#Carrier Crow Brings a Message! || asks

[therantfairysblog]

Trust

"what?'

The two having a nice tea break after their daily training. Iguro sitting there with him caressing kaburamaru.

"I'm serious, shinazugawa. I feel like, this is it. This whole calmness before a storm, everything is quite unsettling to me. And i think i need to entrusted kaburamaru to someone. I feel like you are really good with animal you know" with his mask hiding his mouth, shinazugawa didn't really captured his expression, but there's really some serene sadness in his voice.

"....well you sure as hell you want me to take care of him as if I'm surely come out alive, what a confident" shinazugawa chuckled.

"Yes I'm sure of it," the seriousness in his tone take him aback. Iguro was always a serious and strict person but he feel that today, he looked like he already make up his mind for something.

"shinazugawa, I'm fine if you want to entrust him to others. Kaburamaru is a good helper, i just don't want him to be lonely" iguro drank his last drop of tea.

"Well...if you said so, plus if i got the mark, I'll probably don't live long anyway,"

Iguro just smiled.

........

He opened up his eyes with the sound of people crying his name. The curse is the one he let out when his dad just simply push him out from death. What a shitty old man.

"shinazugawa sama is waking up! Please checked on him"

He doesn't feel anything. His body hurt like a hell but he feel numb. The final look his brother give him before fading away still stuck in his brain. Perhaps for as long as he live.

His ears hearing the chaos surrounding him. People are dying now huh. Well that shitty demon finally gone so i guess... it's time to pay the price. His eyes grow bigger when one of the kakushi screaming.

"Serpent hashiraa and love hashira over there!!! First aid!!"

"..... I'm so sorry, they both... gone. We late"

"....write their name in the record. Give message to the kasugai crows." The chaos among them keep him awake.

"i see..." shinazugawa mumbling and just like that, he lost another friend, he really didn't know what to feel. Laughing? Crying? His life feel like a joke at that point.

His eyes keep watching the kakushis cleaning up the place, he watch one of them putting a little snake into a box carrier. Kabu...

"Hey you, come here...'

"Shinazugawa sama, yes, please don't force yourself to get up," the kakushi who bring kaburamaru come towards him.

"leave kaburamaru with me... I'll take care of him..."

"...of course, but shinazugawa sama need to be treated first.," the kakushi bring the carrier with kaburamaru in it. Putting it beside him.

"...hey, is there any hashira left ...that kamado guy and his friends...are they okay?" shinazugawa asked silently. Now that's it's over, everything come to his mind. The silent sobbing of the kakushi answering him

"...kamado sama....pulse.... aren't....only Tomioka sama is alive but he is in a bad condition..."

".....i see," his hand reaching out kaburamaru, caressing his little head. The animal looked very distraught. Of course. ' Kabu kun....you are grieving too aren't you...? I'll do my best, you'll not alone..."

"Kaburamaru is my best friend....i hope he'll be happy and live a long life..."

And the world getting dark again. He fall asleep. How he wish this is only a nightmare. How he wish that.

[tipsycad147]

The Magick Of Crow Feathers

Crow

Corvidae/Corvus

Birds In The Same Family:

Raven, Rook, Jackdaw

Season:

Autumn

Common Facts:

Highly intelligent, topping avian IQ scales

Have been known to play sports, use tools, hide and store food and love shiny things

Often mate for life

Symbolism + Associations of Crow Feathers:

The origin of death

Carrier of information and omens

Crow in front of your home can mean special visitors will come that day (perhaps the crow herself)

Associated with worship of ancestors, the Morrigan, death and the Other Word

Can bring good luck, can bring bad luck

Intuition

Magickal Uses of Crow Feathers:

Crow feathers are a powerful anchor for a divination altar, as these are the messenger wings into the InBetween and Other Worlds. When getting ready for divination of any sort, open the working with a deep meditation on the wings, asking them to fly you into the spaces where the Unseen can become Seen by you.

Crow feathers are also deeply powerful activators when you need to send a message across the ethers. Tying a ‘message’ to a feather and keeping that with a lit candle on your altar so that the wings carry your message is highly effective and a beautiful way to hold space for your message to get through.

Connecting To Your Crow Feathers:

Sit with the crow feathers in hand in a meditation. Greet them and the bird they served with respect. Establish a relationship with them by simply sitting with them in hand, opening to feeling the vibrations and energetic they contain. Learn the energetic signature of your feathers.  It might take time, but all deep relationships do.  You’ll find over time that there will be hints of personality, frequency or feeling they give off while you sit with them.  The stronger your connection with the feathers, or any magickal tool for that matter, the clearer and more successful your magickal workings will be.

And always, always, always give them thanks for the space they hold in your life.

[plagued-yakuza]

Mask smooch.

Overhaul attempts bravely to keep his composure, despite the affectionate gesture taking him by surprise. He blinks slowly, very much the surprised bird he is associated with, before relaxing into a somewhat pleased smile beneath the mask.

“Any special reason for that? Have I done something?”

[blxckdragonfly]

Edge of The Damage Sneak Peek #1.

When I wake up- Aleister's gone and I see a note next to my favorite kind of Red Bull, I smile and I read the note, noting that Aleister had to leave and finish a few things at the Black Mass warehouse but he said he'll be back shortly. I sit up in bed and I open up my can of Red Bull and I put in one of the metal straws that Jeffree gave me and drink it to tide me over. 

I make breakfast for myself and I feed Totty, Tubby and Luna- who are more than happy to eat, they swarm their cans almost as if they're a pack of hungry wolves- which makes me laugh and it also gives me inspiration to write my next song. I head upstairs to the music room that Aleister had put in for me to write and work on music. I sit on the bench next to my piano with my notebook in hand. 

For some reason, the inspiration for this song came from not only what happened this morning but also because I've seen the darker side of what love is- so within the next hour, I have it written and I call it "Bad Love". I hear the front door open and I hear Aleister calling for me as well as meowing from the cats. I lift my head up and I set my pen down. 

"Upstairs!" I call. Aleister's footsteps head upstairs and I see him standing in the doorway with a huge smile on his face and I raise a brow. "What?" 

"Remember when I told you that I left this morning to go check on the warehouse?" Aleister says and I nod. "Well, I lied. I have a surprise for you." 

That causes both of my brows to raise and he walks into the room carrying what I assume is a cat carrier. Aleister sets it on top of my piano and then he opens it- inside is a beautiful tortoiseshell exotic kitten. My heart melts as I reach for her and pull her into my chest. 

