#and then twelve opens her mouth and shes like : ill fight u | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bajitheestallion · 3 years ago

Note

The twins with a lil sis (5-8 years old) please 🥺

Maybe they have to babysit or... Dunno xd

Headcanons or whatever ya want <3

Thank u

kawata twins babysitting

cw: nothing rly, just pure fluff, maybe a bit of swearing?

a/n : was i supposed to give the kid a name??? ill just do it

biking (solo) - frank ocean

days like these is when neither if them can find themselves able to pull out of bed, curly hair falling in tufts in front of their exhausted eyes

but obviously smiley's gotta be a model older brother, so he drags himself out of bed and into his twins room

he finds himself standing in the doorway in a gray vest and basketball shorts, leaning against the door frame

"dawg.. you gotta wake up.. it's about to be twelve pm.." no response, he watches of angry turns his back to the door as to which smiley pulls away from the threshold and into the kitchen

it doesn't take long until he's eating breakfast on the couch with his eyes sleepily staring at the blue light of the tv in their living room, each minute that passed slowly waking him up from his usual sluggish morning

eventually he's back to normal, his signature grin pressed upon his face, and soon enough his twin is sitting beside him, still dozing off into nothingness with the tv being white noise

though their calm morning is cut through with a loud knock

it couldn't be anyone from toman, since they know where the spare key is, either that or they bust in through angry's open window

hesitantly, the twins raise from their seats, approaching the door with caution, reaching for their hoodies which were hung up on a rack beside the driftwood door

smiley's the one to open the door, while angry is on standby for anyone who was picking a fight

"hi there! thanks for being able to take care of her, means a lot to me!" a loud woman grins and pinches their cheeks with both of her hands while a tiny girl stood beside her

"shiiiiiit..." nahoya whispers to himself through a bright grin, "you gotta be kidding.." souta rolls his eyes, already inches away from banging his head against the wall besides the door

but as always, hoya shows his pearly whites and gets on his knees, "yooo~ we'll have fun today, alright?" he opens his calloused hand out for the child to put her hand in, as to which she does with hesitance

"i've been so busy lately, i really have to thank you two for helping me out, baji's sucha good boy." she spoke once more and it hit both of them what was happening

baji had told his mother who had told her friend that the twins were always open for babysitting for extra cash, but they weren't expecting to actually go through with it

souta keeps his face turned away from the stressed lady in front of them, just incase his resting bitch face offputs her

the silence fills the tension between them, which is finally cut through by the woman saying that she'll be off, but first she gets on her knees to kiss her baby girl goodbye

they both say their goodbye's, but souta acts as if he has to yawn, covering his mouth to avoid giving off the wrong idea

the door closes gently and now the twins are staring at each other with some child in nahoya's arm

"do you know its' name..?" souta asked, "don't call it an it!" "you just-????"

it's rocky at first, the both of the are scrambling to change the tv onto something more kid friendly instead of what looked like a program about war

"guess we have the day off?" nahoya questioned rhetorically, making his way to the couch once more with the child on his lap, latched to the hoodie he had recently put on

"well, we're visiting the park, put your shoes on." souta murmurs back, already slipping his slides on after putting on a pair of [ unmatched ] socks

a slight groan can be heard as smiley lifts himself off the couch, "don't they need shit- ah, i mean stuff like snacks?"

souta finishes his previous action, placing his forehead against the wall, he'll get over his morning anger eventually, he just needs fresh air

"we can buy it, i don't trust either of us with a knife around a child," the younger twin responds, opening the door

at this point, she's already crawled onto smiley's back, hands gripping his hair like no tomorrow

"...this is kinda fun feeling, i should be a dad when i'm older!" smiley was now fully awake, stepping outside after his shoes were fully on

angry followed, the three of them starting to make their way down the street, to the park

"so, anything happen in school?" souta asks with a bright grin, "do five year olds even go to school?"

"do you even know my name?" the child retorts, tugging his hair to look at him better

souta stifles a laugh, while his brother clears his throat, "no, so what is it?"

"it's mai."

"mai?"

"yes."

.....

the swings came into view and suddenly mai's expression changes, "can you push me on those?" she pointed with a bright grin, the twins struggling to even see it since mai had a boost

"oh sure!" even if nahoya had no idea what she was talking about, he needed to get his money's worth

"i'm gonna go to the corner store n' grab snacks. i'll be back." souta departs quickly to avoid having mai come after his neck the way she did with his brother

"so what're your names?"

"i'm nahoya, he's souta."

"you look the same!"

"twins, y'know?" nahoya smiled, turning into the park

it wasn't full, maybe two or three kids running around, though they didn't seem to have a guardian around

nahoya lifts the kid off his shoulders, walking to the swings excitedly, "i haven't gotten on one since i was like four!" he grins, placing mai on one of the seats

even if he hasn't, he still prioritizes mai over himself, starting to push her on the swings, but not hard enough to send her flying

"you have any friends at school?"

mai is hesitant to answer the question, looking at the sun still vibrant and glowing, "yeah, i do!"

he smiled in response, "are field trips still a thing?"

"we went to the aquarium the other day!"

aquarium? he hasn't been in a long time, now that he thinks about it, he hasn't done a lot in a long time mainly due to being in toman

"if your mom wants to hire us again, do you wanna go to a different aquarium?"

almost as if she lit up, she glanced back at him with a toothy smile, though one of them were missing and probably fell out before she was in the twin’s care

“‘f course!”

#!? leisure live #!? nahoya #!? souta #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyorev sfw #nahoya kawata #souta kawata #just need to get this out of my drafts </3 #but woooooo yea sorry for going on hiatus???

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gay-otlc · 4 years ago

Text

Keepers of the Chaos (Chapter 2)

Summary: Tam, Linh, Keefe, Biana, and Fitz are part of the tiny fandom for Keeper of the Chaos, and Tam and Linh's podcast convinces some of their other friends to watch it as well. The group finds themselves strangely invested in this show, where students at Tumblr High School who work together to write about an elf named Sophia, cause incomprehensible chaos, and fight their rival Pinterest High School.

Content warnings: Cursing, food, L*ura

Word count: 2005

Notes: Check out the beautiful theme song here!

(Read on AO3)

Sophie rolls her eyes as she opens the link her girlfriend sent her and puts in her earbuds. Biana has been incessantly pestering her to watch Keepers of the Chaos for so long that Sophie half wants to watch it just to shut her up, but she's always tired, or busy, and she doesn't really like watching new things. Still, Biana asked her very nicely to listen to this one podcast, and she looked very pretty when she asked, so Sophie's dumb omni ass couldn't refuse.

"Welcome to the Twins of the Chaos podcast," it begins after loading for an obnoxiously long time. The girl speaking has a pretty voice, Sophie has to admit- sweet and melodic and vaguely amused.

Maybe listening to this podcast won't be so bad if she can listen to that girl's voice the whole time.

But another person speaks, adding "Where some chaotic twins discuss our favorite show, Keepers of the Chaos," and his voice is not as pretty. She continues listening anyway, since Biana may or may not murder her if she stops.

The two voices- whose names are Linh and Tam, apparently- start talking about Keepers of the Chaos some more, giving Sophie a summary she's heard tons of times from Biana and Fitz- though the twins explain it slightly more coherently and with less... whatever the verbal equivalent of keyboard smashing is. Biana usually starts rambling about her favorite characters, like Lynn- not "Lynn the fandom mom," but the other Lynn- and Avery, or sometimes Nora and Darwin. Sophie doesn't understand any of those names and loses track of the conversation as soon as it involves too many unfamiliar names.

But Tam and Linh are making more sense, at least for the most part, until they start mentioning specific couples. The conversation gets again comprehensive soon enough, though, and Sophie does smile at the name "The Dark Duck."

By the end, when Tam says "half of them wearing sleeping masks with teal eyes painted on and the other half watching the chaos with mild amusement," Sophie is curious enough to be mildly intrigued. She listens to their outro music, and before she can regret it, types out a text message to Biana.

Sophie: fine

Sophie: ill watch it

Biana responds instantly with an array of heart emojis. Sophie blushes.

Biana: can i come over and watch with u?

Sophie: ok!

Sophie: moms making mallowmelt

Sophie: but u cant have any

Biana: >:(

Biana: hope u like being single then

Sophie: fine u can have some mallowmelt

Biana: yayyyy!

Biana: ily

Sophie: ilyt

Sophie: now lets watch ur stupid show

Biana: on my way!!!

Sophie smiles, shaking her head. She's a little annoyed, but fine, it sounds interesting enough from the podcast. And what else would she be doing? Studying? Having US history as an alternative would make even the most horrible of shows seem good. She stuffs her textbooks into her backpack and shoves some things out of the way so her room looks a bit neater before rushing downstairs. The mallowmelt smells good enough to make her mouth water.

"Mmm..." she sighs, barely taking time to let it cool off before taking a large bite. "That's so good. Thanks, Mom."

Edaline smiles. "You're welcome. Just save some for your father and I."

"Fine, fine. I have to share with Biana, anyway." Sophie huffs and takes another bite. "She's coming over, is that alright? We're going to watch a show together."

"Sure, just make sure to get your homework done."

Sophie rolls her eyes. "Fine."

"And keep the door open!" Grady calls. Edaline laughs as Sophie's face flames.

"I'm going back to my room," she grumbles, taking a plate of mallowmelt with her and walking up the stairs. She manages not to trip over her own feet and drop the mallowmelt, thankfully, as she grabs her laptop and opens Netflix. Sighing, she searches for Keepers of the Chaos and clicks on the show that comes up before waiting for Biana to arrive.

The doorbell rings soon, and Sophie carefully sets down her laptop and her plate on her bed before rushing down the stairs. Panting slightly, she opens the door for her girlfriend. Biana's wearing a t-shirt with the Amsterdam flag on it. Sophie has no idea why. Maybe Biana likes the country? Her girlfriend is pretty weird. "Come on in," she says, realizing she's been staring. In her defense, Biana is pretty and Sophie is very omni.

"Ready to go watch Keepers of the Chaos?" Biana asks. She bounces on her toes slightly.

"Alright," says Sophie. "I set it up on my laptop in my room."

"Awesome! You'll love it."

