#Ken Carbone

[allthecanadianpolitics]

A Liberal member of Parliament has broken ranks with the government on its carbon tax for the second time, saying federal Environment Minister Steven Guilbeault is the wrong person to sell the party's environmental messaging in Atlantic Canada. Ken McDonald, MP for Newfoundland and Labrador's Avalon riding, voted with the federal Conservatives on Wednesday on a non-binding motion to repeal the carbon tax, the only member of the Liberal, NDP or Bloc Québécois caucuses to do so. Speaking with CBC News on Thursday, he said he believes the policy will cost the Liberals votes in the next election. "Everywhere I go, people come up to me and say, you know, 'We're losing faith in the Liberal party," McDonald said in an interview with the CBC's Power & Politics. "I think they will lose seats not just in Newfoundland, not just in Atlantic Canada, but indeed right across the country if they don't get a grasp on this the way that I think they should.… And if if an election were called today, I'm not sure if the Liberal party would actually form the government."

Continue Reading.

Tagging: @politicsofcanada

[spacenutspod]

SpaceTime Series 27 Episode 45 *Perseverance collects its 24th sample on Mars NASA’s Mars Perseverance Rover has just collected its 24 geological sample from the surface of the red planet.  The drill core offers new clues about Jezero Crater and the lake it may have once held. *New date set for Starliner's first manned mission NASA has set May 6 as the opening of the launch window for the first manned flight of Boeing’s long troubled CST-100 Starliner.  The flight to the International Space Station was originally slated for this month. *Space junk slams into a Florida home NASA says it’s analyzing an object that crashed into a Florida man's home last week which is suspected of being piece of debris jettisoned from the International Space Station. *The Science Report New research shows that the warming climate will turn Australia’s soil into a net emitter of carbon dioxide. A new study claims women with a low resting heart rate had a slightly higher chance of a criminal lifestyle. Identifying criminals by airborne forensic DNA evidence. Skeptics guide to African witchcraft trials   https://spacetimewithstuartgary.com  https://bitesz.com   This week’s guests include our regular guests: Alex Zaharov-Reutt from techadvice.life Tim Mendham from Australian Skeptics This episode is brought to you by NordPass....the password manager we use ad quite frankly couldn 't get by online without. You should really check it out. And we havea  great deal for you at the moment...plus a free trial...for all the details visit www.bitesz.com/nordpass

[heavenlyraindrops]

☆ “ɪ’ᴍ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴇᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ɢᴏᴏᴅ.” | ᴋᴇɴᴊɪ ꜱᴀᴛᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ☆

☆ She said “fuck me like I’m famous”| Chapter one

☆ Warnings: fem!reader, afab!reader, oral (f receiving), fingering, awkward!reader, reader is literally a hermit, no established relationship, not proofread, porn with like a drop of plot, they get slightly awkward after doing it but it’s ok <3 ☆ Word Count: 3.3k | Available on Tumblr & AO3

“Out? For dinner?”

You tore your eyes from your phone to look at Ami, who was watching Chiho roll around on the floor, immersed in whichever new game of pretend she had devised.

“Yes, dinner,” she repeated, then turned to look at you. “I’m meeting a… friend. Not a close one, but a friend nonetheless. And it would do you some good to meet new people, and to get out more.” She raked her eyes over you, from your baggy clothes to messy updo. 

“What’s that meant to mean? I get out plenty often. I’m out right now with you, aren’t I?”

“‘Chilling out’ at my house twice every week isn’t exactly going out, [name],” she sighed, rolling her eyes as she stood up, stepping towards the kitchen. “You’re like a hermit.”

You furrowed your brows together. “Maybe that’s how I like it.”

You heard water trickling as it filled up her glass, and her voice drift down towards where you were sitting. “I tend to wonder if I’m your only friend.”

At those words you stiffened, eyes opening wide and shooting up, back straight. “What? Friends?” You spluttered. “I have friends. I have plenty of friends. You’re not my only friend.” The words tumbled out of you hastily, and then you paused, flashing her a charming smile, trying to distract her. “You’re just my favourite one!”

She rolled her eyes as she sat back down. “Well, you have awful taste.” She handed you a drinks can. Your favourite.

“Hardly,” you uttered

“Just- you focus on work too much, okay? You need to find balance.” She took your palm, uncurling your fingers and placing the cold can in your hand. “Just come to this dinner.”

“…Fine.” You dug your finger under the tab, trying to get it open. “Who even is this friend, anyways?”

“Kenji Sato.”

You stared at her.

She must have mistaken your silence and blank stare for shock, or stupor instead of a reaction to what you considered to be an underwhelming statement, because she just sat back, letting her words sink in. They did, not that they meant much to you.

“Who?” You said blankly.

She blinked, then leaned forward. “Uh, Ken Sato? The really famous baseball player?”

You took a slow sip of the drink- the carbonation danced on your tongue. “No idea who that is. I don’t follow baseball.”

“You don’t follow anything,” she pointed out. “You’re completely out of the loop.”

You threw your hands in the air, exasperated. “Just- look, is he someone I should be impressed with? Like, am I-“

“I’ve mentioned him once,” Ami cut in. “Played in the States, moved to Japan suddenly? I was wondering why, and mentioned it to you?” She narrowed her eyes. “Unless you weren’t listening.”

“No no, I was,” you said quickly, then frowned, furrowing your brow. “Wait, didn’t you interrogate him, once? Twice?”

“Thrice,” she corrected you. “And it's called an interview, not an interrogation.”

“Same thing,” you said indignantly, with another gulp of ice cold carbonated sugar. “And you’re sure he’s just a friend.” You eyed her, testing her for any telltale signs on her face suggesting otherwise.

She simply stared at you, unimpressed. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you said, stretching out the vowel, rolling it along your tongue. You stopped. “Okay, fine, I’ll come to your dinner thing.”

“Yes!” She said, sounding a bit too relieved. You stared at her. “Sorry, it’s just- I’m so glad you’re finally-“ she cut off with an excited, pleased noise. 

You looked at her, concern for yourself creeping into your expression. “Am I really that-“

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. “Now, please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night-“

“Tomorrow night?”

“Yes, do you have plans?” She didn’t wait for an answer, because she already knew it. “No? Thought so. Please put some effort into your appearance tomorrow night, because it’ll be worth it.”

“Uh huh,” you said slowly.

“I wonder if you even remember how to behave in a social setting,” she mused, and you smacked her shoulder. 

That night when you got home and flopped down on your bed, pulling out your phone, your finger hovered over the search bar.

What was his name?

Kenji Sato.

You were typing in the words before you even realized it, and seeing the images, you froze.

Oh. 

Shoving down any sort of deranged thoughts that could have been formulating in your head, you buried your face into your pillow and tried to fall asleep.

-

“[name]!”

“Ami!” You stuttered. Ami came towards you, eyes lighting up as she took in your appearance.

“You look really different,” she said, taking in your appearance. “Really pretty.”

You didn’t often wear clothes that were form-fitting or flattered your figure, but you’d decided that since it was a dinner with basically a celebrity, you might as well have put in some extra effort into your looks. 

“Thanks,” you said, as she led you through the restaurant doors and to your table. Pausing, she turned to look at you. 

“You look sick,” she frowned. “And nervous.” She clicked her tongue. “Maybe this really was a bad idea. I should have know you can’t handle-“

“No!” You almost burst out. “No, I mean, I can do this. It’s not that big a deal. I’m just meeting a new person, right?” 

She nodded hesitantly, still frowning at you.

“Right. So, not a big de-“

“Hey, Ami.”

You froze, shoulders stiffening.

“Kenji.” Ami turned to him. You still hadn’t looked at him yet, eyes fixed desperately on Ami’s face. “This is [name]. Name, this is-“

“Ken Sato.” He held out his hand to you, to shake. You stared at his long fingers, then slowly looked up to his face. He was wearing this easy, charming grin. Your knees almost buckled. “I’m sure you’ve heard of me.”

You grabbed his hand and shook it. “N-nice to meet you.” You both held your stare a few seconds longer than you needed to. 

He raised a dark brow, and you could have sworn his expression had flickered with amusement before he turned back to Ami. “And here I was worried I was late.” He waved you both on towards the table, where you took your seats.

Ami was looking at you, frowning. You gave her a wobbly smile back. 

Oh, fuck this.

-

“So, what did you say you work as, [name]?” 

Kenji’s voice snapped you out of your haze, and you looked up at him, eyes widening. “Oh, I’m an, uh, I’m an author.” You stared hard at your food, then looked back up at him to gauge his reaction. 

He just leaned back against his chair. “Cool.” His eyes were set on yours. You flushed. “What sort of stuff do you write?”

“Uh,” your eyes slid to Ami, who was looking at you expectantly. “Romance, mostly.” The confession made your cheeks burn but you were too much of a mess to lie smoothly, not that it had even occurred to you in the first place- and Ami would have teased you about it later.

But Kenji just formed a small ‘o’ with his mouth, then smirked. “That’s cute.”

“Is it?” You had to fight to not make your voice sound like a squeak. He just nodded, taking a bite of his food like it was nothing. 

He’d said it so casually that Ami hadn’t even noticed, instead pouring herself more of her drink and commenting on how Kenji had healed up. You blinked, confused, and turned as he held his arm out, flexing it.

“Yeah, quicker than I thought,” he said. You could see the faint outline of his muscles through the fabric and were so prepared to just jump out the window, then and there. He must have caught you staring because, without turning his head, he locked eyes with you and fucking winked.

You bit your lip, rubbing your thighs together and trying to ignore every instinct in your body screaming at you to throw yourself across the table. “You got hurt?”

He dropped his arm back to his side, rolling his shoulder. “Yeah. It’s fine now though.”

You didn’t press any farther, just eating your food in flushed silence, trying to ignore the burning you could feel in between your thighs. 

-

“How’d you get here, [name]?” Ami asked. You stared desperately at your phone screen.

“Cab,” you muttered, rubbing your hand on the back of your neck. The app was empty. “But there aren’t any available.”

You checked the time. Half past eleven. You shivered, the night air biting at your skin. Ami looked at you, concerned. “Should I drop you?”

“No. No.” Guilt ate away at your gut. “No, you need to get home to Chiho, and I’m in the completely opposite direction- it’s not worth it.” You stepped back, and you could feel Kenji look over your shoulder at your screen. He leaned down to your level, breath warm on your ear. You shivered again, but not from the cold. “I’ll just wait until something shows up.”

“What’s your address?” He tilted his face slightly towards you, before pulling away. You stared at him, then frowned at him slightly, opening your mouth to reply, but Ami cut in.

“Look, I-“ she glanced at her watch. “I really need to go.” She pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, [name].”

You waved her off. “Don’t be.”

And she was gone, her car rolling off. You looked back at Kenji, and quickly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, mumbling your address.

He tapped something into his phone, and his face twisted into a satisfactory grin. “It’s on the way to mine. So I’ll just drop you.” He started walking down the street.

You stumbled after him. “Oh- are you- are you sure?”

He turned, walking backwards, in the same direction but facing you know as he shrugged, grinning. “Why not? Better than waiting around in the cold for a ride.”

“R-right.” 

He led you to where a motorbike was parked, and you blinked. “You rode here on a motorcycle?”

He shrugged his blue biker’s jacket off, and without warning, draped it over your shoulders. “Yeah. Surprised?”

“I… don’t know.” Your face was burning at the action. “Are you sure…” you fiddled with the hem of his jacket.

He waved his hand at it dismissively. “Take it. You look cold.”

You fell silent. Then: “I don’t have a helmet.”

He reached into a compartment, pulling one out. “Spare. For situations like this, I guess. Comes in handy.”

“Situations like this?” You echoed, as he stepped towards you, setting the helmet down over your head and fastening it tight. Your heart was going a million miles a minute.

“When I have to make sure a pretty girl like you gets home, obviously,” he said casually, but the look on his face betrayed his nonchalant tone. He clambered onto the bike. “Come on, then. Get on.”

You blinked, face burning even harder than before, but did as he told you to. 

-

“Thanks. For taking me home, I mean.” 

He looked up at you as you pulled the helmet off your head, imitating the action himself. A strand of hair fell in front of his forehead. “Don’t think about it,” he shrugged, and your grip on the helmet tightened as you clutched it to your chest. 

“Oh, but I will.” You dropped your voice to a husky whisper, and watched his jaw clench. Oh thank you god, I remember how to flirt. Kind of. 

