#ask away anyway lol

[fluffyartbl0g]

Everytime I go into the Zosopp tag, I just see people SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING about the lack of posts IN the Zosopp tag. THE ZOSOPP ECONOMY IS IN SHAMBLES

[28ms28]

A 28ms28 f1 text post upload in this economy??

[mutable-manifestation]

Ghost Chirps AU Part 5

Part 1 & 2

Part 3

Part 4

***

While “Jason” (i.e. Alfred with an empty jet that Jason will meet up with later in order to “arrive” in Amity) hops a private jet, Red Hood is busy searching the Fenton home from top to bottom.

The local police move slowly, and by the time they arrive Jack and Maddie Fenton are both tied up and disarmed in their living room under heavy guard.

They hadn’t been restrained immediately, Batman talking him into giving them a chance to implicate themselves first.

Hood let him take the lead, but he didn’t even get a chance to ask a question, being cut off at the first indication he might want to talk about their “work.” Less than 60 seconds in, and the pair had outright confessed to violating the meta protection acts - and in tedious detail.

The questioning didn’t suffer any from them being tied up.

Far from the mulish silence or crocodile-tear laden denial of most criminals, they instead doubled down, insisting that nothing they had done was illegal, then jumping to the assumption that they were “possessed” - and boy had it been a nasty surprise when the whole house came alive trying to attack them with a quick verbal command.

Well, trying to attack Hood. And only him, for some reason.

One laser also freed the Fentons, who turned out to have even more weapons built into their suits. 

Somehow. 

Despite them being skintight.

That had been a pain, but Red Robin was able to hack the system using one of the couples’ own devices while Hood dodged - and kept the stray fire away from the others - leaving everyone else to recapture the pair. A blessedly simple task once they found out the lasers would splash harmlessly off of their armor (save for a gross film of green goop left wherever they grazed).

They take turns knocking each unconscious to change them in order to properly disarm them - Batman and Nightwing taking Jack first, followed by Orphan and Spoiler dealing with Maddie. 

The only non-weapon laden clothing they own turns out to be pajamas. 

This is around when the police show up, looking hesitant.

They, too, cite the “Anti-Ecto Acts.”

Oracle had debriefed them on the supposed Acts and “Ghost Investigation Ward” on their short drive over. Both were utterly bogus - the Acts had never even been proposed, let alone been approved as law, and the so-called “GIW” had no ties to the government.

The Fentons had been furious and denied the information intensely when told, but the cops mostly just looked relieved.

Apparently there’d been a lot of property damage by the GIW and Fentons both that had supposedly been dismissed under the Acts as “necessary in the pursuit of ecto-scum.”

For the Fentons, half of this damage was in the form of broken fire hydrants, cracked sidewalks, and totaled cars - they’d never been good drivers, before, the cops disclosed, but they’d become even more negligent since the ghosts began appearing, to the point they had to have a news segment warning when they would be on the road.

The lack of fatalities thus far had been nothing short of a miracle, they claimed.

“Of course there haven’t been any fatalities!” Mrs Fenton defends. “Our work is to protect people from those things, not make more! Officers, listen to reason-” Hood snorts disdainfully -”The Red Hood is clearly a ghost! All our systems targeted him the moment they came online - and they only target ecto-entities. He’s clearly taken these heroes under his sway - why else would they be working with a murderer!? You have to do something before he starts up his killing here in Amity!”

The officers look at him a bit hesitantly, but Batman is unmoved and gives the cover story Hood had outlined back in the alley.

Any concerns the locals have are quickly assuaged.

But for the whole explanation, Jason is trying not to shake even as he falls apart in place.

Their little website called them ghost-hunters, making it pretty clear what “ecto-entities” meant. 

Their system supposedly only targets ecto-entities.

The system had only targeted him.

The system only targets ghosts.

Jason had died.

A lot of his family members had died, too, granted. 

But Jason was the only one who seemed to come back wrong - anger sticking in his throat and never quite fading, an inclination towards violence even when he wasn’t angry well beyond what he’d ever felt before, and a sea of other emotions (that he would never acknowledge aloud) and triggers for those emotions that he always struggled to make heads or tails of.

He doesn’t have the meta gene. He knows that. He knew that.

He just assumed that the test missed it, because he knows he doesn’t know magic - the All Blades being the only exception - and he couldn’t think of another explanation at the time.

But he came back wrong.

And as he stands there, he wonders if he came back at all, mind on Solomon Grundy.

Wonders if he isn’t just some ghost, wandering around possessing his own corpse.

He jolts, as the thought strikes him: what about Danny?

If he’s a ghost and chirping is a ghost thing then what about his KID!?

Absently, he notes that Bruce has started interrogating the cops on what they meant by “ghost attacks.” 

He ignores the discussion, hustling for the door in the kitchen down to the lab.

He slams and locks the door behind him - in Red Robin’s face - as he descends, making a b-line for the computer he’d seen when the Fentons had dragged them all down there to start bragging about their crimes.

The only thing Oracle could get out of the whole building was things that were openly available online; direct connections were impossible.

Opening up the screen, he gets to cracking.

Going for the surface level files first, it turns out he doesn’t even need so much as a password to find what he wants.

One of the video game sub-files has an unrelated file in it: ghost notes.

There are plenty of other notes, of course, but he’d only been skimming to start, looking for anything hidden.

The Fenton parents were too open to bother, of course, with plenty of more obvious files strewn haphazardly across the home screen, but it’s always better to check. That there is a hidden file means it was likely made by either Danny or Jazz.

