdrew two oversized Roman candles.

Mikey lunged.

One of Donnie’s titanium arms clamped onto the nape of Mikey’s shell, holding him back. “Wait for the starting shot.” He lit both fuses and handed one of the fireworks to Raph. Raph nodded and took his place at the starting line.

“Gimme!” Mikey’s hands opened and closed rapid-fire.

“Just a moment.”

“Gimme-gimme-gimme-gimme-gimme!”

“Michael, remember this time please, we are on a team so you have to hand it to me when–”

Splinter cracked the starting pistol.

“FIRECRACKER!” Mikey tore free from the titanium arm, snatched the explosive from Donnie’s hand, then pelted down the trackway and veered straight towards Raph.

With his own sizzling explosive gripped firmly in his left hand, Raph lumbered forward, each step hammering. When Mikey slammed into him, his stride barely stuttered.

Mikey clung to his brother’s limb upside-down, arms and feet grappling like a spider monkey. With a feral yell, he chomped on Raph’s wrist.

He gnawed for a solid ten seconds before Raph seemed to realize what was happening. Within moments the trackway had a trail of blood in his wake, and more splattered as he began to shake his arm, trying to dislodge Mikey.

Stubborn as a tick, Mikey held fast.

“Leggo!” said Raph. “Raph wants it this time!”

Mikey shouted something unintelligible and bit down even harder. With a roar, Raph tossed his Roman candle.

Like a dog after a stick, Mikey bolted after the firework. He leaped to snatch it in midair, then continued running in a mad dash around the circular track.

Heaving a sigh, Donnie plucked two more firecrackers from the barrel and lit them. He offered one to Leo, who merely smiled and shook his head.

“SECOND LAP!” Mikey rocketed past the starting point, snatching both of the new explosives from Donnie before tearing away down the track once more.

“I was under the impression,” said April, as she panned the camera after him, “That the point of a relay is to pass the batons, not collect them.”

“Shhhhh,” said Leo. “Let him have this. It makes him so happy.”

As Mikey charged towards the finish line, Raph gave chase. But there was no catching up with Mikey when he was this hyper. He crossed the finish line and skidded to a halt. With the four rapidly-burning fuses still clutched in his arms, he whirled, grinning like a maniac.

“I HAVE ALL THE FIRECRACKERS!” he howled. “I GOT HERE FIRST AND I HAVE ALL THE–”

BOOM

April had to pull her eye away from the camera lens at the resulting flash. Once the spots in her vision cleared, she refocused the lens on the victorious Mikey.

He rocked woozily, flat on his back, his face, arms, and plastron smoking. His mask had completely burned up, save for a tiny scrap that lay on the concrete beside his head, sizzling.

Donnie walked over, an attachment on his battleshell unfurling. He pointed the nozzle at Mikey and released the fire-extinguishing spray.

“So…” April asked, as Mikey shot upright, sputtering and swiping at his face. “...does that count as a win?”

“Certainly,” said Donnie. “For the firecrackers.”

[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 9

1233 words

CW: death, child death (not explicitly described), guns, recapture, noncon kiss, pet whump

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~~~

Tao remembered thinking that it must have been fireworks. That there was no way the Commander’s Military had advanced so far overnight.

They had.

He’d stared out the window at the tanks rolling down the street while his brother and his wife rounded up their kids. Lilah and Rory. They were too young to understand what was happening, only that they were scared.

They got everyone in the car. They had the flashlights, the batteries, the canned food.

But Rory forgot his stuffed monkey. And Tao went back to get it.