Now it was his turn to become flustered, as he gave you another grin, shaky this time. “Really?” He asked, voice hoarse. You stepped back, towards your house.

“You should come inside,” you suggested. ���It’s not that late.”

He raised his eyebrow. “It’s almost midnight,” he laughed, but didn’t object to your offering, licking his lips nervously. You paused your walk up towards your front door, turning and looking at him expectantly. 

“Oh, fuck this,” he muttered, abandoning the bike and walking towards you. Your stomach exploded into a flurry of butterflies as you both hurried towards your front door. 

-

You bit back a whimper as his lips crashed onto yours, kissing you with a hunger you hadn’t been met with before. The door hadn’t even shut before his hands were on your waist, dragging you close to him- and then it was, and he pinned you against it, your back pressing into the ridges of the wood. 

He pulled away, both of your breathing ragged as he pressed his forehead against yours, eye contact unwavering. He cursed under his breath. “Sorry- I should have- I should have asked.”

You were barely able to move your mouth, shaking your head lightly. “It’s fine,” you breathed, and his eyes flicked back down to your lips, grip on your waist tightening. “You didn’t have to.”

“God, you’re-“ he choked on his own words. “You’re pretty.” 

You didn’t have time to respond before his mouth was capturing yours again, heat burning all over as one of his hands wandered to grip your nape, holding you steady. His teeth grazed your lip and you gasped, but he pulled away, pressing kisses all the way down your jaw and collarbone, leaving a trail of blooming bruises in his wake. His other hand fell from your waist to hip, pressing you close up against him, and heat pooled in your core. 

“Ken,” you managed to whisper weakly through the dizzying haze clouding your mind. He paused, teeth pressed against your skin, and he leaned back up to you, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear, humming. “Are you sure this is a g-good idea?” Your voice was shaking. He frowned, pulling away, and his fingers dug into your hips. 

“Why wouldn’t it be?” His voice was husky with desire, eyes trained on your every movement. You could feel his breath on your skin. You opened your mouth, searching for a reason, but couldn’t find any. He trailed his fingers down your neck, brushing over the marks, to the collar of your top, tugging at it. “Come on.”

You stumbled after him, shedding the jacket, ignoring it as it fell to the floor, and he pulled you down onto the couch with him, hands on your waist. You fell into his lap, straddling him. He grinned. “Still can’t find a reason?”

“…No.”

“Then just relax,” he told you, lips still pressed against your jaw, fingers creeping beneath the hem of your top. “Because I’m about to make you feel really good.”

At his words you bit back a moan, sucking in a harsh breath as you bit your lip, involuntarily rolling your hips against him. He hissed, tipping his head back. You were certain his hands were going to leave marks everywhere they touched, feeling them dig into your hips as you dove onto his neck, suckling and biting, anything to repay the affection he’d shown you earlier.

His hand fisted your hair, gently but firmly tugging you back and away. “Stop it,” he hissed. “Just let me do my thing, okay?”

You looked at him, confused, and slightly hurt, until he quickly pressed a reassuring kiss to your lips. “I said I’d make you feel good, so just sit back and let me, got it?”

You didn’t argue with him, not when he flipped you around so that your back was pressed against the couch, or when he sank to his knees, pushing your legs open, letting out a shaky breath as your skirt hiked right up your thighs. 

He let out a breathless laugh. “You’re wet,” he teased, his hot breath hitting your skin. He pressed a chaste kiss to your inner thigh, making you shiver, then another, each one lasting longer before the one before, leaving marks littering all over your inner thighs. You bit your lip- the mere sight of his face in between your legs was enough to get you dripping, even more than you were before, and he seemed to notice, because he let out an amused chuckle.

“Wh-what?” Your voice was broken, and hitched when he pressed his thumb to your clothed clit, sending a jolt of pleasure into your cunt. He smirked at your reaction. 

“Nothing,” he murmured, hooking his fingers around the waistband of your soaked panties, tugging them slowly down your legs. Your teeth pressed down on your bottom lip harder. His eyes flicked up to meet your expression. “What? Nervous?” 

You didn’t reply, just shaking, and he let out a slow breath, pressing his lips back against your inner thigh as his expression softened. “Don’t be, baby.” His lips curled back into his signature grin. “I told you you could relax, remember?”

You flushed, and nodded.

Without warning, he dove in, lips pressing down on your clit. You whimpered, not even enough time to react before his tongue licked a long strip up your entrance, making you twitch and spasm, throbbing pleasure aching. Your legs instinctively pulled together but he forced them back apart, tongue tracing slow patterns across your bundle of nerves, eyes hooded with lust as he watched your flinch and gasp. 

You let out a broken whimper of his name, and felt him tense under you- but he didn’t stop his movements, slipping his tongue in between your folds, stretching you out with his fingers. You bucked your hips, but he grabbed your hip with his other hand, pinning you down to keep you from moving. “Shhh,” he whispered, his low voice sending vibrations into your core. You let out a desperate moan- it took everything in you to not desperately start grinding against his face. He chuckled slightly at your pitiful state, turning his attention back to your dripping cunt, slipping a finger inside. Your back arched, hand flying to your mouth to clamp over it. A finger slipped inside, curling to hit that sweet spot- you almost saw stars.

“Oh fuck,” you gasped, screwing your eyes shut. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

He simply hummed at your words, the vibrations of his voice sending another shockwave through you, lapping at you like he was hungrier than before, fingers pumping in and out at a steady pace. You knew what he was saying.

Go on. Cum. 

And you did, a broken cry of his name slipping past your lips as the orgasm crashed over you, legs shaking as he drew out your high for as long as possible. And when you finally came down he pushed himself up, towards you, capturing your lips in another feverish kiss. 

You could see the shaky movements of his chest as he breathed heavily, feel his boner pressed up against you, his face flushed and burning to the touch. You pulled away. 

“Are you… shoud I…” You reached for his zipper, despite the fact your voice was heavy with fatigue but he just shook his head, laughing breathlessly.

“No, no, I… don’t worry about me.” He cleared his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. “I’ll just- where’s the bathroom?”

“Down the corridor, first door on the left,” you mumbled, slumping back. He stood up, adjusting your head on the couch.

“Okay, I’ll- I’ll be right back.”

You heard his footsteps hurry away and the door shut.

You didn’t realize how much time had passed, with you laying on the couch, drifting in and out of consciousness, when you heard his footsteps approach you again. You looked up at him drowsily.

“Hey.” Your voice was barely audible. “You should stay here for the night.”

He opened his mouth, but didn’t object, even when you waved him over to lay next to you. You settled on top of him, laying your head on his chest. His arm looped around your waist. 

“[name],” he muttered. You lifted your head. “Is this just a… one time thing?”

You tilted your head. “Do you want it to be?”

He frowned, then shook his head. “No. No, I don’t.”

You smiled. “Me neither.”

☆ A/N: visit either the first tag or the pinned post to find the other chapters!

[mikobeautifulheart]

Hiii (’◡’) I really liked that fan fiction of choso where he's jealous over the kitty but I think it would be so cute w nanaaamii plz plz💗(*ˊᗜˋ*)

Ahhh thank you for reading my fic (and liking it) 🥰.

Here we go

Jealousy

Tw: none, just fluff. But not edited.

FEATURING: NANAMI

It all started after a hard day's work. Another overtime.

Nanami sighed as he turns the key and steps inside your shared apartment, he really needed to just feel you right now.

"I'm back." He mumbled kicking off his shoes.

He dosent hear you move or respond...weird. He walks into the living room, sunlight comes in golden rays settling on your sleeping figure. His mouth upturns into a smile.

Until it dosent.

There on you peaceful rising chest was a white fluff ball, it's form also rising up and down. It took his spot.

Feeling something around you, your eyes slowly open to see a very exhausted Nanami.

"Welcome back Kento" you say sleepily sitting upright the white fluff now in your arms.

"What do you have there?" He asked.

You were to tierd to tell how he asked the question. Was he upset? Angery? Hard to tell.

"Oh this guy. I found him on our window sill this morning and he was injured."

Right on que the cat lifts one of its paws up revealing a small bandage wrapped around it.

Kento thought a vain in his head was going to burst when the cat turned to face him only to snuggle right under your face and reveal its big blue eyes.

There was something wrong with this cat. Cats don't just show up injured on a 6th floor apartment window. Cats don't smirk and hit people's nerves.

And most importantly they shouldn't look like a carbon copy of a white haired co worker that passes him off.

"He looks better already." Kento mumbled glaring at the cat.

"You know I actually have a cut here to" He said lifting his shirt up only too show half of his torso with a deep wound on one side.

"Oh Kento, why didn't you go to Shoko?! She would have foxed this in a minute!" You said putting the cat aside and getting up to grab your patch up supplies.

"She was on break and I wanted to see you." He sighed.

"But I see someone beat me to it." He glared at the cat.

You brought over a box and started attending to the wound.

"Kento what if it got infected? What if you made it worse? You cant just ignore this like it's nothing!" You said as you finished disinfecting it.

He only watched as the cat jumped off the couch and weaved between your legs.

"Aww isn't he the cutest." You said looking down at the cat.

"If you say so darling. How long is he going to be here anyway, i'm afraid his owners might begin to miss him"

"Actually he's a stray, he doesn't have anyone Ken, isn't that sad!"

"mm very, what do you suppose we do about it?" he asked glaring into the cats back.

"We should at least look after him until he heals, and I know this apartment doesn't allow pets but I spoke to the land lady and she said I can keep him here until he's better" You beamed only making him sigh.

He can't make you sad when you were this excited about having a cat, TEMPORARILY.

"Okay. We can keep him for now, but I need to rest and that means me and you. No cat."

The cat meowed loudly from the other room.

"I mean it."

"Okay Ken!" You said just glad you could keep the cat.

THANK YOU FOR READING ♡

AUTHOURS NOTE: Tehe thanks for the request anon and sorry it took so long :( have a good whatever time.

[dannystheone]

Sacrificing Mysterion (Lee Mysterion/ Ler Goth Kids)

Guys this idea took over my brain all of a sudden so now you have to deal with it

I was watching the Cthulu episode with the Goth kids in the alley with Mysterion and I was like how have I not had this idea before-

but anyway :))

I hope you guys enjoy! Take this as kind of a Halloween fic as well while I get a real Halloween fic prepared

WARNINGS: Cursing, smoking, talks of death, talks of torture, talks of sacrifice/acts of sacrifice, chanting, pinning

MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE

The Goth Kids are on a mission to sacrifice Mysterion to Cthulu, as they are now Cthulu's minions. But they can't kill him, so what else can they do?

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

A lit cigarette was the only illumination in the darkly themed bedroom, smoke unfurling from its smoldering tip. Micheal brought the cigarette to his lips and took a hit, sighing afterward and shaking his curls in irritation. After the failed assassination attempt on Mysterion in the alleyway with the other cultists, the Goth Kids were in a creative rut on how to serve their new master.

They agreed collectively that the only reason why the world still sucked even when Cthulu was on a rampage killing all the hippies and conformists was because Mysterion didn't stay dead as their sacrifice. Now, back in Henrietta's bedroom, the group racked their brains on sacrificing him once more and ensuring it worked this time.

"Maybe he's too much of a brainwashed wannabe to be a proper sacrifice. I mean his brains gotta be mush from all the trashy pop they listen to on the radio. A proper sacrifice has to have some sort of brain, right? It would make sense." Micheal thought out loud as he brought his cigarette away from his lips. Pete shook his head, his hair swaying away from his face.

"Nah, even if you're a carbon copy straight out of Mattel with all the other Barbie's and Ken's in the world, you should stay dead when you're stabbed in the chest. Maybe he got lucky and the cultist missed his heart or something. Unless the conformists really are just made up of plastics and Botox now. Maybe there wasn't a heart to stab." Pete suggested. Henrietta pulled her cigarette away from her lips, sighing out the smoke in her chest as she flipped through the Necronomicon.

"God, there's nothing in here about a proper human sacrifice. This book is fucking useless." Henrietta shut the book with a thump and pushed it to the side with her foot, her hair especially wild with being so frazzled. She was excited about a new dark beginning this world being served by Cthulu could bring, but everything was still frustratingly the same.

"Nothing on Reddit or Wikipedia? That's where you usually go." Firkle asked. He was also looking forward to a new beginning, wondering how things would be where no one would make fun of him for anything anymore.

