#being sneaky because it's weird to have a literal SKULL of your friend in your BEDROOM JUST SITTING THERE DBBFJFJF

[a-narcissists-warren]

..Silly! Could you help me out here? I found what i needed.

[rejectedfables]

I think often about Jin Guangyao’s “[I murdered] my father, my (older) brother, my wife, my son, my teacher, my friend” quote. I think about how Jin Guangyao, a man known for self effacing politeness to the point of taking blame and shame onto himself to alleviate the tempers of others, in this moment takes complete responsibility for "murders” that he absolutely did not commit. And I think about how the audience both in the story and outside it, take his words at face value.  

I think there are multiple ways of interpreting who this quote is about. Obviously Father = Jin Guangshan, Wife = Qin Su, Son = Jin Rusong, those are clear. I think (older) Brother could either be Nie Mingjue or Jin Zixuan. I think "teacher” could be Wen Rouhan or Nie Mingjue. Friend could be Nie Mingjue, Su Minshan, or Xue Yang.

So I think the ONLY options for [brother, teacher, friend] (in that order) are: 

NMJ, WRH, and SMS

NMJ, WRH, and XY

JZX, NMJ, and SMS

JZX, NMJ, and XY

JZX, WRH, and NMJ

JZX, WRH, and SMS

JZX, WRH, and XY

I also saw a translation where he said “friends” plural, which would reduce the list to:

NMJ, WRH, XY and SMS

JZX, NMJ, XY and SMS

JZX, WRH, SMS and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and NMJ

JZX, WRH, XY and SMS

However, given the importance of his relationship with NMJ, I feel like we can safely eliminate any that exclude NMJ entirely. Similarly, there cannot be characters mentioned here who are unnamed or unknown to the reader, as that wouldn’t make any Doylist sense. We are left with a list that consists of Nie Mingjue, either WRH or JZX or both, and possibly XY and/or SMS. 

Regardless of which of those combinations you use, he did not directly OR EVEN DELIBERATELY murder everyone on that list. Let’s go through them:

Jin Guangshan: Yes, he deliberately ordered and orchestrated his father’s death. Outstanding, earned, poetic, no notes. (Okay maybe SOME notes, but like, listen. Listen.) 

Qin Su: Qin Su killed herself. In the animation, Jin Guangyao used the skull-piercing nails to force her suicide, but this is not canon to the novel. Bicao claims that Jin Guangyao must have killed her to silence her, despite her suicide having many witnesses (including us! the readers!), but Wei Wuxian (who WAS THERE) speculates that she couldn’t handle the reality of her marriage, as illuminated to her BY Bicao, or the prospect of societal shame if it got out. However, even IF “your actions drove her to suicide” were the rubric here, that’s still not quite the same as “you murdered her”, nor does it seem to be the outcome he was hoping or planning for. “JGY murdered her” is factually inaccurate, and a blatant propaganda tactic being used against him-- but perhaps it felt emotionally true to HIM because he’s grieving his DEAD WIFE and he FEELS responsible.

Nie Mingjue: JGY spent something like 5+ years suffering physical and verbal abuse and explicit threats of death by Nie Mingjue, then was tasked with killing Nie Mingjue by his father. He did so in a sneaky way, so as to not endanger himself further or get punished for (or perhaps cause an inter-sect conflict/war by) killing the leader of a rival sect.

Wen Rouhan: JGY stabbed him in all adaptations, A+, war hero.

Jin Zixuan: JGY, on his father’s orders, orchestrated a situation that led to Jin Zixuan’s death. We cannot know for SURE that JGY wasn’t aiming for his death but we CAN say that “Wei Wuxian accidentally compelling Wen Ning to kill the ONE GUY PRESENT Wei Wuxian did NOT want to kill” (OR “WN killing JZX of his own accord against WWX’s orders”) would have been a weird bet to make. This seems highly unlikely to have been JGY’s goal, but it was certainly caused by a situation he created. He also did not actually literally kill the guy.