And it’s a treasure trove.

Sub-files for rogues, allies, conditional allies, and “halfas” were what greeted him.

The last being the only term he didn’t recognize, he clicked.

6 files: Clones, Danny, Dani, Dan, Vlad, and Red Hood.

He clicks his own file.

What greets him is a picture of himself 4 days ago, looking just to the left of the lens in an alley that he distinctly remembers searching for the kid in.

Just below is text.

~~~

??? Name: Red Hood

Species: probably a halfa

Status: Nnnneutral? I think? I know, I know, heads in bags. But Valerie tries to kill me all the time! And we’re allies sometimes! Hood- uh- looked for me? Okay I guess I can’t really judge this yet but please read the first met section before you judge please you guys?

First met: Aug 17, 2005, was in Gotham to bother Batman, stopped to think a bit on some fire escape - decide on the first prank yknow - but then my ghost sense went off. It felt like a halfa so I thought “oh cool, must be Dani” so I chirped, but then Red Hood - who was chasing some guy down an alley at the time - froze and looked around. I dropped visibility and chirped again and yeah, he definitely heard it. Humans can’t so he’s definitely a halfa - no glow so he can’t be a full ghost and it felt nothing like an overshadowing. 

Ended up following Hood around the rest of week - forgot to prank Batman, damn - and playing hide-and-seek with the chirps. It was really funny. But he very obviously doesn’t know he’s a halfa. But the guy is, like, scary levels of smart, so I’m sure he’ll figure it out on his own now that the chirp thing made it clear that something is up. Hopefully.

I figure I can go back in winter break - he should have it figured out and let his emotions process enough by then to at least hear me out when I explain the AEA and GIW and everything, then it won’t matter so much if he can, like, track me by voice or something if I talk since we’ll have MAD by then.

Despite his reputation, the people living in his haunt seem to love the guy. I can see why. On top of the whole smart he’s actually really nice to people he’s not shooting in the knees (which only even happened one time in the week I was there? It was actually pretty relaxing - most quiet week I’ve had since the portal opened THANK YOU TUCKER for hacking the portal hatch to be inoperable for a week). 

Where was I? Oh yeah, he’s actually surprisingly nice to people? So like, I think he’ll probably hear me out if I go back and be polite? I hope. Hate to leave the guy in the dark and him end up on the GIWs dissection table for “lots and lots of painful experiments.”

Not that those guys could even catch the Box Ghost. But uh, Hood doesn’t seem to have powers either? Or if he does he doesn’t know about them I don’t think - he only used the chirp the whole time I was their - not even to cheat with moving around.

Seriously. That guy's acrobatics could make Freakshow’s contortionist green - er, red??? - with envy. Actually wait, aren’t contortionists and acrobats different things?

SAM NOTE: help^?

Powers: 

?

~~~

Jason leans back, breathing deeply.

“Not a full ghost,” “not 'overshadowed'” - a term that sounds likke some kind of cousin to possesision - “definitely a halfa,” “humans can’t hear chirps.”

Halfa. 

Half. 

Ghost. 

Half Ghost.

It should sound absurd - you can’t be half alive and half dead.

But Jason has seen the Lazarus pits, has met Solomon Grundy, has met aliens and bullshit magic and can pull magical swords out of his own damn chest.

Half alive. Half dead.

Hopefully not just a fancy way to say possessing his own corpse.

He doesn’t have time to deal with every file - he’ll “confiscate” one of their USBs with a copy of everything for himself before leaving the rest to Batman & co, of course, minus the halfa files (a small part of him wants to shove his condition in Bruce’s face and demand he kill the clown again even though he knows it’s a futile hope, but the rest - the same part that snapped and denied and refused to say he was a meta less that a day ago now - cannot stomach the thought of even more rejection. Of a Bruce that believes he’s a monster. Of a Bruce that mourns him even while he’s right there. Or at least, more than he already does.) - but while the files copy he take the time to look at Danny’s.

The image has two people, Danny Fenton on one side and a version of the kid in a black hazmat suit with white hair, tanned skin, and painfully familiar green eyes. And floating.

~~~

Human Name: Danny Fenton

Ghost Name: Danny Phantom

Species: Halfa (half-human, half ghost)