Henrietta shook her head. "No, there's nothing. I'm starting to think Cthulu doesn't even want a sacrifice. You would think if he did he'd give us some fucking instructions."

"It feels like whatever God you wanna listen to, they're always vague and non-committal. Maybe it's something we're too mortal to not understand." Pete said aloud. The others were inclined to agree.

"If I weren't so pissed off right now, I'd say that's goth as fuck, Pete." Henrietta commented, trying to make some sense of her hair with one hand.

"Maybe if we tire Mysterion out first and then try to kill him? I don't know, maybe he has regenerative powers." Firkle suggested. Micheal rubbed his eyebrow as a headache was starting to form in that spot.

"Firkle, he's not an actual superhero. He's just a stupid backwoods poser wearing a costume with his boxers on the outside of his pants. I'm surprised it's a clean pair and it doesn't have a skidmark on it-"

"How do I fight him."

A deep voice spoke from behind the group. The Goth Kids turned around in sync to see Mysterion knelt in Henrietta's open bedroom window. It was a rainy night tonight, lightning cracking and illuminating the room for a brief moment.

Micheal raised an eyebrow at Mysterion despite his cool entrance.

"Oh joy, it's underwear boy again. Get out of here poser, you ruined our chances at finally getting true darkness and true pain in this world. Instead we're still living in this gay conformist fantasyland." Micheal waved Mysterion away as the anti-hero landed in Henrietta's bedroom and tossed his cape to the side.

"Tell me how to defeat him. Now. That God of yours stole my friends away. They're in real danger because of you. Tell me, now. There's no time to waste." Mysterion demanded. The Goth Kids all exchanged glances with one another, silently considering it. Slowly, small grins of agreeance bloomed on their faces as they understood a silent plan.

Henrietta stood up from her spot on the floor, tapping her cigarette in the ashtray. She walked up to Mysterion and put a hand on her hip.

"Alright dork, listen. We'll tell you how to defeat Cthulu. And you can believe us because we have this-" Henrietta walked over to the Necronomicon and kicked the book onto its front so the cover showed its title. Mysterion's eyes followed and understood. "All you have to do is be a sacrifice for us to Cthulu. And you can defeat him afterward." Henrietta explained. Mysterion's eyes narrowed behind his mask at that.

"How can you want me to be a sacrifice to someone I'm trying to take down? Doesn't that defeat the whole purpose? And I can't die, that's why I'm alive from the alleyway when you assholes stuck that knife in my chest. Doesn't seem like worthy sacrifice material to me." Mysterion said gruffly. Firkle smiled confidently at that. Micheal stood up now next to Henrietta, the rest of the Goth Kids following suit.

"Cthulu is the source of all subconscious anxiety for all of mankind. You don't necessarily have to die, we just need your feelings of anxiety to be sacrificed in the name of the Old One. Besides, if this sacrifice doesn't work again by the time you're going and trying to save your friends, then we'll know it's a crock. Either way, we both get what we want. We get confirmation, and possibly the result we want, and you get an answer." Micheal explained. Henrietta looked at Micheal inquisitively.

"How did you know all of that?" She asked. Micheal shrugged.

"I did some reading too. Apparently Wikipedia did have what we were looking for." He replied.

Mysterion's fists locked tightly. Every second ticked closer and closer to his friends possibly meeting a horrible fate down in the city of R'lyeh where he had last left them. He had no time to waste, and if he weren't so outnumbered he would have just stolen the book for the answers. He had to comply this time. Mysterion closed his eyes and took a breath, centering himself.

"Okay, I'll do it. Tell me what I have to do."

--------

After some deliberating about how to extract Mysterion's feelings of anxiety without getting blood on the carpet and making Henrietta's parents upset, the Goth Kids had Mysterion set up on Henrietta's sacrificial carpet. A five-pointed star was imprinted on the material. Candles were lit and music with ominous tones set the mood.

Mysterion was laid out with each Goth Kid sitting on a respective limb, Pete and Firkle taking his legs and Micheal and Henrietta taking his arms. It didn't look very ceremonial with them sitting on him like this, but Mysterion's heart was already beating in this setup despite the fact. He tried to keep a level head.

"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn." Pete chanted the sacred text from the Necronomicon. Mysterion looked from side to side, getting more and more tense about this.

"What does that mean? What you're saying." Mysterion craned his neck up and asked when Pete was done. Pete flipped his hair out of his eyes and set the book down.

"'In his house at R'lyeh, dead Cthulhu waits dreaming.' It basically means that even though he's trapped in R'lyeh, he will eventually return. Which he has. Let's just hope this sacrifice works so we can make his return worth it." Pete said with an annoyed tone.

"Can you just make it quick? My friends are waiting for me in another dimension with only me to save them." Mysterion said heroically. The Goth Kids collectively rolled their eyes at that.

"Yeah sure Captain Mysteri-Suck, we'll speed this up for you." Pete groaned as he settled into position on Mysterion's leg and prepped his fingers.

Mysterion tugged each limb, not liking how secure he was in this position. But he supposed that was the entire point. To be anxious and uncomfortable. He had some give with the limb Firkle was sitting on because of how light he was, but that was made up for by the rest of the group on him. He just hoped his hands and feet wouldn't be numb by the end of this.

"So, what will you do? Stab me again? Carve sigils into me?" Mysterion asked. Micheal blew out the smoke in his chest with a huff.

"Pfft- No, genius. What do you think we're fucking sadists? We're just gonna do this-" Henrietta and Micheal put down their cigarettes and immediately dove right in. Fingers started scribbling and wiggling into Mysterion's open ribs and armpits, their fingers sliding over his costume easily.

Mysterion being taken by surprise by this tactic was an understatement. His eyes widened, surprised laughter escaping his chest at his regular pitched voice before it took everything in him to pitch his laughter down to Mysterion's tone of voice.

"Hahahaha! Wh-whahat thehe fuhuhuck?! St-Stohohop!" The anti-hero's eyes squinted behind his mask in his laughter as Henrietta winced at the sound. Her black acrylics scratched and raked against Mysterion's ribs, a method that seemed to already be driving him up the wall.

"Euch- I think I would have rather carved sigils into myself than hear your childlike laughter barf into my ears. It's like I'm in a live studio audience for the Disney Channel. Spare me." Henrietta rolled her eyes at Mysterion's laughter and kept up her unenthused tickling.

Mysterion pulled at his limbs as a reflex, his arms and legs jerking and tensing in an attempt to free himself. Micheal's long artist fingers spidered down to Mysterion's side and started squishing there, causing the anti-hero to jump and belt out his laughter.

"G-Gehehet ohohohoff! Gehehet ohohohoff nohohohoo!! Dohohohon't dohohoho thihihis!!" Mysterion was finding it extremely challenging to keep his voice pitched to Mysterion's deep tone of voice, especially since his laughter was very much forced and spontaneous.

"Oh wow, should we listen to the sacrifice and actually stop you guys? What do you think? Do you want to help your friends or not, buttmunch?" Micheal groaned and used all five fingers in Mysterion's side to claw it, causing a squeal out of the tough hero that definitely was not Mysterion-pitched.

"I mean, it sounds like you did your friends a favor. They're down in R'lyeh, the Nightmare Corpse-City. They're so stupid lucky. I'd give anything to trade places with them." Pete said aloud. He decided it was his turn to get into the mix, but he hated that he had Mysterion's leg to work with. He decided to just start squishing around Mysterion's knee, which worked tremendously in his favor anyway. Mysterion already started kicking and pulling away from him.

"NOHO-hohoho!! I hahahave tohohoho sahahahave thehehem!! Buhuhuhut thihihihis fuhuhuhucking suhuhuhucks!!" Mysterion shouted, battling his own voice for control on pitching his tone back down to its deep register. He twisted and bucked his hips, trying to get free by any means, even for just a second.

"Well yeah, you didn't think subconscious anxiety was going to come easily, did you? I swear, brainwashed jocks never use their heads. It's why they're all braindead mindless sheep." Henrietta mused. Her fingers made their way into Mysterion's armpit, her acrylics sliding back and forth in the hollow which was killer.

"Stahahahap!! Dohohon't gohohohoho in thehehere!! Gehehet ahahaha-ohohout!" Mysterion pleaded with Henrietta, which was exactly why she kept her fingers exactly where they were and kept scratching in his armpit.

"You can't possibly believe that you're the victim here. We have to listen to your incessant boyish laughter that's making my eardrums puke blood while we put our hands on you with your underwear outside of your pants. If anything, we're the ones making the sacrifice." Micheal commented, his right hand staying at Mysterion's side scratching and his other hand reaching to his stomach and spidering all over it. Mysterion bucked his hips at this and threw his head back in laughter.

"Ahahahaha!! Plehehehease plehehehease!! Ahahahat leheheheast mahahake ihihihit eheheheasier!! Thihihihis ihihihihis ahahahahass!!" Mysterion begged, not liking to have to stoop so low as to plead with the people torturing him, but he had no other choice. Being killed hundreds of different times in hundreds of different ways, he's done that. But this was something else entirely.

"Your laughing makes me want to barf." Firkle said simply, his small fingers crawling underneath Mysterion's knee and scribbling in the hollow. Mysterion squealed and started pulling on that leg in particular.

"I don't get you dime-a-dozen conformist losers. You beg us for our help and then we give to you and then you ask us to stop? Typical Normies. Real life takes real sacrifice. Not your bleached blonde fake spray tan Hollywood prop fake fantasy world you live in." Henrietta used acrylic-covered nails to scribble and scratch over all the surface area she could reach on her side, from Mysterion's armpit to the middle of his stomach.

Mysterion started belting out laughter; his previous attempts at trying to pitch down his laughs were tossed out the window. His laugh came across high and clear like a bell chime, filling the room with its presence. Mysterion bucked his hips in an attempt to get the prying fingers off, in his armpits all the way down to his knees and everything in between. This had to be the strangest thing he's ever done for his friends. Hell, the strangest thing he's ever done period.

"Nohohoho nohoho I'm sahahaha-!! I'm sohohorry!! I-hehehehee!! I dihihihidn't mehehehean ihihihit lihihihihike thahahat!!" Mysterion's eyes were screwed shut as his laughter kept climbing to new octaves rather than the opposite that he desperately wanted.

"How long until you think the sacrifice is fulfilled? Should we make him laugh until he's dead? He said he can come back." Pete suggested, squishing his hands up and down Mysterion's thigh but avoiding getting too high up for obvious reasons. Mysterion shook his head vigorously at this idea.

"Dohohohohon't nohohohoho!! I'll dihihihihihie!!" Mysterion shouted, his lips stretched back to show little canines in his mouth. Micheal noticed this and was secretly jealous. He'd always wanted something like that. It made him press his fingers into Mysterion's tummy harder to tickle him more.

"Well no shit, genius. God... it's kinda the whole idea of a sacrifice." Pete deferred the decision to Micheal and Henrietta as he focused on squishing and squeezing Mysterion's thigh. The material that his costume was made out of made it easy to slide his fingers up and down.

"Buhuhuhuhut I mehehehean- I mehehehean I'll dihihihie lihihihike- Gohohohod stohohohohop!! Lihihihike I'll dihihihihie!!" Mysterion tried pleading his case in a not-very-convincing way. The Goth Kids all looked around at each other while their tickling continued to see if anyone could make sense of his words.

"He's starting to go crazy already. He's speaking gibberish." Firkle determined. Both of his small hands were under Mysterion's knee now, scratching over the synthetic material.

"Ohohoo cohohome ohohohohon!!" Mysterion whined. His chest and belly were already starting to hurt, as well as his joints from the pulling. He was starting to think that maybe getting killed was a good option here, but then he'd be leaving without the book, which he couldn't have.

"Sacrifices don't get a say in how they're sacrificed. The Mayans and Aztecs can tell you that. On the bright side, you've graduated from annoying trash conformist to useful sacrifice. Consider yourself lucky." Micheal shrugged and spidered some long fingers over Mysterion's belly button, to which Mysterion could say nothing to and just laughed. His cheeks were starting to ache from smiling.

"I-hehehehee!! I tahahahahap!! Gahahame ohohohover!! Uhuhuhuncle!! Whahahatever you wahahahant buhuhuhut plehehehease!! Mehehehercy!!" Mysterion squirmed and twisted underneath the Goth Kids, to which they decided maybe that was enough.

