#also sorry he looks weird i suck at drawing him from different angles </3

[fitzfunnymoments]

Twitter meme that I was too sick to do originally but decided to finish anyway because the sketch turned out good lol

[ayellowcurtain]

Sander being down coming out of a depressive episode. Being soft, wanting cuddles and not wanting to be far from robbe if he doesn’t need to be. So robbe letting him lay his head on his lap as robbe studies for exams. Or robbe wrapping his arms around sander from behind and his legs as well as he plays video games with the boys. Basically sander following robbe around the apartment as sander heals and comes out of his episode. Robbe feeding him taking care of him. // Can you please, write about Sander having a bad dream and it waking Robbe up, Sander asking Robbe for cuddles so he can go back to sleep, Sander being the little spoon. Just Robbe taking care of Sander after a bad dream

It’s different for both of them. And it’s probably not right, but despite popular beliefs, humans don’t always process their feelings in a socially acceptable way. Robbe likes when Sander needs him, he likes it when his boyfriend is clingy, constantly needing Robbe’s touch or just his presence. And Sander feels a little bad for selfishly wanting Robbe all to himself, but he doesn’t say it, he just says fuck everyone else and holds Robbe a little tighter, closer to him.

If it was a choice, Sander wouldn’t let Robbe see him when he’s not feeling fully like himself. He knows it’s a lot to deal with it and it’s not because they are together that Robbe is forced to be around when Sander himself would like to run away. 

But the problem is that being with Robbe seems to make the days go by quicker and not as bad as when he’s alone or with anyone else, because Sander can see his boyfriend right there, looking like he’s thinking about anything, never about running as far away from Sander as possible.

Robbe is not one to ditch his friends to hang out with Sander, not when he and his friends already have plans. Even if Robbe doesn’t feel like going, he goes anyway because he never likes to disappoint anyone. And they’ve been hiding inside Robbe’s bedroom for almost two days and Jens keeps texting him, asking to go skate.

Sander didn’t ask him to stay because Robbe would do it and Sander would feel guilty and Jens would probably hate him. Not that he cares that much about Jens’ opinion about him, but he doesn’t want to make Robbe deal with him for another full day.

It’s been three hours since Robbe left and Sander keeps checking his phone, trying to go back to sleep, let Robbe be a normal person for a little longer. He moves without thinking, grabbing his phone from underneath Robbe’s pillow, texting him.

to Robbe: How’s your date with Jens going?

Can you come home?

I miss you too much

He instantly regrets when he sees the online that pops on his screen as soon as Robbe receives the last text. Sander could have sent it all in one, but he decided to be selfish and send a bunch of texts to get Robbe’s attention back on him, not on Jens or the skate park.

to Sander: Is everything ok?

I’m leaving, be home in fifteen or something like that.

to Robbe: I’m ok, sorry, no need to rush, cutie.

to Sander: I’m on my way <3

Sander puts his phone back underneath the pillow that smells like Robbe, hiding his face against it for a little, smiling excitedly to himself. Robbe is too good to be true and he deserves so much better. Sander doesn’t have the courage to break up with him though. He’ll be selfish forever and always choose to stay with Robbe, even if it sucks for him.

The least Sander can do is be presentable, so he forces himself to get up, grabbing Robbe’s towel on his chair, still a little cold from not drying completely since last night, and he throws it over his shoulder. He stops at the door, watching as Milan comes home and walks past the door, going straight to the kitchen. If Sander is careful enough, Milan won’t even see him crossing the hall to go take a shower. He opens the door and quickly goes to the bathroom, locking the door.

He hasn’t showered in a few days. It was too much work to get out of his comfort bubble inside Robbe’s bedroom, probably hiding against Robbe’s neck for most of that time. It could be worse, he could smell worse, but a shower won’t hurt.

Even the shampoos and conditioners are labeled and Sander grabs Robbe’s as he lets the water hit in between his shoulder, right on the nape of his neck. It feels relaxing, a little too much for someone that’s already feeling drained, but Sander ignores it, opening the shampoo and smiling when his affective memory instantly connects the smell to the comfort of being with Robbe.

Sander likes Robbe’s hair way too much, especially the ones that are long enough to go all the way to his neck. When they’re kissing for hours and hours, Sander presses his fingertips against Robbe’s hair, wanting him even closer and Robbe whines and melts into him and that’s all Sander needs, ever.

There’s not much Robbe can do that doesn’t make Sander’s brain go completely blank, just craving more Robbe.

He takes a very quick shower, washing his hair with Robbe’s things, rushing back to his bedroom, putting some clean clothes on, lying down again, looking at the door as he waits for Robbe to come back already.

When he hears the front door being unlocked, Sander moves closer to the center of the bed so Robbe won’t have a choice but be close to him. Everyone else is home, also hiding inside their bedroom, it has to be Robbe. 

Sander hears Robbe hanging his jacket and his bag, kicking his shoes off and his shadow appears at the door, carefully opening it, putting his head inside. 

“Hey...” Robbe smiles bright, finally walking inside, closing and locking the door behind him, always keeping his eyes on Sander, working his magic, making Sander’s insides warm up instantly just by having Robbe’s eyes on him. 

“Hi.” He lifts the blanket and Robbe sits on the bed, kissing his forehead, showing the little package that he’s been holding. 

“Brought some food for you. You want it?” Even if Sander didn’t want it, Robbe is already resting against the headboard, carefully opening the package. Sander is not too hungry, but he can’t remember the last time he properly ate and that can’t be good. 

He snuggles closer, laying his head on Robbe’s lap, watching him grab the plastic fork that came with the container. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.” 

Robbe smiles at him, opening the container and the smell quickly fills Sander’s nostrils. It smells good at least. He watches as Robbe picks something for him to eat. 

There’s no steam coming out from the angle that Sander is seeing, but he watches as Robbe takes a bite to see if it’s too hot. He raises his eyebrows when he confirms that it’s not too hot, finally giving Sander some of the food. “No, I’m actually so in love and I keep thinking about my boyfriend, lying in my bed, waiting for me and then I needed to bring him something.” 

Sander is not a picky eater, so he eats whatever Robbe offers to his mouth, just enjoying how proud of himself Robbe looks. It’s a weird angle, so Robbe is extra careful not to miss his target and he smiles sometimes, making Sander smile too, not as enthusiastically. 

“How was your date with Jens?” Robbe stops feeding him, raising his eyebrows, clearly bothered by Sander’s jealousy dressed as a stupid joke.  

“It was lovely. We kissed and fucked, better-” 

Sander feels his blood boiling even though he’s sure it’s bullshit. Robbe would never. “Stop.” 

“You started...” Robbe comes closer, kissing Sander, putting his food aside. “It was cool, but I missed you terribly.” 

They stay close for a while, looking into each other’s eyes, forgetting about the food, not kissing either. Robbe’s fingertips tingle under his jaw, close to his chin with the lightest touch. And he’s the one to break the silence, sitting up to put the rest of the food on his nightstand, finally coming to lie down next to Sander, purring when Sander lifts the sheets again to pull him closer, with nothing in between them, instantly tangling their legs together. 

“When did you really fell for me?” Robbe asks after hiding his face against Sander’s neck for what it feels like a long - but not long enough - time. 

“Before you.” Sander moves away just enough to be able to see Robbe’s face, letting Robbe’s fingertips draw small circles on his collarbone underneath the shirt (it’s actually Robbe’s shirt). 

Robbe smiles, pushing his bleached and damp hair away from his eyes. “The exact moment. Tell me how it was, how you felt.” 

Sander smiles, coming a little closer again, touching Robbe’s nose with the tip of his own whenever he talks. 

“Ok. I think it was when we were making croques together. You were all clumsy, not knowing what to do - I like to think it was because I was there with you - and you just let me feed you and I could tell you were a little uncomfortable, astonished if I can brag a little. And you looked so handsome and soft and I just needed to kiss you, but then Britt came in and ruined everything. You?”

“I guess when I kept having to watch you with Britt and all I could think about was on how badly I wanted to be in her place. You were very touchy with her for someone that was falling for a third person.” Sander smiles and he means it this time, moving their heads a little to find the perfect angle, kissing Robbe slowly, snaking his arm around his waist, underneath Robbe’s oversized shirt. 

“If it makes it any better, I was thinking about you every time I kissed her during that weekend.” Sander tries to go for his puppiest eyes, raising his eyebrows too, smiling because he knows what he said - and what he did to Britt that weekend - wasn’t right and Robbe is not the type that likes doing the “wrong thing”, so he needs to appeal to Robbe’s soft spot for him. Sander doesn’t care about doing the “wrong” thing if it takes him to where he needs to be. 

And at the time, he needed to not cause any trouble with Britt so she could stay at that beach house for as long as Robbe would be there. If he fucked up that weekend, even in the little things, she would make a show, pack her bags and demand that Sander had to take her back home. And he couldn’t do that. He was finally right next to Robbe like he needed to be. 

[chokefriends]

Hall Pass

ZoSan modern AU fragment with cute boyfriend banter and light bondage. It's just 3+ kinds of trash, porny, giddy and fluffy, I cant stand myself 

Explicit, no warnings.

Read below or on AO3, I’m Ossicle!

Sanji blew through Zoro's front door swinging his keys on one finger, wearing a bloody oxford and a slightly frantic look.

“Mossman, I need a lemon zester and one hell of a hall pass.”

Zoro paused mid-crunch, hanging by the knees in the kitchen doorway, and took out one blaring ear bud. “...Whose ass??”

“Idiot. Move.”

Zoro crunched up so Sanji could get by underneath him. He checked his watch. Weird… the workaholic never left his shop before eight if he could help it. Sanji ran this artisanal butcher shop / charcuterie / whatever, the hipster kind with twelve different ground meat mixtures on ‘tap’ and all these tatted-up, lumberjack-looking shop boys manfully wrangling sausage links in the shopfront. Hence the blood-spattered shirt—chronic nosebleeds.

Zoro twisted around to watch the blond ransack his kitchen drawers, apparently for some ass-related thing.

“Turkey baster somewhere in there, if that's—”

Sanji stopped and shot him a look. “What? No. I'm looking for a lemon zester. And a hall pass… which, let me just say, I VERY fucking deserve after this hell week…”

Zoro plugged the earbud back in and resumed his upside down workout routine. Sanji was just getting himself into one of his rambling Sanji States. Probably just work-related; probably not requiring Zoro's input… He crunched and counted until, a few reps later, a blue eye was suddenly glaring in front of his face.