"Oh, Shadow. She's precious," I say as I pet her- making her purr and nuzzle into my chest. "I thought you said you didn't want anymore cats after Luna?" 

“That changed after I saw her, Little Crow," Aleister tells me. "I knew I had to bring her home." 

"I can see why, she's the most adorable thing," I say as I scratch her behind her ears. "Did you name her already?" 

"Her name is Pickles," Aleister explains. "Pickles Pumpkin." 

"Of course it is," I mutter, rolling my eyes and trying to not facepalm over the dorkiness that is my boyfriend naming the cats after grocery items. I put her down onto my piano, where she lays peacefully and stares at me as I grab my phone and I start texting Jeffree. 

Me: Aleister and I got a new kitten and he wants to name it "Pickles Pumpkin" 🙄🙄🙄.

A moment later- my phone buzzes with a text from Jeffree and I unlock it to answer the message.

Jeffree: 😂😂😂 Oh my God- Lyra, your boyfriend is something else. I'm deceased. Please ask him if he's high. 

"I told Jeffree that you wanted to name her Pickles and he asked if you were high," I say and Aleister rolls his eyes.

"No, I'm definitely not high. Thank you very much, Jeffree." Aleister groaned and I laugh and I wrap my arm around his shoulder as he leans against the piano. 

"All jokes aside, it's cute." I giggle as I kiss him on his jaw. "As long as you let me give her a middle name like Poppy or Petunia or something.”

"Petunia is cute," Aleister murmurs as he rests his hand in mine and so we agreed on calling her Pickles Petunia Pumpkin.

(Co-written by myself + @blackrose-92 🖤)

For @xbreezymeadowsx 😊😘

[a-splash-of-stucky]

Not Your Type

Pairings: Engineer!Wanda x Actress!Reader

Summary: Your friends cannot believe that you, of all people, ended up with a geek.

Warnings: Implied/referenced sex, potentially some language,

Notes: For @bookybuns‘ fic fest. My prompt was: S/he is really nerdy and you’re really popular and everyone’s confused as to how you two are in a relationship.

Okay, I kinda feel like this prompt is perhaps more suited to a high school/college AU, but that’s not my jam, so I took it down another road. Takes place in a modern/no powers AU — hopefully it still works!

I will be completely honest: my initial idea was for a pre-serum!Steve x Reader one-shot, but when I started writing, it didn’t work out. After much deliberation, discarded drafts and tears later, here is what I came up with. My first Wanda x Reader fic. Enjoy :)

The arrival of your guests is signalled by the loud ringing of your buzzer. You dash over to the door, throwing it open with a dramatic flourish.

“Enter, good fellows,” you say solemnly, adding to your theatrics with an exaggerated bow. Bucky snorts, stepping past you and making a beeline for the TV to get the DVD set up. Tonight is movie night, and as it’s Sam’s turn to pick, you're all being subjected to yet another re-watch of Forrest Gump.

Steve brushes past you, Natasha hot on his heels. He has a carrier bag filled to the brim with various kinds of junk food in one hand. “You in a medieval play or something?” Steve asks amusedly, as he brings the bag over to the coffee table.

“Nah,” you drawl, moving to help Sam bring in the pizza boxes, kicking the door shut with your foot. “But we’re thinking of it. Maria’s got some ideas for a script,”.

Natasha sets two bottles of vodka — the good stuff, imported from Russia — down on the coffee table, then curls up on the overstuffed armchair that she always claims on movie nights. “Why do you look so happy, Y/N?” she asks curiously, folding her fingers under her chin, “What’s got you in such a good mood?”

“Oh, nothing,” you reply airily, even though that’s an outright lie. You tug on the neckline of your oversized sweater, readjusting it self-consciously in the hopes that no one will spot the purpling hickey on your collarbone.

“Nothing?” Nat echoes, picking up on the unusual tone in your voice. “You’re not acting like it. I think something’s up,”.

“Someone remind her that this is not a detective show,” Sam sighs, as he helps you set out the boxes of pizza. You force out a laugh, hoping that it will be enough to throw Nat off your scent.

“Is it something to do with work? You got a big part for once, or something?” asks Steve, who is busy arranging the rest of the food on the remaining space on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” you reply immediately, mentally thanking Steve for coming to your rescue, albeit unknowingly. You fill in the terse silence that follows by helping Steve and Sam finish laying out the array of food. This ensures that your back is turned to Nat, preventing her from being able to see your face and make any further deductions. Why does she have to be so good at reading you?

“Can you tell us anything about it?” Bucky calls, talking over his shoulder as he turns the TV on and starts to tinker with the settings.

“Uh—I’m...not allowed to say anything,” you mumble haltingly.

“When’s that ever stopped you from telling us before?” Steve asks, one eyebrow quirking up in surprise.

“Yeah, you literally give jack shit about confidentiality agreements, Y/N,” Bucky adds.

Damn, they’ve got you there. You hesitate for a moment, chewing on the inside of your cheek as your brain scrambles to come up with a response. A startled yelp escapes your throat when you feel a hand on your shoulder, yanking aside the neckline of your sweater—

—to expose the hickey and therefore the secret you’d been fighting to keep.

“Oh my god,” Nat breathes, seeing straight through your sham and figuring out exactly what your secret is. “You got laid, Y/N, and laid good,”.

“Natasha!” Steve cries exasperatedly, standing up to go sit on the couch.

Bucky snickers, “Oh, don’t be such a prude, Stevie. You take pictures of half-naked people on a weekly basis,”. He’s done fiddling with the settings on your sound system now, so stands up to grab a slice of pizza.

“That’s different!” Steve splutters indignantly, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “That’s for work, Bucky, this is Y/N’s private life,”.

“Which we all now want to know about,” Sam adds, as he takes a slice of pizza for himself and plops down on the floor beside you. “C’mon, Y/N, spill the beans. Who was it?” he asks, elbowing you playfully in the ribs.

“No one,” you reply curtly, swatting his arm away and turning your gaze to the TV, where Forest Gump is waiting to be played. “Can we start the movie yet?”

“Oh, she’s avoiding us, now!” Bucky chuckles, “Now I really wanna know what this is about,”. Heat begins to rise in your cheeks as you feel everyone’s questioning gaze being turned on you. You’re in the hot seat tonight, it would seem.