"He does look anxious, I guess. And I'm getting anxiety from all of your happy-go-lucky giggling." Henrietta groaned.

"Really? I'm getting heartburn. Yeah, I guess it worked." Micheal agreed. The Goth Kids all started getting off of Mysterion's limbs; Mysterion laying on the carpet and breathing in copious amounts of oxygen for a moment.

"Here's the Necronomicon, Wonder Boy. Just bring it back to school when you're done with it. And I swear to Satan if there's any tears or stains on it when you give it back to me- well, I think that'd make it look more Goth but don't make it look gross, I guess." Henrietta picked the book up and put it at Mysterion's side as he was getting up, clutching his side.

"I-huhh- I'm.." Mysterion took a second to bring his voice down to its deep register, but his voice was clearly strained. The Goth Kids all returned to their usual positions around Henrietta's room and looked at the anti-hero collect himself.

"Th-Thank you, for your help. I'm going to help my friends with this," Mysterion said, gesturing with the book.

"May we never cross paths again, 'cause this fucking sucked." Mysterion tucked the book away in a mysterious pocket and vanished out of Henrietta's window into the night.

"...So what should we do with the rest of our night?" Pete asked.

[sturionic]

In the course of spiralling down an internet rabbit hole today, I found a truly excellent essay about the trials and tribulations of fandom: How To BNF Without Tears, by Walter A. Willis

If you are familiar with the term BNF (Big-Name Fan), you may have heard it in the context of early-aughts fandoms, or some configuration of superwholock. But this article is from 1954!

Please enjoy these excerpts:

Very well, let's consider a day in the life of this wretched Neofan. Brighteyed, the little fellow wakes early, listening for the tread of the postman. His ears are so sensitive to this faint sound that he will leap out of bed, every nerve quivering, when the man is a hundred yards away ….. whereas before he became a fan a whole battery of alarm clocks barely fluttered an eyelid.

It's me, I'm the wretched little fellow refreshing my AO3 inbox, nerves a-quivering

Consider now a day in the life of the BNF. He too is driven from pillow to post, but since he was up to two o'clock in the morning finishing an article he had promised for ten days ago, the postman has to knock twice to waken him. He staggers down the stairs, observing with a sinking feeling that the porch is covered with a layer of various sized envelopes[....]Some of the letters are from his friends, and he puts those in his pocket to be enjoyed later. Some are from self-appointed enemies, and he puts those aside until he feels stronger. The rest are from Neofen. Some of them want subscriptions to his fanzine. Some want information. Some want material for their fanzine. Nearly all of them are rude.

1954 equivalent of "RIP your inbox"

Now, on the way the BNF handles this mail depends whether he shall stay in fandom or retire suffering from chronic disenchantment like so many others[...]So I am going to suggest some rules which you might consider following when you become a BNF. (All that is necessary to become a BNF is to maintain a reasonably energetic standard of fanactivity for approximately two years.)

And then our friend Walter goes on to advise BNFs to "comment on as many first issues [of fanzines] as you can, and always find something to praise," "Always be polite and kind to Neofans," and to take the piss out of yourself: "Humourous attacks on you should be encouraged -- they add to the interest of fandom, rank as egoboo, and might give you something to write about." (Walter also warns on the dangers of attending conventions, and advises that you wear a false beard to maintain anonymity.)

Of course, I had to know: what fandom were these guys in?

So I did a little digging. Walter mentions a "Ken Potter" in his letter. Turns out Ken Potter ran multiple science fiction fanzines through the 1950's and 60's, including Brennschluss, Triumph and Scientifiction.

A scan of Brenschluss, containing such gems as "tho I did once kiss a girl" and "Isn't Fandom romantic!"

Additional glossary for some terms used in Walter's essay:

"Egoboo": A colloquial expression for the pleasure received from public recognition of voluntary work. Originated in science fiction fandom as early as 1947

"Hectoed" fanzine: A method of copying text and illustrations that fell out of fashion after the 1940's. It involves involves making a bed of gelatin, transferring a special carbon ink to the gelatin and then laying on and picking up pieces of paper.

"Faned": Slang for "fan editor," aka the editor of a fandom publication, usually a zine.

[xotication]

☆,

biker! ken hcs! (& car! guy ken cuz why not??)

biker ken

he rides a ninja 400.

before meeting you, he was for sure reckless. but after the two of you got involved with each other, he promised himself he’d be a lil more careful for you

everyone knows riding a motorcycle is dangerous as fuck, so he never wanted to have you worried

sometimes there’s night where he may go a lil too fast & ends up getting chased by police..

he texts you & tells you to have the garage open so he can just come in & have you close it immediately.. trust, you end up reprimanding him

he always takes you on rides when the sun is setting. idc, he tells you it reminds him of you

does wheelies just to scare you

one day you ask him to teach you how to ride & he says “last i checked, you’re already good at that”

you were left confused until it hit you.. “that is NOT what i meant!”

whenever he gets hit on, he mentions you with so much quickness

if a girl does happen to ask for his number, he gives them yours 😭😭😭 they don’t even know until they text you

if he ever gets injured, the first person he goes to is you, even if he feels that you can’t help. you’re his sense of comfort

like boy could lose a whole leg nd he’d prob call you first to let you know LMAO

his friends hate you bc they say you made him “soft” but you disagree completely!!!

you fear for your life half the time you're his backpack

he speeds through the smallest little cracks between vehicles on the freeway

he uses anything as a ramp & you hate it

when he's making sharp turns he touches the fucken ground with his hand "look how close we are!"

whenever you're in your car & he's on his bike, he always gaps you nd you think it's so mean. yet, he laughs every time

sometimes when he picks you up, he makes sure to make the most noise ever. that's mainly how you can tell he's arrived

i feel like his wardrobe is all black. the only color he has are the clothes you buy for him bc you tease him for being too emo

you also buy him a pikachu skin for his helmet as a joke, but he ends up loving it

he plays deftones on his rides, that or cigs after sex idc.. maybe even sign crushes motorist.. i feel like he's always in his feelings LMAO

whenever you guys are stopped next to a bus or a big semi truck, he always touches it

records pop vids & sends them to you..

car guy ken!

i honestly don't know what kind of car ken would drive..

it's between a supra mk4, nissan 350/370z, or maybe a 2013 bmw 3 :>

i mainly see him in a supra ngl

but whatever car ken drives, he puts WORK into.

you love being around whenever he's working on his cars tho, he'll be all dirty with oils nd shit but its so rawr

ken gets excited over new car parts too

one time you bought him a carbon fiber front bumper and he damn near cried over it

he put starry lights on the roof of the inside of his car to give you something pretty to look at

he lets you keep your little essentials in his glove department or his arm rest

you leave a scrunchie around his gear shift & glosses in his cup holder, plus lil makeup wipes in the lil side compartment on the door

i fear ken has road rage.. he hates slow drivers and flips people off so fucken often

not only that but this man never goes the speed limit???

his car is all blacked out.. so flying down dark highways with his headlights off is his fav thing to do

he hates when you opt out for driving your car.. especially when there's other cars being loud nd making noise. he feels left out, like a puppy taken from its owner

"baby, i wanna make noise too.." with the biggest pout you've ever seen.

one day he suggests that you guys save up for miatas so that your cars can make cute faces at each other & date. it was the sweetest idea ever

car guy ken handles all your car troubles. he's like your personal mechanic

he does donuts in empty parking lots

he did a burn out in your exes drive way & you didn't find out until said ex texted you fucken PISSED

"ken what the fuck??" "what.." "you know what!" "nuh uh."

takes you to car meets so he can teach you more about different cars & the mods you can add to them

can tell a car from the sound the engine is making..

lets you drive his car once & it was the scariest thing he'd ever done

"SLOW DOWN PLEASE"

"i'm going 70!??!"

"this is my baby, i don't want you to crash..."

whenever a car passes him, he takes it as a challenge & gaps them.

[sirfrogsworth]

Thoughts on Live Action Avatar: TLA

I'm sure people are going to hate this. Some for valid reasons. Some because of endless nitpicking that really has no bearing on how good or bad it actually was. Some because they have already chosen to hate it and it's just a self-fulfilling prophecy.

But I always root for things to be good. I want them to succeed. And I always go into everything I watch with the hope and expectation it will be good. I turn off my critical brain and try to just experience the show for what it is. As I said, I saw no trailers. I read no reviews. I knew almost nothing about the production of this going in.

Initially, things were rough... buddy.

And I think that is a longstanding problem with live action TV shows in general. I am always reminded of Star Trek TNG and how it took two seasons (48 episodes) before they figured out what the hell they were doing. Back then shows were able to find their footing and grow and learn. Actors were given time to find their characters and understand them and finally become them.

But now, every show has to be amazing from the start or they get cancelled. And I think people have become very unforgiving of first seasons as well. I feel like not enough people consider the potential of something getting better. And I think that is a shame.

So, yes, Avatar started out rough. They tried to cram all of the exposition into the first 20 minutes. And that was unpleasant. The effects were jarring at first. It is incredibly difficult to translate animation into live action. And please don't say the CGI was "bad." It wasn't. There was just so much that needed to be packed into every frame of this show to make it work, and finding a way to make it all seamlessly blend is a monumental task. I think the artists did an amazing job with the constraints of essentially making an 8 hour movie in the time usually given a 2 hour one.

But as the show continued, the actors seemed more comfortable in their roles. The showrunners seemed to figure out what worked and what didn't. The quality across the board started to improve. Especially when they started to deviate a little bit from following the cartoon. I also noticed that the effects that were jarring in the beginning eventually stopped bothering me and breaking immersion. I got used to them and was able to just focus on the story. And I think they got a little better as well. The bending was much more convincing as the show progressed. And it was a bajillion times better than the slow-motion bending of that movie that shall not be named.

And by the final episode, I was all in. The Avatar monster was really cool. And I was crying my eyes out and having all kinds of emotions. And there were some changes they made to the story which I actually thought made more sense. And I was glad this show was doing a few things to differentiate rather than being an exact carbon copy.

It won me over.

And I know it won't do that for everyone. And perhaps I am forgiving a lot of sins just because I wanted it to be good. The original was my absolute favorite show of all time. I just liked spending time with these characters again.

But I liked it more than I didn't and I'm hoping that is the general consensus, but I fear that is not the case.

Things I really liked...

I thought the actor playing Sokka was really great. They didn't give him enough humorous material. But I think this kid absolutely nailed the role. And if this gets another season, I do hope he can show Sokka's lighter side a bit more.

Ken Leung also did amazing as Zhao. I think he surpassed his cartoon counterpart in villainy. I loved hating him.

The final battle was beautiful. I think they probably dedicated a lot of resources to that. Maybe at the expense of other things. But I think it was worth it to end strong.

In the first season of the cartoon, the trauma was often skipped over or kept very brief. I'm sure the idea of dealing with genocide and war time trauma was not an easy sell to Nickelodeon initially. But they did actually take the time to show some of that trauma, especially with Katara and Sokka. And I cried a bunch.

They seemed to go to considerable effort to have a diverse cast. I am glad they learned that lesson from the movie.

That said, they probably could have brought back Dee Bradley Baker to make the animal noises. This might have been an overcorrection...

I guess this will give the anti-wokesters something to complain about since the original was already super woke and it is probably a challenge to complain about the new thing being woke as well. Though I'm sure they are up to the challenge.

Things I didn't care for...

The compressed timeline caused a few stories to be combined and accelerated. I understand why that was necessary. But there were some important moments of character growth that got lost.

Sokka's missing sexism. I think it is much more useful to see someone grow and change and let go of their problematic traits than to pretend that never existed. Sokka's sexism was a symbol of the conservative views within water tribe culture in general. It was also foreshadowing for the conflict with Pakku (which was also minimized). I just think young viewers seeing a character overcome ingrained ideals has a greater influence than just erasing that aspect from the character.

Things I hated...

Princess Yue's hair. You get the amazing Amber Midthunder to play Yue, and she does an amazing job with extremely abbreviated screen time, but I couldn't stop staring at whatever that was they put on her noggin. I know I criticized people for nitpicking, but that was very distracting. I don't know exactly how it could have been done better, but I worry a great performance is going to get overshadowed by... hair.

In conclusion...