Sophie follows Biana up the stairs and into her room. They sit on the bed together, Sophie leaning against the wall and Biana leaning against Sophie, and Biana presses play. Somber kazoos begin playing in the background as the theme song starts.

We're on the edge of chaos

No one is straight

We're making fanart

Because L*ura we hate

And we're gonna have teal eyes in the end!

We must be weird, and we must be gay

(We must be gay!)

We will find every bit of sanity that we have

And give it all to Lynn

Ohhhh

We must be gay!

Biana dances a little along with the song, and Sophie can't help but smile. A curvy, round-faced person with short dark hair and colorful earrings plays a few notes on the piano, and then a KEEPERS OF THE CHAOS logo flashes across the screen. Then, a group of students sit in a classroom.

"Shai! Tater! Lynn! You three finally got together?" says the same person who just played piano, gesturing to a redhaed wearing a Sappho lesbian flag cape. She's holding the fingerless-gloved hand of a lanky person with brightly colored hair, and they're holding hands with a tall girl who has chin length brown hair. The rest of the class applauds the fiancees before returning to their own conversations.

"Yep! Thanks, Ink," says Tater.

Ink smiles at them and turns to a person with light brown skin and golden hoop earrings partially covered by long dark hair. "Hi, Kiri, how was your break?"

"Good! Here's to a good 2021?" Kiri turns to the person next to them. "How about you, Ref?"

Ref has short brown hair and red glasses. "Yeah, my break was dOPE," she says, leaving everyone to wonder how he did that with their voice. "oH, and happy belated Hanukkah to Shai!"

"Thanks, you too. And guess what! I didn't set my hair on fire this year!"

A short guy with strawberry blonde hair looks concerned. "Um. Congratulations?"

"Thanks, Sam!"

Sophie looks away from the screen and at Biana. "There are a lot of characters..." she mutters.

"Yeah, but you get to know them well enough eventually," says Biana. "Now shh, let's keep watching!"

A lot of other characters are introduced in various conversations, and Sophie's brain has a hard time keeping track of them all. She does remember Tara, a curvy, bored-looking girl with long sideswept bangs, and Blue, a bisexual who may or may not be an arsonist. She doesn't know either of their personalities very well yet, but she likes them so far. Lucat, a pale, blue haired asexual, who later joins the Hanukkah conversation, also seems cool.

Once quite a bit of introductions are done- Sophie lost count at around twenty something- are over, an announcement comes over the school's loudspeakers.

"Welcome back, Tumblr High School!" announces a voice. "I hope you all had a good break. Now, the Tumblr staff have an important announcement for you all. High schools in this county, like ours, Pinterest High School, and Instagram High School, will be holding a competition. All members of the winning team will receive a scholarship to AO3 college. If you are interested, meet in room 69 after school. Now, onto other announcements..."

Somber kazoos play again as the principal's droning voice fades into the background. A montage of the previously introduced characters wishing they could go to AO3 college moves across the screen. After a few minutes of them zooming through school and talking about how fucking boring it is, all of them gather in the room (some of them with more jokes than others) to discuss the competition.

A blonde woman welcomes them into the room. They wait a while to make sure no one else will arrive, but once everyone is there, the woman clears her throat. "Hello, everyone! I'm glad you're interested in joining the competition. My name is Shannon Messenger, and I'm in charge of admissions at AO3 College. My coworker L*ura and I designed this competition."

Sophie gasps and looks at Biana. "L*ura? But isn't that the person they hate? They said that in the intro!" Biana smiles at her, and she blushes as she realizes that she's kind of... maybe... invested in the show now. She decides she'll endure the "I told you so"s later and looks back at the show, trying to telepathically tell the characters not to trust this L*ura person... and perhaps not Shannon either. It's too early to tell whether Shannon will be an antagonist or not.

"All of you will be working as a team to write a story together. The main premise is that a twelve year old girl named Sophia is a telepath, but she can't tell anyone her secret. Then, she meets a teal-eyed boy named Finn, and he tells her that she's an elf. She travels back to the elf world with him, where she struggles a bit at the elf school Firefox, makes friends with some other elves, learns that she is an illegal creation of a rebel group called the Dark Duck, and another rebel group- the Rarelynoticed- tries to kidnap and kill Sophia and her friend Deck. There are other details to be included into the story, which will be given out to the participants as a packet. The object of this competition is not to determine your ability at coming up with story ideas, but your ability to work in groups and execute well developed ideas. Does anyone have any questions?"

Someone raises their hand- a short, tanned girl. "Lynn?" prompts the principal.

"Did you say the rebel group was named the Dark Duck?"

"And the Rarelynoticed?" adds another person, with rectangular glasses and a red bracelet.

"Raise your hand before speaking, Auran," scolds the principal. "But yes, those are the names."

"Alright then," Auran mutters.

"Unless anyone else has questions, we'll be sending out sign up forms for everyone interested, and then we will distribute the information packets about your story. You can talk to each other and start planning."

No one else has questions, so once they've all filled out the sign up form, they gather in small groups and flip through the packets, making sarcastic comments or mocking names ("'Rarelynoticed' though-" a stylish hijabi named Raiin sighs as they come across a page of information about the group) as they try to form some semblance of a plan. Once they all agree that they've made a lot of progress, they make plans to meet up again soon and walk back home.

Unbeknownst to them, a pair of ominous teal eyes watch from above.

Somber kazoos play once again, and the credits roll.

"So, what'd you think?" Biana asks as Sophie closes her laptop.

Rather inaudibly, Sophie mumbles "It was good."

"What was that?"

"It was good! I liked it!"

Biana grins. "I told you so." She leans over and kisses Sophie on the cheek. "Thanks for watching it. I have to go do some homework, awesome seeing you!" As she walks out, Sophie hears her singing under her breath. "We must be gay..."

#tumblr kotlc fandom fandom #keepers of the chaos #shai types things #cursing tw #we must be g a y #shai's writing

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myjjbaby · 5 years ago

Note

okay so a jj request where the reader has been keeping it a secret from jj that she’s epileptic (they’re dating) and then one night when they’re at a party and jj gets into a fight and she gets really overwhelmingly stressed from trying to get him to stop that it triggers a seizure, maybe like only kie knows she’s epileptic or something?? idk i totally get it if u aren’t comfortable writing this i just love ur writing and yeah ((:

i didn’t know

author’s note - guess who’s back, back again!! here’s a request surrounding mental illness and I just want to note that I am in no way intending to romanticize epilepsy or seizures, I just think that someone could really benefit from having a story that might fit with them and including a form of comfort through writing. big thanks to @jjmaybanx for her help because she helped me figure out a way to best portray what I wanted to get across.

synopsis - requested by anon! you kept a really big secret and it all crumbles away along with your so called perfect day.

warnings - epilepsy, seizing, underage drinking, fighting, overall angst for 1.6k. if any of these topics are possibly triggering to you please don’t read and if you have any concerns including me feel free to reach out.

Today was a perfect day. The sunrise was peeking through the window of John B’s spare room when you woke up, your blue eyed boy wrapped around you. You spent the better half of the morning admiring his peaceful features, blushing when he caught your stare.

“Morning, baby,” he smothered your cheek with an open mouth kiss, giggles erupting as he wrapped you in his arms, “you liking your view.”

You hummed lightly in agreement and continued to stare lovingly at your boyfriend. He traced your face with calloused fingers, brushing along the bridge of your nose as he watched you flush. JJ pulled you into his chest and your head rested comfortably on his collarbone while he kissed your hair.

“C ‘mon lovebirds, time to catch the waves.”

JJ groaned at John B, throwing an empty beer can at the door.

“Fuck off, let me hold my girl. It’s too early, the waves probably suck anyway.”

“JJ, it’s half past noon. Let’s go,” the brunette threw a muscle tank and a red baseball cap at your boyfriend, “Kie and Pope are already in the van.”

You smiled before trying to slip out of his grip and climb off the navy sheets. JJ caught your wrist in his warm hand, pulling you back into his familiar hold.

“J, we’ve gotta get up.”

He shook his head, curls tickling the underside of your jaw. Not long after, the two of you were packed into the back of the rusty Volkswagen with your boards trapped to the top.

JJ held you in his lap, kissing your neck when you threw your head back with laughter. His hands slipped under the gray fabric top you stole from him and prodded at the bikini strings. You slapped his hand away but he just smirked and continued twirling the purple straps between his fingertips.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” John B’s voice broke through the lively chatter, “let me present to you the finest Outer Banks waves ever.”

And he wasn’t wrong, the ocean was still wild from the surge of the hurricane a few days ago and the curl of each wave crashed beautifully. The Pogues climbed out of the beat up van before unstrapping all of the surfboards, John B and JJ running ahead with loud cheers being carried by the wind. You giggled as you carried your board alongside Kie, stopping just short of the sea. Looking over at the tanned girl, you sent her a wink and a bump to her hip before gliding off after your boys.

“You left a couple waves for me?”

“Of course,” the blonde reached his hand out to squeeze yours, “always do.”

The water was cool, relaxing her muscles, and JJ smiled, watching you absorb the sunshine. You all stayed out on the waves until your fingers were pruned and your eyes couldn’t stay open from the amount of salt water splashed on you.

Drifting back to shore, JJ was quick to grab your hand and bring it up to his face for a kiss. You felt content when John B drove the group to the Boneyard, a metal keg placed between you and Pope. The first kegger of the summer to end a perfect day.

A filled red solo cup quickly found its way into your hand and the bonfire burnt brightly as everyone showed up. Your fellow resident of the Cut, the Kooks from Figure Eight, and those clueless Tourons. You noticed your boyfriend’s grip pulling you back into his chest, successfully stumbling you away from the drunk idiots who couldn’t take a hint when JJ glared at them.

“Bub, ignore them.”

“I can’t.”

You chuckled when he clenched his jaw with jealousy.

“You have no reason to worry,” he hummed, features softening when they set on you, “I’m all yours, J.”

The night seemed to carry on without a hitch until a smooth hand slipped its way over your thigh. The soft skin contrasted the familiar roughness of JJ’s touch. You slipped your body away from the stranger’s eager touch.

“Where you going, girly?”

“Away from you.”

“I think you should stay right here wi-“”

His vulgar suggestion was cut off by a ring covered fist that you could recognize anywhere. JJ pushed you behind him as he overshadowed the clueless drunk boy. You could feel the blonde’s anger coming off him in waves, hand clenching and ripping his arm away when you went to hold him back. Your boyfriend was blinded by anger and his protectiveness over you.