“Was it a one-night stand?” Steve asks curiously, “Never would’ve thought of you as a one night stand kinda gal,”.

“Nu-uh, look at this face,” Sam interjects, poking his index finger into your cheek to emphasise his point. “That’s the face of a girl who’s got something way more meaningful than a one-nighter,”.

“You’re seeing someone!” Nat squeals excitedly, practically bouncing in her chair with glee, “C’mon, c’mon, please tell us who,”.

“I shall not,” you say, miming the act of zipping your lips shut and throwing away the key.

“Get her phone,” Bucky says suddenly, whipping his head from side to side in search of it. Your eyes widen, heart doing a terrifying flip in your chest. You go to grab it from where it lies on top of the side-table beside the couch, but Nat beats you to it, easily snagging it from where she sits on the armchair.

“You don’t know my—,”

“I’m in,” she crows triumphantly, flipping the phone around to show everyone your home screen.

“How the hell do you know my passcode?” you ask bewilderedly, standing up and walking over to Nat in the hope of snatching your phone out of her hand whilst she’s distracted. You have no such luck; she plants her foot on your thigh to keep you a distance away, waggling her eyebrows in a most infuriating manner when you growl at her.

“Honey, everyone knows your password,” Steve says gently, “You’re kinda predictable like that,”.

“I fucking hate you all,” you grumble, watching helplessly as Nat taps away at your screen, looking through your messages. It’s clear that you’ve lost this fight. Bucky drapes his arms across the back of the sofa, peering down interestedly over her shoulder.

“Guys, can we just—.”

“Oooh, Wanda? Is that her name?” Nat asks, her eyes gleaming with mischief when she lifts them to meet your murderous glare.

“Maybe,” you say, dragging the two syllables out. You’re hopping from foot to foot agitatedly, praying that the gang will drop this line of enquiry sometime soon. Preferably right fucking now.

The issue is not in you being unwilling to tell your friends about your new relationship. No, you’re more than ready — have been more than ready for the last couple of weeks, in fact, almost bursting at the seams in your eagerness.

The problem is that you and Wanda have not yet had a discussion about making your relationship publicly known. Although you’re fairly certain that the two of you are on the same page, you don’t want to tell your closest friends about your budding relationship without her consent. It’s just not right.

“Maybe?” Steve murmurs.

“It’s a yes, Steve,” Sam says, pointedly avoiding your stare as he rips open a crisp packet.

“It’s a maybe,” you insist.

“Yep, that’s a definite yes,” Bucky comments, his eyes flickering over your face, assessing your expression.

“Fuck you,” you growl half-heartedly, no heat behind your words. How is it that they’re reading you like an open book? You’re an actress, for crying out loud, you should have an amazing poker face.

Maybe they just know you too well. Yeah, it’s probably that.

“You can’t, unfortunately,” Bucky sighs, as Natasha hands you your phone. “Can’t fuck me when you’ve got a girlfriend, Y/N, unless your morals are shittier than I expected,”.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you huff, stalking over to the end of the couch not currently occupied by Steve and flopping onto it.

“Who is she?” Steve asks curiously, turning to face you.

“Yeah, what does she work as? How did you meet? Give us the details, Y/N, c’mon,” Sam pleads.

You groan resignedly, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration. It seems that movie night has morphed into gossip night. What more could you expect with this lot, really?

“She works in Stark Industries, in the R&D labs,” you reply, “She does…calculations and shit like that,”.

A silence descends over the room after your explanation, four perplexed pairs of eyes focused on you. The intensity of their gaze and the wave of confusion radiating off of everyone is uncomfortable enough to make you fidget under their scrutiny.

“What?” you snap.

Sam is the first to break out of his stupor. He clears his throat. “You’re dating…a math geek?”

Something in his tone immediately sets you on edge, your metaphorical claws coming out in anticipation of an attack. “What’s wrong with that?” you ask defensively.

Bucky is the one to answer you. “Um, hi, hello, who are you and what have you done with Y/N?”

“What?” you squawk, utterly puzzled by your friends’ reactions to your news. This is not how you pictured things going; you’re so confused. “Guys, I seriously don’t get it? What’s wrong? What’re you on about?”

“Y/N, you’ve hated maths for as long as we’ve known you. Longer, probably,” Natasha says.

“So? I can hate maths but not hate Wanda,” you point out.

“But that’s not my point,” she continues, “What I’m trying to say is that not once in your life have you ever had enough patience to deal with nerds,”.

“You are the girl who told Mr Coulson in maths to shove a stick up his ass in senior year,” Sam muses, pointing at you with what is possibly his fourth slice of pizza.

“And you teased Peter for trying too hard in physics for all of sophomore year,” Bucky adds.

“Oh!” Steve exclaims, “And you weren’t particularly nice to Scott—,”

“Okay, I get the fucking idea,” you snap.

And the truth is, they do have a point. A very good one, at that.

Wanda is not the kind of girl you pictured yourself ending up with at this stage in your life. Your teenage self would not have hesitated to scorn her in some way. Back in high school, you had been one of the popular girls, reputed for always being up for a good time on the weekends. To add to your stereotypical popular girl image, you were always surrounded by a gaggle of adoring friends. You might, at some points in your high school years, been unnecessarily mean to the smart kids in school — mostly because you were jealous of their ability to perform so well. Drama and theatre had always been your passion, and you did not have a single drop of academic ability in you. You hated learning with a vengeance and devoted very little time to studying, which in turn meant that you were scraping by each test by the skin of your teeth.

Wanda, by contrast, is something of a mathematical prodigy — working in the Stark Industries R&D department, one would expect nothing less. After finishing high school two years early, she was offered a full scholarship at the National University of Wakanda, one of the world’s leading institutions in engineering. Wanda graduated with first-class honours for the three undergraduate programs she participated in, and was promptly snatched up by Stark the moment she set foot in the working world.

The two of you could not have been more different if you’d tried.

“Is this the kind of stuff she deals with?” Steve asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. He twists around, reaching behind him to grab a sheaf of papers from the decorative side table beside the couch. “Didn’t think they were anything at first, then I saw the Stark logo and thought—hey!” he protests, as Sam snatches the papers out of his hands.

He whistles through his teeth, one eyebrow arching so high it’s a wonder that it’s still on his forehead at all. “Trajectory calculations, maximum speed estimates, idealised weight distribution—Y/N, this sounds like some pretty intense stuff,” Sam observes.