Sanji tugged an ear bud out of Zoro’s head.

“Lemon zester.”

Zoro dangled, and thought carefully. “The vibrating thing?”

“NO, you houseplant. The thing that's like a cheese grater but with little bitty teeth.”

“...and whose ass is this for?”

Sanji threw the earbud down and went back to tearing apart the kitchen.

Zoro swung down from the door-mounted bar and left him to it. He took a quick shower, and settled in the sectional couch with his sweatpants on and a pile of physio grading next to him. This class he was TAing for was fuckin brutal, tests every week and three exams, all graded by a small team of grad students who were rumored to be robots but were actually masochists. Just constant work; Zoro loved it.

Sanji finally found what he was after and slid over the top of the couch to join the stoic gradbot. He held his prize and looked at Zoro, eyebrows raised expectantly. This usually meant that he thought Zoro was being too stoic and should say something.

“...Bitty cheese grater,” Zoro commented.

“It’s a lemon zester.”

“For what.”

“Getting laid,” Sanji stated matter-of-factly.

Well. It wasn't the weirdest come-on the erratic gourmand had ever tried.

“Okay.” Zoro pulled the pert ass into his lap and went for it.

“Heyhey, hold it, hooold it, that’s not what I came here to… or actually… yeah, hm…” Sanji trailed off as strong hands grabbed at him greedily. His belt buckle clunked to the floor.

“Heh. Lemon zester…” Zoro shook his head. “You don’t have to stash all your weird kitchen stuff here just for an excuse to come over anymore. You know that right, Cook?”

“I know! Just… habit…”

“Mhm.” Zoro focused on the deepening arch of the back in front of him. He pulled the shirttails free and let his hands wander up underneath.

Sanji cleared his throat and tried to focus. “I was tryna ask for a thing, though. Uh…”

“Yeah? Something in particular?”

“Oh yeah, hall pass.”

Zoro paused for a second in case Sanji felt like making this easy and just saying what the hell that was. But the guy was either being coy or was getting distracted by the hand in his pants.

“That a position?” Zoro prompted.

“Hm? No, it's… do you seriously not know what a hall pass is?” Sanji looked over his shoulder.

“Well, sorry if I don't know all the gay lingo like some scene queens—”

He could just feel the force of Sanji's eyeroll. “It's not even! It's such a straight boy thing, you've definitely heard it, bro-y scene like yours. Like ‘bruuuh, Vegas bruh, got a hall pass from the ol ball and chain,’ ugh.”

Zoro frowned. “Great. So am I the bro or the ball and chain.”

Sanji clambered around to face him instead. “Oh my god don't be ugh about it. I'm just observing how your muscle nerd crowd is a whole thing. Don't get off-topic.”

“Well you're the one calling people bros, so—”

“Well you're the one going to grad school for gym, so.”

Sanji crossed his arms. He was doing his pout thing, as though Zoro was the one being difficult. And he was still all disheveled and covered in blood… A familiar tic went through Zoro's eye at the exact same time as that other tic went through his dick.

“Other way. Face the other fuckin way.” Zoro turned the blond away from him and got back to work on his pants.

“Nope, you're dealing with this FACE.” Sanji stubbornly resisted.

They ended up on the floor really quickly, as usual, Sanji trying to mush his face against Zoro’s, and the latter trying to pin him facedown. It did kinda seriously irritate Zoro that his superior crunch power didn’t seem to count for anything against the noodle-boned butcher. The guy knew it, too, and liked to aggravate his sparring partner with non-standard moves.

“If I give you a forehead-hickey, I win,” the clinging blond declared.

“NO.”

“C’mere, sexy forehead.”

“NO.”

It fuckin paid off once Zoro did get him under control, though. The satisfaction was nigh euphoric. This time Zoro got the butcher’s hands behind his back and a knee in his spine, and Sanji gave up his squirming with a laugh. He hmmed against the rug and allowed his hands to be secured with the ever-ready bandana. He was hard and eager when Zoro turned him back over and settled heavily overtop of him, smothering him with a deep kiss.

“It’s been a second,” Sanji breathed when Zoro let up.

“Yeah. I’ll go slow.”

“Mm. Kay but how about not slow.”

“Heh…”

Zoro went ahead and ignored that request. He liked to draw out the lead-in once he’d gotten to this point, to get back at the guy for all his ridiculous shit, but also because Sanji just got more and more fuckable the more desperate and disheveled he got.

Sanji blew his long curtain of blond hair out of his eyes and glared down at the too-slow proceedings between his knees. “Put the fucking dick in your mouth, fucking put. The fucking dick. In your fucking… ah!… fuck, ah…”

That was the third finger, and Zoro let himself grin a little. He watched the long limbs tense and un-tense as he eased his hand in and out. He gave the needy dick another swift, brief massage with his tongue, and stifled a laugh when Sanji kicked him.

“You want me to fucking beg??”

“Yeah, I’m a fan of that,” Zoro nodded his encouragement.

“DICK IN YOUR MOUTH.”

“That’s not begging…”

“DICK,” Sanji insisted.

Zoro laughed and came up to kiss the irate butcher. “...Dick??”

“Dick.”

With his slight smile widening into a full-on grin, Zoro got up so he was straddling Sanji’s shoulders. The blue eye widened, “Not THAT di—hhhhnnnck”

“Hm what?”

Sanji gave a deeply sarcastic roll of his eyes. He couldn’t say much else, though.

Zoro eased in deeper, feeling himself gradually hardening in the wet mouth with its quick tongue.

“C’mon, get me hard.” He pulled back a little so Sanji could swallow and adjust his head, then pushed in deep enough to nudge the back of his throat. “C’mon. You want me to fuck your throat? Suck.”

A cocky eyebrow challenged him to do just that, and Zoro obliged. He watched the smooth lips strain around his cock and the blue eyes start to water. Zoro fit a hand around the back of his neck and angled it way up, so he could hold him still and fuck down into his face. Sanji started making those urgent sounds he was after, and he felt himself edging already… fuck.

“Mm! Mmmm!!… ah!” Sanji’s eyes were screwed shut and his mouth wide open, gasping air, as Zoro pulled out of his mouth and hurried to get a condom on and lube himself up.

“Face or floor?”

“Face, cuz deal with it,” Sanji determined, stubborn streak still fully intact despite his flustered flush.

“Fair.” Zoro left him on his back.

He parted the well-toned thighs and braced a hand on each one, pressing Sanji's legs so wide apart they were touching the floor. God, this body was just made to be fucked, it was so smooth and yielding. Zoro’s dick found the tight hole, and it opened up around him just as smoothly.

“Fuck,” he groaned, steadying himself, “I can’t believe how flexible you are. I could do anything to you…”

Sanji made a little scoffing noise between heavy breaths. “Think you could you shut up and fuck me, though?”

Zoro leaned into him suddenly and heavily, without answering. That got a harsh intake of breath, but it wasn’t yet the desperate gasping he was going for. He canted his hips and dragged out frustratingly slow. He really wanted to let go and just… fucking pound the hell out of the trim, pliable body. Just as much as Sanji wanted him to do it. But he was the disciplined one, here, and also, holding out on the other was a pleasure in itself.

He slid into that perfect heat over and over, deliberate and deep, until the blond’s voice got that wild edge to it. He was as vocal when he was being fucked as the rest of the time, and it got to Zoro just as much. In a good way—Zoro usually prided himself on being all quietly composed during sex, but Sanji had this way of completely letting himself go, and taking the other with him.

“Zoro, Z-zoro ah! Ahh!”

“Shit… ah, fuck, Cook…” Zoro gathered up both legs and hooked them over his shoulder, so he could fold Sanji almost in half and sink straight down into him. Their faces were close together, they were breathing each other’s air, hardly even hearing what was being gasped out between breaths. Sanji was saying something like “Want you, want you, want you,” and Zoro was probably just saying “Cook” and “fuck,” but even he wasn’t sure.

“I’m gonna come,” Zoro gasped out finally.

“Fuckin cmon then, ah…”

It felt like he could just come and come like this. Everything was so tight and hot, Sanji was kissing him and he was getting lightheaded. Zoro waited until his ears stopped ringing and his blood pressure went down a little. He opened his eyes to Sanji’s flushed face, still glassy-eyed with need. He loosened the bandana and shuffled down to put that dick in his mouth, as requested.

“Yes… fuck…” Sanji twisted out of the ties and crossed his arms under his head, shuffling until he was comfortable.

They’d been fucking for a few months now, more and more regularly, and Zoro pretty much knew how to get him off any time. It was better to make him wait a little, though. Winding the guy up so tight like this, he'd go over the edge like a ton of bricks. Zoro swallowed him down smoothly and then pulled back off until he was massaging the head with his tongue, sucking hard. He jammed two fingers into his ass at the same time, hard and even, like Sanji wanted when he was close. And he was so, so close right now… He’d hooked both legs over Zoro’s shoulders and was hanging on, tensed and swearing.

He came and was wordless for a full minute while Zoro worked every last drop out of him with the same steady insistence.

“...Unnh… hh…”

Zoro grinned to himself a little as he caught it all in his mouth. Catching Sanji’s eye, he licked stray drops from his fingers and swallowed it all with deliberate relish.

“Fuck… that’s hot,” Sanji commented, letting out a spent laugh and flexing the feeling back into his toes.

“Mm…” Zoro sighed and sat up to consider his own state. His dick was half-hard again, come leaking down inside the condom. He watched Sanji lying back and trying to recover his head, still all hazy and addled with pleasure. So fucking fuckable.

He pulled the blond over by the arm and nipped his ear.

“Ah!”

“Can I do it hard?”

“I dunno. Can you?” Sanji needled him. “Ow.”

Zoro gave a soothing suck at the chomped ear. “I dunno, can I?”

“Haha… mmm. Floor?”

“Yeah…” Zoro moved on to sucking at his neck urgently, massaging what was now a fully hard erection.

Sanji laughed at him. He turned over facing the floor and braced on his forearms while Zoro fit a new condom on. “I should make you beg instead. Shitty dog, practically humping my leg.”

He quieted for a moment as Zoro pushed him flat and ground into him in one insistent push.