“Stay the fuck away from my girl, you hear that?”

“What’s your problem?”

Wrong move, dumbass. JJ’s back was tense with bottled emotions, his breathing labored as he watched the Touron stand up.

“My problem? You thinking it’s okay to grab my girlfriend or any girl like that, that’s my problem.”

Like a fuse run out, JJ lunged at the stranger as a harsh gasp escaped your throat.

“J!”

He was seeing red, too absorbed by his anger to notice your cries or fastened breathing. Kiara, however, noticed when your hand lifted to your shirt, grasping the fabric as strangled heaves pressed out of your body.

“Y/N? Y/N! Hey, hey, c ‘mon, don’t give out on me,” she watched as you stumbled into a dune, collapsing to the sand, “Y/N? You still with me?”

Kie watched as your gaze fogged over as if you were in a daze. She quickly moved the rocks and driftwood from near you and shouted for Pope or John B’s attention, the two boys rushing to your side.

“Pope, start timing. We’re about five seconds in right now.”

“Timing? That’d only happen if Y/N was having a sei- shit, okay.”

“John B, help me roll her onto her side.”

The two best friends turned you over as your arms began to tremble.

“Eleven Mississippi, twelve Mississippi…”

John B watched on helplessly before realizing JJ wasn’t by your side. Running back into the crowd and pushing through the circle formed around the fight, the brunette grabbed your boyfriend and tugged him towards you.

“Baby? Hey, hey, baby? Kiara? what’s happening?”

“She didn’t- she didn’t tell you,” Kie searched JJ’s panicked gaze for some kind of recognition.

“Tell me what? Kiara? What the fuck is happening?”

“She’s having a seizure! She’s epileptic! The fight must’ve overwhelmed her and triggered a seizure.”

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know,” he mumbled to himself shuffling closer to your frozen body. JJ stared back at Kie before turning to your disoriented figure laying out of the sand. He fell to his knees beside you, grabbing your face to try and comfort you.

“JJ, don’t touch her!”

“What? Why?”

“You can’t just grab her when she’s like this. You need to cool off and wait for it to end.”

“I- I didn’t- I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

Harsh sobs were pulled from his chest as he gripped his hair tightly. JJ had never felt so useless watching you, the girl he loved, struggling and he didn’t even know how to help you.

“W- Wh- What just, what just h- happened?”

Kie sighed when she watched you slowly come out of your stunned state. You glanced around bewildered not knowing where you were or how you got there.

“You had a seizure, Y/N. There was a fight and it just stressed you out,” she watched the panic cross your face again, “hey, it’s okay. Everyone is okay. You’re okay.”

You quickly scanned the group in front of you until your eyes landed on tear filled blue ones. You breathed in a short gasp seeing your boyfriend so torn up in front of you.

“JJ?”

He slowly inched towards you until he pulled you onto his lap like countless times before, but this time felt different.

“Could we have a minute?”

JJ glanced up at his friends before they all nodded and stepped away, clearing the infamous beach of the wandering partygoers. You didn’t dare look back up at the blonde boy, hating the pained look you knew would greet you if you did.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you fiddled with your fingers until he slowly gripped your own, pulling you deeper into his frame.

“Y/N, this isn’t something you can just keep from me.”

“I know, I know and I really am sorry. It was unfair of me to keep something like this from you. I just wanted to be normal.”

JJ nodded slightly, pressing a tender kiss to the crown of your head.

“I felt so hopeless. I didn’t know what the hell was happening and when I tried to help I just made it worse.”

“That’s my fault,” he vigorously shook his head, “yes, it is. I love you and should’ve told you.”

You sat in silence, JJ’s legs slotted between yours, his chin resting on top of your head. You leaned back and pressed your lips to his temple and the blue eyed boy returned the gesture with a soft smile. The silence was peaceful and perfect until JJ shifted to look down at you.

“Do you think I could get away with using the internet at work?”

“What? Why?”

“Hurricane knocked the towers down and I need to do some research, so I can take care of you.”

“I love you, J.”

“Love you too, baby.”

#jj maybank #outer banks #recs #like damn #outerbanksedit #obxedit #fic rec #jj maybank x reader #obx jj #i want a jj so someone please supply one #jj obx #jj x reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj #jj imagine

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comicsnas · 5 years ago

Text

showtime

WARNING: eye gore!!, violence Disclaimer: this is..... an au where guy fieri isnt a cool and chill dude that just likes food. i am very sorry for what i do to him in this. i dont mean it and if the cops knock at my door i will blame it on hussie word count: about 3.7k. i am so sorry

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

“No matter what happens, nobody cancels the premiere,” you say. “Okay? No matter what’s in the news. No matter how bad it gets. The movie drops on Thursday, and people are gonna watch it. Got it? This is a scare tactic and we’re not falling for it. Even if the world is ending, we are premiering this movie and going through with the promo. With or without me.”

Catalena, your manager, has been with you for too long to think that you’re joking. She was who flew you in from Houston to LA back when you were twenty, who let you sleep on your couch until you made enough money to get an apartment, who thought that the message you had for the world was one worthy of her help. She knows that all of this is real, and that she can’t stop you.

Her face says, Dave, you’re scaring me. Her mouth says, “You got it. Could you at least tell me… what you think is going to be in the news that would make us not premiere it?”

“Something bad,” you say. “Hopefully, anyway.”

She tilts her head. “Are you faking your death?”

“Lalonde and I are gonna disappear for a sec,” you say. “How people interpret that is gonna be up to them.”

“Not like you to leave things up to chance,” Catalena says. “Some will think it’s elaborate PR.”

“That’s why I’m only telling you. Lalonde and I are gonna frame this to look serious, and no one else is gonna know what’s going on. You keep your cool, but don’t let anyone know that you’re in on it.”

“I mean, I barely am.” She gives you a Look, a capital L Look, then sighs and nods. “Fine. So if I hear about your presumed death tomorrow, I won’t freak out. At what point am I allowed to assume you are actually dead, and freak out a little bit?”

“If you don’t hear from me in a week,” you say, “then Lalonde and I have been killed by Betty Crocker.”

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

That’s not true. You’re not blind. You don’t think you are going to be blind. There is no way that you’re fully blind, because the assassin only got your right eye, so it doesn’t make sense for you to be blind, but you’re blind.

The pain might originate from your right eye, but it’s engulfing your entire head by now, and there is something sticky in your left eye and you can’t open it anymore and it burns, and you’re going to go blind, and then you’re going to die in a ditch, in a pool of your own blood, and this is it. It’s over. You and your half sister fucked around on the internet a bunch, got really deep into some conspiracy theories, and barely two weeks after you made the discovery that Betty Crocker definitely, undoubtedly, literally is an actual alien, someone was sent to kill you.

They didn’t manage, so far. They got your eye, and they broke your glasses, leaving a cut on your nose, and a bunch of cuts everywhere else, and you think you cracked your head open when you fell. But you cut their knife hand off, good and clean off, watched it fall to the ground right in front of you. By the time it hit the pavement, the assassin had already turned around and ran away, leaving you to crumple and suffer here by yourself.

This is it.

“Strider?” Rose says. Before the blood trickling into your good eye ruined your vision, you managed to dial her number and call her up, and now you’re lying on your side with your phone pressed to your ear, imagining her in her college dorm room in New York. You were going to visit her there, years ago, after you ran away from your parents. It never worked out. Neither of you has the money. You really wish you could have seen her at least once.

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

“You gotta go. She sent someone after me, she’s gonna come for you too. If she knows that I know, she’ll know that you know.”

One of the most comfortable parts of friendship with Rose, you’ve found, is that she never asks you to clarify what the fuck you’re talking about. Either she just lets you ramble, or she knows exactly what you mean. “Shit,” she hisses, and you can hear rustling on her side of the line, hopefully from her getting ready. She probably has a getaway bag somewhere, you think. You have one, but not on you right now. It’s too late for that.

“They’ve already hit me, so whoever she sent to you can’t be far,” you say. You try to blink your eye open, but then it hurts the other more, and it burns. You can’t even tell where exactly. It just burns. “Hurry up, Lalonde.”

“They’ve hit you?” she echoes, still rustling, breathing into the phone. On the move. Good. “Are you okay?”

“No,” you say. “Gonna call an ambulance after this. Just get the fuck out and text me later, yeah?”

Rose pauses. You can hear her pause, you can hear everything go very silent for a second. She says, “You called me before you called for help?”

“Yeah,” you say. She told you, once, that there is a quick and easy way out the window of her second-storey dorm room, that lets her balance over to her girlfriend’s room only a few windows ahead. She can’t hide there, it’s too close, but it’s a start. She’ll figure it out, she always will. She was the first person to ever have your back. “Of course I did.”

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

You’re leaned back, staring out the window, listening to the clicking of her knitting needles next to you. The pilot here doesn’t know who he’s dealing with, just that he is flying two rich people and their car to Washington, DC. Your Mustang is in the cargo part of the plane, a vital part of the plan. You’ll torch it later. It was the first car you bought with your own money, after SBaHJ had become big and you had finally paid off your hospital debt.

Rose’s apartment isn’t that old, she got it after Roxy was born and she decided to move to Los Angeles, so you could help each other babysit. Trashing it still felt wrong. A home is a home, but you wanted it to look broken into, to make sure that people put two and two together. This isn’t a Dave Strider marketing scheme, you both got hit. After all the work that you’ve done, at least some of the public should understand what that means.

“Us,” you say.

“That’s very sentimental,” she says. “Are you sure you aren’t mourning your car again?”

“Shut up,” you say, and blindly swat at her, hitting her elbow. She hits you back, hand slapping your shoulder. “It’s a good car.”

Rose hums. When you look at her, she’s already back to knitting. You have no idea what she’s making, but it looks like a onesie for an octopus. “We will be fine,” she says. “We have to.”

You nod, and go back to staring out the window, thinking about what Alma said. “It’s just,” you say quietly. “We gotta start thinking about the endgame, here, don’t we.”

“Start?” Rose echoes. “Dave, we know the endgame to this. We’ve known for a while. The second you landed in the hospital with a cut inside your eyeball, you and I both knew that this would end in death.”