Su Minshan: Su She died to protect Jin Guangyao from Nie Mingjue’s fierce corpse. Jin Guangyao is only “responsible” for this in the vaguest or terms and worst faith of interpretations. Technically Su She wouldn’t have died there if not for JGY on multiple levels (wouldn’t have had to protect him, NMJ’s fierce corpse being JGY’s fault, wouldn’t have been present at all if JGY hadn’t summoned him there, etc.), but if Jin Guangyao describes this as “I murdered him” that’s... a stretch. Again, like with Qin Su, this feels like something he might say because he FEELS responsible, rather than because he actually is.

Xue Yang: JGY ordered Xue Yang’s execution (or possibly ordered a fake execution, but this seems less likely) directly before he fled, injured, to Yi City. He did not die here. Later, after reconnecting and while still following Jin Guangyao’s orders, Xue Yang was killed by other people in opposition to Jin Guangyao’s wishes and plans. Again, TECHNICALLY Xue Yang would not have died when he did were it not for Jin Guangyao, but describing it as “Jin Guangyao murdered him” is QUITE a stretch. Due to the title of the “Villainous Friends” extra, which is about JGY and XY specifically, XY seems the most likely candidate to me for “Friend” in this quote, which is bizarre because I think his death is actually the LEAST connected to Jin Guangyao. Jin Guangyao wasn’t even present, nor did Xue Yang die FOR Jin Guangyao-- just on his payroll. BUT perhaps he still felt guilty for ORDERING his execution, and simply his willingness to HAVE Xue Yang killed counted enough to make the list.

I’ll get to the last one, but I’m pausing here to say: What all of this means is that no matter who is or isn’t on that list, it is NOT an objective list of factual murders. It is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Even before we get to who counts as teacher, brother, or friend, even JUST his wife solidifies this. But it isn’t JUST her either-- even if we cut SMS and XY (the other two BIG stretch candidates) from the equation, that leaves us ONLY with NMJ(friend), WRH(teacher), and JZX(brother). And Jin Zixuan is the other one that really should not make the list of people JGY “murdered”.

This is a list of people who’s deaths Jin Guangyao FEELS RESPONSIBLE FOR.

Which brings us to the last one:

Jin Rusong: The quote (I believe this is a fan translation, but not sure) "One of the opposing sect leaders lost the arguments [about the watchtowers], and went into a murderous rage, killing Jin Guangyao and Qin Su’s only son. The boy had always been a good child and the couple had loved him dearly. Under resentment, Jin Guangyao tore down the entire sect in revenge” is, to my knowledge/memory, the only real account we’re given of what happened. “Lost the arguments and went into a murderous rage” doesn’t sound like the child was found dead some time later, and they had to investigate. It sounds like it happened in public, with witnesses, immediately. 

In the same scene where Bicao convinces an audience that Qin Su, who famously killed herself on screen in a room full of people with a (now) known motive for suicide, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao-- in that same scene others speculate that Jin Rusong, who was famously killed by a political opponent in a “murderous rage” most likely DURING A CONFERENCE, “must have” been murdered by Jin Guangyao. 

I think "I angered an opposing sect leader so much that he killed my son" being translated by JGY into "I killed my son" is EXACTLY IN LINE with the rest of his list. How is that different than "I ordered Xue Yang's assassination, and later put him in a situation that caused others to kill him" being translated to "I killed my friend"? Or “Su She died to protect me” being translated to “I killed my friend”? Or “I didn’t anticipate my brother’s unwitting involvement in a covert operation would get him accidentally killed, which no one wanted, not even the guy who did it” being translated to “I killed my brother”? Or “I tried to protect my pregnant fiancé/wife from a horrible secret I only just learned, which would ruin her life, and when someone confronted her with it TO HARM ME she couldn’t live with it and killed herself” being translated to “I killed my wife”? It’s the same!

I do not believe that Jin Guangyao killed Jin Rusong. I believe “I murdered my son” is an example of the way that Jin Guangyao speaks about himself-- always taking the maximum responsibility onto his own shoulders. If he was in any way responsible, than he was completely responsible. If he FEELS responsible, then he MAY AS WELL have murdered them.