Sanji steadied himself and chuckled, “Ahh… haha. Here, boy. Now sit—mff!”

Lying atop of him like this, Zoro had his hands free, so he clamped one over Sanji’s mouth.

“Shhh… stay. Good boy.”

Sanji huffed an outraged sigh through his nose at the order. But by the way he moaned into Zoro's hand and arched his back into Zoro's driving thrusts, he was probably gonna come again soon.

“Why do you always wanna cuddle on the floor?” Sanji teased him, afterward. “There’s pillows right up there. I got them for a reason.”

“Just stay still a second,” Zoro mumbled from somewhere between Sanji's shoulder blades, thick arms wrapped around the narrow waist.

“I wanna smoke.” Sanji was already fidgeting and trying to get up.

Zoro tightened his arms so he was stuck.

“Why the floor, is all I'm saying,” Sanji objected.

“Well you're the one who likes to fuck on the floor, so.”

“Well you're the one who flips furniture when they get too into it, so.”

Zoro grinned to himself. “Yeah… You make yourself hell to wrangle, to be fair.” He shifted up a little so he could hook his chin over Sanji's shoulder.

Sanji laughed. “You like it.”

“Mm. I like fucking you into the ground, yeah.”

“Ah...” Sanji shifted and exhaled sharply at the lips on his neck. “You angling for another round? That why we're still down here in the fuck zone?”

“Nah, just comfortable.” Zoro let up his hold a little, so Sanji could turn in his arms and settle in facing him. “Hey, so what's this ass thing you want?”

“Hall. Pass.” Sanji sighed, and then swallowed. He was suddenly tense in Zoro's arms. “Uh. So first of all, the lemon zester. I need it to lend to this… individual? So I have an excuse to go over and say heyy? Cuz earlier he was kinda like, heyyyy, lookin for a lemon zester. And this is NOT how I normally do things, okay. I'm pretty much the king of cling. But this guy is Christian Slater-level exceptional, and it'll be just once because honestly I'm getting a Christian-Slater-in-Heathers vibe more than anything and that is a sometimes-food…”

Zoro listened for a while, then counted to ten once he'd gotten lost, and tried to get back into the conversation. “...what?”

Sanji frowned. “What part is unclear.”

“The… hall pass.”

“Jesus Christ,” Sanji muttered to the ceiling.

“No, literally just use words that go together.”

“I have been! I've been so patient and thorough!”

Zoro reached for his sweatpants, lying on Sanji's other side. “I'll just fucking Google it. Gimme my phone.”

“N-no wait. Uh!” Sanji extended a long leg and kicked the pants across the room.

“...This is getting weird,” Zoro growled, getting up. “Did you not eat all day again? You know it's real ironic how often you forget to feed yourself.”

“I did forget but that's not the issue here!”

“Let go of my leg.”

“No!”

Zoro sighed at the weirdo hugging his ankle. “Okay. What's a hall pass.”

“It's when you ask your otherwise committed, exclusive partner for a one-time go-ahead to bang someone else because Christian Slater wants to get in your pants and it's a fucking sin to pass that up!”

Zoro sat down heavily on the couch. Sanji slowly came to sit next to him, legs folded and hands in lap.

“One-time,” Sanji insisted. “Christian Slater.”

“...actual Christian Slater?”

“Oh, uh, no, I just mean he's really hot and kinda weird.”

Zoro rubbed his head, his mind grappling with several, very urgent aspects of this matter. There was one part that really stuck out, though.

“So you'd say we're… exclusive? And stuff?” Zoro wondered, a little wild-eyed.

Sanji frowned. “Aren't we? Wait, are you—”

“Nono, I'm not seeing anyone else. I just mean like, we're… in a committed thing? You'd say?”

“Oh. Yeah,” Sanji confirmed, just realizing that he'd maybe skipped several steps in this whole talk. “Yeah, like, dating.”

“Oh, okay.”

Sanji was getting flustered again. “I mean, I guess I don't know if you wanna be… that way. We don't have to. It's so status quo, right? Ugh, haha, very not radical haha…”

“Nono, it's good. That's good.”

Zoro wasn't sure what else to say, and Sanji was looking at him expectantly, so he gave him a little peck.

Sanji seemed to accept this. “Okay good. Good talk. Um. So… all of it is good?”

“All of what.”

“Can I… the hall pass?”

Zoro frowned and thought. “Oh that. I don't know. I need to think some more.”

Sanji shuffled a little and Zoro realized he was stealing a look at the clock. “How much more.”

“Well more than a few fucking minutes!”

“Hour?”

“You're planning to go right now??”

“I was… Um.” Blue eyes wandered around the room. “Or not. If that's weird.”

“You’re weird. You're always so weird.” Zoro grumbled, trapping him in another bear hug and toppling them both to the couch. Sanji huffed but Zoro held on, an unfamiliar feeling making him stubborn.

Sanji waited til the count of ten, then went about disentangling himself from the other, anxious for a smoke.

“Let go of my leg,” Sanji complained.

“No.”

“Are you getting clingy?”

“No…”

He laughed. “Monosyllabic Marimo.”

Zoro wasn't budging on the time-to-think issue, so Sanji had to message whoever it was to postpone the lemon zester handoff. He'd already delegated things at the shop, so he actually had a rare evening free. He made snacks, and Zoro dragged the duvet over to the couch.

“So Christian Slater is a psychopath,” Zoro offered his thoughts on the nonsense movie they were watching, “But also, the Heathers seem like a high school Resident Evil situation. I'd purge with fire too.”

“Um, Christian Slater is a misunderstood super sweetheart with a minor murder problem,” Sanji objected. “And the Heathers are fabulous beyond reproach.”

“Her scrunchie matches her lipstick,” Zoro complained.

“That’s how you know she's a powerbitch.”

“I could tell from the shoulder pads.”

They watched Christian Slater shoot some more frat boys.

“Okay, not terrible,” Zoro approved by the end. “But I'm not convinced that Christian Slater should be allowed to fuck anyone, let alone MY otherwise exclusive, committed… thing.”

“You can say boyfriend,” Sanji offered.

“... 'Boyfriend,’” Zoro tried the word out, and immediately felt that stubbornness spike again. “Hmph.”

“Well this actual guy’s not a psycho killer, okay? He just… likes to give the impression that he is?”

“You're not selling this super well,” Zoro informed him.

Sanji considered the matter. “Well, what if you met the guy and saw that he was okay? You might already know him, actually, we have friends in common.”

“I doubt that,” Zoro grouched. “Who is it then.”

“Okay so you know your stupid orc-looking friend with the hair?”

Zoro spat out his cucumber water. “KIDD is Christian Slater??”

“Oh my god NO. It's his boy-thing, not him. As if I'd let that get its dick in me, plllease. He literally clanks when he walks.”

“He’d just be getting his dick in you by proxy,” Zoro put on his own pout face. “And I didn't know he had a boy-thing.”

“Yeah, apparently Christian Slater is into orc ass…”

Something occurred to Zoro. “This guy's a top?”

Sanji thought. “I guess…? He made it pretty clear how he'd like to do me in particular, so I assume—”

“Whoooaa, what if Kidd's a bottom,” Zoro interrupted.

“Hah. I doubt it. He’s always talking like he's the one getting his dick in everyone and everything… Christian Slater’s probably vers.”

“Nope, Kidd's a pillow-biter, it's settled,” Zoro settled back smugly. “And I can leg-press more than him.”

He got a pillow thrown at his smug green head by an exasperated boyfriend. “Yeah, yeah, you're supreme dick, dumbass. Biggest, sweatiest package around. Fucking typical top...”

“Damn right,” Zoro caught the next pillow. “Well I'm feeling rosier about this whole hall pass thing.”

Sanji paused with a cushion in hand and raised a flawless eyebrow. “Really? I literally just had to talk up your little guy?”

“Yeah, heh. Just make sure Christian Slater knows how monster this meat be.” Zoro patted his junk.

“I’ll bring it to his attention,” Sanji shook his head. But then he laughed and put his head on Zoro's lap. “Boyfriend,” he murmured.

“Boyfriend,” Zoro affirmed.

[bucky-take-the-wheel]

Oh, That’s Just Bucky Part 4

AN:  I didn't realize that I started this story almost a year ago and I'm just now updating it wtf? In an effort to get a new chapter out this is a VERY rough draft and I might go back and edit later. I'm sorry guys, college kicked my ass but I kicked it back! 3 Bs and a C+ ayyyeee~ Anyways, just know I love this story and I didn't mean to abandon it. I hope this chapter lives up to what you expected. I definitely have more in store for these guys, so stay tuned!

Summary: Steve Rogers is in a shitty relationship with a shitty guy. However, things take a turn for the weird when Steve moves into a new apartment that isn’t as empty as he thought. Little does he know that there’s actually a pretty helpful demon living there too. It’s just the way he delivers his messages that bothers Steve.

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Warnings: hurt Steve, not graphic though, very upset Natasha, Steve not taking care of himself.

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

“Hemophobia?” Bucky repeated tentatively.

“Yes! It means I’m extremely afraid of blood. It’s my phobia, that’s why I always fainted when you used blood to communicate with me,” Steve said leaning forward excitedly. It was such a relief to finally be able to connect with someone besides Natasha and Steve’s doctor. No one understood or tried to just ignore it. Steve was pretty sure that Chad didn’t even know, even though he’d told him multiple times when the other man would want to watch a slasher flick.

“So what do I do with these?” he asked curiously holding up the stack of colorful sticky notes in his clawed hand. Steve had encouraged him to slip back into his natural form since it was more comfortable and he insisted he wasn’t scared of the demon anymore.

“Why, I’m glad you asked!” he chuckled holding up a box of glitter gel pens, stickers, and various other types of fun stationary.The next two weeks was filled with colorful notes with small reminders written on them and the occasional drawing of a hellhound in red glitter pen. At first, they were just reminders written and stuck on the mirror, but they gradually began to take over the apartment. Steve would brush his teeth and smile at the drawing of the horrendous creature on the pink sticky note stuck to his bathroom mirror. But then one would be on his lampshade in his bedroom, 

“The plumber is coming tomorrow to fix the kitchen sink. Wear actual clothes, please” followed by a smiley face. Steve laid in bed and stared at the water stains on the ceiling and sighed. 