“I know,” you sigh, “We’re dating, remember? We’ve talked about her work before,”.

“She just…doesn’t seem like your type,” Bucky comments offhandedly, perching himself on the armrest of Nat’s chair.

“What d’you mean?” you ask, defensive shields up again, fists raised in the figurative sense.

“She’s academically gifted and you’re—well, not. You literally hate this kind of shit,” Bucky reminds you.

“I—she’s not a nerd just because she’s smart,” you cry exasperatedly, “And even if she was a nerd, I can like whoever I want! She’s a nice person, okay?”

“We just thought you’d be avoiding people like her,” Nat says, “That you’d end up with someone different. Wouldn’t have pegged—,”

“—me, for going after someone like Wanda? A math geek?”. You laugh bitterly, shaking your head in disappointment, “Guess I’m not as predictable as you expected, huh? Who would’ve thought that I, a girl who can barely recite her twelve times-tables, who’s mated math with a passion their entire life, who’s hated school her entire life would end up with someone like Wanda,” you say mockingly. “Look, let’s just drop the subject, alright?”

“When do we get to meet her?” Sam asks.

“Yeah, you seem to like her a lot. Why haven’t you introduced us?” Bucky adds.

You massage your temples gently, feeling a minor headache setting in from the onslaught of questions.

“First off, we’ve literally only been seeing each other for the last four months. In that time, you’ve been away careening through the hills of Scotland with nothing but a film camera,” you say, pointing towards Bucky. “You’ve had to finish writing a book, you’ve been going crazy prepping for NYFW and you’ve literally had about a million commissions to finish,” you add, pointing to Sam, Nat and Steve in turn. “There just hasn’t been an opportunity for me to do introductions,”.

“Jeez, we really need to make more time to see each other,” Nat says.

“Secondly,” you continue, folding your arms over your chest, “I was afraid of this. Of you all being judgemental and mean and — look, she’s not the most confident of girls, okay? I don’t…I really like her, guys,”

“We’re not that terrible,” Bucky mutters.

“You kinda are,” Steve teases. The statement earns him a murderous glare from Bucky.

“Well, hey, how’s about this weekend you bring her over to our place?” Sam suggests, “We’re having a dinner for my birthday—,”.

“Your birthday’s next week, bird-brain,” Bucky interrupts.

“I know, that,” Sam huffs, annoyed. “I’m going back to see my ma for my birthday, so we’re celebrating it here early, or did you forget, old man?”

“Why you—,”

“Okay!” you interrupt, holding both hands up in surrender, “I’ll do it. I’ll talk to Wanda, see what she thinks, and then bring her over if she says yes. Can we watch the goddamn movie now?”

—————————————

Wanda comes over about an hour after everyone has left. You’re half-asleep on your couch when you hear her key jingling in the lock.

“Hey,” she chirrups, as she shrugs off her coat. “How was it? Did you have fun?”. Beneath her coat, you see that she has on a pair of black pants and a burgundy blouse. She must have stayed late at work and then come straight here.

“It was okay,” you sigh, slowly moving into an upright position make room on the couch for her. Wanda kicks off her shoes and curls up against your side with her head resting on your shoulder.

“What’s up?” Wanda asks, squeezing your thigh, “You seem a little off,”.

“Do you think we’re compatible?” you ask abruptly. “As in, together, do you think we—are we a good match?”

The hesitation and doubt in your tone triggers her suspicions. Wanda sits up and turns to look at you. “Y/N?” she murmurs concernedly, reaching up to cup your cheek, “What’s going on?”

“They found out. About you and me,” you say, the words coming out in a rush.

Her eyebrows pull together in confusion. “…okay? So what’s the big deal?” Wanda asks.

You sigh, scrubbing one hand over your face frustratedly. “It’s—okay, basically, they said some things that made me…I guess, doubt the future of our relationship,” you explain.

Wanda nods thoughtfully. “What did they say?”

You proceed to tell her — in great detail — the events that took place in the last couple of hours. Wanda makes muted humming noises every now and then to show that she is listening intently.

“So yeah. I just—what they said left me a bit shaken up,”, you say, “What bugs me is the fact that they implied that…it’s surprising for someone like me to end up with someone like you,”.

“Someone like me?” Wanda echoes, tilting her head to the side.

“A math genius. A nerd, I guess,” you clarify. “I was never…academically inclined in school. And these guys grew up with me — they know that I was hopeless. I was always the popular girl, y’know? Good at drama — the subject, that is — but a failure at everything else,” you say bitterly.

“And that matters because?” Wanda prompts, letting her voice trail off at the end.

“Babe,” you huff, “Do you get what I’m tryna say? Like, I literally had to do re-sits just to pass. I was — and I hate to admit this — the kind of girl that used to pick on nerds,”. The confession sends a hot rush of shame through your system. High school was not your finest years; you did some pretty bitchy things back then.

“Well, I think we’ve been working out fine,” Wanda declares, as she pulls herself into your lap, thighs bracketing yours and hands resting on your shoulders. “What does it matter what they say?”

“But I used to be a bitch—,”

“But that’s not who you are now,” Wanda reminds you, brushing her thumb against the crook of your neck soothingly. “We all made mistakes in our past. I don’t care who you were back then, all I know is that the Y/N I’m in love with, is sweet and kind and loving and—,”

“Okay, okay, point taken,” you giggle.

“I was gonna say an asshole,” Wanda teases. You roll your eyes, shaking your head in amusement.

“Okay, no, but seriously,” she continues, tone taking on a more sombre note, “I don’t care what you were like back then. That’s not who you are now, and you realise your mistakes and frankly, that’s good enough for me,”.

“I’m not the same girl anymore,” you agree, “God, you are so smart, did you know that?”

Wanda snorts. “With three degrees? Hell yeah, I think so,”.

The two of your burst out laughing, Wanda burying her face into the side of your neck as her entire body quakes with giggles. “So what d’you say?” you ask, once you’ve both calmed down enough to speak coherently. “Sam’s invited us over for a dinner party at his house this weekend, shall we go?”

“Sure,” Wanda agrees, shrugging indifferently, “I finally get to meet these guys, it’ll be fun!”

“You might change your mind once you actually, meet them,” you warn. “I told them to be nice, but—,”

“I can take care of myself, Y/N,” Wanda sighs, petting you on the cheek. “Besides, remember what you always say? If I’m happy and you’re happy, then who gives a damn about what anyone else says?”