The context of when he says this quote also matters towards how we interpret it’s meaning. He was already attempting to flee the country, aware that the cultivation world was actively turning on him for crimes that he did AND DIDN’T commit. He was surrounded by people he thought cared about him, all of whom seemed determined to stop him from achieving a safe exit. He had had all the horrible things he felt responsible for (regardless of how directly or deliberately he was involved in those events) thrown in his face by said loved ones, while they looked at him with horror. Su Minshan had just been killed trying to PROTECT HIM, and now it looked like it had been for nothing anyway. Huaisang, who he is shown as doting upon throughout their decades long relationship, has just manipulated Lan Xichen (do I even have to go into how important Lan Xichen is to him? Please say no, please say this much at LEAST is universally understood) into BEING THE ONE to STAB HIM. 

In this moment, he believes that he’s going to die, and be reviled in death by society and his loved ones alike. He knows there’s nothing left he can say or do, he hasn’t had time to process Su She’s death, and Lan Xichen has JUST (accidentally) betrayed him (which he also hasn’t had time to process). 

And also, notably, he had very recently been IN POSSESSION of the TIGER TALLY. 

AND HE’S BEEN STABBED! To my memory this scene happens while he’s missing an arm and LAN XICHEN’S sword is still INSIDE HIS GUTS. His emotions and reasoning are probably NOT the most calm or rational right now (blood loss, pain, fear, grief, influence of the tiger tally, etc.), and this “confession” should be taken with that in mind. 

I just think a lot about how “I murdered [everyone I’ve loved except for you]” is such a raw and telling line, given the context. Even if it’s more like “I murdered [everyone I’ve owed devotion to except for you]”, that’s still so painful. He blames himself for all of it. All of it! The world celebrated Wen Rouhan’s death, but Jin Guangyao added it to his personal list. Jin Guangshan is arguably the most reprehensible character in the entire story, and ruined every part of Jin Guangyao’s entire life, but he’s on the list. He did everything in his power to protect Qin Su, and when she found out the truth he continued offering her ways he could protect her, but she chose to kill herself, and she’s on the list. He tried to improve the world with the watchtowers, and someone retaliated by murdering his son, and he claimed responsibility for that too.

He knew he was being blamed for their deaths, knew it was propaganda and slander and bad faith, but he blamed himself too. So he just... accepted it. I did it. It was me, I murdered them.

And so, so, so many people, in his world and in ours, were so, so eager to agree

[parismemes]