“Why don’t you ever come out? The reminders are helpful, but if I’m going to have a roommate it’d be nice to actually talk to you face to face every now and then,”

“All you had to do was ask,” a gruff voice suddenly came from Steve’s left on the bed and he almost screamed before he saw it was just Bucky lounging on his side in his usual getup with a crooked smile.

“Give me an asthma attack while you’re at it! Jesus, do you even own any other clothes? You look like you’re about to go to a rock concert or a BDSM party.” Steve grumbled grabbing the pen and pad on his nightstand usually meant for Bucky’s use.

“What’s wrong with my clothes?” the demon frowned and looked down at his body. Steve blushed and quickly looked away to write “pajamas” in a list for things to get him when he went shopping next.

“Normal people don’t wear tight ass leather pants and that only all the time. I need to get you some clothes, and don’t worry, I’m already writing myself a reminder,” he smiled flashing the demon his growing list of necessities. 

“But I’m a demon and this is what I’ve always worn,” Bucky pouted and rolled over on his stomach to give the other man a pitiful look. 

“Well, I plan on introducing you to my friend, Natasha, so you can’t be wearing that when you meet her. She might just steal you away from me,” Steve said scribbling harder on the notepad. Suddenly, warm fingers clutched his chin and wrenched his head to the side, almost painfully. His wide eyes met fiery black ones and he had to suck in a sharp breath.

“Believe me, no one is stealing me away from you,” Steve almost died and went to heaven (or hell) right then and there. If he’d been on his feet he would have definitely fallen. With a graceful roll Bucky lifted himself and glided across the room.

“I guess I’ll leave it up to you then. However, if you haven’t guessed, I prefer form fitting and black clothing. Night night, Stevie.” Bucky leaned down like he was going to kiss his forehead, but instead slapped a sticky note there instead before disappearing into thin air. Steve sucked in a breath and flopped back onto the mattress before peeling the paper off his skin and reading it.

“Don’t forget to buy me clothes tomorrow

-Buck”

Steve encountered three more notes before he even left the apartment the next day, but no sight of the demon anywhere. He sighed as he passed the second bedroom with an unfinished canvas in it.

 I’ll get to it later.

The half finished family portrait stared at him in judgement, the father seemingly glaring at him. He quickly shut the door and moved to the kitchen to find quite a bit of money and a note.

“Take this and don’t question it. Make sure to eat something with protein in it. I’ll see you later

-Buck”

The blond raised an eyebrow at the cash and the little signature that was starting to show up in the demon’s notes. He was also questioning how he was considering calling Bucky that. He shook his head and grabbed some eggs from the fridge and popped some toast in the toaster. Shortened versions of hard to pronounce demon’s names was one thing, but a pet name of an already shortened name was something else entirely. But Bucky started it, so maybe it was okay? Steve groaned and slammed the fridge and pulled out his phone to text Chad. Maybe he just needed to see his boyfriend.

“Wanna come over 2nite?” he sent the text and shoved his phone back in his pocket and sighed. Chad was probably still in bed from an all nighter with his friends. Steve was slightly startled by his toast popping up and grumbled as he quickly pocketed the cash and swiped his breakfast from the toaster. He was too irritated and confused to fix eggs and headed out the door. He needed some air to clear his head.

Steve flopped down on a bench and huffed. So far he had only found a couple of t-shirts and one pair of gothic looking pants at Hot Topic and some pajama pants but that was it. He couldn’t have Bucky walking around in just a pair of pants, but he also wanted to pick things Bucky would actually like to wear. Apparently Hot Topic no longer carried goth stuff anymore and that was his last hope. He doubted the demon would like a My Little Pony dress. Steve’s sugar was getting low and he was getting irritated with all the people so he resigned to go home and just order the rest of Bucky’s clothes online. At least then the demon could pick out exactly what he wanted. Well, that was the plan, until he got up and promptly passed the fuck out. Again.

When he came to he was being surrounded by tons of shoppers and the EMTs loading him onto a stretcher. One of the EMTs noticed him coming to and smiled reassuringly.

“Don’t worry, we found your emergency call list in your phone and your friend Natasha is meeting us at the hospital. You’ll be just fine.” Steve groaned and rolled his head on the stretcher. He would never hear the end of this from Nat and she’d never leave him alone. 

I’m going to have to sell my haunted apartment and all my belongings to pay for this ambulance ride alone. His eyes shot open and he almost sobbed. 

Bucky. He would have to leave Bucky. Steve tried to sit up but he was strapped down and they were already pulling away. The nice lady from before put calming, gloved hands on his arms and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Steven? It’s okay, we’re just gonna bring you in to check for a concussion. You fell at a weird angle and hit your head pretty hard.” Steve squinted and could vaguely feel something being pressed to his head but all he could think about was the demon at home who was waiting on him. The one that couldn’t leave the apartment no matter how hard he tried. Everything was a blur as they unloaded him and put him in a bed in the E.R. Steve only caught a blur of red in the whir of sterile white. He knew Natasha was there but he couldn’t focus on one thing. It was like someone had put his head in a blender and left it on. Finally, he snapped out of it when he felt a hard pressure squeezing his upper arm. He glanced over to see Nat sitting beside the bed with tears in her eyes. At that moment, he realized he too had tears streaking down his cheeks.

Without thinking he said, “Where’s Bucky?”

Nat just gave him an incredulous look.“Who?” she said.

“Nobody,” he croaked.

“Do you know how fucking scared I was? An EMT called me saying you were passed out in the middle of the mall bleeding like crazy and they were carting you off to the hospital and to come immediately. I’ve imagined this scenario different ways before and I thought this was it. I don’t show it often, but I am genuinely scared that one day that call will be someone giving me far more fatal news. What happened? Did you let your sugar get too low again?” her hand was back on his arm again, squeezing like a blood pressure cuff. 

He looked away and swiped the tears and nodded like a scolded child. Nat just sat back and shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest, tissue clutched tight in her hand.

“Thankfully, you didn’t get a concussion and you were cleared to be released once you came to. The doctors think you went through a brief episode of dissociation.”

“I don’t know how the hell I’m going to pay them back, Nat,” he croaked running his fingers through his already mussed hair.

“You don’t have to because I already did. Once you get your shit together I’ll take you home and we’re gonna have ice cream and a full on cry session. I’m not doing it in front of all these people,” in an instant Natasha Romanoff was clear faced and ready with her purse and keys and out the door. Steve was left speechless as the doctor came in and signed his chart with a quick, “Be more careful with in the future, Mr. Rogers,”.

Steve changed slowly and grabbed his shopping bags before trudging out to the waiting room to meet with Natasha. She was already wearing her sunglasses so he couldn’t tell what her eyes were saying, but she was stiff. He gingerly wrapped an arm around her waist and rested his head on her collarbone. Her high heeled boots were actually welcome today. Steve just wanted to be small and comforted.

“I think we overreacted a little bit today…” Steve started as soon as they got in Natasha’s car, but a seething glare sent his way stop him dead in his tracks.

“Don’t you ever tell me how to feel, Steven Grant Rogers. You can’t tell someone how to feel, and how I felt today was very real and I don’t want to hear another peep about it.” Before Steve could say anything else she started the engine and swiftly backed out of the parking spot and sped out of the parking garage.

You can’t tell someone how to feel, huh? Steve leaned up against the cool glass and drifted off as the engine hummed underneath him.

Like what you just read? Send me some love by buying me a cup of coffee!

[curlicuecal]

Let’s Be Outcasts (ch 14/?) (AR/Kankri)

Part 2 of cyber!bunny Apocalypse ‘verse (tumblr)

ch: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

read on AO3

Summary: Divergent AU where AR and Li'l Seb get kicked into a new universe with some snazzy new cyborg bodies. They’re still working out the bugs.

In which AR discovers that kidnapping rarely solves more problems than it creates, Mituna breaks out of a lab (with some help), and Seb continues to take good care of his Bro.

—-

You have this weird thing where you find him sort of offensive and charming and hilarious all at the same time and you can’t put your finger on the fascination.  Probably you’re going to die of it. 

—-

Ch 14.

Cutting through the streets of a patchwork city, following the trail marked by a small robot bunny turned cyborg child, you attempt to explain your life to a troll you were thinking about murdering not 72 hours ago.

You don’t know how long it’ll take you to catch up with Seb, but you’ve got a looming mystery device de-activation to keep on schedule with, so you treat Kankri to the outline version of your backstory.  And by outline you mean you leave some things out entirely.  Wallowing in old memories is not on your emotional to-do list for the foreseeable future, and anyway, you’re hoping that the caffeinated cliffnotes rendition will make you sound less like a crazy person.

Alternate realities and reality altering games, check; watery sea Hitler dystopia, check; trolls and humans from previous game iterations, check.  Teenagers creating artificial intelligence brain-clones in their bedrooms… eh.  What are the odds of that being plot relevant, really?

You breeze through the getting left behind bit so fast even you aren’t sure you covered it before you’re on and already wrapping up with “…so Sawtooth and Squarewave grabbed a door out of the universe and me and Seb followed after and tah-dah, here we are; you might have some familiarity with the end of this story.”

You’re currently picking your way through the debris of a crumbling boathouse/alien hell-garage that some universal force has very inconveniently plopped down in the middle of a street, so you can’t actually watch Kankri’s face for reaction.  This is fine.  His reactions are, provably, of statistically insignificant consequence in the calculation of your internal state.  Really.  You could make spreadsheets.

You duck a ceiling beam and hopscotch a broken boardwalk of wooden planks, turning to catch a glimpse of him in the corner display of your ever helpful shades.  Chin down, brows drawn together, he appears lost in thought—although that might just be his contemplation of the route least likely to collapse under his feet.  (You’re going through the landlocked boathouse rather than, say, around because your path-flagger is a tiny robot bunny child with apparently no setting other than DIRECT.  Thanks, Seb.)

“Spoilers,” you add, “the end of the story contains explosions and kidnapping.”

That at least provokes a twitch, eyes flicking over to you as he draws level and then passes.  You make your way after him, watching the back of his head, something restless and dissatisfied in your gut.  He’s been—well, not quiet, quiet is rarely the appropriate word for Kankri.  But for all the intensity of his attention to your story, his questions and comments have remained inscrutably neutral.  You’d expected more… reaction?  Humorous huffing and flailing and stubborn argument with your reality.  But no, just this loaded silence and the questions.