You don’t say anything. She’s right, of course she is. You knew then, and she knew, as soon as you texted her from your hospital bed, and she texted you back from a Greyhound bus. And you tried to forget, you both did, for a very long time. You almost managed, for a whole decade, until last year, someone made you scared and angry enough to ram a sword through his throat. Until Rose came and disassembled the body on your rooftop, and then helped you burn it. Reality has caught up with you, and someone is going to die.

The clicking of her needles has stopped again. You turn your head to look at her, and she’s looking back at you, and her face seems younger than it should be. She is just as scared as you are. Neither of you ever wanted it to go this far. Neither of you wanted to kill.

“I don’t like it either,” Rose says. “But someone is going to wind up dead, and it sure as shit isn’t gonna be us.”

Washington, DC, now

)(IC: u comin or what TG: yeah about that

You’re on the hood of your car. The children -- and Sally, John’s pet hedgehog -- are with the one sitter you still trust. Rose is in position, which means she is at a remote location outside the city holding Guy Fieri hostage. She has sent you a picture of him tied to a chair and gagged, which means that it’s go time.

All according to plan.

TG: how about you come kill me somewhere else instead of home sweet home )(IC: why would i do that TG: dying mans last request? )(IC: stfu lol this is so obviously a trap TG: wow ok so is yours )(IC: fair TG: just thought that you know TG: john means something to both of us and dont try to tell me no because i know he does TG: so like can we maybe duke it out somewhere where i wont accidentally blow him to smithereens TG: innuendo intended )(IC: UG)( )(IC: gross TG: lmao TG: anyway bethany you know me and you know im comin with c4 in my backpack if im comin TG: do you really want that around your son or can you just get off your ass and meet me here so john stays safe )(IC: u reely think ya have a fighting chance to even get that far )(IC: buoy you set one foot in my house and ya get spearfished TG: yeah not really making a great point for me to come there rn TG: just thought maybe youd wanna be with your guy guy )(IC: who TG: you know TG: guy the guy )(IC: tf

You text her the picture that Rose sent, just Guy Fieri looking miserable, no indication of whether or not you or Rose are with him.

)(IC: )(-EY )(IC: motherglubber what do u think yoar doin TG: yoar??? TG: thats literally not a word. wym you oar?? what TG: anyway im gonna dismember this asshole if you dont agree to keep john safe and come here and im gonna start with the frosted tips )(IC: FIN--E )(IC: cant effin wait to be done with you )(IC: ill come krill ya if its so shrimportant just gimme the location TG: ok shrimportant is actually pretty funny TG: [coordinates] TG: see you soon

She drives a fuchsia Jaguar that looks like Xzibit threw up all over it, because of course she does. You watch it leave from your perch on your Mustang, then slide off the hood. shes gone, you text Rose. get ready to bounce

Before you leave, you turn back toward you car, and gently pat the roof. “See you soon,” you repeat, “for one last ride.”

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

Later on in the plan, once you’ve convinced John to come with you, and Rose has joined you in the no doubt brutal course out of the house littered with security guards, the three of you will pack into this car, and you will drive. You will be tailed, you know you will. Rose and you estimate two to three SUVs with more security personnel that will follow you, and sooner or later, you won’t stand a chance against them.

So, you’ll call the cops. You don’t usually do this -- even during all these years, neither you nor Crocker ever called the police on each other, and technically, you still won’t, today. You will just anonymously call authorities, and tell them about a burning car by the side of the road. Then you will hang up, and you and Rose and John will hop out of a moving vehicle as you crash your beloved Mustang and have it go up in flames. Authorities will come and find Dave Strider’s infamous car, and hopefully that’ll get people talking.

Crocker’s guys will hopefully exit their cars and go looking for you, or at least for John. It’s an easy con from there -- while they look, you will steal their SUVs and drive off toward your safehouses. Simple. No sweat.

“This better work,” you mutter to yourself, then leave your car behind and start climbing the fence around Crocker manor.

You’ve been here once before, while she was out and John was showing you around. You weren’t actively trying to case the place back then, just spending time with your boyfriend and checking out where he grew up, but you couldn’t help how curious you were. You still remember the most important spots, and you did your best to paint a proper picture of them to Rose (you drew a map in MS Paint), so now you have a pretty good idea of where you need to go.

The guard posts, of course, are randomized. You’ll have to take these as they come, and you feel prepared enough, with just your sword and a handful of knives. You’re wearing the kevlar you wore to the Oscars. You’re gonna be fine.

It’s a race against time now, knowing that there is no guarantee when Crocker will be catching on and returning to her house, and knowing that you stand no chance actually fighting her face to face. You climbed in toward the side of the house, because it’s the shortest distance between fence and wall. The front and back yards are ridiculously huge and opulent, and while you would have plenty of gaudy statues to hide behind, you’re not looking to make your way through there.

The first guard spots you right as you hop down off the fence, and your knife is in his shoulder before he even finishes drawing his gun on you. He’s also wearing a vest, but those don’t stop blades, and you take offense in knowing that she made them dress up like that. As if either you or Rose were going to show up with guns. She really doesn’t know you at all. You knock out the guard with a hit of the knife grip against his temple. Maybe you can get through this without deaths.

One of them you comfortably take out from behind a useless fountain placed in this part of the garden for some reason, appreciating how quiet and low-key you can be about it so far. The bigger the ruckus, the sooner she’ll return, so having them all go down in silence is your best case scenario.

It’s the third guard that ruins your track record. You’re almost at the house wall, and you know you’re under the right window, which means all you have to do is scale it and climb right into John’s room, but for that to work you need to have a clean path behind you. Which you don’t, you realize the second a bullet hits your back.

Your vest catches it, but the momentum still knocks you down, and you scrape both of your palms open on the weird break between lawn and pavement. You hate this fucking garden. Who lives like this? You’re gasping for breath and trying not to inhale any grass, dealing with the reality that this is the first time someone has shot at you and actually hit you, and the bullet might not have penetrated skin at all, but Jesus Fucking Christ it still feels awful. Like someone kicked you in the spine, only with a bullet instead of a foot.

Onward. You hear footsteps behind you, and now it’s your turn to kick, hitting them in the face with your boot in the same motion that you’re pushing yourself up from the ground. As they curse and stumble, you draw your sword, but they catch their footing quickly, and you know you only have a split second to act. That gun is pointing at you, again, or still, and they’re going for your head this time, and if you don’t fight now, the journey ends for you here. Someone is going to die, and it sure as shit can’t be you. Your arm darts forward.

The sword goes through their vest, their ribs, and their heart -- you wouldn’t call it smoothly, you really wouldn’t. You can feel resistance with every inch, you feel it right up to your shoulder, and you hate it, and it makes you want to throw up, but you can’t, now. You shove them off your blade and watch them crumple to the ground, and turn right back toward the wall. They are not getting up again. That’s on you, and you can deal with that later. You have to get moving.

Your phone vibrates.

You manage to pull yourself up on a balcony and crouch there, hiding from whatever is going on in the yard now. Other guards must have heard the shot being fired, so you really need to get the fuck out of sight, but this has to do, for now. If Crocker is messaging you, you have to respond, so she doesn’t think you’re in her goddamn garden.

)(IC: yo )(IC: send me proof yoar still with him )(IC: almost there this betta be worth it TG: one sec

As expected. All according to plan, so far. You hope the blood on your sword won’t make the sheath sticky. You’ll have to clean it, later. You don’t want to.

TG: shes asking for proof TG: go ahead. sorry TT: No worries. TT: I know we don’t endorse violence, but honestly, Dawon, after being in a room with him for this long, I am quite happy to do this.

She sends you a picture, and you grimace at your phone. It takes a lot to make you grimace, as a Strider born and raised -- at the same time, you’re not easily shocked or grossed out, but this isn’t great to look at. Fieri’s eye has been pulled from its socket, dangling down his cheek suspended from the nerve, a hole in the eyeball. You hope Crocker won’t be able to tell that this was done with a knitting needle, and forward the photo to her.

TG: hows this )(IC: )(--EY FUCK OFF )(IC: stop i reely like guy 38( TG: yeah well i really like john TG: eye for an eye TG: hurry it up im waiting and theres a second eye to gauge out )(IC: ten minutes )(IC: ur gonna be so sorry buoy

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

Okay. Crocker is on her way to a location where there will only be Guy Fieri and a set of elaborate boobytraps which you know won’t kill her, but hopefully slow her down. Rose is on her way here, to help you and John get out of here. That’s plenty of time you still have. Things are going suspiciously well, you think, before you remember the ache in your back and the fact that you killed someone.

You have to get to John.

He’s another two floors up, but you are right in front of a balcony door. For a second, you wonder if you could get into the house from here and do the rest from inside, so you don’t present yourself to the mob of people with guns in the garden. Unfortunately, before you can do that, another person with a gun appears on the other side of that door, mouths an angry what the fuck at you, and draws an assault rifle. Alright, well.

The thing that has mostly kept you from becoming too violent in the past is the fact that you’re fast, and you’re a great climber, so when you hop backward onto the banister of the balcony and pull yourself up to the next one above you, it happens so fast that nobody in the garden reacts. It’s after you’re already crouching behind the balcony, thankfully made of robust concrete, that the shots start hitting it. You do nothing, count the bullets, wait for them to get rid of half of their magazines down there. Then you pull a knife, peek over the balcony, and throw it right into someone’s bicep.

More shots. More ducking and counting. You have two more knives to throw, and you do, rinse and repeat. The people down there are very angry with you now, and very much still able to shoot, but you figure at least their aim will be off, and they’ll be slower. You hope. You haven’t held a gun yourself in fucking forever.

You take a breath, and jump up to grab the balcony you know belongs to John.

As soon as you’re in the open, another bullet hits your back, further toward your side this time, and you almost let go. You let out an undignified noise instead, and hold on harder, focusing all you have into your arms to pull yourself up. Shots are ringing in your ears, and one hits the concrete right next to your head at almost the same time that another one grazes your leg. You hiss in pain, grunt in exertion, pull, pull, and roll yourself onto John’s balcony.

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

You sit, curled up, and pull apart the tear in your pants with your aching fingers to check the wound. It’s not deep, certainly not as bad as the chunk of missing flesh you have in your arm from being shot at last year. It’s fine. You’ll forget about it in a second, when your newest problem will be telling your amnesiac boyfriend that he needs to come with you.