~~~

It’s the section after that that makes Jason’s breath catch in his throat.

~~~

Death: The Portal Accident

So like, there was no audio (thank GOD I do not want to hear myself screaming) so. Details: When the portal didn’t work when they plugged it in mom and dad left for fudge, Jazz went to try and talk them into a more realistic career choice than ghosts. Sam and Tucker came over and Sam dared me to climb in and check it out - it was broken anyway so no harm. Except it wasn’t broken, just that my parents put the on button inside. Which I caught myself on when I tripped on a wire.

Anyway, electrocution! 

(T - Danny for the love of god be more serious, the cheerful tone is creepy)

(D - Hey! I’m the one who died! Shouldn’t I at least get to write my own epitaph)

(S - …Danny this is not an epitaph. You don’t even HAVE a grave)

(D - wow way to rub it in Sam)

(T - yeah Sam)

(S - ugh! Whatever, just stop with the chatting in official files)

(T - “official”)

(S - Tucker.)

(T - shutting up now)

Electrocution! I got zapped to death, but the ectoplasm from the portal was also opening up on top of me and a lot got bonded to me I guess (S - probably because of the electricity with how you ended up with some of Vortex' powers for a little while) at the same time said electricity was reviving me? - probably getting my heart beating again or something, I was a little busy screaming to pay attention (T - yeah okay we're going to Nasty Burger after this. And playing Doomed) - not that it would’ve mattered without the ghostification preventing me from melting me all the way to death.

Status: Me!

Powers:

Chirps! (ghost echolocation of some kind! humans can't hear em - halfas can, of course, in either form)

Form Change (really Sam? This barely counts)

Human form

Ghost form (no need to breathe)

Flight (last clock speed 210mph) (T - and climbing. Dang dude)

Invisibility (S - don’t forget shareable.) (Shareable. sigh)

Intangibility (Shareable)

Ecto Rays (eyes & hands) (T - and butt) (D - dude! I’m deleting that. Tucker why can't I delete it. TUCKER) (T - bow down in awe of my ksill) (S - ksill) (D - ksill) (T - yeah okay it’s permanent now) (D - aw man!)

Ghost Sense (S - why do we never test your range?) (D - no need? They always make themselves obvious or are being sneaky specifically to annoy me so *shrug*) (S - I still think we should test it)

Power Absorption (that time with Vortex’s weather powers)

Cryokinesis (Wayyyyy to much ice. NOT testing max output on that) (T - yeah frozen city was enough, let’s not cause an ice age. Tech needs some cool but too much is still bad and I just upgraded Patricia)

Ghostly Wail (cone of destruction, very exhausting - always at max output. Not to be used)

GHOST FORM ONLY (but really just never)

Cartoon Body (D - what???) (S - Freakshow literally turned you into a puddle and you just turned back and were fine. I don’t know what else to call that) (D - okay fair. but:)

GHOST FORM ONLY

Physical Enhancement (better strength, speed, stamina, durability, reflexes, balance, etc much better than human) (T - why does this look like dnd knockoff stats haha)

GHOST FORM ONLY (S - obviously mr last place in PE)

Resistances (pretty solid on the overshadowing, avoided being taken in by Ember until targeted, didn’t get turned to stone during the Medusa thing) (S - which was pure luck! Be careful!)

Ecto Electricity (ghost stinger, but I really don’t think this counts Sam. I mean I just. Make my ecto zappy. But it’s still just ecto) (S - so is your ICE and you don’t just call that "just cold ecto") (D - fine, but it feels overly specific) (S - maybe writing it all down will make you stop. Forgetting. POWERS!) (D - come on Sam that was a lucky hit! I was distracted! And it turned out fine!) (S - Fenton…) (D - oop okay doing fire now)

Ecto Fire (made Dash’s shoes melty that one time by make the ecto hot) (T - really needs more testing)

Tech possession (chasing Technus into computers, not very tested)

Ghost form only, i guess?

Overshadowing (control people, copy their voice, invade dreams - the control one erases the person’s memory so they don’t know they were overshadowed just lost time. I hate Walker. SO much) (T - rip Danny’s reputation, you’ll be missed)

Probably ghost form only

Duplication (T - That’s optimistic) (D - I’M WORKING ON IT OKAY!?) (S - pretty sure it just falls under cartoon body until you can actually separate) (D - :( betrayal)

Probably ghost form only

More? (D - ugh I hope not) (T - hey don’t say that, maybe you’ll get a power to make the JL give a crap about Amity) (D - honestly I’m getting pretty close to letting Boxy loose in Gotham) (S - Danny, don’t stoop to their level!) (D - it's only box ghost!) (T - I mean he has a point)

~~~

Jason changes his mind, seeing the commentary, and deletes the entire hidden file from the computer as soon as his copy is made. He can go over everything and bring any important info to Bruce separately, the bat’s can just chew on the parents’ files for now.

Once the original files are thoroughly and irretrievably removed he pockets his shiny new USB, makes a second one with all the official files, and heads back up and out - carelessly brushing past a thoroughly irate Red Robin with a pair of firemen and broken jaws of life. And not a scratch on the door; impressive - just in time to get Oracle’s text that he’s got 2 hours and 16 minutes to be at the location on his HUD so he can “arrive” to Amity.

And a fresh set of civilian clothes will be waiting in the plane, Alfred as reliable as ever.

“Files,” he says, tossing the safe USB to Batman and interrupting his interrogation of the police officer.

He catches it effortlessly of course, but the officer stops paying attention to him to jolt at Hood’s reappearance - even outside of Gotham his reputation is fierce.

“I sent a copy to myself. I’ll review them and give you an overview, but other than that consider this the end of my involvement in this little shitshow,” he says, continuing smoothly to the door. “I’m heading back to Gotham.”

Now, he has a little over two hours before Jason Todd needs to arrive in Amity Park. He only needs to lay hands on a laptop that he can isolate from Babs’ influence and he should be able to review the Halfa files in full before he "lands" - after he figures out just why the kid has a grudge against the JL.

[judasisgayriot]

2004

[angelmush]

magenta smoothie 4 breakfast, vibrant vase of tulips 4 my gf, black dragon dog 4 sharing the couch with, and a big stack of notebooks 4 writing

[sentientsky]

a hastily thrown-together good omens shitpost made with my actual real life text message conversations

(here’s part 2)

[pitchcom]

carcar survivor au, 2.2k

When Oscar received his new tribe buff, he knew that this was a chance for a fresh start.