An explosion rocked the house a second after he picked the toy up. When he got back outside, the car was in flames.

~~~

Tao knew it wasn’t fireworks this time.

Lark squirmed, and Tao’s grip on him tightened like a vice.

“I have to go-” Lark gasped.

“No,” Tao’s throat constricted, “No, I won’t let you.”

“Tao, please.”

“Everyone here knows what to do. We have escape plans.” He loosened his grip on Lark just enough for the two of them to be able to stand, then pulled him back close. “There are cars parked in the woods, we just go to the nearest one, okay?”

Lark lifted his tear-streaked face and hesitantly nodded.

“Okay.”

“Good, let’s get this on you properly.” He released Lark and took a step back, taking hold of the shirt draped around the young man’s shoulders. Lark obediently put his arms into the sleeves, and Tao forced his hands to be steady as he buttoned it up.

There was another smattering of gunfire in the distance.

The shirt hung loose and oversized on Lark’s small frame, and the tattoo around his neck stood out starkly, but it was better than nothing. Tao glanced around, spotted Lark’s sling on the floor, and scooped it up and looped it around Lark’s neck.

“Sit down and fix that while I get your shoes on.”

Lark sank down to sit on the edge of the bed, while Tao swiped a hand underneath the frame and pulled out Lark’s shoes.

“That’s where they were,” Lark commented numbly, nestling his cast into the sling.

“Yep.” Tao shoved Lark’s feet into the shoes with little grace, and stood, holding out his hand. Lark looked up at him, fear written all over his face, and took it.

“Now we run,” said Tao.

They left Faye’s – Dylan was nowhere to be seen – and instead of going down the driveway Tao led them to the road through the trees. At the edge of the street they crouched in the bushes, and Tao craned his neck to look down the road.

“Shit!”

There was already a squad of soldiers, moving up the road in a fan formation, illuminated by the high full moon. They had full tactical gear and assault rifles.

“Okay, listen,” Tao grabbed Lark’s shoulder, “You’re going to run straight across the road and into the woods, and keep going until you reach a path, okay? Follow-”

“No.”

“Yes, follow the path until you find the car, okay?”

“No!” Lark shook his head wildly, “I can’t!”

“Yes, you can,” Tao said firmly, drawing his pistol, “When I say go, you go.”

“No,” said Lark, “You should run.”

“What?”

Lark stared at him a moment, breathing hard; then he moved faster than Tao would have ever expected. He grabbed the barrel of the gun, yanked it out of Tao’s hand, and started running straight towards the soldiers.

“Lark!” Tao screamed, starting after him. Lark threw the gun as hard as he could into the woods to the north. The soldiers spotted him and lifted their weapons.

“Don’t shoot!” Lark shouted, “It’s me, don’t shoot!”

The soldier on point lowered his gun, and the others followed suit. Lark reached him and flung his arms around the soldier, nearly tackling him.

“I’m here, we can go home now, please don’t hurt anyone!”

But Tao was fast approaching, and the soldiers went back on alert, training their weapons on him. Tao slowed to a jog, then a halt, his survival instincts overriding his need to stop Lark.

It was too late, he realized.

Lark looked over his shoulder at Tao, eyes wide.

“Please don’t shoot him!” he begged the soldiers, “Please – Tao, run!” His voice was a desperate shriek.

Tao could’ve run – but for as little time as he had known Lark, something prevented him from leaving the boy behind. He stood rooted to the spot, his mind a blank.

The soldier Lark was clinging to was tapping his earpiece and saying something Tao couldn’t make out from where he was. Then he pushed Lark off and behind him, and aimed his gun at Tao.

“On your knees!” he shouted, “You’re coming with us!”

Tao wanted to sob with frustration at the situation. They could have made it, if Lark had just listened to him. He slowly raised his hands and sank to his knees. He locked eyes with Lark. The boy looked petrified. Tao couldn’t be angry with him – not now.

A black SUV crested into view behind the line of soldiers. It slowed to a halt, as two of the soldiers advanced on Tao.

A man got out of the backseat. A tall, old man, who stood ramrod straight and wore a long coat and an officer’s cap, despite the heat of the summer night. He radiated power.

The Commander.

Lark tore his eyes away from Tao to look behind him at the sound of the car door closing, and he let out a small cry. He sprinted over to the Commander and abruptly dropped out of view. Tao craned his neck, and his stomach flipped with revulsion when he saw Lark had prostrated himself at the Commander’s feet, and appeared to be licking his boots.

“Lark!” he shouted, jumping to his feet, but the soldiers were on him now and they seized his arms. Tao struggled wildly, stomping on their boots, but they were unfazed. They twisted his arms behind him and efficiently zip-tied his wrists together. Tao didn’t take his eyes off the Commander as they manhandled him – and the Commander looked back. Tao felt ice run down his spine when those cold blue eyes found him. Simply being looked at by the Commander felt like a curse.

A van pulled up behind the SUV, and the soldiers started dragging Tao towards it – towards Lark and the Commander. Tao watched, growing ever closer, as the Commander snapped his fingers and Lark jumped to his feet. Tao was hauled in a wide berth around the reuniting master and pet, and as he passed the Commander fisted a hand in Lark’s long hair and leaned down to kiss him, as if to spite Tao specifically.

Tao let out a wordless shout of rage and redoubled his efforts to escape the soldiers' hold, to no avail. Still trapped in the kiss, Lark’s eyes rolled to look at him.

He looked scared. Desperate – but only for a moment before he closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, sensually running his hand up the Commander’s chest.

Tao felt his legs go weak.

You’re not going back.

Everything’s going to be okay.

I promise.

It was all turning to lies, right in front of him. He’d failed. Tao went nearly limp, allowing the soldiers to frog-march him to the back of the van.

God only knew what would happen now.