The corner of your lip tugs up at the endearment in her voice. “You’re happy?” you echo, nuzzling a little into her touch.

Wanda nods, an elated smile pulling at her lips. “I am,” she murmurs, leaning forward to rest her forehead against yours, “I really am,”. You tip your head up, just enough to graze your lips against hers. It’s a soft kiss to reinforce the words that you’ve shared with each other tonight; a declaration of your undying devotion to and faith in one another.

“You know what’d make me happier?” you mumble, barely breaking the kiss to speak.

A pause, then, “Sex?”

“Mind reader,” you chuckle, as you press another kiss to her lips — a little dirtier this time, your tongue darting out to flick over her bottom lip.

“What d’you want?” Wanda breathes, tantalisingly trailing her fingers down your arms, “A bath together? Take this to the bedroom?”

It is at this moment that a particularly wide yawn decides to break free, the wall of fatigue hitting you like a tonne of bricks. Wanda laughs fondly. “Okay, I think maybe save sex for the morning, bed right now?” she suggests as she clambers off you, grabbing your wrists to help you up.

“Mmm, I think I’m about ready to pass out,” you agree, nodding sleepily.

“I shall lull you to sleep by talking about the entry angle calculations I was doing today,” Wanda promises.

“Hell yes,” you groan approvingly, “Talk nerdy to me,”.

“Babe!” Wanda whines, “You’re not supposed to use that line anymore!”

—————————————

It’s a few days later and the two of you are in your car, driving over to Sam and Natasha’s house. You can tell that Wanda is nervous because she won’t stop plucking at the hem of her shirt.

“What if they don’t like me?” she asks suddenly.

You turn to face her as best as you can whilst still keeping one eye on the road. “They will,” you say simply, reassuring her with a pat on the thigh.

“But what if they don’t?” she frets, “What if I geek out? What if—,”

“Wanda,” you say sharply, cutting through the cloud of panic she’s stirred up around herself. “Stop worrying, okay? They’re nice, I promise,” you say. “Well, nice, is relative, I guess. They can be assholes when they want to be,” you amend.

“But they said you and I weren’t meant to be together!” Wanda protests.

“That is not what they said,” you say gently, “Don’t exaggerate. They just…think we’re an odd match. I’m sure they’ll come ‘round. Just be Wanda and you’ll be fine,”.

“Just be me,” she repeats, nodding her head resolutely, talking more to herself than to you.

“Exactly,” you murmur, taking your hand off her thigh and placing it back on the steering wheel.

“But don’t leave me alone with Nat. She scares me,”.

—————————————

Wanda is sat next to you on the couch. Sam and Bucky are engaging in a heated argument over the latest episode of The Avengers, which ended with The Hulk stealing a quinjet and flying off to god-knows-where.

“I think that’s gonna be the end of him for this season,” Bucky insists.

“No way!” Sam protests, “He’s like, everyone’s favourite character. They have got to have something big planned for him,”.

“If you think about the larger scale of things,” Wanda interrupts smoothly, “I believe it’s more likely that they’ll bring him back in the next season,”.

“I like this one,” Bucky says approvingly, flashing Wanda a lopsided grin.

“But, with that being said, I don’t think that’s the end of him for this season. Maybe they’ll do like…a special episode? I mean, they’re only on episode three, right?” Wanda continues.

“Exactly!” Sam cries.

“A mediator. I like you,” Steve says lazily. He’s in the kitchen with Natasha, heating something up in the oven.

“Anyone who can get Barnes and Wilson to shut up for more than two minutes is a god-send,” Nat chimes in.

It seems that your fears as to whether or not Wanda would be accepted by your group of friends have been unfounded. She’s clicked with them from pretty much the second she walked through the door. You have a feeling that your friends — Nat and Sam in particular — might still have a hard time accepting the fact that the two of you are now a package deal, but at least they like her. That’s always a good start.

“Anyone for a pre-dinner shot?” Nat asks, coming into the living room with a bottle of tequila in one hand, a stack of shot glasses in the other. Sam and Bucky immediately agree, but your girlfriend hesitates.

“Oh, no thank you,” Wanda says, “Uh—I don’t drink,”.

“How the hell do you survive with Y/N?” Sam asks incredulously, as he accepts a shot glass from Natasha. “She is literally the biggest party animal out of all of us,”.

“Am not,” you grumble.

“Oh, it’s no big deal, really,” Wanda assures him, ignoring you completely, “She goes out with you guys, and then I take care of her afterwards. I like it, she’s funny when she gets drunk,”.

Bucky laughs, “This is true. Y’know, I have a video of her singing Bohemian Rhapsody in—,”

“You promised me you’d delete that!” you cry indignantly.

“Really?” Wanda laughs, turning to Bucky, “Yeah, I have a couple of videos like that too, I can show you them—,”.

“You will not show them anything,” you growl threateningly.

“Show us!” Nat urges, bounding over to Wanda’s side as the latter pulls her phone out of her pocket. Steve, Sam and Bucky crowd in too.

“I hate you all,” you mutter, even though you’re secretly happy to see them getting along.

—————————————

Dinner turns out to be much more pleasant than you thought it would be. Sam and Natasha are currently in the kitchen packing away the leftovers, whilst the rest of you have retreated to the living room. You’re perched on the armrest of Sam’s ugly ass vinyl armchair, which Wanda has chosen to sit on.

“So, Wanda, Y/N tells us you work in Stark Industries?” Steve asks, as he flops down on the couch, pushing aside Bucky’s legs to make room for himself.

“Yep,” Wanda replies, “I’m in the R&D department,”.

“So what’s that like?” Bucky asks, turning his head to face her, “Do you actually get to work with the big man, or are you just in your own world doing calculations and shit?”

“It’s a bit of both,” Wanda admits, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, “I don’t get to talk to Tony often, but I’ve met him a couple of times,”.

“What d’you think of him?”

“He’s a little…much, sometimes,” Wanda confesses.

Steve snorts, “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard too,” he says. “So what’re you working on now?”

Wanda sits up straighter, eyes sparkling with excitement. “I’m actually involved in a couple of projects. The one we’re most buzzed about is the new arc reactor tech,” Wanda says, hands gesturing excitedly as she gets into a rhythm. “So Stark Tower is powered by this enormous arc reactor, which is basically an alternative energy source. Tony’s idea is to use this tech to power space exploration, which in turn means that I’ve been up to my elbows in projectile and trajectory calculations, trying to—,” Wanda cuts herself off suddenly, a pink tinge starting to colour the tops of her cheeks.