The last vote had been…messy, to say the least. Daniel had approached him and Zhou with an idol and a plan to take out Pierre before he and Yuki could reach the merge and gain more control over the game. Oscar wasn’t naive enough to think that this meant any sort of alliance between them, but he had promised his sisters that he would do anything to try and win.

Yuki stood resolutely away from the rest of the tribe on the boat ride over. Oscar catches a glimpse of his hands, knuckles clenching white against the boat railing. He feels Daniel push past him, towards Yuki and raises an eyebrow at him questioningly.

Daniel turns back towards him. “Yuki’s scared of sharks.” he offers, as if they all hadn’t caused his face to crumple a couple nights ago as Pierre’s name was read over and over.

Oscar watches him walk next to Yuki, slinging an arm over his shoulder. Too soft, he thinks as he watches Yuki loosen his grip on the railing and lean into Daniel’s hold. He looks away towards the horizon as they travel to their new beach.

——

Oscar quickly finds himself escaping to the water well less than an hour after arriving on the new beach.

Strategically, he knows he should be at camp with everyone else. Should be talking to everyone, scouting out tribe dynamics, making first impressions that aren’t a stilted introduction before disappearing. But Oscar was never quite a social butterfly; still awkward at office parties despite working there for 2 years by now, never mind trying to ingratiate himself with 10 other strangers he had just seen briefly at challenges.

A voice interrupts his thoughts. “Huh. I guess you really were getting water. I bet George half a coconut that you were out idol searching already.”

Oscar startles and whirls around to come face to face with a shorter man with curly hair, crooked grin stuck on his face from tribe 1. Ah. He vaguely remembers him from the last challenge.

“Oh. Um. You’re the guy who kept falling off the balance beam, right?” Oscar kicked himself mentally. For all that first impressions mattered in the game, Oscar was failing miserably at them so far.

Balance Beam Guy’s mouth falls into a pout. “Alex already made fun of me for that at camp for three days! I thought that people would be over it by now.” he grumbles, moving next to Oscar to grab the water ladle from him.

“Sorry.” Oscar says, not particularly sorry. “I didn’t have a name for you, so.”

Balance Beam Guy sniffs. “It's Lando, so get that memory out of your head. I don’t need reminders that all of America saw me fail to walk in a straight line. You came over from tribe 3, right? Any deets on alliances, idols, advantages?”

Oscar shakes his head. “Nah, we’re kind of a mess. Daniel burned our idol at the last tribal, so if anyone was able to find it before we got on the boat I wouldn’t know. I’m uh, actually looking for some potential connections here.” And maybe it's a little desperate, a little shameless, but Oscar needed some kind of lifeline. So, even if he had to reveal his hand a little earlier then he would’ve liked, he was hoping the information would be interesting enough to make him worth keeping.

Luckily, Lando’s face breaks into a wide grin as he finishes filling his canteen. “Well, you’re in luck! Don’t tell anyone, but-“ Lando ducks closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “I do happen to be a part of quite a strong alliance with George and Alex. We’re trying to keep it on the downlow for now, but we’re looking for a solid fourth to help us swing a majority. You want in, um-?” Lando trails off, hand reaching out.

“Oscar,” he finishes as he takes Lando’s hand. “And I’d be happy to work with you.”

Lando’s grin slides back into its crooked default. “Great! I’ll tell them about it, and in a little bit we’ll go down to the water and chat. See you back at camp, Osc!”

Oscar’s face twitches a little at the nickname, but he doesn’t say anything as Lando walks away. We’re not friends, he wants to call after Lando. It's just strategy.

Oscar waits 5 minutes after Lando leaves before returning to camp. He gives an awkward half smile when Lando winks at him. Possible strategic liability, he notes to himself.

——

Oscar already considered himself particularly lucky to have fumbled his way through the premerge after losing Logan, not to mention Lando choosing to approach him with the offer of an alliance. In all honesty, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop and hoping it wouldn’t affect his game too badly.

That should’ve been warning already when Carlos decided to approach him on the beach.

Oscar was stretched across the sand, letting the suns rays lull him into a sleep. Half the tribe was out getting a reward (Lando included) leaving the rest of them to sulk around camp and try not to think of all the food the others were eating. Oscar chose to ignore the gnawing disappointment by getting some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, Carlos had other ideas.

“Oscar.” Carlos called from across the sand

Oscar squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe, he reasoned, if he pretended to be asleep already Carlos would get the hint and leave him alone.

“Oscar! Hello?” The voice got closer.

Oscar groaned internally before rolling back over and opening his eyes. He was immediately met with an extreme close up of Carlos, frown painted on his face.

“Why are you sleeping in the sun? Your skin, it will burn no?” were the first words Carlos spoke to him, voice too loud and face still too close.

Oscar blinked at him. “What?”

Carlos’ frown deepens. “Your skin. You will not tan, like this.”

“Well, sorry that not all of us were born with perfect genetics.” Oscar wants to drown this guy and his stupid island beauty in the ocean. “Why are you here anyways? Aren’t you supposed to be plotting the next vote with Max or something?”

Carlos’ face lights up. “Ah! That is what I have come to talk to you about!” He says, ignoring the obvious dismissal as he takes a seat next to Oscar on the sand. “You see, I have noticed that you sit alone at camp quite a lot. So, I assume that you do not have an alliance yet!”

Oscar raises an eyebrow. “And what if I have a secret alliance with somebody else? Like Daniel, or Zhou?”

Carlos laughs, a cackle that sounds almost painful. “I have already talked to both of them, and they both say they have no tribe loyalty.”