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM RED VS. BLUE SEASON 15

“you touch my baked beans, i put dog shit in your pillowcase.” “every other person in this miserable place is literal garbage.” “books on tape? what's the appeal of that? don't the pages get stuck together?” “when in doubt use a confusing acronym. military types love acronyms.” “FML. that stands for fu--” “i’ll bend down and kiss your boots, how’s that?” “i wanna know every step you take and how much shit gets stuck on your shoes and in-between your teeth.” “you know, i think i'll probably move to LA, but that's like what everyone does. i mean, what do you think?” “i’m gonna skin your cat for this.” “i’m actually thinking of adopting a stage name.” “i’m gonna smash cut your empty skull against that rock if you don’t shut the fuck up!” “i wanted to call it desert titties, but that shit was taken.” “ah, there goes the bechdel test.” “you should interview the illuminati!” “real talk here: i'll be your genie in a bottle, i'll do whatever you want, but after i grant you your three wishes, you gotta do something for me, whaddaya say?” “my ceaseless existence is an eternal torment!” “next time he calls you please, just, let it go to voicemail. don't transfer to me. okay?” “i can’t even hear myself think in this blizzard of idiocy!” “did you attempt to witness any other particular individuals in the general vicinity of the area in which the crime scene was alleged?” “i just wanna be included!” “funny, the vultures usually show up after the slaughter.” “you’re a little bit crazy, aren’t you? i like that.” “consequences... don't always take the shape we expect them to, do they? they're funny like that.” “...are we still married?” “people are quick to jump to conclusions. they see something, or hear something, and fit it into a preconceived emotional box.” “please don’t make me regret what i’m about to tell you.” “whoa, hold up--i just realized how much i don’t care.” “SUCK IT, NEWTON!” “we said we wouldn’t talk about that!” “help me be the best at being lazy.” “it was a simple mishap with my vanilla-satin scented candles!” “why is he naked?” “HOW DO YOU BURN DOWN A WATER PARK, ___?!” “we’re definitely not just saying that because she could kill us.” “for far too long our people have been oppressed, crushed, under the weight of ourselves! if we don't start standing up to our mortal foe gravity, by god, who will?” “we’ve never needed intelligence before!” “why doesn’t anybody die and stay dead?” “oh, cool! foreshadowing.” “who wants a poisoned pumpkin frappuccino?” “i quit. i’m not going. i’m staying here.” “you’ve always been selfish, but this is bullshit!” “you know, i liked them better when they were funny.” “it’s a bop-it.” “sleep. means. death!” “i know ___ said we should split up, but i was thinking maybe we split up together, you know, because it's scary!” “you talk about ___ a lot.” “this is a big city. so many places for snakes to hide. they could be everywhere all around us. watching us... licking their snake lips...” “jesus, doesn’t anybody speak esperanto?” “err is not a word.” “why do you look alone?” “why don't you tell us what's going on, and we can decide whether to kill you or not?” “looks like we've got quite the sticky mess on our hands!” “oh, i know all about sausage parties! uh, wait, that came out wrong.” “when I least expect it: whambo! you pry open my mind prison and suck out my brain beans!” “i realize now that i’ve just spilled all my brain beans.” “we're just a bunch of dumb rejects hurling ourselves against impossible odds.” “i’m only saying something because i’ve been used enough times in my life already.” “nice! super awesome of you guys! that was sarcastic.” “don’t care. just help me with my dramatic exit.” “that's a great idea! i was just about to suggest it.” “i always say a marine without a code is like a car without a road.” “i always say the best defense is a really tall fence.” “i always say a good soldier is like a rollin’ boulder.” “i always say a mantra a day keeps death at bay.” “i've grown soft around these uncultured philistines.” “goddamn, i can’t believe i have to hear this shit in stereo now.” “you two look cozy.” “i didn’t realize you two were close.” “you’re being too hard on yourself. you’ve changed over the years, i’ve seen it myself.” “i've grown from being a dishonorable killing machine to an honorable killing machine. that's quite the journey.” “i changed my mind. you are evil.” “you don’t have to destroy the past to have a future.” “strategizing can wait until breakfast, at least.” “i killed them. i MURDERED them. i set my vengeance free upon them and it felt so good!” “are we gonna do some snooping around?” “have you ever considered a life in showbusiness?” “try harder, fuckface!” “can we please just bury the hatchet and focus on what's important?” “your mother’s lasagna is mediocre!” “if you guys had to get shot somewhere in your body, where would you do it?” “i can't hear you because some idiot shot my ear off!” “this whole situation is garbage enough to begin with, but... at least we're in it together.” “no plan survives first contact with the enemy.” “the only thing that would make this better is some music.” “we were pawns in their game. but the thing that I love about chess is that sometimes pawns kill kings.” “no, actually, i was raised by wolves. in the forest.” “sometimes i feel like people barely acknowledge my presence.” “something weird might be going on around here.” “anyone who's acting that squeaky clean must have some deep dark secrets.” “ha! gotcha! that's exactly the kind of things bad guys say!” “they used us, they destroyed our lives, and they haven't been made to pay for what they've done.” “you obviously love the sound of your own voice, so why don't you use it to tell its where the fuck our friends are?” “i’m going to kill you so hard, you’ll wish you were dead.” “we fought alongside each other for fucking years. how can you just turn your backs on us like this?” “you don't get to give orders if you're on the bad guys' side!” “now I have gonorrhea and a dead friend.” “stop. touching. my face.” “buckets! oodles! oodles of noodles and toaster strudels! tiempo de mucho. mucho de tiempo!" “yeah, well, i don't remember you being anything but a huge dick, but here you are being cool, so people change.” “yippee-ki-yay, motherfuckers!” “but.. i never got to say goodbye. or thank you for being my friend.” “i'm gonna need a week at the chiropractor when we get out of here.” “is it possible to hallucinate with your ears?” “i’m not here to kill you.” “uh-oh spaghetti-o’s.” “fuck me! fuck all of this!” “you should totally kill me if it strikes your fancy! no pressure!” “the world's best swordsman doesn't fear the second best. He fears the worst, because he can't predict what the idiot will do.” “i can't imagine us doing anything but making this all worse.” “shit, dude! you’re the best we’ve got!” “i like pushing small children down wells.” “can we please settle on a consistent denomination? are we using cardinal directions or are we using clock positions?” “i'm so sneaky. they don't even know what's happening. you can't even see me right now, ___. you're so confused.” “shut up and help me punch this fucking tank!” “as far as days to die go, it's a little overcast. so let's check our corners and make these bastards pay!” “let's light the fires and kick the tires!” “let’s dance with these monkeys and give ‘em what for!” “let's put the pedal to the metal and the rubber to the road!” “let’s get jiggy with it!” “let’s shoot this monkey full of heroin and put it on youtube! actually, let's not do that, it sounds completely horrible.” “let’s teach these midgets how to tango!” “honor, schmonor.” “scout's honor! except I was never a scout because I'm afraid of badges.” “why are we here?” “we don't know why we're here. it's still one of life's great mysteries, isn't it?” “i’m sorry i tried to kill you, it wasn’t personal!” “you'll be stuck between a rock and the frying pan.” “if i said that i would weep for them, would it make you feel any better?” “best friends should be able to say goodbye.” “i think you are cool. like, super awesome, amazing, cool and... i, i always felt like really awesome too, when we were hanging out together.” “i know with my other friends--who, even if you add them all up together aren't really cool as you--i know we're all gonna be okay.” “if you kill me, you'll just perpetuate this never-ending cycle of revenge and retaliation!” “he asked us to deliver an important message to you all. but then he just sang the ducktales theme song and fell back to sleep.” “you know i’ll never forget this, right? i mean, PTSD is forever, isn’t it?” “it’s not the sum of your parts that makes you who you are.” “these people have shown me that real heroes are not born, they're forged. a friend told me once that there's no fate but what you make. and i think he's right.” “alright, well, i'm just gonna try to forget that ever happened and never bring it up again.”