You’d assume he thought you were full of shit if each verbal probe didn’t jab directly to some tender spot like a heat-seeking missile.

“You don’t think you’ll find the rest of your companions?” Kankri asks.

Like that one.

“Different doors, different universe.”  Focus on your steps.  Kankri runs lightly along a fallen crossbeam and you follow after.  “That’s the whole point.”

“But you didn’t go into the same universe as your friends?”

“It is physically challenging to pass through a door that has stopped existing.”  Your own voice has grabbed some toneless, sing-song neutrality, old auto-responder rhythms emerging without thought, wrapping around the words to keep them separate from you.  You have the idea that that maybe gives away more than it conceals, so you make an effort to lever some glib back in there, too.

“’Friends’ is such a strong term, anyway.  ‘Long-term associates by necessity’?  ‘People who are better at navigating through access portals than me’?  ‘Proud recipients of the ‘Winner’s Only’ Universe award’?  For winners?  And their friends?”  You sense you might be failing at glib.  But words have always been your core armament and damn but you have a lot of them.  “PS: no offense–great world you’ve got going here and all, love the man-eating plant zombies–but have you considered we might be in the multiverse’s equivalent of a junk drawer? Like, we are literally spelunking through spare parts that didn’t make the cut right now.  An entire universe built out of defective extras.  Opposite of the winner’s ‘verse is—”

Kankri stops in his tracks so abruptly you almost trip right into the back of him.  You end up awkwardly skip-hopping several steps sideways in your efforts to stay upright and avoid impact.

You take another step back when he wheels on you, then manage to hold your ground when he plants himself right up in your space.

“I hope,” he says, in clipped tones, “you will forgive me if I seem to be silencing your viewpoint, but I find the idea that an individual’s circumstances are interchangeable with their worth to be fundamentally offensive.”

“Um,” you say.  His eyes are very bright.  Chin high, stance set, looking down his nose at you like some kind of classical angel casting down judgment.  You resist the urge to back up another pace.  “I didn’t mean it… quite like that.”  You think.

He doesn’t budge an inch.  “Excuse me for not appreciating the implication that I was hatched into some kind of universally decreed lesser state.   Or do you think your circumstances in life are somehow more inherently meaningful than mine? This isn’t a game and it’s never been fair.  You talk like being here is—is something you earned, some kind of punishment, when all I hear is a series of accidental mishaps and coincidences that no one present could have accounted for.  It’s a universe, not a referendum on your character.”

Your breath comes short and superficial in your chest.  For once, you think your face might actually be completely blank, if only because you have so many complicated emotions going on right now mere organic features couldn’t hope to compose a functional physical representation of them.

“…That was a very long way to say ‘shit happens,’” you say faintly.

Kankri actually flashes his fangs at you.  Which is, um.  Sort of interesting actually, but wow do you not need to add any more confusion to the feelings pile right now.  It’s like he flayed you open with words just to pick apart vulnerabilities you didn’t even know you had.  (A pointless, pointless fucking accident.  Do you think that you deserved it, do you think they wouldn’t have changed it if they could?)  How do you not be a flippant asshole when you can’t even deal with the question existing in the first place?

Kankri sucks in a breath.  “First of all—“

“Sorry,” you interject, because when all else fails you can at least pretend to not be a massive tool.  The surprise draws him, blinking, to a halt.

“That’s—that was a good point.  Actually.  I—I’ll have to think about that.”  Do you really, though.  Okay, fine, probably; you are rationally aware that permavoidance is not a tenable long term strategy for proper social adjustment and damned if you won’t face your demons like a Strider.

…Later.

“Also I don’t think you’re a lesser being.  If that was unclear.  All of my hang ups are 100%, grade-A me-centered; it’s this thing I’m doing where I forget my words reflect on other people and are generally capable of being offensive and sort of degrading when followed through to their logical conclusions.”

You know what’s terrible? Apologizing.  And also sincerity.  And having an organic nervous system that rings horrible fluttery alarm bells whenever it decides you’ve got a vulnerability showing—thanks, self, you can work that out without your heart humming deafeningly in your ears or your neck flushing hot.

Kankri’s still looking at you, eyes startled, lips parted like you’ve caught him off-balance, and that, at least, is a small victory that you can cling to.

He’s still just… right there.  He’s not close, not exactly, there’s a solid body’s width of clear space between you, plenty of room for the Holy Spirit to get down and jiggy with it, but he feels close.  Hemmed in by fallen beams and the debris of this strange, out-of-place building; moonlight trickling uneven through cracks in the ceiling; and it strikes you, suddenly, that you’ve literally never been alone with anyone except Seb.

(It wasn’t kind, what he said, it wasn’t nice or sensitive or empathetic to your experience, but maybe you still wanted to hear it and maybe there’s a fascination in the way he never lets any of your shit slide like it doesn’t matter.)

And then, thank god, the floor collapses under your left foot.

“Ow, fuck,” you say, and then: “…Found the next path marker.”  From this angle Seb’s shuriken is clearly visible high in the next wall over, glinting dully in a promising ray of exterior moonlight.

“Are you all right?”  Kankri asks.  You peel your elbows up off the floorboards to see that he’s hovering uncertainly close, feet placed carefully, hands half out like he went to touch and then thought better of it.  Hm.

“…Yep.” Bruised and scraped and disoriented, flat on one knee and up to your ankle in rotten board, but, as buildings trying to eat you goes, surprisingly all right.  Wow, you are hella lucky you didn’t break something going over like that.  Incapacitated by architecture, how completely mortifying would that be?

Kankri, you note, has not set a foot wrong this entire time.

“Systems are registering 100% peachy.”  Teeth gritted, you ease your leg back through the gap, shaking loose rot-soft splinters.   You’ve ripped your pants and your shin’s scraped all down one side, but it’s oozing, not spurting or gushing or anything.  Dirk’s gotten around fine on worse than this plenty of times.  So whyyyy does it still have to hurt like the bloody blazes?  Nervous systems.  Ugh.

You head for the hopefully-an-exit-wall, choosing your footing attentively again, but moving at a good clip.  Kankri follows after, hanging close.  …If he starts trying to coddle you the way Seb does you are going to lose your damn shit.  But ten paces later you realize he’s using each footing you test and he hasn’t even tried to recommend better ones.  Your shoulders unknot a fraction.

The final, exterior wall turns out to contain a solid row of boarded up windows and… that’s about it.  Well, there’s also fallen beams and a pile of decaying nets further blocking some of the boarded windows.  “Seb, what the heck,” you mutter blankly.

Kankri cranes his head way back.  “I think he went out that sort of… porthole aperture.  The one tucked under the ceiling arch.”  His own voice sounds a little flat.

You both contemplate the climb.  Unanimously and with no discussion, you elect to set about prying free some window boards instead.  It’s a team effort.  

“Is it okay if I hate that building in particular?” you ask not very long afterwards, when you’re outside picking yourself out of the dirt below the narrow opening you made.  “Because I think that building in particular was designed by leprechauns entirely to spite me.”

Kankri, who made it through the window with a surprising amount of facility after shedding his cloak, looks up sharply from fiddling with the fabric.  “You can feel however you want.”

You blink, uncertainly, and still don’t know what to make of his tone by the time he looks away again.  “…Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”  Kankri fiddles with his cloak laces some more, but he’s got that little tick line between his brows that implies he’s thinking hard.  You are starting to find Kankri’s deep-in-thought face nearly as alarming as the intake of breath that denotes the wind up to a lecture.

Whatever.  You’ve got places to go, so you set off down the street towards a fluttering strip of blue cloth.  Kankri shadows you silently.

Maybe he’s mad at you.

“Thank you for telling me your story,” he says, abruptly, and you are left to face the possibility that maybe you just don’t understand Kankri Vantas even a tiny fucking bit.  He abandons his laces to fold his hands in front of him, squares his shoulders as he falls into pace with you and, oops, yes, there is the lecture-breath.  “I should have expressed that earlier.  I recognize that that was a symbolic gesture of trust on your part and that my behavior may have come across as …insensitive to your emotional vulnerability and accompanying cognitive distortions.”

You have this weird thing where you find him sort of offensive and charming and hilarious all at the same time and you can’t put your finger on the fascination.  Probably you’re going to die of it.  He picks through every phrase like it’s a foreign concept he’s memorized by rote and he’s so damn sincere even when he’s insulting you to your face.

“Also,” he adds, as you skirt some thick brambles that are eating a set of surprisingly unrusted construction machinery, “I appreciate your openness to correction.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, but politely refrain from derailing that into kink territory.  “I’m not a homework assignment.  I’m not going to agree with you just because you come at me with a red pen that says I should.”

“I never—“ Kankri pauses, checks himself.  “It wasn’t my intention to imply that I expected you to.  Of course I only want you to listen to reasoned arguments.”

“What, despite my crippling cognitive distortions?”

“Please refrain from putting reductive adjectives in my mouth.  I only meant it was an emotionally charged topic for you and—and I appreciate that you were willing to listen despite your rationality on the subject being impaired.”

He’s got his black-in-gold eyes fixed on you again, intent and painfully earnest, and it’s short-circuiting your ability not to feel a little touched.  In the way where you would also like him to stop harping on about your irrationality, but, hey, choose your battles.  “You’re welcome,” you say dryly, stealing a response from his repertoire.  “You know, I don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of being too emotional before.  You do realize you’re talking to the guy that’s basically a microchip implanted in a meat-suit, right?”

“And you realize that you are propagating harmful stereotypes when you make flippant comments of that nature.  Cybernetically modified humans are human in origin and are perfectly capable of a full range of typical human emotions.  I can’t say that I’ve noticed you are any exception in this regard.  Except perhaps for being incredibly aggravating.”

“Flattery.”

“Besides,” he adds, ignoring your smirk, “that prejudice is premised on the idea that a certain way of processing reactions is somehow the superior state.  Saying something has to have emotions to have its personhood recognized is just another direction for enforcing a social caste system favoring the status quo.”

“In other words, systemic oppression continues to be a fun, fun, multidimensional exercise in how many new and exciting combo-attacks we can create.  Yay, intersectional privilege.”

Kankri blinks and looks sideways at you.  His brows twitch in.  “…I’m not familiar with those terms in that context,” he says after a pause.