“They might be lying, you know. Trying to lull you into a false sense of security and all that.”

Carlos grins, a big dopey thing. “Between you and them I think I believe them more. No offense, Oscar.”

Oscar wills back the growing irritation beneath his skin. He’s dealt with annoying over-confident and underestimating assholes before. He knows how to play this game. “You got me. Totally friendless and ally-less on this island. Probably the most boring castaway ever.” He drones, almost completely monotone.

Carlos frowns. “Do not say that, Oscar.” Ozz-car. “I am sure you are a very wonderful person. If you were not, I would not be here asking you to join my alliance.”

“You’re here to ask me to join your alliance?”

Carlos blinks, then snaps his fingers. “Ah! Yes! I have come here to ask you to join me, Charles, and Max at the next vote!” Carlos looks at Oscar eagerly, as if he should be jumping at his generous offer. “Since you have said yourself that you have no allies, we could help carry you farther in the game. It is a mutually beneficial partnership, no?”

Oscar snorts internally. “Beneficial for you, yes. For me? What happens when it comes down to me or Charles? Me or Max? Mate, I’m not stupid. I know there are hierarchies in alliances, and I’d be at the bottom. I don’t want to be just some fucking sheep you bring with you until the time is right.”

Carlos looks a little lost at this. Clearly, his plan to swoop in and grab a vote didn’t go as smoothly as he thought. Serves him right, Oscar thinks bitterly. It’d probably be the first time his stupid cow eyes and smooth accent didn’t get him what he wanted.

Oscar watches him wiggle his jaw for a couple of seconds, lost in thought. He sighs internally, before turning back over and closing his eyes again. “Look mate, I appreciate the offer, but I’ve got my own alliance. Find somebody else to be your number.”

Oscar doesn’t hear anything for a moment, then feels sand being kicked against his skin as Carlos gets up. “Fine. But I will not be so nice later after Tribal Council, when my alliance controls the vote. See you later, Oscar.”

Fuck that guy, Oscar thinks. He ends up staying out on the sand to spite him. He ignores the smirk Carlos gives him later as Lando laughs and pokes at his sunburned back.

——

Later, after Max wins the immunity challenge, George asks him who he’s thinking of voting tonight.

“I dunno, but I think Carlos is a good choice. Breaking up that alliance before they get a foothold in the game is probably a good idea. “ Oscar says, feigning nonchalance. It’s purely strategic, he tells himself.

George nods. “And you’re sure you can get Daniel and Zhou to vote with us?”

“Course he can!” Alex says, laying an arm around Oscars shoulder with an easy smile. “And even if he can’t, I think we’ll survive to another day. I mean, nobody even knows we’re allied. There's no way they think that a bunch of lanky and short guys are bigger threats than someone like Valterri or Fernando.”

Oscar nods along, a smile growing despite himself as he watches Lando shove Alex for calling him short. This is my endgame, he thinks to himself.

——

George is trembling on the way back from tribal. From rage or shock, Oscar doesn’t know. Lando is silent for once, white-knuckled grip on his pack and lips pursed into a sharp line.

Alex going home tonight was not part of the plan. They were supposed to have the numbers, with Lewis, Valterri, Zhou, and Daniel voting with them. I guess they found their number, Oscar thought bitterly and he watched Daniel and Max whisper to each other up ahead.

It was a good move. If Oscar were at home watching, he would be applauding them for identifying the threat within the tribe and dealing a significant blow to them. But now, as he was forced to trudge back to camp minus Alex, Oscar just feels a sort of sourness in his stomach.

This feeling is only amplified when they arrive back at camp, and Carlos turns to him with a big smile on his face. Oscar doesn’t think it's dopey anymore.

“I told you, Oscar!” Carlos sings to him as Oscar is trying to dig for his jacket in his pack. “I told you we would control the vote. Are you rethinking my offer now? Though, I think we are less in need of ‘sheep’ now.”

Oscar rethinks every post he’s ever made on Twitter calling out contestants for being butthurt for being on the wrong side of the vote. Tries to school his expression, tries to steady his breathing and refrain himself from punching Carlos straight in the face.

“Fuck off.” Is what he settles for instead, a shove that barely makes Carlos stumble. Oscar can hear his cackling laugh echo through the night air as he stomps down to the beach to meet with George and Lando.

“What the fuck just happened.” George starts. “We were supposed to be safe- We were not supposed to be the targets! It was supposed to be Fernando, or Valterri, or even fucking Lewis-“

”I just don’t understand how they knew,” Lando stresses, hand pulling through his curls. “We were keeping it a secret and everything!”

Oscar doesn’t say anything, because the sour feeling in his stomach has just curdled. Nobody said anything about an alliance, he realises, except for him. Except for that stupid throwaway line to Carlos on the beach. A throwaway line that he then latched onto, analyzed, and deduced a potential member from.

The guilt eats at him, in the silence. Nobody speaks for a bit. Oscar is about to open his mouth and apologize when Lando says “Franco.”

They both turn to look at him. ”Franco was in our old tribe, he voted with them tonight. He must’ve figured it out.” Lando continues.

And it’s an out. An easy way to avoid blame, to explain away the sudden target of Alex. Oscar only feels slightly bad when he nods along. After all, it makes perfect sense.

They talk for a little more, discuss further plans of action. But there is only one fact repeating in Oscars head by the time they get back to camp:

Carlos Sainz is bad for his game.