“Sorry,” she mutters sheepishly, twirling a strand of hair between her fingers in the way she does when she’s panicking, “You were probably expecting a shorter answer. I geeked out a bit there,”

“No, it’s completely fine!” Steve assures her, “This is actually kinda interesting,”.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees, “I’ve always had a thing for science. Stevie and I once went to the Stark Expo a few years back. The one where they demoed the flying car?”

“Oh, that one!” Wanda exclaims, “Tony still hasn’t given up on it, y’know? He’s even thinking about making it semi-autonomous,”

“Really?” Bucky hums, “So how’d that work then?”

Wanda picks up her purse and rummages around for a scrap of paper and a pen. She flattens the paper out on the coffee table and begins to sketch out a diagram — you can’t really make out what it is from your vantage point. “So, this is what the average car looks like, right?” she begins, adding a few lines to the sketch, “Now let me show you how a floating car differs…”

You tune out her voice as you cast a glance over Steve and Bucky. Both are leaning forward to get a closer look at her diagram, wearing curious expressions on their faces. They ask questions every now and then, which Wanda answers eagerly. She is in her element, talking about the thing that she loves most and in all honesty, you couldn’t be happier for her. Confident that she can stand to be without your presence for a second, you slip into the kitchen to check up on Nat and Sam.

“Y/N!” Sam calls, smiling as you walk in, “We were just talkin’ about you, actually,”.

“That’s…not always a good thing,” you reply, picking up a spoon to scrape the last of the lasagna into a container.

“Oh no, it was all good,” Nat assures you, talking over her shoulder as she washes dishes by the sink, “We were just saying how cute the two of you are,”.

Your heart leaps with joy. “You think we’re cute?” you ask, aiming to keep your tone nonchalant despite the fact that you’re squealing internally, overjoyed that Wanda has won Nat’s affection — no simple feat.

“I think you’re great for each other,” Sam says, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the two of you are like polar opposites, but—,”

“They say opposites attract for a reason, no?” Nat interrupts, casting you a mischievous wink. “I hope she sticks around, Y/N,”.

“Yeah,” you murmur, your eyes flicking up to look at Wanda, who is laughing at something Bucky just said, the corners of her eyes crinkling up in a most adorable manner. “I hope so too,”.

————————————— Tagging: @feelmyroarrrr @rda1989 @bidianaprinxe @lumelgy @hollycornish @youtubehelpsmesurvive @knock-around-meg-blog @amour-quinn @moonbeambucky @aquabrie @sanjariti @srgntjbarnes @ssweet-empowerment @kudosia

[mikosaura]

BIRDS AS SPIRITUAL MESSENGERS.

When I was a child I grew up believing that God was this omnipotent man that lived in the sky and judged us on whether we were being good or bad.

Even at a young age, I was very curious about spirituality and God, and so I decided to ask him how he could possibly see what everyone was doing at any given time. The answer that floated into my mind was – birds.

It was in that moment that I began viewing birds as God’s messengers. I imagined that birds were the ones delivering messages to God about what people were up to and whether or not they were being good or bad.

Even though this could be a premise for a horror movie, the thought didn’t alarm or scare me one little bit. In fact, I remember hearing the answer and then just going about my merry way as if nothing had happened.

Flash forward now to my adult years, and while I don’t believe birds are necessarily spying on us and I don’t believe that God is a man in the sky, I do still believe that birds are spiritual messengers and are sensitive to our energy!

If we look back through time, the idea of birds being spiritual messengers is not that uncommon. Angels and birds share the same looking wings, and certain birds are said to represent or bring different qualities.

For example, doves are often used to represent peace, and a black crow is often used to predict a bad omen. Hummingbirds are commonly said to represent sweetness and joy, eagles are said to represent strength and power, and owls are said to represent wisdom.

If you start digging, there is deep meaning and symbolism written about nearly every type of bird that you may encounter.

The sacredness of birds is often linked to its ability to fly close to the heavens and to obtain wisdom from a different vantage point and level of frequency.

It is also believed that birds are vessels and have the ability to receive other souls in order to pass on messages.

When a loved one dies, it is said that they are able to connect with a bird’s soul and ask for permission to enter its body in order to deliver a message to their loved ones on earth.

Other animals like butterflies and dragonflies also have this ability as well, but this is why seeing a bird after a loved one has passed is often considered a sign or message.

It is not that the bird is necessarily your newly reincarnated loved one, (although who knows?!) it is simply your loved one’s soul hitching a ride on this faithful bird that has agreed to be a vessel.

Spirit guides and angels can do this as well, and can use birds as a vessel to come to you in order to deliver a message.

Shortly after my brother passed, a pigeon would come and sit on my balcony. Pigeons are so common that my first instinct was that this was nothing special, but the Pigeon seemed extra cute and curious, and would sit on my balcony for ages just staring at me.

I wondered if it was a message from my brother, but then figured if he was going to come to me it would be a more exotic or unusual bird!

The pigeon came so many times that I really started to wonder what the significance of this was. After opening up to the possibility, I then received multiple signs and even a dream that it was indeed a sign from him!

So even pigeons, as common as they are, can be faithful messengers from the other side! In fact, pigeons were the original carrier bird and were smart and friendly enough to be trained to deliver letters and notes to people across far distances.

Pigeons are also said to represent love and are a sign that your loved ones are safe and looked after!

So, the next time you have an unusual encounter with a bird, tune in and see if you can pick up on what message they are trying to share with you.

[plagued-yakuza]

outside of chisaki's office sits a little yellow canary figure. underneath the figure is a cut out heart that says "happy valentine's day, uncle. love, baby birb!"

It is rare - though not unheard of - for Overhaul to receive surprise gifts on Valentine’s day. Most of them are given by employees showing their reverence the boss, tiny tokens of respect and politeness that he receives as hierarchy demands him to, despite the general failure to impress. The only one who manages to truly surprise him this time of the year is his sibling, as Hari is just enough of a chaotic creature to pull off the unexpected; quite enough that Kai never knows for sure what they’ll find until the gift is handed to him.