I think the people making this show loved the source material. I can see that love. I think they tried very hard to make the best show possible. And I also know they are probably going to get a lot of hate. I still haven't looked at the reviews because I didn't want to be influenced when writing this. But I can feel the review bombing as we speak.

But this was not a Witcher situation where the writers didn't respect the source material. This was displaying how incredibly difficult it is to convert one of the most beautifully animated shows in existence into live action. Maybe that is an argument for not making live action versions. Though I usually love them when they work and am happy both versions exist.

I really hope people can remember the original still exists and they can completely disregard this and watch the cartoon any time they wish. This doesn't have to "ruin their childhood." These two things can exist and everyone is perfectly capable of ignoring all of the live action material.

But I do hope this gets another season. I think that final episode showed the potential. I think the cast was getting comfortable in their roles and they deserve another chance to show what they can do.

I love Paul Sun-Hyung Lee and I think he was a great choice for Iroh. But Mako's shoes are probably the biggest shoes in the existence of shoes to try and fill. I do not envy the task he was given. But every once in a while I saw that Mako spirit come out in his performance and I think he could use another season to really find that and show us what he is capable of.

This felt a lot like The Phantom Menace to me. There was actually a ton of amazing stuff to love in that movie. But it didn't quite work the way the original movies did. But I think this was good enough to hope for the future.

[remember-digimon]

Now it's time for Small But Mighty incarnate, TK!

At first, TK is mostly there for his big brother Matt to worry about. But as the series progresses, TK gets to be his own character. (to the detriment of Matt's sanity but dw he gets better)

Of all the original 7 kids, because Kari's situation is a little different, TK gets emotionally attached to his Digimon the fastest. Within a few minutes of meeting Tokomon, TK is already snuggling him. It's stupid cute.

And then, to bookend such a happy first meeting, TK then has to essentially watch his Digimon partner die. He gets him back since Digimon don't die the way carbon-based lifeforms do, but it still basically traumatizes TK. The 'death' of Patamon is still an issue for TK three years later and causes it's own issues.

In 01, though, TK is mostly cheerful and eager to be helpful. He hates being treated like a little kid. He also doesn't like the group splitting up; this has been attributed by others to a side effect of his parent's divorce, and I agree. TK likes to create found families. He does it in 01, with Matt and Sora standing in as parents for him while the other kids are like older siblings. In 02, he views the new kids in a similar way. He even warms to to Ken eventually.

One thing that TK hates is to be called a crybaby. In the episode where Matt leaves TK at the amusement park, DemiDevimon lies to TK and says his brother called him a crybaby. This sends TK over the edge, as if his own brother calling him that hurts so much more than anyone else because Matt would know how TK doesn't like being seen as a crybaby.

To me, TK represents the childlike wonder of the group. In spite of all the world-ending boss battles, and having to face various traumas, these are still kids and it's important for kids to let loose and have fun. TK helps them do that.

[kenposting]

oh ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

no longer giggling 😞

GIGGLING over this!!!!!!!!

[audhdnight]

Anyone else really fucking sick of the whole edgelord “we don’t need school it’s all bullshit when will I even need to know any of this” crowd who will also immediately turn around and violently shame and attack anyone who says something misinformed or asks a question that they deem to be “common knowledge”???

Like yeah, I remember highschool. It sucked, but not because of what I was learning. It sucked because teachers are overworked and underpaid/under supported, and the school system doesn’t give half a shit about disabled kids or kids with different neurological conditions or really any of the kids.

We do need schools. Whatever issues the system as a whole has, it needs to be reformed, not done away with. You cannot sit and gripe about how we don’t need any of these history classes because it’s all stuff you don’t want to know anyway, and then go absolutely batshit insane when someone doesn’t know about Pearl Harbor.

Because those people aren’t stupid. They are being intentionally misled, neglected, misinformed, or all three. They are ignorant, not because they chose it but because someone else chose it to further their own desires.

Ignorance leads to harm. Ignorance leads to manipulation. Ignorance is why we have slews of people in the US who are so scared of autism (which IS NOT SOMETHING TO BE SCARED OF) that they refuse to vaccinate their children, which is a form of medical neglect. They are actively endangering people they care about because they have been lied to by political parties and religious leaders who benefit from uneducated mobs.

Ignorance is how you get cults. Ignorance is how people get taken advantage of. Ignorance is how you get genocide. ONE person decides they want power and they use the lack of education to amass followers who will support them blindly because they don’t know any better.

Everyone is appalled when ex-Mormons get on the internet and talk about all the things they had to learn as adults, who by all accounts should have known those things by the time they were fifteen. People lose their fucking minds when ex-Mormons mention they didn’t know how babies were made until after they got married at like thirty. I saw someone make an entire six minute video about how he’s pretty sure all these deconstructers are lying for clout online, because how could they possibly not know?

They don’t know because they were intentionally kept in the dark. That is how high-control religions and cults operate. That is how you keep people under your thumb.

You ask how Christians could possibly think that evolution isn’t real? As someone who was raised that way, I’ll tell you.

From the moment my education started, I was fed misinformation. In kindergarten I learned about how God made dinosaurs, but they all died in the flood and the earth was too damaged afterward to support such big species even after they came off the ark. In middle school I watched Ken Ham and Kent Hovind videos about how carbon-dating is all bogus and if any scientist tries to use it to debate you, you can say “Aha! I knew you were wrong!” and end the discussion there. In highschool I took apologetics, where we learned how to “defend our faith” by constantly moving the goalposts when we spoke to atheists. We were taught that “What happened to the Missing Link?” is a gotcha that no scientist would ever be able to dispute, and so obviously we were the ones in the right. I was told at every possible opportunity that Bill Nye is literally the antichrist, that he doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about, and that any Creationist (Christian “scientists”) could debate him into the ground because he’s so stupid.

I didn’t question any of it because that wasn’t an option. It was *literally* all I knew. I had such a fundamental misunderstanding of science as a whole that when I was exposed to true scientific facts and processes and studies for the first time, I could scoff and say “Don’t they know that’s not even a real thing? How ridiculous that they’d think I would believe it!”

I’m doing the work now to re-educate myself. I have learned so much in just two years that I genuinely can’t speak to half of my family because it makes them so angry. And when I hear people talk about anything happening or existing “billions of years ago”, my knee-jerk reaction is still “The earth is nowhere near that old! That’s how I know they’re lying!” I have to intentionally reprogram my thinking every. single. time. that I engage with scientific literature or media.

It’s hard. It’s frustrating. And it all could’ve been avoided if my own parents hadn’t also been misled their whole lives. I’m not going to make excuses for them as adults, because learning and doing better is your own responsibility once you’re not a kid. But I will say that if their parents hadn’t also been misinformed, they wouldn’t have learned the same lies that they later went on to teach me and my siblings. It’s a vicious cycle, one that is designed to keep people ignorant. It is purposely designed not to have an out.

So yeah, I don’t really know how to end this post but please for the love of god, have some empathy for people who don’t know “common knowledge” facts about science or history. Most likely, it’s not their fault. And the way they push back at you with nothing but misinformation and a dream has been programmed into them probably since birth. This is why we need education, why we need schools, and why it is so vitally important that we as a society do the work to reform our education system.

[nocternalrandomness]

Amateur built 2019 Cub Crafters Carbon Cub FX-3 at the Ken Jernstedt Airfield Fly-In, Oregon

[barbielore]

It's no secret that my favourite collectors series is Dolls of the World. (Yes I know I started a bracket for it and never finished because work got real busy -- it's not abandoned just on indefinite hiatus I swear!)

While Dolls of the World represented Barbies of different world cultures to teach children about the world, the Pink Passport series features Barbie and friends as international jetsetters experiencing various parts of the world as tourists. Some are specifically themed around countries Barbie has traveled to, while others are less specific and more based on vacation activities.

For example, Barbie Pink Passport: Paris shows Barbie with a croissant, baguette and coffee mug featuring the tricolore. Pink Passport Italy trades out the baguette and croissant for a pizza and gelato.

Whereas Pink Passport: Winter Getaway is a giftset depicting all four current Roberts sisters at an unspecified ski resort.

Some are even less specific like Pink Passport Ken with motorcycle.

This one features a map to show his travels, but isn't otherwise themed in the same way that the Paris and Italy Barbies are. What is the map? I genuinely have no idea. I can't tell if it's a real place or not and I can't find a high enough resolution image to zoom in sufficiently to say for sure. Whatever it is, it isn't listed in the official Mattel product description which just describes it as "a map".

Probably the highlight of the collection is the Glamour Jet, which shows that while jetsetting around the world Barbie is not particularly interested in minimizing her carbon footprint.

Despite the fact that the plane exterior shows four rows of seats, the inside only has room for three Barbies.

Literally not even featuring enough room for the Pink Passport cabin crew (sold separately).

[elvisabutler]

I just wanted to start by saying I love your writing! I've read your BDE series, Dove series, and Queen of Graceland series, and I have had feelings I'm not sure I should enjoy while reading all three, even though I am almost 30. 😂🫣 Since your requests are currently open, I was wondering if you would ever be interested in writing something specifically for '60s-era movie Elvis? This is his husband era, and I love it so much. He is a clean, well-dressed, progressive man who is also a girl dad, and you know that he leaves the laundry in the hamper, makes the bed, and wears a tiara at his daughter's tea parties. 😂 If you have the time and inspiration, I would absolutely love your take on some domestic fluff with him, maybe taking care of a pregnant partner or helping set up a new baby's room? Thank you for being so awesome and sweet, and I hope you have a great weekend/week!

we plan a big family

summary: elvis doesn't always get time off to spend with you and his gaggle of children, but when he does he likes to make the most of it. fandom: elvis presley | elvis ( 2022 ) rating: t. pairing: elvis presley x female reader ( nicknamed belle ) word count: 1888 warnings: pregnancy. babies. a bit of innuendo involving oral at the end. kids being kids. minorly gross eating. honestly y'all this is fluffy as all hell. 60s elvis. author’s note: anon!!! my darling, this was originally going to be an entirely different fic but i figured you liked queen of graceland and this slotted weirdly well into it that i went okay we're gonna write it as a queen of graceland verse thing. but you're speaking my language on 60s movie elvis. that is my man just as much as big daddy if not more. my ken doll looking butthead. i'm delighted you enjoy my fics and that they've made you feel things you don't know if you should enjoy lol. also- listen you should know the feelings my 31 year old has felt reading some stuff on here. lawd have mercy. for those of you who don't know this takes place in my queen of graceland verse and can be read as either austin elvis or elvis and happy father's day to those who celebrate and happy sunday to those who don't! also. i live to see the excitement/comments that come from this fic and any fic i write endlessly and will always soak them up like a sponge. i'm also open to requests from this verse.

Elvis figures there's something about the fact that he grew up without a single living sibling that fueled this strange desire he had to have at least three children. Back with June and back with Anita he had known— he had pictured that little Elvis—the first little Elvis Presley running around with his siblings, laughing and having every bit of fun he's had to enjoy with cousins and neighborhood kids. He's always pictured his girl being a carbon copy of their mother except with his eyes that he can't resist when she pouts. Figures his wife would call him a pushover and that'd be that.

Then he met you and lord almighty and above, he can't help but figure the Lord gifted him the perfect woman to give him all of this. Sure, first set of kids had been conceived and born under less than ideal circumstances with everyone following practically one right after the other but he had made a joke one time when you were pregnant yet again after Jesse that you and him had always planned a big family and he'd be damned if the two of you didn't have it.

Hollywood finds it a little weird, and he knows this, knows that his costars find you to be an absolute delight when you bring the kids on set, a set of ducklings walking behind their waddling mother. Knows that his work schedule isn't always the best but he does try and make time for you and the kids. Truth be told any second he has a break it's spent with you and the kids. It aggravates the Colonel to no end but he remembers what it's like to not have his daddy around and he'd be damned if he did that to his kids.

"Mama!" His ears and mind register the shrill cries of his eldest daughters in the morning as he hears to groan beside him, attempting to move your head to burrow it into the pillow. The latest set of twins inside you had kept you up for far longer than was advised in your state and it showed in the bags under your eyes and the way you blink blearily at Elvis. After a moment you start to try and get out of bed, struggling to shift your weight before Elvis puts his arm across you and pulls you back closer to him.

"Oh no ya don't. I got'em lil mama," he murmurs against your neck earning a shiver from you before he pulls away. "You just rest here with those little hellions."