[askthisfishprince]

((hey guys!!!))

((just wanted to make a little announcement that the blog is gonna go on hiatus for bit! During this time I wont be making responses for any questions unfortunately.))

((Just need a little break from Eri to focus on some other things at the moment! He will be back though! 🕺))

[sergle]

I got something for you to chew on. when I was in chickasha yesterday, at the food truck festival, a girl asked to take a picture with me (and I said yes and I threw a peace sign By The Way) and I still don't know. why. she wanted a picture.

[xxplastic-cubexx]

had a wanda in my game ask me how to effectively use meteor m like my beautiful daughter i havent the slightest clue. also round starts in five seconds.

[robbyykeene]

Potentially unpopular opinion, but I love that Miguel was an asshole again in the second part of this season! It’s a reminder that he’s a character and not just Johnny’s main support. I mean Robby didn’t deserve it at all, but it makes sense that Miguel couldn’t help taking his anger out on him. And I love that Johnny was on the receiving end of it, because it feels like the tension between them just went away for no reason.

Sorry if I’m bothering you!

You’re never bothering me, and I completely agree! They so rarely give Miguel any narrative agency these days, and like Johnny all it does is reduce him as a character. Miguel is a whole, complicated, messy teenager. He isn’t a saint. He isn’t perfect. He makes mistakes and has ugly unfair feelings sometimes, like every single teenager does. And I love when this show actually lets him be like this, lets him be wrong, lets him be a little bit of a dick to the people he cares about who don’t deserve it. Lets him be a real person with actual human feelings. And then also lets him take accountability for what he does wrong, apologize, show how much he’s grown, that he is a good person and a good friend. I love it truly, and it feels like it’s something that in a lot of ways hasn’t really been granted to Miguel since he fell off that balcony.

[misc-obeyme]

sitting in lucifer's lap while he's doing paperwork, occasionally kissing his cheek and neck, sometimes even biting him. you truly don't want to distract him, but he's just so pretty!!

Ahhh this is like one of my favorite Lucifer scenarios, anon!

(I may have written something similar in this nsfw scene lol.)

BUT let us consider this in a sfw context because I really love it in all iterations.

I think there's something very meaningful about sitting with someone who has some work they have to do. We all know that Lucifer would rather just be spending time focused on you. But he has this obligation and there's no getting around it. So I think that in general, he really appreciates it when you sit with him while he works.

Of course, he is fully aware of the fact that you sitting in his lap is actually going to make his task more difficult. However, he also can't help but allow it. Because when it comes to you, he will always fold. (We all know he's secretly a big softie.)

I think Lucifer really loves to just feel you in a physical sense. He likes the weight of you on his lap. He likes the way you press those sweet kisses to his cheek. He likes when you bite him, too. He has to work, he doesn't really have a choice, but having you in his lap where he can feel you and pretend to be strict about you interrupting him makes it a little less tedious.

It's hard, though, 'cause the more you do stuff like that, the more he wants to abandon that paperwork so he can kiss you into oblivion lol.

I also think it depends on how far into a relationship you are with him. Because Lucifer only puts forward the persona that he is the strict one, the perfect one, the older brother who is responsible and keeps everyone else in line. It's partly pride, but it's part defense strategy, too.

So if he's really comfortable with you, he lets that side of him fall away a little more quickly, a little more readily.

And if you're sitting on his lap, cuddled against his chest, your lips traveling from his cheek to his neck, your teeth nipping at his skin, it's going to take so much effort for him not to give in.

In the end, he does anyway. Because it's you. And no matter what he says, Lucifer will always give in to you.

[pencilofawesomeness]

Which member of Team Natsu do you think would be the most challenging for a bad guy to hold captive?

The woman who casually rips holes in the fabric of time and space on the daily? The man who can freeze anything he looks at? Or the girl who gets her power by breathing?

(Assuming anti-magic devices aren’t in play)

oooooo Anon you have given me a mental treat with this one XD

Magic suppression is definitely a game changer, though without it (even assuming the mage in question isn't magically drained/exhausted, and possibly kept that way) I think the power of heavy duty materials still go a long way.

That said, my answer would have to be Erza. She's a tank *and* a swiss-army knife. There's no way she can't summon the exact armor or weapon needed for the job... even if the weapon in question is just lock-picks. There's no way to plan for her vulnerabilities without knowing her entire inventory. Now, there might be a way to circumvent this by simply giving her no room to summon anything or available hand to use it, though it's hard to say if Erza would still be able to, say, displace a bunch of chains by summoning armor in-between them and her body. Since she requips directly onto herself anyway, her control is proven to be immaculate. Plus she's just all around scary and badass XD

Next in line of difficulty might actually be Wendy. Her buffs and enchantments can be a game-changer, and as you mentioned, she can pretty much always have access to her element. (Though I do imagine that, say, some dank dungeon wouldn't be that magic-rich sky so I wouldn't really count on that as a big boost.) Although wind itself might not be that effective if any metals are in play. It would mostly be the array of enchantments, whether that means giving herself an inhuman strength boost previously unexpected or enchanting up a debuff on whatever is holding her. (However to this point, baby Wendy as we know her might not be this versatile yet.)

Gray is close in my internal ranking, because he can make anything, but unlike Erza he has to *make* it, and if he doesn't have both hands available, then it might not be as sturdy. Plus there's stuff that won't break from the cold, and would be more durable than ice in a clash. They might have to get a certain type of alloy/material to withstand the flash-freeze, but honestly Gray doesn't have as much raw strength as Erza or Natsu anyway so there's still the breaking issue.