As such, it is with legitimate confusion and mild joy that he finds that adorable canary neatly placed by the door of his office, an easily recognizable yellow dot amongst the traditional Japanese architecture. He bends down to pick it up almost by instinct, initially too focused on admiring his new collection item to notice the note underneath it. Where can he put it? Would it fit better on his office or his room? It is only as the doubt of whoever it came from - or, more truthfuly, whether it is his brother’s doing or not - that he picks up the note as an afterthought. It turns out to be more of a surprise than the figure itself could ever be.

So it’s from his niece! Truth to be told, Chisaki did not quite expect that from her - that she would be this thoughtful to him of all people. He never thought of himself as such a good uncle, sometimes fearing he could be too harsh on the informal, playful Camie. Yet, she still found to give him something he would enjoy as a token of appreciation, and he was thankful of that - thankful enough to pull his hood closer to his face in unmistakable embarassment.

There was only one way to save face now. He would have to give her an even better gift. 

[plagued-yakuza]

[ text ] –– if you love something, set it free. if it returns to burrow into your chest and die, it’s meant to be. - glamie (villain!camie au)

[ TEXT ]: ….Interesting.

[ TEXT ]: I’m quite sure I’ve seen someone die like this.

[ TEXT ]: What happens to the organs in this scenario? Pushed out of the way?

[plagued-yakuza]

I was thinking mad doctor-y type things. ^_^

A drabble, you said. An actual fanfiction, I ended up with! Sorry if it got longer than what you requested, but hopefully it is good enough? I clearly got carried away...... Indeed, I was going to do more, but I suppose this is enough gory human experiments for now. 

Two disclaimers before we start: First, this is medical horror, people, so TRIGGERING CONTENT BELOW. Please stay safe! And second, Chisaki is clearly wrong. He can justify it to himself all he wants, still doesn’t make his actions valid! 

With those two reminders, have a dose of awful with Dr. Chisaki Kai. :P

“Stay still. It will be worse for you if you don’t.” 

He makes the words sound as an advice, just as they are anything but one. Comfort or well-being are not his priority - there are higher forces in play here, bigger goals to be reached than individual kindness, and the semblance of assurance is but a ploy for compliance. Despite the effort, his prey seems to have clearly understood the meaning behind this warning, eyes going wide and breath hitching in their throat; with the precision of a clock, they struggle against the binds once more in futility, biting down at the gag in their mouth with strangled, pitiful noises. He has learned with experience to ignore it, perfecting his methods with each new attempt. Ropes had become chains, metal then discarded for plastic, until he has a tailor-made prison for each of them, a perfect bound wrapped around the body with clinical precision and a deft touch. Despite knowing it - for he warns them beforehand, just as he warns them to behave; he can be accused of much, except leaving them in ignorance - they all struggle, they all try to be defiant, one way or another. In the same vein, sooner or later, they all break down. 

This is his kingdom, his enviroment, his natural habitat; a world of spotless white surfaces, perfumed by the heavy smell of disinfectant, filled with the low humming of machinery, iluminated by the clear glow of artificial lights. It has been his home for years without count, watching over him as a proud parent and dedicated friend, as he grew from obstinate teen to serious young man to the cunning young master in the confines of this very location. It is a world of absolute control, of cold air and colder metal, of piercing needles and sharper eyes. His will is as absolute as his determination, and just as strictly enforced. Some would rightfuly call it hideous, perhaps even inhuman; to him, the correct term is necessary. Sacrifices must be made, to save this decaying world from the illness corrupting it from the inside. He happens to be the one willing to make them, willing to carry this burden beyond what heroes in their tiny boxes of thought could ever do.

The doctor is but a silluette against the strong artificial lights, features hidden by a mask of dark fabric and shadows. Only golden eyes are clearly visible, ambar with a piercing glint. Predatory eyes, unblinking and evaluating, measuring the prey and hiding thoughts both pure and cruel underneath this perfect illusion of composure. What is that he plans, behind the mirrors of that gaze? The question has come to most that found themselves strapped down to that metal table, shivering underneath the cold bite on their skin and the colder eyes above. Some had heard of the rumors - of what lies hidden in the tunnels of the Shie Hassaikai, of the dreadful power of Overhaul’s touch, of his even more terrible mind and its potential for cruelty. Others had come unaware, learning it by heart in their screams and the briefest skin-to-skin contact. Few - poor, unlucky few  -had come here knowing fully what to expect; and those had begged less when it started, and screamed more the closest to the end. 

This one is still hopeful. It is clear in his fleeting stare, weighting possibilities, desperate for opportunities. He still thinks there is a way out. It is both pitiful and admirable, annoying in its uselesness to the man behind the mask. The hopeful ones are the worst - begging to be saved, begging for a hero, symptomatic carriers of the thought that had shred the fabric of society into pieces. Chisaki is not usually one to take pleasure in this aspect of his job, with few exceptions such as these. To watch the heroic disease crumble in their last moments of conscience is always, in a way, vindictive. 

“Your quirk is to absorb substances into your body, right?” The question is out of mere politeness. Overhaul has read his government and hero profiles; it is why he chose him to begin with, why he went through the trouble of infiltrating one of his men on that particular agency, why taking the risk of drugging a rising heroic star and making them vanish underground. A precious strain of disease, capable of being reverse-engineered into a weapon, to fight fire with fire. To heal such a widespread plague, one could not avoid to use any tools to your disposal - and there was such poetic justice in using their disfunctional dreams, their own idolized curses, to tear those ideals they held dear down.

“I wonder if there is a limit. If you bind new substances to your molecules, at some point, the connections should start breaking down…” The Capo hums softly, thougthfuly, a long, gloved finger rising to better adjust the mask to his face. The other slides graciously on the stainless steel platform beside him, looking for a particular tool with the dismissive, absent-mindness of those whose thoughts are far beyond their current actions. If his words bring any sort of distress to the bound hero, it is completely disregarded by him. “Depending on how long you take to break, you can be just what I need.” The wandering hand grabs a vial of translucent liquid, slightly shimmery underneath the pale light. The other easily takes hold of a sterilized, packed syringe. With the practice of a lifetime, Overhaul prepares the first dose, all too aware of his movements carefully watched by the increasingly desperate hero. Underneath the cover of the plain mask, the corner of his mout twitches in what could be, in a man with more practice, a smile.