You pull yourself up into a crouch, not more. You don’t want to risk getting shot in the head as you finally face him, so you just do it like this. Hunkered down, disheveled and bloody, you lean forward and knock on John’s window.

#posted ooc #action post #woof #eye gore text -#graphic violence -#eye trauma -#the rest of this will happen in discord :')#mentioned:#fontjoke #comedianrhapsody #mindparkour #jakepalooka sort of

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vacuousauto · 4 years ago

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📃🎥🏳‍🌈

tysm for tha ask molli!! ill talk abt kny here bc its takin over my life rn qwq

spoilers ahead 4 tha whole series!!

📃 what is the plot of your hyperfixation? and is it a movie, game, show, etc?

kny is a manga w an anime adaptation thats had 1 season so far n a movies bein made of my fav arc!! (also this plot desc may not b perfect bc i havent read it in like 4 months)

its abt a boy called tanjirou whos whole family got killed by a demon, n his sister nezuko got turned into a demon (which fun fact: in kimetsu theyre man-eatin creatures w different powers called blood demon arts!!)

hes sent by giyuu (a demon slayer!) 2 join tha demon slayer corps so hell become stronger n mayb get a little revenge. as a treat (and also mayb find a way 2 turn nezuko human?)

as he trains he learns how 2 do water breathing (a sword technique taught by him n giyuus mentor, urokodaki) n his final challenge is 2 cut a massive boulder in half w his sword

its real hard 4 him (as u can imagine) so 2 kids in fox masks named sabito n makomo come n help him, but after tanjirou cuts tha rock n tells urokodaki abt him its revealed theyre dead???

@ final selection (basically a demon slayer entrance exam where u win by surviving on a demon-infested mountain 4 seven days) he learns from a real fucked up demon that hes exclusively been targetin urokodakis students n that not even sabito could slice its neck open?? (thats how him n makomo died)

after tanjirou kills tha demon n basically puts all tha water breath students’ souls @ peace he passes tha exam!! its been 7 days n now he gets his nichirin blade (the only kinda sword that can kill a demon, tha only 2 ways they can die is thru a slice 2 tha neck from a nichirin blade n sunlight)

turns out nezuko was turned by the strongest demon of all, michael jackson muzan kibutsuji, n so he sets out 2 hunt him down n try 2 kill him

but he aint so strong @ first so he needs 2 try 2 take down tha twelve kizuki first (the 12 strongest demons besides muzan)

another reason he needs 2 kill tha kizuki is 2 gather their blood for a demon named tamayo n her assistant yushirou!! tamayo can make a cure if tanjirou can gather blood samples 4 her (the stronger tha demon tha more of muzans blood they have so hes gonna have 2 aim high)

he meets a bunch more slayers along tha way, includin zenitsu (a scaredy cat thunder breath user who basically simps 4 nezuko n becomes a badass when hes asleep) n inosuke (a rowdy beast breath user who wears a boar mask n lived in tha mountains)

after lower moon 5 gets killed by giyuu, nezuko unlocks her blood demon art (exploding blood!) n tanjirou remembers how 2 use tha hinokami kagura, him n nezuko get captured by a slayer called shinobu qwq

turns out she n giyuu are 2 of the nine hashira, the strongest of all tha demon slayers!! but theyre all havin a debate over whether they should kill tanjirou n nezuko 4 goin against corps rules n travelin w a demon

eventually oyakata-sama (tha leader of tha slayer corps) comes in n tells em its ok, urokodaki sent a letter explainin that nezukos never hurt anyone n if she does, tanjirou giyuu n urokodaki all have 2 die basically

oyakata-sama also tells em that tanjirous met kibutsuji, at which everyone goes feral at (and understandably, none of em had ever even seen him before hes that elusive)

so they get 2 live bc theyre like. tha best hope the slayers have @ findin kibutsuji

the rest of the hashira are kyoujurou (flame), muichirou (mist), mitsuri (love), obanai (serpent), gyoumei (stone), tengen (sound) n sanemi (wind)

theres also kanao (shinobus pupil, flower breathing) n genya (sanemis brother, eats demons 2 gain power n basically become a demon temporarily, also He Has A Gun)

ive gone on a lot here so ill try 2 keep it brief now but i HAVE 2 explain infinity train or ill die (slight suicide tw but no one actually does that outside of dreams)

BASICALLY the lower 6 moons have a meetin @ kibutsujis infinity castle, muzan decides 2 dismantle tha lower moons bc they keep fuckign dying

all of em get their shit wrecked except enmu, who avoided death by usin muzans “dont tell me what 2 do” rule against him n beggin 4 death basically

so he gets a metric fuckton o blood n goes off 2 kill tanjirou

turns out he keeps killin people on his train n kyos gone 2 investigate!! the main gang (the kamaboko gang as the fandom calls it) are there too bc tanjirou needs 2 investigate what hinokami kagura really is (turns out its sun breathing, the og form and ones that only folks w the same mark on his forehead can use) n if anyone knows abt the alleged “fire breathing” as they know it rn its the fire hashira!!

so they get on tha train (inosukes lovin tha experience bc hes Literally Never Seen A Train Before) n kyo basically adopts the whole group

they take some tickets n promptly fall asleep HERES WHERE ENMUS DEMON ART COMES INTO PLAY!!! DREAM MANIPULATION BABEYYY

BASICALLY he can make people fall asleep in a buncha ways (the mouths on his hands, his weird eye thingies, the tickets) n once thats happened he n his henchmen can access said dreams (he can even control em!!) n if they find tha “spiritual core” they can destroy it n essentially leave em as an empty shell thatll never wake up!! yaaaaaay /s

he fails bc tanjirou realises a way out n its by cuttin his own head off in his dream, eventually everyones awake again n tanjirou finds enmu on tha roof(?) of tha train

after a while he does manage 2 decapitate him but surprise!!! hes not dead

turns out he literally FUSED WITH THA TRAIN n is plannin on eatin everyone inside, includin kyo n the gang

but he doesnt bc Main Protags Cant Die(tm) n dies while complainin that he wants a redo (sorry enmu, ily but u cant turn back time unless ur yoshikage kira)

also sidenote enmus tha only kizuki w/o a canon backstory as far as i can remember and????? H??

ANYWHO after that whole debacle basketball akaza (UPPER moon 3) shows himself!!! FUCK

n after all that struggle against the 8th strongest demon of all time now they gotta deal w tha 4th strongest????? damn,

so yeah it goes how youd imagine, its a tough fuckin battle n its Not Fun but it turns out kyoujurou fucking dies n i genuinely didnt realise until he said “kamado my boy, lets have one final chat” bc i was so in denial n lets face it i still am now

long story short idk how im gonna manage 2 get thru the movie w/o breakin down @ the end

anyway after that horrible horrible time tanjirou goes n meets senjurou, kyos little bro, who gives him kyos sword guard thing (its shaped like a flame!!) n i havent read it in a while so i cant FULLY remember but i think this is where he learns abt sun breathing??

after that they end up goin on a mission in tha red light district w tengen, his 3 wives are there 2 serve as spies (theyre kunoichi, which i think are ninjas of some kind??) n the boys have 2 find em

they do manage 2 find em but not after runnin into upper moon 6, who are 2 twins called daki n gyuutarou

after that fight tengen has 2 retire bc he got fucked up p bad from that fight n he wants 2 make sure tha girls are ok above all

so after that arc tanjirou n nezuko go down 2 tha swordsmith village (bc the guy who usually makes his swords is fuckin tired of repairin it) n run into mitsuri!! she tells tan that theres smth in tha forest thatll make him stronger

ngl this is tha arc i remember tha least abt so this desc is prolly SO inaccurate despite havin 2 o my favs in it)

but muichirou shows himself too n hes mean 2 tanjirou >:/ (he does get nicer eventually but 2 him specifically)

a 10 y/o kid named kotetsu shows tan this 6 armed trainin robot called yoriichi type 0 (based on tha first slayer 2 use sun breathin) n tanjirou breaks it by accident qwq

but he keeps trainin thanks 2 kotetsu but tha kids a harsh fuckin trainer ill tell u that

anyway so we have a whole buncha demons 2 deal w here except most of em are 1 demon split into different parts

hantengu n gyokko, upper moons 4 n 5 respectively!! mui deals w gyokko while mitsuri genya nezuko n tanjirou deal w hantengu

in these fights mitsuri n mui get their demon slayer marks!! these are marks that they get when they surpass the limits of tha human body n they look like tha marks demons have (muis looks like clouds on his cheeks n mitsuris is 2 hearts on her collarbone)

next up is tha hashira trainin arc!! everyone gets trained by each of tha hashira 2 try n unlock their slayer marks

each have a dif trainin style that focuses on dif stuff (for example gyoumei focuses a lot on physical strength n stuff like that, obanai is more abt accuracy) n this is where giyuus backstory gets revealed bc he doesnt think hes worthy o bein a hashira :((

basically him n sabito were absolute besties!! they both trained together n sabito basically told him not 2 die ever

but it all goes wrong @ final selection- sabito manages 2 take down every demon on tha mountain but one of em, that bein the hand demon that exclusively targets water breathers (theyre easy 2 distinguish bc of their blue haoris n custom made fox masks)

he manages 2 save giyuu n everyone else from tha selection except 4 himself (this is why giyuus haori is like that- its made from his sister n sabitos haoris)

giyuu blames himself 4 both of their deaths bc he failed 2 protect em n says that he doesnt deserve 2 have passed tha selection let alone b a hashira,, but tanjirou convinces him otherwise!! ^^

then one day while giyuus trainin w sanemi disaster hits- oyakata-sama, his wife n two of their kids just died

the 2nd to last arc- the infinity castle!! thingsre gettin real n muzans revealed himself

in tha infinity castle EVERYONES there but can u really blame em theyve been workin up 2 this 4 millenia

shinobu runs into upper moon 2- douma, aka the bastard that killed her sister as well as inosukes mum

she is. justifiably pissed. n she gives it her all but he kills her :(( douma ily but also FUCK YOU.