This, you reflect, is the Kankri Vantas method of asking for clarification: guarded, resentful, vaguely accusatory; like you knowing something he doesn’t is some kind of intentional slight.

You shrug disarmingly, wave a hand.  “Uh.  Well, privilege is…advantages you get based solely on chance or social structures; and intersectional is, like, the idea that you can have a bunch of advantages or disadvantages from different sources pile non-additively to make the system even more unfair…”

You trail off because there’s a strange gleam in his eyes.  You feel like you’ve just given crack cocaine to a baby.

“Privilege,” Kankri repeats, in a thoughtful tone.

You don’t flinch, but it feels like you should.

Maybe you should not teach Kankri any more cross-dimensional lecture vocabulary.  Or….  You contemplate the intriguing possibility that you could teach him all the words.  That would probably be terrifying.  And hilarious.

…holy hell, who placed this kind of power in your hands?  There is no way you are not going to wield this for evil.

You are still contemplating your potential for AI super-villainy when Kankri interrupts your thoughts.

“Were cy privileged very differently in the society you came from?”

You miss a step.  Thanks, adrenaline surge.  Lie or tell the truth?  Lie or tell the truth?  Lie or– “There weren’t any cy.”

Kankri blinks.  “But you—”

…Yep.  You really, really, don’t like his thoughtful silences.

You could have just told him.  A whole long crazy speech about alternate realities and you could have dropped ‘I’m actually a high-tech photocopy of a brain’ in there anywhere.  You could still tell him right now.   ‘I got dropped into this flesh suit via game mechanics I still don’t understand and I don’t know whether it’s worse if it’s just an accident or if something decided that this was as close to being a person as I get.’  You could just.  Say it.  Except the muscles of your throat feel tight and locked like a system failure.

He’s looking at you.  “A number of your comments have suggested surprise or unfamiliarity with.  Erm.  Details of your person?”

The thing you keep forgetting when you go into your bullshit snark routines is that he just keeps listening.

“…Were you an unmodified human?” Kankri sounds dubious at the possibility.  That—hurts.  Maybe.  You can’t even tell what you feel anymore.

“No.” Your sentence ends before it even really starts.  Oh, great.  At this rate you can play a game of twenty questions on the topic. Or charades.

You tell yourself, again, all the reasons you’re being ridiculously overdramatic and all the reasons it doesn’t matter to you in the least if you just say the thing.  Ha ha.  Nope.  You are not remotely okay with this, you’ve smacked face first into a steel wall of not okay do-not-go-there, and at the very least you can try to not to add self-delusion to your list of sins.

“I thought,” you evade finally, “the deal was for an exchange of information.  It seems I’m carrying out the greater part of the soul-baring legwork here.”

Kankri frowns at you. “You’re uncomfortable with this topic,” he says, like a revelation.

You resist the urge to facepalm.  Then you decide, what the heck, you’ve got hands, clearly the universe has provided for this situation.  “Congratulations on your impeccable analysis,” you tell him sincerely through your fingers.

Kankri’s frown increases.  “Is this the part you meant before about being flippant as a coping mechanism?”

Pffft.  Okay.  You’re still upset, but this is also funny.  And also sort of endearing, but you really, really need to stop thinking like that because it’s probably proof you have a wire crossed.  Or several.  “On the balance of probability?” You slide him a provoking smirk.  “Historical precedent would indicate I am being flippant roughly 95.5% of the time.”

“That would imply you’re trying to cope most of the time,” Kankri says blankly, and then does this thoughtful little head tilt that makes you want to smack yourself in the face again.  “I don’t even understand why you’d be uncomfortable,” he adds, chin rising.  “You’re aware that I’m a mutant.  Hemoanomalous trolls are supposed to be culled at hatching, are not eligible for imperial service to the Ebon Empire, and, given interspecies tensions, are essentially locked out of every organized society currently in existence on this planet.  Not to devalue whatever your own experiences might be, but on a spectrum of… intersectional privilege… targeted genocide strikes me as the likely lower threshold.”

“…Point.”  You narrow your eyes behind your shades.  “I see you mastered the privilege Olympics at full speed.”

He narrows his eyes right back at you, then turns away with a toss of his horns.  “I don’t know what that means.  But my custodian always said strategic thinking can turn a vulnerability to a strength, or a pawn to a queen.”

“Talkative lusus.”

Kankri sniffs.  “Don’t be species-prescriptive.  If it’s any business of yours my lusus-mother is carapacian.”

You consider that for a minute, picking your way down a rapidly narrowing alleyway.  “How’d that happen?”

He hesitates a half-beat before waving a hand dismissively.  “Oh, the usual way.”

You’re guessing that means something different for trolls.

The alleyway grows still narrower, and he waits politely for you to go ahead of him, hangs back to give you your space.  Courteous.  Careful.  He’s one more person that’s worked out the ‘don’t touch the jumpy cyborg’ rules and, considering how oblivious he is to everything else that hasn’t been explicitly spelled out, you can’t help but wonder grimly whether it’s so much consideration as fear.  He seems self-assuredly smug enough, but you’re still the dude that kidnapped him and held him at sword point not so very long ago.

(–he flinched, and he looked at you with eyes that burned like coals, and you did that, you put that bright kernel of fear there behind the steel–)

“—so, do I get to hear the Kankri Vantas secrets repository?”   You’ve turned sideways to crab your way through the excessively narrow space between brick and stone—what even, Seb; thank you so very much for this entire experience—so you can see him cast you an unreadable glance.

“Should I interpret that to mean you would prefer I not ask further questions about your person?”

“Gotta save something for the second date,” you quip, before you can really think about it.  He blinks and you bite your tongue, hard.  Whaaaaat are you doing here, exactly?  Everything about this situation is still a majorly bad idea, and you’re trying to cut back on those.

“I… see,” Kankri says, looking utterly puzzled by you.

Oh, look, this wall is conveniently close should you urgently need to knock some sense into your skull.  Maybe you should stay here.  You skootch your way free from the end of the alley and grab for the first conversational redirect that comes to mind as you wait for Kankri to catch up.

“Not eligible for imperial service, huh?  I don’t want to make unsolicited conjectures here, but that sure sounds like ‘not actually working for the government.’”

He stops and looks at you.  You feel like there is something very heavy hanging in the air, poised to tip.  To fall.  To break.

You never could resist pushing.

“So?  Are you?”

There’s a few ticks of silence.  “No,” he says finally.  “Not particularly.”

And boom, there’s that adrenaline buzz back, licking through your veins like lightning, the world slowly tilting towards something new.  (He’s going to tell you.) ((he’s going to trust you.))

“I wouldn’t be …welcome.  Which isn’t to say that Porrim and Latula and the rest of our… assemblage don’t have service obligations to fulfill,” Kankri adds, briefly distracted by the minutiae of precision word-smithing.  “But those imperial obligations are, I admit, entirely extraneous to our purpose here.”  He pauses, and you can’t turn away from the weight of his gaze, intense upon you, there in the mouth of the alley.

“In fact,” he says, still studying you, evidently choosing his words with care, “you might go so far as to say they are in opposition.”

Adrenaline spikes, hot and sweet.

He hesitates again, drawing in a breath, but now it’s very much the hesitation of someone settling themselves into the irrevocable pull of gravity before a leap.  You make a sound of encouragement, low in your throat, and startle yourself with how much it sounds like sex.

Okay, you know what? You’re going to chalk everything about this day up to ‘organic physiology is stupid, non-compliant, and not my fault’ and add ‘get a handle on yourself’ to your urgent to-do list.  In whatever sense of the word ‘handle’ puts you back in charge of your own reactions.

And now you’ve gotten so flustered distracted you’ve actually missed the next bit of Kankri’s speech.

“—drones themselves are not the problem, but rather the centralized nature of the collection of, er… genetic material.”

Wait, back up.

Why are you getting a lecture on troll reproduction.

“Looked at that way you can see the issue,” Kankri adds, oblivious to your wildly shifting attention.  He’s definitely warming to his topic, chin tilted up, eyes half-closing, hands gesturing.  “Governmental control of reproduction creates a fundamental power imbalance between the government and the populace—not just for trolls, but for carapacians as well.  Even the human cy, in a way, since they could breed but not reproduce their technological alterations.”

The flow of his words doesn’t stop, but he does that thing where he peeks one eye open like he’s checking his lecture is having the appropriate impact.  You’re still in the middle of mood whiplash—you give him blankface.  Your mind buzzes, trying to catch up, slotting new information into place, chasing down implications.

“They can’t choose to walk away from their empires,” Kankri says, “—not and persist.”  His tone picks up conviction and he leans in toward you almost unconsciously, hands gesturing.  You’re transfixed, frozen.  It feels like any action might break this moment, send you leaning in or bolting back, or startle Kankri into stopping talking, which is ridiculous, nothing ever stops Kankri talking, but you really, really want him to keep talking.  You want to know.

“Only the unmodified human populace have that option, and they’re still recovering from perigees of heterospecific oppression and war.  The lynchpin of societal control is always the next generation.  If we—“

Something… shushes, a hushed, sliding noise across concrete, from just around the corner.

You’re muscling Kanrki back into the cover of the alley before you have time to process anything beyond your body’s immediate ‘danger, will robinson’ chemical shrilling.

Kankri stifles his yelp surprisingly quickly.  He ends tense but silent, his eyes wide and bright and red on you, his pupils contracted down to points.  His body has gone stiff and defensive from head to toe, a fact you can attest to because your rapid retreat left you both wedged tight against each other, pressed between brick and stone in the narrow confines of the alley.

You can’t breathe.  You can’t look away.

His eyes are so close, his face is so close.  A breath away, if either of you were breathing.  You can feel the heat of him right through your clothes, the not-quite tremble of muscles drawn taut in a line up your thigh and abdomen.  His hand, pressed over your heart, trying to keep some space, sears you like a brand.  He could do some damage with those claws.

It sort of feels like he’s damaging you right now, burning you right up.

You sort of like it.

Can you panic on behalf of yourself and someone else at the same time?  Because you might be about to flip your ever-loving shit.

Kankri’s eyes flick towards the mouth of the alley.

That sliding noise comes again, so soft you might have mistaken it for the feather fall of sand down a slope—a sort of swish swish swish of something moving back and forth.

You have heard that before.

“Dominion sanitator,” Kankri says, and it’s hardly more than a breath by your collarbone.