With silent precision and uneasy calmness, Chisaki injects the first drug through the IV system connected to his prisoner’s bloodstream. It takes a few tickling minutes for it to make effect, the previously struggling, tense muscles calming against their will. A low thud echoes in the quiet room as the hero’s head hits the metal, neck suddenly unable to withstand its weight. Only the eyes stare right back the hated villain, a look that could be bold or angry if it were not so pathetically terrified. Any impression of defiance is gone as the Yakuza leader slowly removes one of his gloves, those dangerous fingers threateningly close to the man’s paralyzed arm. In the end, they all break, one way or another.   

The touch is soft, almost gentle, and it sends a shiver of disgust up Chisaki’s arm; it takes a steely willpower to hold it in place, to put his own curse into action.  That dreadful thing, sunken deep into his skin, the one he would use to clean this world and feel himself pure again - It tears apart and modifies the flesh and bone, increasing quirk activity in the subject’s body with brute manipulation of the bodily functions. The screams are initially muffled by the well-placed gag. Skin breaks, shredded to pieces by the metal sprouting haphazadly underneath it, spreading further on the outside and deeper into the inner body. The hero dances despite the lack of muscle control, as convulsing limbs hit the smooth surface below again and again. Destroy and rebuilt, destroy and rebuilt, until after an eternity of seconds, the boss finally finds it sufficient. 

Overhaul backs away from the contact with quiet relief, his other hand moving to scratch the skin subjected to the punishment of touch. His golden gaze narrows as he begins to dispassionately analyze the result, taking notice of the properties of the surgical steel wet with blood and bound in flesh, dotted by pieces of bone and muscle integrated into the structure. “Not a full convertion, then.” The Capo is disappointed, a frown visible on his forehead, a sigh of displeasure escaping from his pursed lips. Deep, broken wheezing echoes in the no longer silent room, folowed by the dry, sharp sound of latex as Chisaki takes a new glove from his jacket’s pocket. The one solace his victim can take is that the torture is finally over.

And then the voice comes again - smooth, polite, the dispassionate words of a passionate man who throws his humanity away for the sake of a broken ideal.

“What a shame. Let’s move to phase two, then, with trigger..... Stay still. This may hurt just a little.”

[plagued-yakuza]

C

VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET!  

C   :  does your muse like chocolate? which one is their favourite?

Chisaki is mostly indifferent to chocolate, as he is not that fond of sweets. He prefers dark chocolates with higher cocoa levels, exactly for not been overtly sugary. A nice Swiss dark chocolate that melts in your mouth would be his favorite.

[plagued-yakuza]

A

 VALENTINE’S DAY ALPHABET!   

A   :    how does your muse show affection?

Chisaki is awful at showing affection, as he considers feelings like those to be a vulnerability and a risk he would rather not take. He tends to show appreciation in subtle ways - such as asking about a person’s well-being, listening to them attentively, giving support or help if needed, generally making himself present and reliable on. He also tends to show his care through material gestures like gifts or money, if he feels safe enough for a concrete gesture, or he wants to earn someone’s trust.

It is hard to make him state his feelings or do any kind of physical affection, unless he is already very, very comfortable with the person in question. Even for those he loves and trust the most, he will rarely initiate contact, though he will withstand it if they initiate it, and this is is a mark of a appreciation all on itself.

[plagued-yakuza]

"I know you don't do romance stuff, but how about we go for a friend date on valentines day?"

Kai humms thoughtfully at Hari’s suggestion. Valentines has never been one of his favorite holidays; he found it inconsequential at best, embarassing at worst. Still, his brother had a good point - it was a good excuse for a break. Their schedule could manage it, too.

“That could work. As long as we go somewhere we won’t be bothered. I can’t stand all that red and pink.”

“As much as I’d like to go to a cafe, I fear they’ll be rather plagued this time of the year.”

[plagued-yakuza]

Kidnapped: 4 + ☢️ with Traitor!Nemoto

Torture Starter Pack - No longer receiving!

“Don’t do this?” 

There is no hint of emotion on Overhaul’s voice - just a perfect inflection, a deliberate consciousness of his words and entonation, deliberate effort built to a result that is as flawless as it is heartless. He deliberately withholds any of the festering, bubbling emotions beneath his smooth façade - the heavy, almost suffocating sensations of anger, betrayal, distrust, hurt - for the creature in front of him does not deserve even that consideration, the knowledge that somehow, his actions got under the young master’s skin. 

It is fair to say he has gotten under Nemoto’s skin just as much, if, perhaps, in a more literal approach to the expression. The metallic hooks have not only been embbeded into the skin, but fused to it, pulling on the soft tissue with enough tension for a burning, permanent pain, yet not enough to rip it to shreds; it forces the traitor to stay alert and focused to balance their position and avoid further damage. The chain and ropes not ending under the skin are bound around it, pushing the body into unnatural, painful angles, forcing muscles and joints with the precision only achieved by intimate knowledge of the human body. In this particular setup, the prisoner’s own weight and growing exhaustion enemies in this race against time, as they futilely try to find a posture that lessens the multiple points of pain without hurting themselves further or pulling a limb out of place.

Those first agonizing hours are merely the entrance course to what the capo of the Eight Precepts of Death has in mind for a man that, at some point, came to hold his trust. For someone that came so far into his service - whose loyalty had been rewarded time and time again, whose dedication and supposed honesty had, indeed, worked their way into Chisaki’s graces both as a leader and as a friend, no pain would quite be enough to sate the need to drawn out his suffering. To bleed out would be but the least a traitor like Shin deserves, according to the rules of the Yakuza set centuries before them, and to the demandingly sadistic injured pride of Chisaki himself. The boss would never fully forgive himself for letting his security breach go this far; for allowing himself to think he could trust someone other than his sibling.

“I’m afraid neither of us has a choice, here.” Chisaki’s eyes glint pale gold under the soft artificial lights, his expression as impassive and carefully dismissive as his demeanor. For he deserves no more the consideration of being human. “You were aware what the punishment was when you drank that sake with me. This is merely formality.” 

“A traitor shall be rewarded as a traitor deserves. Isn’t that right?” 

[plagued-yakuza]

*anon vc* i hope you get socks, chisaki

“And I hope you get some manners, Research Subject.”

[plagued-yakuza]

🐑

“Isn’t a nickname a little too much for a guinea pig?”

“You’re lucky I won’t call you by your test subject serial number.”

[plagued-yakuza]

"Why did the chicken cross the road?"

“To get away from you, most likely.”