~~~

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Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-em, @morning-star-whump, @thecyrulik, @honeycollectswhump

[inkybinkyboink]

do i dare? road trips headcanons?

okay so setup: cladwell sends officer lockstock and officer barrel to run errands out of town.

he owns a factory a few hours away that produces the supplies that are provided for the amenities (toilet paper, absolutely dogshit bars of soap, and paper towel)

he sends lockstock and barrel instead of his own executives because he's short-staffed and the guys working over in the amenity number 47 jurisdiction are over-staffed

so some of the officers from 47 take over for lockstock and barrel for the day and the two goons head off in a fancy company car

its not a fancy company car it's definitely a minivan that's at least seven years old and used to be white.

(okay sidenote during our production i would argue with the director about whether or not cars exist in the urinetown canon because i was doing sound design and i wanted to put cars in the ambience.

she said no there weren't cars and that i couldnt put cars in the ambience. i tried roping our music director into the argument because he'd done the show before and he very clearly went "nope, not my fight"

i think there are cars- they mention busses and sirens in the script

tl:dr, i lost the fight and there were no cars in our production BUT THERE ARE IN MY HEART)

ANYWAYS

"im going on a big mission with the boys" that tiktok audio? that's barrel when lockstock begrudgingly asks if he wants to go with.

they of COURSE gotta stop for gas first bc you KNOW the oil industry is still going HARD gotta get that unethical coin yknow???

lockstock fills the tank and barrel goes inside and comes back with an inordinate amount of snacks

"you cant have too many snacks on a roadtrip"

no you dont understand, this gremlin bought the entire stock

lockstock picks the music and its just ABBA you cant change my mind

he loves two things, one is his ABBA Gold CD, and i dont know what the other one is but it's not barrel

they both start out in full uniform but it's warm and it only takes like. 20 minutes for them to take off the jackets

god jesus fuck those wool blazers man they suck ASS

just two dudes cruising in a mini van in white v-necks

barrel falls asleep almost instantly

bro doesnt eat any of his snacks

it's cartoonish but i think it would be really fucking funny if at one point after driving in silence for HOURS, little sally jumps up from the back seat

"HEY GUYS WATCHA DOING"

lockstock drives because barrel drives worse than a monkey on cocaine

he shoves barrel awake at one point because "look at that cloud! isn't that cool?"

"you woke me up to look at a fucking cloud?"

they bicker abt why barrel even wanted to come if he was just going to sleep the whole time, so barrel stays awake

except he's 10 times more annoying when he's awake.

drumming on the dash board

really bad abba karaoke

after a while lockstock concedes and lets barrel drive for a while because his back hurts

hypocritical son of a bitch immediately takes a nap

they get there and realize they forgot the paperwork they were meant to bring

they drive four hours one way for nothing