Your mouth opens in protest before you hear the squeak of the bed springs signaling that Elvis has already stood up. If he's up and it's a rare day off he has from filming or recording you can stay put. A relieved sigh leaves your lips as you sink back into the bed, your hand rubbing your stomach, willing the twins to stay asleep. Elvis leans over to give you a short peck of a kiss before brushing a bit of your hair out of your face.

"I'll tell the cook what to make for breakfast. Should manage a couple hours for ya. Rest up, Mama."

"'member, we gotta put the other crib up. Jus' in case they come early." A yawn overpowers the last few words you try to speak even as Elvis nods.

"That's an after lunch thing, darlin'. Relax and rest or I'll let 'em inside," Elvis threatens playfully as he walks to the door. The second he's outside, he's greeted by his eldest daughters tackling him in a hug.

"Swear y'all are gettin' stronger by the day. Damn near broke my back."

Elvis isn't necessarily big on routines when it comes to his kids, something about him preferring to be the one who spoils the kids with everything he couldn't have as a child. It's why despite Elizabeth and Loretta being awake, three out of the other four are still asleep, with Rebecca occupying a comfy spot in her father's arms.

What he is big on his making sure they keep their rooms organized and clean for your sake. Loretta and Elizabeth look so much like you that he has to take a moment to not fall for the matching puppy dog looks they give him in an attempt to weasel out of making their bed. After all, hadn't those eyes of yours gotten the pair of you in trouble in the first place?

"Ya know the rules I got for ya. Ain't askin' much, just a made bed and your pjs in the basket. Wanna tell me ya ain't doin' this for ya mama when 'm on set?" Elvis asks, shifting Rebecca on his shoulder. "'Cause ya know the punishment for that."

"No!!! No Daddy. No, we do it. We promise! We just don't wanna— not right now," Elizabeth whines ever the more talkative one out of the two of them. "Can't we make tea first?"

Elvis eyes the table in their room that has not one, but two pillows on it before turning back to look Elizabeth dead in the eye. "And jus' where did ya plan on givin' it to me. Got pillows on the table. Can't make tea without a table, yittle."

Loretta looks up at her daddy and realizes far before Elizabeth that they have lost this battle and moves to grab her pillow from the table, "he's right, Lizzy. Come on— if we hurry we can have the party 'fore pancakes."

Those prove to be the magic words as in a flash Elvis finds himself dragged to a little tiny chair he barely fits in while his oldest daughters rush through getting new clothes on and their beds made— in some kind of way. Once they were done they sat right down in front of him and placed a tiara on his head. "Princess Daddy, would you like some tea?"

He grins and shifts their younger sister yet again as he grabs a cup. "Why yes Princesses Loretta and Elizabeth. I'd love some."

The smell of bacon is what finally wakes you up, your body stretching as best as it can as you try and figure out just how far away the scent is before realizing it's in the same room as you. Your eyes blink slowly as they focus on your husband and your kids dressed and holding plates filled with food.

"What— What's this?" You ask with a yawn. "Shouldn't you be downstairs?"

Elvis laughs before setting Rebecca down next to you and motioning for the others to join her all while trying to not drop their plates. Without missing a beat you grab Anthony and Aaron's plates as the clamber up and only give them the plates back when they plop themselves down on the bed. "Maybe. But they wanted to eat wit' ya. So did I. Figured ya were still tired so we brought breakfast to ya."

"Ya gonna get crumbs ev'rywhere," you try and argue before Aaron takes that moment to shove a piece of his bacon in your mouth to silence you. "Guess I ain't gotta choice. Pass my plate, daddy."

At your playful tone he lets out another laugh and hands you plate as he climbs onto the bed, scooting in next to you. "Hope it's to ya likin', mama."

"Bacon could be a lil' softer, but it'll do fine." Your answer is clearly a joke as you shove the bacon in your mouth with a speed that startles Elvis. A question comes tumbling out of your mouth with a few bacon crumbs as you chew. "What time isit?"

"Ten AM. Didn't let ya sleep the whole day away," he murmurs with bacon in his own mouth. Watching as the gears turn inside your head as you look at your six children and raise an eyebrow. "Don't ya be sayin' it. They got clothes on. All the pjs are in the hampers. Beds look kinda made, but we ain't running an army base in this house."

A snort leaves your mouth before you have a chance to stop it. "Kinda made, huh? Guess that's the best I can ask for wit' daddy not helpin' the yittle hands."

Your youngest daughter pats Elvis's arm almost in a bit of a slapping motion and you have to bite your lip to try and not giggle even as he picks her up and scrunches up his face. "Now what's yittle Becky Wecky doin' hittin' daddy? Hm? Punishin' me for mama? Gonna make me hope one of yer new siblin' is a girl I can have on m''side. Yittle traitor."

Her answer to him is a simple raspberry filled with spit in his face and you finally start to lose it, accidentally spraying bacon crumbs on the bed and in one of your children's hair.

"Ew!!! Mama!"

It's another two hours before you manage to get out of bed and the children are off running amuck in the house as you sneak into the nursery. It's Rebecca's room for right now, but when the twins arrive she's going to be in her own room with her older sisters. You're pretty sure these are going to be your last children, if only because if you have many more you're not sure even Elvis's income can take care of them. The thoughts swirl around in your head and distract you to the point where you don't realize Elvis is behind you until you feel his arms wrap around you and feel his chin on your shoulder.

"What's goin' on in that pretty head of yourn?" The question's simple enough but you hum and wave your hand in a sign for him to ignore it.

"Nothin', Elvis. Jus' thinkin' you said this was an after lunch plan— you putting the other crib in here. Figure I can make it an after breakfast one.

Against your shoulder you feel the muscle in his jaw tense before feeling his exhale against your neck. "Drive a hard bargain, Mrs. Presley. What's in it for me? Do I get a reward for doin' it early?"

You turn to face him and shrug, "your wife's love and appreciation. What more could you want?"

You're quite certain Elvis can see the mirth in your eyes and the way you lift up your eyebrows in what you imagine is a questioning and yet innocent look. Thankfully that same mirth is reflected back at you with a trace hint of arousal as he looks you up and down.

"A bit of dessert 'fore my lunch. I'm a grown man, darlin'. I oughta eat so I keep these handles ya like so much," he whispers, leaning in a little closer and lifting your chin up to look directly in your eyes. "I drag it in here, we head to the bedroom when everyone's nappin'?"

"And you get t'eat the sweetest thing this side of the Mississippi, Mr. Presley?" The joke falls from your lips without a second thought as Elvis starts to laugh a full bellied laugh, tears erupting from his eyes the more he laughs.

"Like ya read my damn mind, Mrs. Presley. We gotta a deal? Can we shake on it?"

"Only if ya get that ice cream I like afterward."

taglist: @ab4eva, @blurredcolour, @butlersxbirdy, @precious-little-scoundrel, @eliseinmemphis, @prompted-wordsmith, @missmaywemeetagain, @lookingforrainbows, @araxw, @thatbanditqueen, @ellie-24, @austinbutlersgirl67, @heartbrake-hotel, @ccab, @18lkpeters, @slutforsomegoodlettuce, @dkayfixates, @kendralavon7, @chasingwildflowers, @notstefaniepresley, @wanderingelvis, @kxnnxy, @powerofelvis, @stylespresleyhearted y'all know the drill with the taglist by now.

[gaoau]

一 ; one ; uno

it's so cold warnings — none. word count — 4.0k

next.

ive long realized plenty of things i never needed—the past is never behind us, the present is fleeting, the future doesnt exist. theres a wrinkle in the sands of time. theres a fault in the fabric of the universe. there are many flaws everywhere i look. sano manjiro lies dead before me. mikey lies dead before me. blond hair and a dragon tattoo because we both miss ken. black hair that makes him look too much like shin. white hair and dark bags covered in tears. how many times have i seen this already? why have i seen this already? everything is broken. its disastrous and confusing and suffocating. i dont understand what im looking at.

i remember, just seconds ago, i was busy beating up some random guys from a rival gang. theres a reason we rule over the kanto area. we dont back down from a fight. so where did i go? where am i? why am i seeing this now? these are memories of a future i dont have. these are memories of a future i shouldnt have. its enough to drive me insane when i think that this is all i get for being next to mikey. i hold my breath and choke whenever hes around. that intoxicating grace of his, the one that sets him apart from the world, has been flooding my senses for longer than i can take. and i let him, because i want him to be happy. this is all i get; blood, gore, pain, death, loneliness.

i dont want to think about mikey any longer. ive done all i could, it seems. id just like to be free for one moment. i still see it all, futures im not a part of, futures that takemichi has made sure to change.

he wears that godforsaken dragon tattoo like a brand on his neck. long hair hes kept dyed through the years because he doesnt want to cut it off, but he doesnt want me to style it for him. i look at him and i see ken. its torture. the years have gone by, im still by his side, he still has me locked in place. he hasnt smiled in what feels like eons. im okay with that. his smile, that empty, silent smile has always made my stomach ache. im not okay with that. hes a carbon copy of ken. we both miss him, i know. it hurts him more than me, even if im the one staring at a burning ghost all day, every day.

we're alone. im alone with mikey. im all alone when im with him. its cold on top of this building, in the corner of the world, secluded from the city weve conquered. i stretch out my legs, leaning against the wall, squinting at the reflection of led lights bending to hit my eye. mikey is still as small as ever. hes so small despite sitting on his throne like this. the gun i hold weighs on my hand. neither of us know how to properly handle guns. weve been drowning in this business for over a decade, but we're very clearly still children.

the safety clicks as i press the barrel under my jaw. "itd be so easy, dont you think?" the sound of my voice calls to him. its the only familiar sound in his life. its why ive been staying with him. i couldnt save him, but at least he still clings onto me like this. hes had me trapped for so long that i seem to have forgotten i was ever my own person.

his darkened eyes shift towards me so slowly. i see his face twist into a panicked frown. "whatre you doing?" he doesnt move from where hes sitting against the wall adjacent to mine. he reaches with his foot to tap my knee. stop, hes trying to say, dont even think about it. hes scared, i can tell. ive learned to read him like the open book he is. his light has grown dimmer through the years. hes angry, i can tell. hes wondering if ill leave him, too.

"nothing," i sigh. i lower the gun and leave it on my lap for a second. "m just thinking…" and i think. yes, i think. i know i cant leave him. he doesnt let me. he keeps me tied down to him. a chuckle falls, sardonic. i point the gun at him. "i cant die before you, mikey." ive promised. ive sworn to stay by his side until the bitter end—until his bitter end.

he doesnt bat an eye. "are you gonna kill me?" its funny how he doesnt care that im the one wholl be killing him. im just making my job easier for myself. i wonder what kind of face kisaki will make when he finds out what ive done.

"do you want me to?" i know he does. tonight ill see we find peace, manjiro. im the only one who he can lean on now.

hes quiet for a second. his eyes are like black holes as they swallow up all the light. he stares straight at me without expression. then, in a whisper, he begs, "…please." he doesnt say my name. no, he hasnt said my name more than once in our lives. he calls me by that stupid nickname he made up when we were hanging out at grandpas dojo.

i cant help the soft simper pulling at my lips. hes still the same mikey i know. he still struggles with asking for help, even if its me. but he still asks; hes still vulnerable in front of me. i pat my lap, legs stretched out just for him. "come here, then," i invite him closer, ready to welcome him with open arms, "rest your head for a bit." rest before you leave.

he doesnt hesitate. he never hesitates. in a swift movement, the back of his head collapses onto me. his eyes, the ones hes kept me trapped in for all my life, they dance around the vast expanse of midnight above us. "the stars are lovely today." stars i once promised to drag down to his feet if he asked. stars i swore wed always watch together.

i hum in agreement. "thats why we're here." everyone knows that stars only come out at night. we both know we're the two brightest burning stars in the world. we sit here, where people can see us burn and consume ourselves until we get crushed. "itll be over soon, i promise." the same way i promised him forever. ill hold him until the moment he dies. 