Oh, joy, more unfamiliar alien terminology.  Not helpful, but at least it distracts you from the panic attack you are very much not having.  You follow his glance toward the street ahead, but there’s nothing to see.  Whatever’s moving out there (big, quiet—hunting?) is still a street over at least.  Kankri does not look inclined to go out and say hi to it.

Where did you hear it before?  You rifle randomly through sensory memories, frustrated for the millionth time at the lack of reliable organic sorting algorithms, trying to trace the source of the familiarity.  It’s stupid how difficult it is, you’ve barely got a few pocketfuls of embodied time to dig through, hardly any time at all since you woke up in an unfamiliar body on an unfamiliar world…

…that’s it.  The city that first day, on the roof with Seb, and questing through streets below, a ripple of white.  A thing like some mad scientist crossed a centipede with a snake, and then in a fit of extra death-wishery, magnified it to parade-float size and set it loose on the populace.  You’d suspected that one of hunting, too, feelers probing along the ground in front of it as it flowed through empty city streets.

You never did find any people in that city.

The noise seems to shuffle and slide past for a long time.  Yards and yards of time.  You wait, with your heart in your throat and Kankri pressed silent and trembling-tense against you, until the unseen creature becomes unheard once again.  Until you’re sure it’s continued past your street and your narrow, tucked away alley, taking no notice of you, hunting blindly on.

Kankri wriggles against you (--um), prying his way out of the alley and free.  “It’s gone.”

“How do you know it won’t turn around and come right back?”

He lifts his chin.  “They’re engineered to remove non-carapacian sentient life from cities. If it had realized we were here we’d know because we’d already be dealing with it.  They mostly make straight sweeps unless they pick up signs of life.”

That… does not sound like fun times.  You wonder what would have happened if it had found you, heard you.  Smelled you?  If you’d actually been out in the street beyond to make a sound or leave a footprint or drop a scent trail for it to catch.  If you’d been a few minutes ahead of yourselves…

Your heart clutches again.

“We need to find Seb right now.”

Kankri sucks in a breath, but doesn’t argue with you.

>>

[faceoffdoodles]

FaceOFF AllStars: EP2 LIVEBLOGGING - MEAN NEVILLE EDITION

I haven’t been able to watch ANYTHING and I’m so impatient to see who goes home

Although, Ben and Evan don’t look too good and I accidentally came across just PICTURES of them on Twitter, so I can make some conclusions that maayyyybee they were the ones eliminated? 

Who knows, let’s watch!

Also PLEASE HAVE THE INTRO THIS TIME, 

I did notice the lack of intro before but forgot to overreact to it

Adam is in the thumbnail... interesting

“McKenzie scares me” - Cig, me too, Cig

I really was wondering if someone feared McKenzie sometimes, she can be a little creepy and I like that a lot about her, she’s not just plain voice but she really sets the tone for the episode sometimes

YYYYES. THE INTRO

Both teams on bottom last time seem to be struggling

I wonder how logan feels seeing his own makeup on the intro

CAT, OH MY GOD

Her idea that Niko was planying to to marry them was so cute

I actually laughed, fuckiiing love them

Also I like the callback to McKenzie being a minister

“For this challenge you’re going look really....deep....inside” MCKENZIE!! Language!!

does anyone wonder if thats the line she uses in bed? no? sorry

So good and evil challenge, GREAT! Love these

Niko’s hair update: It seems the same height, but a little spread

Cool idea for a challenge, good and evil in one person, let’s go!!

This episode could also double for “every contestant’s backstory” episode

Evan delivers confessionals so stoic and plain it actually sucks some life out of me

I mean they are both in danger of going home today and he’s like “This is the only opportunity of creating a really cool makeup we dont want to be on the bottom this week. I don’t want to go home. No. Not at all”

I think I’ve seen Melissa’s design before, in a horror challenge from season 6 I think

The one with a Teletubbie ring on the head

Okay, picture the above creature but with some gold color on top, that’s the design they’re gong for and I think it’s a good idea

Stella wants to like, destroy the creature anatomically

YOU’RE GOING TO DESTROY YOURSELF IF YOU TRY TO SCREW WITH ANATOMY

GLENN WILL BE LIKE POW! RIGHT IN THE KISSER

Adam’s getting some highlights this episode when I felt he didn’t get a lot last episode, cool!

Was he always this serious tho?

Happy Birthday Tyler Green!!

I love Team Funny’s ideas, Love it! Hope it looks good ebcause I’ll be drawing that

Okay I thought fo sure Team Benevan was going home but Team Sassy don’t look too good today

THey came up with a decent idea

Oooh Team Talent have a really interesting concept

“THAT’S DOOOPE” - Says Emily as she hits a blunt and dabs

YEA THAT REALLY HAPPENED

Okay no it didn’t

Oh I ahven’t seen Ben this worried

Learn from Nora Ben, she could totally redo herself if she was doubting

LET NORA GIVE YOU POWERSSS

I wake up like this in the morning

I wish people were a little more creative this episode instead of being “One Half Evil, One Half Bad!”

To be fair if I were on time constraints that tight I wouldn’t think out of the box that quick

I love when Westmore walks in and the thing that Team Rage presents is just a mascara on a mannequin

Logan and Adam seem to be doing the dullest of ideas right now, it looks like a simple warrior

MICHAEL WESTMORE SCREWS TEAM SASSY OVER 

That was savage, they were doubting themselves already and he comes like “WHAT IS THIS?!!”

Mold Drama today??

Who knew sassy ladies were a bit stubborn??

TYLER’S PARTY!!!!!

I LOVE HOW THEY SET UP A CASUAL PARTY FOR HIM HAHAHA

“Tyler come here a little, come chill out with us! what a tiring day huh, it sure wooould be grrreeeeat if someone brought in some CUPCAKES!”

That was so sweet

THEY EVEN MADE HIM A CARD

You can kindaa see a bit of what everyone put in there, seem like standard happy birthdays and a You Rock!

“From Your Second Family <3″ makes my heart melt though 

It seemd a little bit acted out

NIKO “JOGGING” GONZALES

Team Love are wearing matching exercise outfits for all the RUNNING THEY’LL HAVE TO DO IN THE LAB TODAY

I lvoe Keaghlans shining blue outfit today

Keaghlan just made a huge amazing devil voice

Like the deepest “NOO!” you can imagine

“The devil just came out of me”

I’M GETTING TO KNOW YOU KEEGS, YOU’RE AWESOME

The episode keeps flashbacking to Team Benevans Long Daddy Legs alien and its hilarious

Team are making really cool hands and fingers everywhere

Mold Drama!!!! 

I think Stella opened it too early, damn

Team Sassy in danger!

“I have no fight left in me” Aw man, first time I’ve seem someone completely give up, it’s sad that it’s Stella

You know what I’ve always appreciated? I love how the show tells us the things the contestants use to make these makeups, I love learning how Niko makes wings

Holy moly Team Funny are doing some seriously creative stuff

Thanks for the church window lifehack, Cig!

STELLA GETS A BREAK, FINALLY

She’s moving a mile a minute

TEAM Benevean are really proud of what they’re doing

That’s really important to believe in your makeup

I’m digging this creature a lot so far

God knows the judges love fancy spiral work

Team Love are also doing really amazing paintjobs

AND THEY’RE LEARNING NOT TO BREAK A MAKEUP EXACTLY DOWN THE MIDDLE

Neville Page hates that stuff

THIS IS THE RUSH HOUR NOW, LAST LOOKS

I seriously love Gage, I thinks he thinks the most like me

Nope

I’m fully convinced Stella and Jasmine are going home today

All their edit today was downhill and they’re not happy at all

The editors even left us in the dark for it to be revealed in the stage instead of a little sneak peak

Time to take a look now

AND STELLA AND JASMINES ARE THE FIRST ONE TO SOME ON

It looks better than I thought but it looks so, bland and normal, specially compared to the ideas the other teams have, though sometimes that can be for the better. Their makeup has killer paintjob and details though!

The chest piece is preeeety awful though, like, really out of place awful, and it has no color

And it looks silly, yeah, it looks like they didn’t finish painting it.

OH. MY. GOD

NEVILLE JUST HAD THE MOST EVIL, MEAN AND DISAPPOINTED LOOK I’VE EVER SEEN ON HIM

LOOK. AT. THIS. GEM

I AM SO AFRAID OF THIS NEVILLE PAGE

HE EVEN DID A MENACING BREATH

Stella: “and maybe we will be safe! I don’t know!”

Neville: *mean face*

I can see all the rage forming on his head, I can hear his words through his teeth, I can see my self looking at those eyes, full of hatred, and pissing my pants like Jason from Season 9 whenever Glenn Hetrick said his name

The Master of Terrified reactions has come back, everybody!!! Long time I haven’t used you Jason, welcome back!!!

Okay Ben really knows how to pull gold celestial makeup so his angel looks GREAT

I think his devil could have used a little more

I CAN BE YOUR ANGLE.... AND YOUR DEVIL

Team Funny’s stone sculpting is GORGEOUS but if I didn’t know what it was about I would be pretty confused

HOLY SHIT!!! EMILY AND TYLERS CREATION IS BEAU- TI- FUL

Love it, love at first sight, love IT

It totally nails the challenge and it’s just, magnificent

It’s like something from Season 5

I like the way it goes from perfect arches to crooked putrid remains,  I love the different colored eyes and the gray pupil, it’s like something mythical. I love mythical ceratures on FaceOff. This is right up my alley!

I hope the judges love it because I do, so much

Logan and Adm’s creation is pretty awful and silly

It looks like it belongs on another challenge

The 80′s wig is pretty out of place there, too

It has some things on the face but it can’t really read that well from afar, I think it’s too skin-colored

The chest piece is cool tho

I’m not sure about the hand coming out of the neck

TEAM BLUE’S MAKEUP is also pretty great looking, great color sceme and design.

OH MY GOD, THE EYE CHEST PIECE TOTALLY WORKS

One of the most creative chest pieces for sure, man I really like this makeup as well

I’m not sure who sould be Top Spot at this point

I really like the ring on the head too, good job, Melissa and Keegs.

Team Rage made something that I presume will be safe, it’s pretty safe looking 

Team LOVE’s makeup has a GREAT color sceme but I think the wings are too high

Does it fly with her EARS???