Natsu is definitely a beast of a guy but if he's up against fireproof and highly durable materials then he would be out of luck. (And they might have to be magicked to be fireproof, but I think that's fairly doable.) Once the brute-forcing option fails he's a bit cooked.

Then poor Lucy is really easy if you get her away from her keys. The trick might be if somebody like Virgo or Loke summons themselves to mount a rescue, but that also falls into any Fairy Tail rescue which could apply to all of them. (And I'm assuming that if she's separated from her keys then locating her would be tricky.)

Oh and Happy and Charle would also be really easy to hold captive. Poor little guys.

[enjoythesilentworld]

wilmon + paint me 👀

hello my dear! oh, you wanted a drabble? too bad. instead you get nearly 2k of unnecessary world building and musings about Simon's beauty.

(and surprisingly little spice, but i'll give this an M rating for nudity)

send me a prompt and i'll write a 'drabble'! (it will not be a drabble)

Wilhelm, looking to separate himself from his peers and secure a place in Florence’s Accademia delle Arti del Disegno, decides to find a new muse in the commonfolk. He finds Simon, a lowly leatherworker, in a bar in the slums.

Wilhelm surely looked out of place. Though he tried to dress down and muss up his hair a bit, there was something more that set apart the rich from the poor. Something about his paler skin, his lighter hair and smooth hands. The evidence he spent most days inside, well fed. Not working in the fields or a stuffy forge. They may call it high times, a renaissance for art and culture, but the divide was clear in this bar.

It was dark and drab and the wine tasted like shit, but Wilhelm was not there for that. He was there for the type of regulars that frequented this establishment.

All day every day Wilhelm was surrounded by pompous assholes, dressed immaculately in imported silks and feathered hats. The art that followed was all the same. Soft, aristocratic women draped over chaise lounges and round, pale men posed with their swords. It was a depiction of 17th century Florence, sure, but it did not show the rest. The underbelly. The real people who lived and worked and sweat and bled and died in the city, slaving away for the profit of the rich. Babies in buckets and shit on the streets. Wilhelm was tired of the glimmering image. People needed to see the real thing. He would be the one to show them all, to show the damned Accademia in particular. They would all see. Commonfolk could be beautiful, too, he was sure of it.

As he scanned the bar, hiding his grimace at the wine, his point was quickly proven. Across the way, there was a man bent over a goblet, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever the artist, Wilhelm noted the way the light from the nearby lantern lit his tan skin in a warm glow, how it highlighted the frizz around his deep brown curls. The shadow from the man’s face, cast across the wood of the bar, outlined his beautiful profile, the sloped nose and pursed lips. His shirt had nearly no sleeves and was ripped in some places, stained in others, though he wore a nice, simple leather vest over it. He looked distraught, if not a little pissed off, and when he lifted the goblet to drink, his throat bobbed with the motion, muscles shifting as he swallowed. He also was the most exquisite human Wilhelm had ever seen.

He found his feet carrying him over before the man could even lower his cup.

“Hello,” Wilhelm said calmly, placing his own cup on the bar and staring down at the man, who, looking startled that anyone was talking to him, glared right back.

“What do you want?” His voice was like summer rain, and an array of light purples and blues swirled through Wilhelm’s mind as he spoke, though the tone was fiery.

“I’d like to offer you a job.”

The man glanced around the bar, almost looking nervous.

“I can tell you're not from around here,” he murmured in a low voice, “but this is not that type of establishment.”

“Oh, I—” Wilhelm stuttered, swallowing his blush at the insinuation, “No. Not like— A real job. I am a painter. I would like you to pose for me.”

A rough chuckle bubbled from the man’s chest, and he lifted an eyebrow, tentative eyes roaming over Wilhelm. He scoffed, “You want to paint me?”

“Yes. I can pay.”

“How much?”

“Twenty per sitting.”

“Thirty.”

Wilhelm paused. Now closer, he admired the man’s slim fingers and calloused palms, the cut muscles off his arms and the tilt of his eyes. His lips were perfectly symmetrical though there was a scar on his cheek and a grit about his demeanor that said everything Wilhelm needed to know. All inspections necessary before truly employing someone as a model. He was like nothing and no one he'd ever seen before.

“Deal.”

The man, Simon, as Wilhelm had learned, showed up to his apartment on the north side of the river one week later.

They had talked late into the night and agreed on a tentative business partnership. Simon would pose for Wilhelm for their agreed upon payment per sitting at least once a month, more often if needed for a larger painting. There would be sets and props and Simon assured Wilhelm he would have no issue holding one pose for many hours. Wilhelm was sure he would not either, based on the state of his arms and legs and the sliver of chest he had had seen.

At the door, he greeted Simon warmly, offering food and wine, both of which Simon declined, slipping past him. He smelled of leather and oil, his skin was just as smooth when it brushed against Wilhelm’s bare arm as it had the night before when, slightly deep in his cups, Wilhelm had forgotten himself and placed a hand on Simon’s arm. Simon had met his eye then glanced out towards the bar, a warning. Not a denial.

Wilhelm busied himself setting up while Simon roamed his home, which was really one large room. It was a warm morning for spring, so Wilhelm had tied back the curtains and opened the windows, flooding the room with light and the soft sounds of the city below. There were more painting supplies and easels than pieces of real furniture, but Wilhelm was quite content with it all. His lone mattress, piled with blankets and pillows, was plenty for him. All he longed to do was paint, the one thing that worked well enough to quiet his mind for some time.