"thanks." ah, now he chooses to use my actual name. he can be so unfair. he could save a life, but he decided to take mine away instead. under his charm, i let him drag me down. we die hand in hand.

there are no tears; not from me, not from him. it seems weve both been waiting for the other to make the first move. hes so tired and so am i. with a singed throat, the words sting on my tongue as i remind him, "i love you, manjiro." theres no other feeling in the world like loving sano manjiro. i look into his darkened gaze and deny the truth staring back at me. its all a mess, scraping away at my mind. my love and hate look quite alike.

i can hardly tell light from dark or right from wrong anymore. mikey replies, "i love you." again, he dares not say my name. i hate him. he makes me go weak at the knees, even as i slump against the wall. i wonder if its him or the cross im bearing on my back, weighing me down.

mikey closes his eyes. he wants to let go. hes letting me go. its been years and hes finally letting me go. the wind howls and screams our names in my ears as i press the barrel of my gun to his forehead. we're stars; we'll burn, we'll rest, we'll disappear. we go down together. i shoot. his body relaxes against my legs. i feel the warmth of his blood seeping through my clothes. hes free. the gentle quirk of his lips tells me hes happy hes dead. maybe im just making it up. maybe i just want to believe ive done something.

i lift my head to the sky. the gun is warm against my skin. my pulse doesnt tremble when i pull the trigger.

im free.

but we arent free. i walk into his room to find mikey slumped against a corner. hes here again, a ghost of ken. how come his eyes grow darker every time i look? i scratch away an itch on the underside of my jaw, clearing my throat to let him know im here, it's me. he doesnt bother lifting his head for me. i stand right in front of him, bare feet centimeters away from his crossed legs. ive heard what hes done. he didnt check in with me before killing our friends. if takashi dies, then i stay. if pah dies, then i stay. ken and kei died, so i stay. he knows ill follow him to hell.

it hurts me, too. he cant let go of me and hes bruising my wrists. i want him to be happy. i want him to be free. i want to be free. "takashi, pah, peh, chifuyu." the list rings with poison in both of our ears. how did we get here?

"takemicchi got away," he mumbles. i highly doubt takemichi matters much right now. we stopped trusting him long ago. he changed after bloody halloween and mikey couldnt understand why.

i crouch to try and meet his eyes. charming, deadly works of art. viral. it's been years, but he still holds me in his gaze. "never woulda guessed chifuyu was working with tora. after killing kei, i thought for sure he wouldnt forgive him." theres no sugarcoating needed. i dont censor my words. his wounds are fresh and i keep digging my fingers into his flesh to make them deeper. i make all his mistakes real for him because he wants to be scolded. he cant ask for sympathy—he only asks for cruelty.

theres a pause. a silence that hangs. it's heavy, stagnant. it pulls at the seams. "kazutora needs to go, too."

my knees come in contact with the floor as i lean towards mikey. i wrap my arms around his head, cradling him to my chest. hes still warm. he rests his forehead against me. "theres no time, mikey. you cant do this any longer." youre falling apart, manjiro. i pull my gun from its holster, cocking it as i bury it in his hair.

"set me free." he pronounces that stupid nickname, chaos of my real name. i cant discern if hes begging or ordering me.

i hum softly. he put his trust in me. "i love you." he nods. the gunshot echoes in the quiet room. it rings in my ears. i see splatters of mikeys blood on the wall. i feel his body relax in my arms. with the barrel against my temple, i shoot myself free.

a headache splits my skull apart as i watch this unwind. have i seen this before? no, mikeys hair is pitch black. im glad he doesn't let it fall over his forehead. i don't think i could bear to look at shin so much. i was adamant to cut it for him when he asked. the list is the same, though much longer. takashi, pah, peh, chifuyu, tora, the twins, hakkai, even ken. hes talking with takemichi now. it's easy to tell what mikey wants from him. im no good in this future. i don't have what takemichi has.

there is nothing left here for us. i wait among the shadows and debris, listening to mikey confess all his crimes. he veered down the wrong path. ive kept by his side all this time, holding him at his most vulnerable, but im not a savior. takemichi can save him in a way i can't. all ive done so far is push back the inevitable. mikey falls victim to his dark impulses every time. who am i to stop him? he keeps the safety of his gun on; i don't. i can save myself.

"kill me," he says. i feel like ive heard that before. it's not directed at me, though. i won't stop him. all mikey wants is to die and be free. that's what i want, too.

takemichi is, understandably, confused. he doesn't get it. maybe that's why mikey has chosen him. takemichi tries to figure out what mikeys trying to tell him. he asks about the friends hes murdered. it must be frightening for him to hear his former commander speak so nonchalantly about setting hakkai on fire. he asks about me. mikey glances at where im hidden. i catch the look in his eyes. those eyes that had me wrapped around his finger when he so intensely stared into my soul. they quiver.

hes helpless. hes scared. hes tired. hes horrified. he doesn't know what to do. he pounces on takemichi and threatens him. then a gunshot rings. it's not mikeys, it's not takemichis. and it's certainly not mine. mikey is dead. mikey is free. i swore to him that i would see him to his end. we die hand in hand, don't we, manjiro?

tachibana naoto, hinas little brother shot him. i remember her mentioning him to me once. ironic how hes the one to kill mikey, of all people. as takemichi cradles mikeys dead body in his arms, i step out of my waiting spot. it alerts both men instantly. naoto is wary of my presence, but takemichi believes in hope. he exclaims my name with enthusiasm. perhaps he thought mikey had killed me as well when he didn't answer. as if mikey would ever let me go.

"im just here to pick him up," i let them know i mean no harm.

naoto is a cautious man, if anything. "takemichi-kun, get behind me." id never do anything to hurt takemichi. he doesn't need to be worried about me.

i kneel before takemichi, extending my arms out. i remove mikeys burdens from his chest to take him away with me so we can both find peace. his blood smears on my clothes and i know takemichi will have a hard time forgetting this sight. mikey doesn't weigh much. it's painful knowledge.

as i haul mikey away, takemichi calls, "wait!"

there's nothing left to say, though. mikey has confessed all his crimes. mikey has confessed all his pains. "it's over, takemichi." i can't bring myself to curse him with that stupid nickname after all these years. "it's finally over." we're finally free. welcome home, manjiro. i wonder, if i smiled, would it hurt him? it'd be genuine happiness, but it's not like he'd be able to read that, so i don't. mikeys body is cold and stiff against mine. i let him rest against me, eyes closed and dried tears on his cheeks. he hasn't cried in so long. he leans his head on my shoulder. he always does this when he lets his vulnerability show. "i love you, manjiro," i remind him. hes all i have. i press my gun to the roof of my mouth. i don't get to taste it.

it's never over. my tongue feels dry when i chew on it out of anxiety. ive heard three shots. i see haru waiting behind a corner as mikey finishes his business. i didn't even glance at takemichi before i decided i couldn't do this. i wonder how much longer it'll take mikey to come up here and join me. this is the tokyo we conquered; this is not the dream mikey had. if he'd had a better moral compass, if he hadn't let ken go, if he hadn't put his trust in me, maybe this wouldn't have happened.

i hear footsteps behind me. here he is. i hug one of my legs to my chest, the other one dangling off the edge. we're on top of the world. it's a long way back home from up on this rooftop. he stands next to me in complete silence. so he's left takemichi to die. he was hopeless and helpless until the very end. i can't blame him. he's been through so much. he doesn't know how to share. he takes on all of the pain. he can only ask to be punished, because aid isn't a word in his vocabulary.

mikey pipes up, "you've been waiting for me here?" it doesn't surprise him at all. i know him like the back of my hand. this is how he takes responsibility for the last decade of misfortunes. he'll end it all.

"i couldn't bare to watch you keep making these mistakes," i reply truthfully. ive seen this before. i glance up at him and he glances down at the street. don't look down, manjiro. you won't survive this trip to hell.

it sounds like he wants to laugh. he doesn't. instead he brings back a conversation we had when we were fourteen. "that's why you're better than me." hardly. he says that stupid nickname clinging to me like a curse.

"after you." i motion towards his kingdom, to the path covered in blood and snow.

mikey looks at me briefly, quiet. then he cranes his neck up at the sky. "you won't stop me?" i see the tattoo on his nape. he put it there so he wouldn't have to look at it. it burns on his skin as it burns on my shoulder blade.

"i can't." i don't have the rights to stop him. i didn't do it in other timelines, im not going to start now. this is the only way for us to be free. it's tragic how unfortunate we are. maybe we deserve it.

how does one normally respond to a friend committing suicide? how does one respond to a friend letting them commit suicide? it's not what mikey does when he hums. "i'll see you later." he disappears into his own mind. whose face is he seeing? shins? emmas? i would hope. "everyone, let's do this!" there's a grin on his face. ive missed it. he hops off the roof and away from me.

"ill see you later."

i hear haru screaming all the way from the street. he's distressed. he's been with manjiro just as long as i have. mikey trapped him the same way he trapped me, but somehow worse. i know im not free as long as i stay next to mikey. i stay out of love and selfishness. haru stays out of fear and obsession. i know im not free, but im still my own person.

and i don't fool myself.

mikeys falling to his death, peaceful. an arm shoots out from the building and latches onto him. i smile bitterly, a sigh tumbling from my lips. "sucks that death is a bit of a bitch for both of us." i want to jump, too. i stick to my perch and swallow my pride, because im my own person, but im not. i can't die before mikey, i can't leave him alone.

i see the tears pouring out of his eyes. he begs for help, finally, for the first time in his life. it's enough to make me cry, too. he's being weak for the whole world to watch him burn himself to oblivion. takemichi scolds him. he struggles to hold on when the cross he's bearing weighs him down. twelve years of pain make him slip from his saviors grasp. there's nothing i can do.

blond hair and passive, ken's tattoo, black hair and chaos, izana's earrings. reality is broken for me, pieces of different timelines scattered on the floor. i have all these memories that aren't mine. mikey lies dead before me in a billion angles no one else can see. i don't understand why im seeing this now. i know ive seen it before. it's been two years since i last had to suffer through this. time is shattered and it hurts.

i hear that nickname ring in my ears. when i blink, mikey's corpses are gone. there's a weight in my hand and it's not from a gun. im gripping an unconscious boy by the collar. my knuckles sting. the skin of my hands is split open, bleeding. i remember now. we were wiping out a rival gang that challenged us. i turn towards mikey, trying to blink him into focus. "sorry, what'd you say?"

he stares back at me with hollow eyes. there's a tiny furrow in his brow that others wouldn't be able to pinpoint. "let's go," he repeats, nodding his head for me to follow him. i see haru and koko waiting for us behind him. they both look away when i catch their gazes.

"oh, yeah." i clear my throat. the kid im holding slips from my fingers and crumbles on the floor. his head bounces when it hits the ground. next to the blood splattered on the dirt, a tear drops. i realize it's mine instantly. im crying. i wipe at my eyes with my sleeve to pretend nobody saw me. i don't think i can explain what's made me cry like this in the middle of a fight. there's a discomfort in my throat, and remnants of a headache pulse in my temples, and the roof of my mouth itches. im still crying. the tears fall, but i feel nothing. this anguish isn't mine to feel.

i cough into my fist as i walk to stand next to mikey so we can head back. there's an open gash on his leg that he's ignoring. what's a little wound to the invincible mikey, after all? i know nobody is invincible, let alone manjiro, because i know people die, because ive killed him with my own two hands. ill take care of it for him later; mikey is my responsibility. he waits for me to join him. my shoulder brushes against his. he glares at my tears so intensely. "are you okay?" he asks quietly, like he doesn't want the two boys ahead of us to hear.

i turn my head to find his eyes. it's like he's trying to bring all my deceit to light, like im not allowed to hold secrets. i see those black holes that swallow up his own deceit. all i see, rather than the mikey right in front of me, is his corpses in variety, because i killed him, because i let him die, because that's what he wanted and that's the only way he could be free. so i clear my throat again, "yeah, just got dizzy." he knows it's a lie, instantly. my voice doesn't waver when i lie, but it gets small. he knows.

he lets silence hang for a moment. "did you eat today?"

i shake my head. "i was waiting for you." my attention flutters back to the two boys a few paces ahead. they're awfully quiet.

so is mikey. i feel him still staring at me. "okay." and he looks away, too.

[trashbag-baby666]

Kurt + sensory prompts 21?

You have no idea how excited I was to write this!!! So much so I wrote way more than intended!!! Please enjoy!!!

He Marks His Fingertips in my Skin-Kurt (Curt/ken)

Summary: Curt's finally home after being gone for work and Ken wants to surprise him. 21, thigh high stockings and garter belts.

WC: 2,480

C/W: smut.

MOTA Masterlist!