so perfect timing!!! heres her adopted sister!! as well as inosuke!!!! revenge battle time >:0

in the end shinobus poison is what kills him- her whole body is filled w wisteria poison thats deadly 2 a demon so he basically consumed her whole body weight in poison rip

but ofc word gets out via messenger crow that shes dead n its just a real sad moment tbh :( but theres no time 4 that bc giyuu n tanjirou just ran into akaza >:((

so tanjirous pissed as hell now n w their combined efforts they take down tha basketball lookin bastard (bastardball??)

meanwhile obanai n mitsuri (n yushirou iirc?? he uses his own art 2 control her @ some point tho i cant remember when) deal w tha new upper moon 4 (nakime, whos also shiftin tha rooms around w her blood art n makin tha fight super fuckign annoyin tbh) n muichirou genya sanemi n gyoumei deal w kokushibou (upper moon 1, also tha original sun breathers twin brother so he gets moon breathin >:3)

mitsuri n obanai fake their deaths w help from yushirou n muzan falls 4 it, which comes in handy later ;3

zenitsu also deals w his former bully, upper moon 6 aka kaigaku aka dickhead supreme who if zenitsu didnt kill i would personally kill w my bare hands

so after everyones taken down all thats left is muzan >:( muzan kills tamayo real early on n everyones goin all out on him

we also learn that he has multiple brains n hearts in his body eww

also the hashira have their marks now!! but all but sanemi n giyuu get killed n giyuu loses his arm :((((

genya also gets killed noo

eventually ofc the battle is won thanks 2 everyones relief, it took for fuckin ever bc the only way muzan can die is tha sun so they had 2 kill time n keep him out in tha sun 4 a long time

also nezukos been cured!! shes a human!! n shes comin 2 help!!

but OH GOD OH FUCK MUZAN TURNED TANJIROU INTO A DEMON N GIYUUS CRYIN N INOSUKES CRYIN THRU HIS MASK N ITS GOIN SO FUCKING WRONG but he gets tha will 2 turn back bc Fuck You Muzan, The Power Of Friendship Defeats All

the 2nd to last chapter is tha happy endin, the kamaboko gang visit tanjirou n nezukos house, giyuu cuts his hair n SMILES n tha hashira have their final meetin w oyakata-samas son kiriya

i cried readin it ngl their sufferin is finally over...... it cost a lot but now theres no more demons,,,

chapter 205 is set in tha modern day! kanao n tanjirous descendants are shown, as well as zenitsu n nezukos

everyone who died/never had kids get reincarnated (for example gyoumei is now a daycare worker, kyos reincarnation toujurou is besties w one o tans descendants n giyuu (giichi) is friends w sabito again!! makomos their friend too!!

ALSO KIRIYA IS STILL ALIVE hes the oldest man in japan!! this is huge bc the ubayashiki family dont usually live past 30 bc of a curse that was put on em when they had muzan

yushirou is still alive too but thats bc hes a demon n he paints tamayo for a living qwq

it just made me cry so hard bc waaah,,, everyone gets 2 live a demon-free life now,,, anyway typin this took me like an hour im sorry mint (as well as anyone else who read this)

🎥 do you have any favorite scenes from your hyperfixation?

tha infinity train arc as a whole tbh??? its basically enmu n kyoujurous big moment and. i care them sm. i cant wait 4 tha movie qwq except 4 their deaths ofc

🏳‍🌈 do you have any headcanons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc) that are important to you?

i have a lotta headcanons really!! outta my f/os favs tho i hc:

giyuu is trans bi n autistic

kyo is gay n has adhd

muichirou is nb n pan

mitsuri is pan

douma is gay

enmu is nb pan n autistic

#long post #ask 2 tag #death tw #asks #vacuous answers #menherapiers #vacuous rambles #kny

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nauseateddrive · 5 years ago

Text

BACK ALLEY SORCERY by Turner Odorizzi

There's nothing like getting that text at 11:30pm from your dealer. Unsolicited, he tells you "HMU. I got it." You know what 'it' is, because you asked him for it two nights ago. At the time, he told you "out, sry", and then to your roommates you said "Fuck. He just responded and he's out." Your roommates start to fight with passive-aggressive jabs that morph into screaming. All the way up the stairs, you could hear it outside.

But he's got it.

I'm at a bar with two shots in front of me, and the bartender snarls at me for taking my phone out as I was ordering. To satisfy him, I put it up and mumble a vague apology. I turn around to see that everyone else in here is under red lights, faces bathed in pale blood, behaving like there's a comfortable toxin drifting around. All sweating. I slug the two shots and leave the red babble into the back hallway where the bathroom is, but I apologize to the bartender for real before I leave.

He says he can meet me two blocks away in an hour.

That's a long time when you've started to become drunk. The first phase of it materializes convex feelings that flip a mental switch and turn you into a false prophet. I'm so transparent when drunk lately that it's become my default setting. I think I am a false prophet.

I often have these waking nightmares when I'm drunk, usually concerning the haphazard and brutal way the world maintains itself. Lately, they've become increasingly unreal.

I finally leave after debating, and as soon as I step out onto the street, I smell the falafel drifting out of that long white truck across the street. To my right, a homeless woman snaps at this girl's ankles while they're talking; the girl likely deserves to have been bit. She's what I would call a talker: one of those placating the downtrodden with a lousy quarter, iPhone in hand. These people on the streets are treated like a dogs, so it's only natural that they react as a dog would.

I digress.

There's an hour before my dealer can meet me, and now I'm thinking I could become a runner of his, you know? A loyal soldier.

A text comes in, but not from my dealer. I'm becoming angrier and spewing emotion like piss out of my eyes.

It reads: 'What r u doing? I'm downtown. Derek and I just picked up. Wanna join?'

She knows me well enough to know I'm getting drugs. It's got nothing to do with her. My anger is vitriol that's been forcibly caged, ready to gnash its teeth and make a feral attack, but I'm sure I'll be more kind when I'm high. By that point, I'll be knee deep in the oblivion I burn into my stomach, and less acquainted with how lucid and fractured all the days seem. Hopefully I'll be nicer then.

I text back: 'Yeah, maybe. Running errands first.'

Errands always means drugs in my world.

There's something unfair about being robbed of my self-image in a place so low-lit. How dare they take me for such a simple projection?

Goddamn, he should be here already.

He knows I'll linger on this stool until he strolls up, grinning like he's got a secret, however late or tempestuous he seems. I’m a cool condensation on a tall glass, just waiting like hell to fall.

But then he taps me on the shoulder. My mind snaps to attention, the neurons all firing with voracious action potentials, and it feels like a stroke but good and warm; my mouth is drowning in saliva. Finally, I can just feel serene and let the drug do its goddamn job.

"Come on. Hit the bathroom with me."

I trail him back to the bathroom, around the corner. He hands me the bag; I hand him the money in the same motion. We do a bump together and then I'm sent on my way to do my drugs in peace.

She texts again:

" At Carrie's. No cover tonight. Would love to see u."

I must be more drunk than I thought, because I don't remember getting here, or being checked for ID. I only remember getting this drunk. But here I am at Carrie's, the bar where she is and where she wants me to meet her. Here. What an absurd concept under the cover of night, blinded by the drugs and the drinks, especially since I could just as easily be there as here. Here or there? I'm already drunk, and I can't tell.

When I first see her, I'm stuck in the memory of our last encounter where, at the wrong moment, I wilted.

About a gram in with twelve drinks washing it down, I looked down to a flaccid dick. Hyper-flaccid. I was on my knees behind her, so she couldn't actually see, but she could definitely feel it. Trying to maneuver it then, in that faltered state, is like death throes in the aftermath of a waning battle, where she's standing there waiting on my surrender to it, because she's seen failing infantry before. She's waiting for me to run down the hill, pants hanging sloppily around my ankles, bellowing that I'm not dead yet.

It happened so quick and mutated to become furiously disappointing. Wilted flowers limp over the edge of the vase, unable to photosynthesize or cope. The question: Does she remember? I'll never let it go; my dick happens to be a good three quarters of my personality. I still remember what she said to me when I huffed and leapt off of the bed like some wounded coyote, to go out for a cigarette.

"Come on! Turner? It's fine, I swear! Please just come back to bed, you can smoke that in here, and we will just open the window. Please, you know it's not a big deal."

She kissed me, and I felt marginally better...but I had stumbled onto my curse.

She stroked the back of my neck while I laid horizontally across her lap. Scorched ego; Typical male bullshit. But that's what chaos looks like for me. Destruction is my motif.

In my head, my dick would never work again, for good or ill. It was permanently soft with embarrassment and inability and extraordinary self-loathing. Without that crucial three quarters, what am I?

He's nobody. He's faceless.

We go upstairs to the balcony dance floor, one step and then two at a time. The staircase is made of new, stained wood steps. Reminds me that this is the point of the night where all highs coalesce and I am... boisterous.

Once we get a drink, she tells me she dropped her small bag of coke when we hugged by the downstairs bar. She must have lost some of it in the process, maybe all, because now she turns to me morose, verging on drug tears in the middle of the dance floor. She asks me if I had bought any from Stone earlier.

She leads me to the darkest stall in the most remote corner of the bathroom.

"Did you pick any up, baby?"

"I don't like it when you call me baby, so please don't. But yeah, I bought some. I met him at the bar, but I waited longer than I wanted to. I should've left."

"I'm glad you didn't. Can I have some, baby?"

Now she's doing it on purpose.

I'm already feeling the pretense to the emotional crash which is requisite in the valleys with uppers. It's fingering my spine, and my ass is cold.

That crash acts as a proving ground to see which drug users will spill over into the abyss.

We finish off what I had left, both of us licking the top of the container earnestly afterward. It's clean by the end.

My fugue state is resolute, allowing me to float through all of this as if it were a dream. But I have sparse hopes, and I want to cry. Badly. There is something welling up, and I need to cry.

"What did you just say?"

"What?"

"I'm asking you what you just fucking said, you drunk-ass."

She chuckles in between drinks.

"I don't...really know. It just feels like I really need to cry right now."

"Um...okay. Did I, like, do something to you?"

In moments like this, I wish there was more booze in the world than I could handle. Like so much booze, that it spews from and falls over the sides of all of those high rises downtown, raging throughout the city, happy to pick me up and transport me to some other place. A place where it's okay to be catatonically fucked up on a daily basis.

Meanwhile, the coke is really getting on top of me.