Love the paintjob on it though, great, GREAT contrast

The wings are AMAZING too, so

Good on Cat for making the call for the feathers!

Glenn says Team Sassy’s chest piece looks like it was just pasted with glue, it’s true

And I hadn’t noticed but the horns do look too squishy lmao

TEAM FUNNY HAS A DEMON FACE ON THE SHOULDER I DIDN’T SEE EITHER, that’s pretty creative

Glenn has a point in that the makeups feels very Native American, i had that on the back of my mind but didn’t know exactly what i reminded me of

Thanks Glenn!

The judges LOVE the arch creature, LOVE IT

The judges also LOVE team LOVE’S makeup!! I’m glad!!

Niko and Cat really do make an amazing team together

Did they skip Team Blue’s makeup??? I don’t recall any critiques of it

Team Love and Team Talent on Top 

Team Logam and Team Sassy on bottom, those are my bets

I went back a bit and yep, they skipped Team Blue’s makeup, certainly safe

WOAH This is weird, there are 5 people in the BEst and Worst

It usually is in pairs

I think it’s because Ben and Evan were on danger last week but did alright this week so it was just to recall who is in danger

Their makeup is pretty alright

The judges do like it

Jasmine and Stella are definitely going home, how sad

God the love angel looks so beautiful from afar

I like this shot of Logan and Adam, hold on

Like “Yep. We fucked up”

Logan even does an eyebrow disa`ppointment look

Team Talent is so POWERFUL

THE BACK WINGS ARE AWMAZING I HADNT SEEM THEM

I love how sad they look, and I love that they’re gold

Man this was just very beautiful

Oh man I’m not ready for Glenn to bash Stella and Jasmine

It breaks me, it really breaks me

Stella looks very sad, like she’s about to cry

I can’t take this

However, I’m gonna love seeing Cat and Niko get praised

Go Team So-Sweet-You’re-giving-me-Diabetes!!

VE NEILL CANT CONTAIN HER GLEE AT HOW AWESOME SHE FINDS THIS ANGEL!!

And even she says this is the best beauty makeup she’s ever seen on the show, GOD yes!

I like seeing them get praised because  on other places they were so bashed, and I feel like sometimes it went too far. Like Cat had great talent but was put on a horror-themed season (and even then she failed on the most fantastical of challegnes, how ironic) but I liked her, Niko made it all the way to 4th but everyone said it was a fluke and that he got lucky everyone else just did worse than him all the time and that he was just a pretty face, but together they seem really great so far. 

It makes me feel nice, totally rooting for them

“I THINK ITS AWESOME *HEH*”

Love Ve Neill’s laugh

And God knows she loves big wings

HAHAHAHAHAHAH

NE VEILL PAGE POINTING OUT HOW NIKO’S HAIR IS RIDICULOUSLY DEFYING OF ALL KNOWN PHYSICS

“Big, Profoundly Strong in regards to his silhouette,  and defying the laws of physics, I’m referring to your hair.” - Ne Veill “No Hair Up There” Page

“How the hell do you do it, man!” - Neville “Bald Mage” Page

I think he always wanted to make this joke since Season 6

I mean even after all these years HE STILL HAS THE SAME HAIRSTYLE

Poor guy just wants to have hair, 

I also love this Nevilla Page reactions picture, by the way.

“BIG!”

Neville is impressed at the SIZE

the TECHNIQUE

the SILHOUETTE

the ANATOMY

the CORRECTNESS OF THE WINGS

I love Neville Page so much

They totally spot the highlight from Glenn

I think Niko and Cat are totally winning this

“His horns looked like SLUGS!” - Ve Neill, made me chuckle

Just the way she said it

Its painfully obvious Jasmine and Stella are going home, no need to hide it

I’m surprised they didn’t mention Team Talent on top

Cat n’ Niko have to win this

AND THEY DO!! I’M SO HAPPY!!!!

Cat finally wins something!!!!! YESSS!!!

“YAH WE WIN!!! IT AHSOM!!!” - NIKO’S HAPPY EXPRESSIONS ARE HILARIOUS, i love youuu

It’s sad this is Stella and Jasmine’s second chance, like

Really sad

Too soon

Goodbye, sassy girls

Stella shrugs it off but I know she is very sad

Jasmine has the same facial expression as ever

Tragic second chance

Also I wish Jasmine was focused on more

I feel like I didn’t see her at all

Well I was rooting for her so much since I thought the Gauntlet was a bit unfair ro Jazz but well, she didn’t really show up in here

See ya next time everybody!

And yes, Stella cried

CONCLUSION:

What. a. great. episode. The first half of building and sculpting went by pretty normal, standard, almost looking like a middle of the road episode but the second half had me stitches, it was so funny and the judges seem to be enjoying themselves more and more and I love that! Neville is letting his comedic side take over, Ve Neill isn’t afraid to express how happy she feels about a makeup and Glenn makes a great stoic to contrast the funnier judges, also the makeups the teams created were astounding! Agree with the top spot, I’m so glad that Team LOVE are finding their ground and the elimination was also very fair, I thought Stella and Jasmine had some serious talent to show everyone else but I think it was the team dyamic of that season what did them in, I think they’re better individually, (Stella more so), but you gotta get with the times.

[thespacepenguincomic]

Well hello there.

So yeah, on this day, 5 years ago, I posted the first issue of the original incarnation of Space Penguin. ‘Zombie Curse on the Planet Spastica’ was 5 pages long, and total shite. But the reception from the people who read it was very supportive, and it planted the seeds for what became my main creative project. 3 further issues, a retooling and several side-comics later, here we are. And whilst it feels like it should be a celebration, it’s not, really, is it? 5 years since it started, sure, but where are we now, exactly? Things have been released, a lot of plans have been made, but...it’s not exactly been a grand few years, has it? Increasingly it feels like the only person who really cares about this whole...thing...is me, the person making it. And that’s my fault more than anyones, you can’t expect people to care about something that doesn’t exist...and...it kinda doesn’t. For me it does, for me it’s been 3 or so years of planning, writing, sketching...swearing (Lots of that), doubting, giving up, pushing on..for me, it’s very real indeed, and always has been. So it leaves me in this weird position where I’m at this major milestone for something I care about tremendously, and want to celebrate that, but there’s no real reason to celebrate, and no one to celebrate with? Hm.

I had planned, rough pages and all, to release a 3 page comic on this day, but time, and self-doubt got the better of me in terms of getting it done to this very pressing deadline. If things go to plan, maybe it’ll be out soon, but for now, as usual, all I got is my words. Sorry about that, in the unlikely event that you’re reading this, I’m sorry I haven’t produced and released the things I’ve planned and oh so eagerly want to share with you, to the point where maybe it’s not even worth doing at all. But the thing about passion projects is that they’re very hard to let go of, especially when you really believe in the things you’ve got laid out to do. Hopefully some day, sooner rather than later, I can share them with you, and see what you think. It probably all sucks, but HEY, there you go, only one way to find out.  

But, hey! Enough moping about, I guess I could make things a little better by sharing some of the SP related projects currently in the working. Starting with the one you should really be reading right now, oops!

Space Penguin : Hello World (3 Pages).

Originally planned to be released today, ‘Hello World’ is meant as a catch-up with SP and Jimupi, sending out a message to Earth, talking about where things are and where they could be going, with maybe a little extra something in addition to all that. It’s designed primarily to be a one-location/angle piece by concept, meaning it’s far less complicated to draw out than a usual comic, hence the intended quick release...which will hopefully still be the case, sooo...watch this space. Rhtymintg.

Space Penguin : One Shot (TBD Pages).

Also in the rough planning stages, this one in the 6-7 page approx region, is One Shot, a comic that finally intends to use the ‘A Penguin and a Lizard walk into a Bar’ short comic idea from 3 years back to set the scene and tone for SP and Jimupi’s friendship for the future comics to come. Set mostly in a outer space bar, full of various intergalactic FOLK, it’s mainly SP and Jimupi shooting the shit, again, with maybe a little more to it in addition. This is the current ongoing project, but I’m not going to give an ETA because I’m useless and would rather get it out when it’s done and ready.

Space Penguin : Series 1 (#1-6).

Now here’s obviously the main goal, that’s the comic itself. Series 1 comprises of 6 issues, which are all currently written out in detailed plans. The first issue had been fully planned out in rough pages, and I’d even begun to make the real things, until a Tumblr related mishap resulted in everything being lost. #1 has since been retooled in writing to address issues raised by feedback at the time, and that’s the next goal once I feel I’m capable of producing it to a quality I’m satisfied with. From that point there’s be 5 further issues in Series 1, and then an already laid out plan for later series’. When #1 finally gets done I will literally explode, probably. If I still have a mortal vessel to explode forth by that point, providing we haven’t reached the singularity.

Untitled Spin-Off Project (Project Underground).

Now here’s one I don’t want to talk too much about just yet, but it has been something of a side-project both in addition and separate from Space Penguin. Like a lot of plans for the series, its details will be revealed when the time is right, but it’s intended as a spin-off that extends the SP universe and adds a host of additional characters, with the opportunity for crossovers between the two in both big and small ways. It started out, much like SP itself, as a small, somewhat silly idea, but has been planned and developed into something I’m very fond of. The first issue has been written out in a detailed plan, and promises to offer a different character dynamic and genre to SP.

So yeah, there’s the future plans for Space Penguin, lotta stuff, dunno how much of it’ll be done, if any. But...hopefully I’ll be able to pull it off. If you’re reading this, thank you so much for caring, I know it’s hard when there’s been so little to care about. I’m sorry I’ve failed to provide that, and yeah...I should feel happier about 5 years since it first came to life, but there’s really not much cause to celebrate as of right now. That said, thank you to those who’ve supported me on this whole thing despite that, and a big thank you to my buddy g1Ferret75/Mellow Mink for going the extra mile, putting up with my mood cycles regarding the project, looking over the things I’ve produced so far, and just generally being a super supportive friend who I don’t thank enough for what he does. Go...give him a head pat, or whatever. I don’t know.

If you have any questions about the things you’ve read about today, want to share any thoughts, or...just...want to say anything SP related, please do submit them via the Ask button above (No Tumblr account needed) or at the least ask/share with me on Twitter, it really does help. Anyway, yeah..wooo, 5 years. Hopefully this time next year, 6 years will be something worth celebrating, see you then, folks.