Curt: I can't wait to see you tonight.

Ken: Me either.

Ken: I have a little surprise for you ;)

Curt: Do you now? :)

Ken: Yeah, I think you'll really like it.

Curt hated being away from Ken when he had overnight flights. He'd be gone from three days to a week or more. But coming home arguably was his favorite part.

The sound of the gravel driveway under the tires of the truck alerted Humvee. He picked up his head and his ears perked up, "Yeah, is dad finally home?" Ken smiled to himself standing up off the couch and unlocking the front door. He let him out onto the deck, the German Shepherd sitting by the screen door wagging his tail.

Curt waved to them grabbing his suitcase out of the back. He could make out from the porch lights Ken in a silk slip. He felt his stomach flip and his cheeks heat up knowing what tonight would entail.

"Hey Curtie." He held the screen door open for him.

"Hi, Kenny." He let go of his suitcase and pulled Ken in by his waist for a kiss, Curt tipping his head further into Ken's lips. He could basically taste how much Curt had missed him, "Did you tuck just for me, pretty boy?"

He felt his lips instinctively part letting out a whine as Curt took a handful of his crotch. "Maybe, but not for anyone driving by to see."

Ken pulled away, shaking his finger at Curt. He grabbed the suitcase handle and his pilot's hat off of him. He crooked it onto his own curls sending a wink to Curt as he turned, flicking his slip up past his ass and walking inside.

Curt swallowed hard, feeling the crotch of his pants begin to tighten. "Come on, inside boy." He scratched Hums behind the ear and followed after Ken.

"I'll get Cleo and Hums their bedtime treat and you meet me in the bedroom?"

"Don't keep me waiting." Curt wrapped his hand around Ken's ass squeezing. Ken felt the grin spread onto his face as he playfully shoved Curt away from him.

When Ken came sauntering into the bedroom closing the door behind him. Curt was able to finally see the full outfit. He had on white stockings and white leather garters. He sure hoped he had on the matching lingerie set under. Ken got on his knees in front of him from where he sat at the edge of the bed. "Let me get that for you, baby." He took his belt in his hands, unfastening the buckle, "Did you have a good flight home?"

"Yeah, pretty smoothe. Me and Dickie had time to actually just talk. Y'know I haven't flown with him lately."

“I'm glad, he should come over again for dinner sometime. I don't think I've seen him in a couple months." Curt let Ken slide off his pants with that angel soft touch.

His sweet, sweet boy.

"I gotta figure out next time Brady and Ham are back in town to have him over. Taco Bell three five nine reunion."

"Want this off?" Ken tapped his fingers against the carbon fiber socket.

"Please."

Curt watched Ken press the pin on the side releasing his prosthetic from the liner, setting it aside gently then peeling the liner off. 

"Did you have a good week? How was work?"

"Pretty good, I finished fixing the engine on the Luscombe eight F.

"Proud of you." Curt shivered against Ken as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers, shimmying them down, "Think it's only fair that you take this off?" Curt tugged at the thin, spaghetti straps of the slip.

“Yeah, I agree.” Ken put his hands on either side of him pushing himself up. 

“You’re so fuckin’ sexy.” He growled into Ken, the other boy straddling his waist and pulling him in for a deep kiss, tasting his strawberry lip gloss. He took no time grabbing the bottom hem of the slip and pulling it up over his head, tossing it aside. Then he stared at the transparent white lace top and the matching lace panties hanging low on him. Curt hooked his fingers into the panties pulling him back in for a rougher kiss, forcing his tongue down Ken's throat. Pleased with himself when he felt the moan rumble through Ken, grinding his hips down hard into his.

He wrapped his hands around his hips feeling the soft lace on his palms, he squeezed Ken's hips restricting his motion. He held him still the hiccup for air echoing from Ken’s mouth into his own. “Let me earn it, sir.” 

That angelic, beautiful voice rang through Curt’s ears. Letting go of Ken as he got off the bed and on his knees. “What're you gonna do for me, cherub?” 

He stared longingly into the beautiful green eyes flicked up at him, in one swift motion Ken took the base of his cock in his hand and hollowed out his cheeks swallowing it whole.

“Oh.” Curt purred out, digging a hand into the sheets, the other instinctively going into Ken’s curls. He didn’t break eye contact while sliding his mouth up his cock, sending Curt into a deep shiver nearly bucking his hips into him. It’d only been five days but for Curt it felt like a century. There was only so much his hand and a Polaroid of Ken could do. 

“Just like that,” with Ken’s hair he pushed him back down feeling his tip hit the back of his mouth. The other let out a gagged sound, a drop of saliva running down his chin, “Youse’ gonna keep teasing me, Angel?”

“No, sir.” Ken mumbled around the cock with steady pacing bobbing his head. His dick becomes increasingly hard under the soft, amazing lips of Ken’s. 

“You’ve been such a good boy for me, Kenny. I’ll let you pick how you want it tonight.” Curt purred, tipping Ken’s chin up slightly, seeing the tears beginning to drip out of his glassed over eyes. A proud smile falling onto Curt’s face reminding him just how easy he could make his sweet boy fall apart. 

Taking the tuft of dirty blonde boy's hair he pushed Ken’s head back down onto his cock. “You’re all mine, you sweet little slut.” 

He could feel the knot in his stomach forming, usually he could last longer but he had felt so depraved. 

“Come on, pretty boy. Oh, oh.” Curt sat forward Ken flattening his tongue out on the underside of his cock. He couldn’t even process another thought as he shot his seed down Ken’s throat. Filling the boy's mouth with his seed, swallowing around him, “Fuckin’ hell Kenny.” He looked down at his boy seeing the sweet saliva and seed dripping down his chin. “Come here.”

That’s all he said before Ken launched himself up onto Curt straddling his waist and ripping his shirt off like some deranged fan girl. “How do you want it tonight, baby?”

“I wanna ride.” He could feel Ken’s breath against his neck as he kissed all over him. Curt let a toothy smile split his face hooking his pointer finger into the panties and snapped them against Ken.

“So fuckin’ hungry aren’t ya’?” Curt moved back leaning against the pillows and headboard. He could see the bulge in the front of the lace white panties, his pretty, pink cock pushing out begging for Curt to touch it. 

“Please, daddy. Oh my god.” Ken grinded himself down onto Curt’s thigh. He could feel how damp Ken already was. Wrapping his arms around his waist he hooked his knee between Ken’s legs, flipping them over. 

“My beautiful, beautiful sweet boy.” Curt mumbled against his skin wrapping his lips around his collarbone nipping at it. He felt the lace rub against his cheek continuing to nip at his angel, soft, and sweet skin. He tasted like fuckin’ candy, “How’d I get s’fuckin’ lucky?”

Ken’s head tipped against the pillow he squirmed under him. Beautiful stifles of noises falling from his lips. 

“My angel and he’s all just for me.” He placed kisses all the way down his dewy skin. He took the band of the lace panties between his teeth feeling the thin fabric as he pulled them off of Ken.

“Oh my god,” Ken watched his cock seeping out with pre cum. The primal look in Curt’s eyes as he locked eye contact tugging the panties down. His cock slapped against his stomach as it finally came free. Shimming the panties down he held them in his hands taking in the smell of his sweet boys sent. Ken grabbed Curt’s dog tags in a swift motion pulling him back down towards him.

“You can’t wait any longer? You wanna be a brat for me?” He let the panties fall to the side of the bed with the rest of the clothes. Oh god, Curt wanted to take a picture of Ken so bad. Laid out all pretty in his white lace, his cock hard as could be looking as if he might literally pop from ejaculating. 

“Please, daddy, please.” His eyes welling up with tears all over again. A sadistic smile fell onto his face, licking a strip from the base of his cock up. “Oh my. Curtie. Oh my god!” His curls pressed into the pillow arching his back just the slightest. Taking handfuls of the bedsheets. 

“Jus’ you wait, baby.” Curt leaned over opening his bedside table drawer. Fishing out the bottle of lube sent a shiver down Ken’s spine, “Up.” He commanded him like a dog. The two of them swapped places, Ken sat on his knees staring at Curt trying everything in his power to not touch himself. 

He had waited and waited all week for this. His cock was throbbing and he needed the warm feeling of that girthy cock in him right now. He was tempted to just ask Curt to go without fingering him. 

“Come,” Curt pointed at his own chest. Straddling Curt’s hips the lace stockings were making him sweat even more. He felt so unbelievably sexy right now, but almost anyone could feel that way when Curtis Biddick looked at them like that, “Remindin’ me of our weddin’ night.”

He shivered thinking about the night's events in the hotel room. John and Gale joined them, Gale's cock shoved up inside Ken’s hole with Curt’s. “Please, daddy I’m so.” He went to grind back into him but Curt grabbed his thigh squeezing just above the garter. 

“Sit still.”

“Yes sir.” He swallowed hard watching Curt teasingly squirt out the lube slowly as possible. Maybe he’d be ruining Ken’s orgasms tonight. One after another, until he was so pent up he’d come without Curt’s permission. 

“Come on, ass up.” Swiftly he leaned forward onto Curt, his back arched, his ass up for him.

The sting of a slap against it sent a mewling noise out of his mouth, his lips parting slightly, “Ready sugar?”

“Mhm,” he let out a relaxing breath into Curt as he inserted his two fingers inside of him. They felt so warm and callus inside of him and that familiar feeling he had missed. 

He’d been horny and pent up all week, at one point even going to Gale and John for relief. He began to move them inside him, pumping in and out at a slow pace. He held himself up tight so as not to force his hips back into him. God, he wanted to so badly, but he couldn’t be bad for Curt tonight.

“Sir,” he whined out into Curt’s neck, mouthing at his skin. 

“Yeah, baby boy?” 

“Can you add another finger, please?” He needed him so bad. 

“You ask so nicely, of course I can’t tell my baby no.” He could practically feel the grin on Curts cheeks as he stuck his ring finger into him. His mouth fell open against Curt as he felt the stimulation on his nipples from moving just the slightest against him. The lace rubbed them just perfectly. 

“Uh, uh.” He whined out practically wanting to bite at his neck to suppress his noises.

“Oh my god Kenny. You’re fuckin’ beautiful noises. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Please.” Ken felt Curt’s fingers essentially come ripping out of him, his calloused hands guiding his hips to sit back on his cock.

Curt put a hand on the bed sitting himself up more, Ken on his knees as he instantly started rocking his hips. Letting out a choked sob Curt wrapped his hand around the tip of his cock running his thumb over the slit. Pre cum dripping out nearly instantly. He was beginning to see stars already 

“Let me see those pretty eyes.” Curt purred bucking his hips up into him taunting him. 

“Right there, please. Keep going.” Ken grinded his hips down back into him meeting the thrust. Curt dropped his cock and grabbed the boy by his jaw.

“You heard me, Kenny.” 

He had, but he felt so good. He didn’t want it to stop, his tears pricking his eyes from the white, hot pleasure. But then it all stopped. Curt’s hands squeezing Ken’s hips stopping him in his tracks.

Ken flicked his teary, glossed over eyes up at him. “How hard was that baby, that’s all I asked for.”

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

“Do you wanna cum, baby?”  

“Mhm, yes daddy.” He pushed out his bottom lip grinding his hips further again. Curt pulled Ken into his chest pushing further into him, bottoming out. Ken let out a stifled gasp into his ear, rocking his hips back and forth trying to gain any friction on his swollen cock. 

“Oh, baby boy.” He hooked his fingers into the white lace strap snapping it against his back. He let out an airy gasp biting at Curt’s neck.

“Right there, daddy.” Ken was on the brink of his first orgasm of the night. His cock throbbing against Curt’s stomach, the other delivering even blows into him. He felt Curt’s cock hit his prostate and he couldn’t hold it anymore. “M’ gonna cum.”

“Cum for me, baby.” Curt wrapped his hand back around his cock his calloused hands pumping him once, twice, thumb over the slit. He was finished as he lurched forward into Curt, a pained screech leaving his throat, his head falling back and his back arched sinking further into Curt’s cock. 

“Do you want me to come inside you?” Ken nodded, his curls falling into his face. Pushing his hips forward into his aftershock.

“Kenny, oh my god.” The feeling of the hot liquid filling him was just what he needed after a week away from him.

“Can we go for another round?” Ken panted into Curt’s neck, “You pick the position?”

��Fuck yeah.”