"No, I never said that. Look, it's not you, and honestly it has nothing to do with you. I just...I can't explain it. I feel gravity more than anyone should, I don't know. That seems like the best way to describe it."

She looks forward.

"It's ridiculous. Fucking tears."

"Well, do you want a hug or something? Or...maybe you need another drink?"

There's a tone in her voice that's covered in moss. Furtive, too. Judging by her oblique reaction, this is what nullifying the rules of engagement is like. Sensory destruction. I can feel that dogging me.

"No, just...never mind. I'm going outside, but I'll be back. I need a cigarette."

I won't see her again tonight, unless darker forces are at work.

Somewhere, in a grand tower with walls of cinder-colored brick, there's an aging wise man, with eyes like surreptitious black pearls, wearing what I could only describe as an onyx-colored warlock's cloak. The cloak trails behind him while he mans the strong brass bell at the top of the antechamber like a ringing monument. It chimes in step with those darker forces.

I sit down on the front steps of a hotel, searching my pockets for...no, there it is, my wallet. I am still me. How fucking disappointing after all the drugs, the alcohol, that some catalytic change didn't materialize. If only I could use alchemy to transmute myself into something productive, maybe someone or something else. As above, so below won't fucking cut it anymore. Those platitudes are hanging from that bell tower as shredded banners.

Can't the warlock hear me over that goddamn bell?

She's texting me again, realizing I'm not good on my word.

"WTF. Where did u go? Are u getting more? I'll pitch on it if you just meet me."

"Pls. Text back. I'm going to Line Bar. Meet me."

I can't help but wonder whether the beginning of hatred is always so subtle? I mean, is it always so...slippery? That I cannot exhale. She won't see me for the rest of the night, except as a useful vision of drugs but I'm just an outline there. A... falsehood. But that doesn't matter, because I would rather smoke on these steps in mute conversation with the warlock, listening carefully as he heaves back and forth, tugging the rope that bids the bell to toll.

Now It's clear that we're approaching the point in the night where the residual effects of all highs begin to wane and shrink up into themselves. They're dull, lanky fingers tickling the insides, fading quickly.

Fading toward an end.

The word of the hour is ‘terminate’. It comes from the Latin word terminus meaning border or end. We're approaching that end. Of everything: the night, the bell, the protective haze of the drugs and the booze. The warlock is shedding his cloak right there by the bell and watching it settle with the dust on the floor. He looks like me, but older, harder; He's just as close to total annihilation.

I don't hate her because I should, or because I have a rationale beyond self-loathing, or even because I'm some noble man saving her from my affliction. I look at her, or anyone, and it's easier to stomach while I'm drunk. Who can survive with that kind of doped up blanket? Better yet, who would want to?

It's getting colder as I sit here and suck down cigarettes all the way to the charred filter.

Wait.

If I'm right I think I... Do I hear...a bell? No, that's just the violent squeak of an Uber driver's horn. Couple the squeak with the image of two homeless and yellow-eyed men fighting nearby, and then you've got the whole picture. Now, one of the men’s knocked the fuck out on the sidewalk, breathing like he's smoking in his sleep.

The warlock whispers, "He's nobody. Now, grab the knife."

Drunkenness is making a hard comeback now. Confusion of...me? Am I not me? The most pressing concern I have is the warlock fading in and out of my vision. Who is he, and why does he keep prodding me to grab some presumably nonexistent knife?

It’s the drugs, I swear.

Am I swearing to the warlock? If so, that begs the question as to whether or not he can hear me.

Who am I?

Only after the haze has made its comeback do I realize I'm no longer on those steps but am walking in the direction opposite the bar where she implored me to meet her. While weaving through crowds and lines of people on the sidewalk, I see a couple standing on the precipice of the curb next to a mangled pile of scooters, fighting about something. They fight like good omens, and I can see...well...something about them. Maybe it's the brutish mannerisms of traitors and bullies.

The girl thrusts out her arms in a half-baked attempt to tell the guy to fuck off; she tells him to leave. Perhaps she doesn't want him to, but he does; he's frustrated, yelling 'fuck you' over and over, alternating between tripping on the curb and the street.

I’ve been there, in those shoes. I've been the brick wall of a person she collided with, only to remain solid and immovable.

I need another drink or to crash, whichever can make it first.

Another text. Two, actually.

"Fuck you. U said seee u later."

"Why di you leave?"

When I look up, I'm at some dive bar, but it's impossible to tell which one. There are old beer signs glowing all over, and everything has a thin, nostalgic dust covering it.

Would that I could feel sorry, but I'm too volatile now. There's a corrosive quality to these things I do. I bleach skin with every word and eat through the rest, like the worst dissolving agent ever conceived. Even then, I'll go on knowing its wrong and stand perfectly still.

My dick deserves to never work again. Perhaps I should take the knife the warlock keeps taunting me with - the short one I notice is sitting there on the bar mat - and turn myself into a eunuch, and then, after the dust has settled, I can take my severed dick and paste it up on the wall like some anti-trophy.

I could see that.

The bartender hands me the last shot of the night, and it tastes like nothing, feels like vapor and kicks me straight in the liver with a twelve-pound steel toe.

After some time, the bar staff ushers us out like drunken cattle, and everybody descends into their phones.

But something happens in that flood of people, among the fucked up din of their cries and slurred shouts. There are far too many people crying outside of the bars tonight, and it's shameful that I'm not even one of them. By the way, how do you cry? Can someone tell me, because I'm drawing a wide blank? What are the mechanisms and motions? If only I could give someone five dollars just so they would teach me how to cry, like an in-person tutorial.

In a bizarre twist, I've become a zealot for crying in the vicinity of bars tonight.

But the bells start again; I hear them ringing out, chime after full, throaty chime. Bells, like the fucking Edgar Allan Poe poem repeating 'the bells' line after line. The warlock has really dug in.

I can't keep ignoring him.

My phone buzzes, but it feels more neurotic and nagging every time it vibrates, and I can sense that neuroses summiting my spine, hovering there like a curse.

I slink down along the wall next to a cluster of dumpsters, the alcohol taking control of basic motor functions this time. I grab my phone with violence in mind.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP! STOP! GODDAMN, STOP! SHUT.THE.FUCK.UP."

I rear back and chuck it at the wall opposite me. It hits the brick with a plastic thud and shatters slovenly. I can hear all the words escaping from it into the air. It flashes and breathes with little electric impulses, the life finally going out as something shuffles up beside me.

"You asked it to shut the fuck up y'know. Bit dramatic, heh."

"What? Where the fuck did you come from?"

"I'm Lenny, yeah. Just sayin', yeah...it did what you asked."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks?"

He gazes down at me, fiddling with some glass thing between his fingers and tossing it from hand to hand. Crack pipe, is it? No. Maybe? Well, if it is, and If I ask him, he might toss some my way, which could be a great way to pass the time while I lose my mind up against this filthy alley wall. It will just be a small hit, you know, just enough to take me away for a second.

Before I can ask, something overtakes me. I can't tell if this man is real.

My vision is blinded by an esoteric haze, and I can't be sure Lenny isn't just a facsimile of something or someone I've encountered in my worst dreams, because he does look familiar. Maybe he's never touched a drug in his life. I envy him. He's scruffy, but smiling. I think it's me who is the junkie.

Even better, this could be the warlock passing himself off as a man living off the street, like a messiah.

The bells come back fuller, and they ring louder as I feel psychosis encroaching on me, daring me to go just one step further and fall over my edge, to cross that border and finally come to the crucial end. The last stage, and the whole world's a stage. What a stage this godforsaken alley will be when this is a play in some dinky theater.

Dong, Dong, Donggggggg.

"Hey man, let me ask you, you got a dollar?"

"No. Uh, No, man, I'm sorry. I don't have a phone either."

He grunts and whispers something about me lying, which I am. I'm a liar. Tonight is full of these strange thoughts and lies. How...fucked up am I, really? How much more miserable can I get? Those are the thematic concerns of my whole fucking life. Those studying me will have to accept my capricious self and take these fundamental themes with them, because there's nothing left: no cigarettes, no drugs, no real me.

In fact, I think this would be as good a place to die as any. Better here than someone else's bed; the light is good enough to show that I don't seem the kind of person who should die in an alley, adjacent to shit and sewer water.

The bells are ringing out across my mental landscape. I can't hear anything else, I can't feel anything but the warlock's gaze. He's not laughing, just looking down with placid eyes. What does he see?

I look at my reflection in the puddle where my dead phone lays. Is this me?

Smile.

There's always tomorrow.

Turner Odorizzi is an author that lives in Austin, Texas. He is a graduate of the University of Texas at Austin's English and Creative Writing programs, in addition to being an intern for the Bat City Review. As of yet, he is previously unpublished.

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meshkol · 6 years ago

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Twitter Threads (or That One Time Tony Dialled It Up to Eleven)

Summary: Social media is hard and full of trolls, and Tony has poor impulse control.

Notes: I hate this so much. Less cracky than I wanted it, because I suck at writing humour. Fill K-3 for the Tony Stark Bingo 2019: Gossip Press. Unbeta'd as per usual. Any relation to existing twitter handles is entirely coincidental.

Warnings: Social Media, Twitter, Homophobic Language, Sexist Language, Ableist Language, Internet, Trolls, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Goes On A Rampage

No one can say that Tony’s ever had good impulse control, especially about people he loves.

@1234ideclareathumbwar posted: I donno what it is about dr strange but he must suck dick like a pro if hes got iron man whipped god knows theres nothing attractive about him except those dick suckin lips #drstrange #ironman #wtfisstarkthinking

��@100percentDONE-xxx replied: yeah its not like he can give a decent handjob ffs must me the lips or maybe hes just tight every1 knows stark loves a tight whole hes prolly cheating neway poor cripple

@itsawrapandimreadytoparty replied: Probably just lays there and thinks about the wizard gods just to get that $$$...I’d think of England even for a nymphomaniac drug-addicted sugar daddy too, tbh.