He arranged his stool and easel just so, then checked his paints again. On the canvas, there was a loose sketch. This one was a commission for some noble lord, supposedly a friend of the Medici Family. Wilhelm had been sure to charge him extra for claiming that friendship, as he had never heard of the man before, nor had he seen him at any of the Medici’s dinner parties. Still, the man would surely faint if he knew Wilhelm was using a commoner as a model for this painting. That pleased him.

Wilhelm cleared his throat. “Shall we?”  

Simon turned from where he had been appraising a pile of Wilhelm’s works in the back corner and nodded once. With a careful hand, he accepted the clothing Wilhelm offered and began to undo the loops on his vest.

As more skin was revealed, he felt unable to turn away, and Simon’s eyes locked on him even as he slowly undressed. Wilhelm spoke quickly, “Would you be okay if we tried something different today?”

Fingers froze on leather and Wilhelm tore his eyes away from Simon’s chest, meeting his intense gaze.

“What’s that?”

Wilhelm glanced back at his easel, at the sketched-out commission. He had plenty of time to work on it, really. Simon could come back next week and sit for it then.

“I was thinking,” Wilhelm began slowly, knowing he was toeing a delicate line. “If this agreement is to my understanding, you may very well be posing for me for a good while.”

Simon nodded, hands still hesitating halfway through undoing his vest. Wilhelm swallowed dryly and prayed this was not a mistake.

“Perhaps,” he continued, “I should spend some time getting to know your body first. As I will need to get comfortable with all its forms and curves for future works.”

When something crossed Simon’s face, it became evident that Wilhelm was going to have to be state it out clearly. There was a challenge in that open, innocent look.

“Perhaps, you may like to pose nude for me, so I may… familiarize myself.”

“Familiarize yourself,” Simon said flatly, though the corner of his mouth quirked up. “Very well.”

Unable to believe it, and not wanting to break whatever spell had allowed this, Wilhelm spun away and began tearing down the background he had originally set for the comission. Thankfully, he had a new, blank canvas already prepared and set to the side.

Every day in the late morning, a beam of warm sunlight slipped through the windows to cast across his bed. Though it would be a pain to find the right timing each day, he knew that would be the place. He kept is back to Simon as he fiddled with the sheets and fluffed pillows, creating a small nest of luxurious fabrics.

When he turned, he found Simon standing in full nude, casually leaning against the wall, watching Wilhelm with careful eyes.

“How do you want me?” Simon asked, uncrossing his arms and pushing off the wall, then taking a step forward.

Wilhelm would not let himself look, not really, not yet.

He gestured to the bed, “Right here.”

Over the next bit of time, Wilhelm, in a great feat of personal strength and restraint, carefully arranged Simon on the sheets. At first he tried to explain with his words only, mimicking the gestures himself, but then Simon said, softly, “It’s okay, you can move me if you need,” and suddenly Wilhelm had hands on warm skin. A hand on his thigh to bend at the knee, on his wrist to prop up his head, on his waist to slightly tilt the hips.

By the time Wilhelm made it behind his easel, he felt as if he had lost his breath. Once he sat on his stool, he allowed himself to look.

In the back of his mind, he noted the colors he would need, which to mix to match the color of Simon’s skin where the sun hit it, compared to where it did not. The color of his lips, now redder than they were when he had first arrived. The flush on his chest was new, too. From this distance—too far for Wilhelm’s liking but just far enough to have the full body in frame — Wilhelm could not really see Simon’s eyes, though he knew the hundred colors that swirled there and would likely never forget them.

In the front of his mind, like seeing the sun for the first time after a long, long winter, he gazed at Simon’s body. His eyes tracked over the line of his neck, across his shoulder, the defined pectoral and ribs and toned stomach. The slight curve of his hip, muscled thigh, bony knee, all the way down to his ankle, then back up across every other piece of skin. Wilhelm could paint for three hundred years and never truly capture the dip of Simon’s collarbone and the jut of his jaw, how his core muscles twitched as he adjusted under Wilhelm’s stare.

“Do I look okay?”

Simon’s voice pulled him from his musings. Wilhelm smiled at the smirk on Simon’s face, the confidence to cover the insecurity, marked by the way his cheeks blushed lightly.

“Yes. You are perfect,” he said.

Perhaps he would never be able to truly capture Simon’s beauty with a brush and paint. But, he would be honored to spend his entire life trying.

[wittymumbledon]

one lil hal please oh dear art wizard congratls on the followers

the wizord thanks you for your words. have a lil hal for your troubles.

[aka-indulgence]

Okay, so we know your opinion on Ram and Zen. But how about maximilien?

I am weak for omnics. I would be a happier and more romantically active individual if I lived in a world with omnics like

OMNIC MOB-BOSS TYPA GUY????? HELL YEAH??????

When I watched the storm rising cutscenes I kept rewinding and Looking at how he was playing with the coin in his fingers like my man is dextrous um 👁️ 👁️ 💦

Also he’s in a suit??? aaoushdsfjfgjdkhgd

Me replaying whenever Maximillien talks in the cinematic…

Also in a comic it’s shown Maximillien is hesitant about Talon’s operations so. Redemption arc? Maybe?? At the very least my guy’s helped overwatch by telling on Talon so

Yes. I like him. 😳