@BlessYouThor-ness replied: still can’t believe he chose strange over THOR like everyone can see the chemistry between them and tony is such a bottom he’d take thor’s cock so well fuck yes

@they-did-the-thing777 replied: is it just me or does strange look like an alien maybe there’s no magic at all just aliens and he’s got a tentacle dick and stark just wants to mark off another box on his worlds-biggest-slut checklist #tonystarkispathetic

@snowflakes_makeme_lol replied: hes just fkn ugly i s2g stark id spread 4 but strange??? that bitch be ugly asf n not worth gettin my dk wet prolly get aids

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: You guys are the pinnacle of our evolution and I am in awe of your genuine kindness and polite generosity (and grammar). Wow, I can’t believe Stephen Strange saved all of your jerkass lives TWICE for this shit and you know what? Everyone knows I’M the cocksucker in this relationship, dumbfucks.

@kiki_blow_this_popsicle_stand replied: HOLY SHIT LMAO

“What are you doing?”

He doesn’t bother looking up from his tablet, backing away from that thread because he has no interest in seeing the replies, and hunting for the next war he can wage. “Destressing,” he replies gleefully, clicking on a thread that mentions Pepper. He can feel Rhodey behind him – and, what’s more, he can feel the disapproval seeping out of his pores too now that he’s peeking over Tony’s shoulder – but he’s on a roll, and fuck impulse control when he can sass and bitch on twitter. Some people just need to be removed from the genetic pool of the human race and not be allowed to procreate, honestly.

Somewhere in bumbfuck-nowhere, Fury is having a coronary and Stephen is rolling his eyes so hard they’re permanently lodged in his cranium.

@rudethatyoureallamatwink posted: Does anyone else think that Pepper Potts only got the job at Stark because she’s got awesome legs and a great twat and Tony Stark wanted to stick his dick in? #idfuckher #pepperpotts #starkindustries #idfuckhimtootbh #tonystark

@MyNameIsGoFuckYourself replied: lol ur gross shes like 35 or smth but wvr u want crusty ol lose pussy u do u bro #oldchickgross #getbotox

@shredderinmymetal3-14 replied: @MyNameIsGoFuckYourself lmao wtf?? He started fucking her when she was like twenty or something so she was still nice and tight back then. I mean I’d still fuck her right now cause she’s one hot cougar and I bet she’s learned a thing or two from the Slut Extraordinaire. And anyway, how tf do you know what her cunt’s like?? The only hole you’ve fucked is your mom.

@queeen-bee-says-hi replied: Wow, you guys are pigs. Pepper Potts is a strong, independent, beautiful woman who is worth a thousand of all you, and your mothers would be ashamed of you all.

@gags_are_the_best_fight_me_bitch replied: @queeen-bee-says-hi hey look theres the feminazi if you want i can replace that stick up your pussy with my dick you know you need it ill fuck you real good show you what a real mans like

@truthisanillusion replied: I’ll fuck @queeen-bee-says-hi AND @OfficialPotts_CEO at the same time fucking feminazi cunts, god knows you bitches would be grateful for my prick in your gaping lesbian pussies

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Wow. So. Uh.

1. That’s revolting and my AI just delivered the IPs of @gags_are_the_best_fight_me and @truthisanillusion to the authorities for premeditated violence, rape, and hate crimes. You’re welcome, and feel free to send a cash donation to the charity of your choice for my thoughtfulness. I’d recommend something for women’s or LGBTQ+ rights, and I’ll match it with a multiplier of 1000x.

2. @queeen-bee-says-hi, good for you, and I can see from your profile that you’re a student. Consider your crops watered and your schooling paid for, all the way to your twelfth PhD if you want it.

3. @OfficialPotts_CEO can and will murder you with her pinky nail. I’ve taken on Thanos and I’d rather go ten rounds with him than piss her off. THAT’S why she’s CEO, not because of her admittedly awesome legs.

4. I hate this hellsite. If I buy it, can I kill it?? Rhodey says “technically” so I’m gonna look into that now.

@i_stan_one_legend_named_virginia_p_potts replied: IRON MANNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!! DEFEND THE QUEEN!!!!!!!!!!! #PEPPERPOTTS4PRESIDENT

@iaminlovewithcapandimunashamed replied: lmfao incels be fkd when #ironman comes to town

@truthisanillusion replied: Hey @YouKnowWhoIAm No one trusts you or likes you, you fake ass super “hero” taking it up the ass like a faggot stfu and die already, kthxbye

@queeen-bee-says-hi replied: whAT OH MY GOD THAT IS NOT NECESSARY

@OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Tony, stop picking fights and threatening to buy twitter or I’ll ground you. And just accept the gift, @queeen-bee-says-hi - after all, he’s already done it.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Shut up Pepper, you aren’t the boss of me.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: And jokes on you @truthisanillusion because I’m already dead inside come at me bitch I’ll be the one in the multi-billion-dollar suit of armor surrounded by Avengers

@OfficialPotts_CEO replied: Actually, I am. Don’t make me take away your toys. Or call @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel. He’s on speed-dial, sweetheart, and he likes me better than you.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: Rude.

@Sorcerer_Surpreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: The last time you threatened someone, your house got blown up. Please refrain from egging on internet trolls or I’ll dump you for Rhodes for my own sanity.

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: ALSO RUDE.

“You know, I’m not even remotely bi-curious and I would totally tap that,” Rhodey says absently, though his lips are quirking into a smirk.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Hands off, you little shit, or I’ll tweet about that one time in MIT when you ate that—”

“Fuck you.”

“Been there, done that,” Tony quips cheerfully. “Not remotely bi-curious my ass—”

“You know what’s better than picking fights with twelve-year-olds on twitter? Kicking your ass right here. You come at me, Stank.”

Tony opens his mouth to reply but then gasps, already losing himself in another thread after sending a middle finger emoji into the last one.

@mwahahaha-666 posted: You guys can wax poetry about Tony Stark all you want, but screw that basic-ass rich boy - everyone knows Doctor Strange is the smokin’ hot one. #takemenow #mybodyisready #drstrange

@ukulele_jedi_master replied: PREACH!!! stark may be loaded but stephen is the one that looks like a prada model giMME THAT MAGICAL DICK

@xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: Fuck both of you. I just wanna be a fly on the wall when they’re fucking each other...or better yet, DIRECT them on how to ruin each other #ironstrange #otp

@highpercentageofuselessnessachieved replied: i wonder if he can clone himself like can u imagine?? being fucked from all ends by #drstrange cock?? what i wouldn’t give to be tony stark omfg i don’t even want the money just the hard dickin from that fine piece of ass

@its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: He’s got Iron Man wrapped around his little finger so he must have the biggest dick and the know-how to use it properly. Yes pls and thank you very much, I’ll take that monster dick pronto.

@TGBYHN_4_LYFE replied: dude i tell u what i would do what @xxx-foreverfit-xxx said: sit in the corner w a ridign crop in 9’’ stilettos rubbin myself while directing them 2 do what i want...make em touch n stroke n suck n bite n fuck each other til they cant walk anymore n then cuddle w them n stroke their hair

@catcatcatcat-cat replied: I would give my college education, my life, my cow, and my internet access away for the rest of my life for a sex tape

@xxx-foreverfit-xxx replied: @TGBYHN_4_LYFE omfg fuCK YES CAN YOU IMAGINE listening to them moan as they lost themselves in each oter, so fucking desperate to get off that they’re begging you to let them cum even as they try their hardest to obey, covered in precum and sweat and hot as fuck

@bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: I s2g the amount of fanfiction I write about those two alone should have me committed but I literally can’t stop the two of them are so fucking hot together that it should be illegal god bless Iron Man and Dr Strange and their sexy, sexy chemistry and sexy, sexy bodies #killme

@one-upon-a-time-in-asgard2 replied: They are the hottest couple in the history of the universe and so fucking pure I love them both so much also @bigfoot_is_nessie1987 I demand a link to your fics cuz I’m always looking for more ironstrange porn #otp #ironstrange

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: @Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel Hey, they think you have a big dick. Little do they know that they’re totally right and that you also have the added bonus of actually BEING a big dick too! #dontthreatentoleavemeforplatypus #orilltagyouinthirstposts #awesomethirstposts #stephenhasabigdick #andiloveit #goodshit

@mwahahaha-666 replied: OH MY DUCKING GOD

@its_a_fact_that_captain_america_has_a_big_dick replied: Well, I’d be mortified that Tony Stark is replying to this except Tony Stark is acTUALLY REPLYING TO THIS BLESS YOU IRON MAN

@Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: One of these days I’m going to murder you with your own bravado and not lose a night’s sleep over it. And fine, I won’t touch Rhodes...I’m sure Rogers is free anyway, and he’s always so polite when I visit.

@bigfoot_is_nessie1987 replied: Please don’t read my fanfiction I will literally combust in embarrassment also I am dying over here in Copenhagen omfg

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: BRO CODE, DUDE. YOU’RE VIOLATING THE BRO CODE. I HATE YOU SO MUCH AND I WANT A DIVORCE.

@catcatcatcat-cat replied: ...oh my god what does that mean you guys are MARRIED??!?! BLESS THE WIZARD GODS!!!!

@Sorcerer_Supreme_With_A_Scalpel replied: Rhodes, I know you’re reading over his shoulder, so if you could please take away his phone now before he ends up on the cover of the Times...or breaks the internet. Again. Thank you in advance.

Tony reacts immediately, trying to make a break for it, but Rhodey’s already tackling him into the couch, a hundred and ninety pounds of lean muscle and pretty Class As. Tony hisses breathlessly, the wind knocked out of him, and he struggles valiantly to keep his hands on his tablet while Rhodey does his best to rip it away. He doesn’t have a very good position so he makes a hair-brained, split-second decision to throw his body weight to the side, making them both roll off the couch. Rhodey’s a jerk though, and manages to react fast enough so that Tony takes the brunt of the impact, and he can’t even help but groan in a mixture of mild pain and disappointment as he feels the tablet being removed from his lax fingers.

“Sucks to be you, Stank,” he says breathlessly, fingers flying over the keyboard, and Tony cranes his neck until he can read Rhodey’s reply (and on Tony’s fucking account what in the hell!):

@YouKnowWhoIAm replied: I think I broke your hot mess of a husband, Stephen. Come collect him before he murders me with his eyes or gets his hands on another electronic device. We’re in the lab.

Three seconds later, Stephen walks through a portal, looking oh-so-fucking-gorgeous in his battle robes, and wearing a scowl of irritation that bodes well for rough, mock-angry sex in the near future.

Tony grins unapologetically, and abandons the lure of social media in exchange for his pseudo husband.

It’s an easy choice.