[yaoi-cthuwulhu]

Honestly, Fuck Endgame

So yea they all live in the tower. After Avengers 1, they’re like “o fuk Loki was being mind controlled and we can prove it” and they’re like “the best way we can keep an eye on him is for him to stay with us, fuck you Oversight Committee” and they keep him around in the tower, and eventually he becomes an honorary Avenger. It gets episodic after that, because now that there are superheroes, there are super villains too. They may have accidentally created their own problem?? Oops. Anyways, Steve moves to DC for a while to work for SHIELD and then CATWS happens but not so crazy, in reality it’s like “well shit we can’t trust SHIELD now cause they’re all HYDRA, but thank god we had a clean split and we can definitely trust who’s left.” So, basically it’s Fury, Maria, and Coulson (who is not dead) running the picture now, and HYDRA is on the run. Steve moves back into the tower, before leaving to look for Bucky. He takes Sam with him, and it takes a year but they find him. Meanwhile, Thor and Jane and Loki leave for a minute for TTDW, then they come back just fine (no death lol). Avengers 2 never happens lol, and they meet Wanda and Pietro while taking down HYDRA goons, rescue them, and then fun shit. Meanwhile, a kid named Peter starts hanging around Tony a lot under the premise of a “Stark internship” but really he’s a spider kid! Steve and Buck are back in the tower, Bucky is recovering (though he still has awful days) and things are going fine. No CACW!!! Then Thor and Loki are gone yet again for a minute to deal with Hela, and Thor gets Kickass lightning powers (but he still keeps his hammer for shenanigans). Then Hank Pym is like “hey tony meet my daughter and asshole son in law” and they’re like “holy shit you can shrink” and they communicate (but don’t live with them yet). Then they’re like”o fuk villains are using magic now??” And then Doc Strange is like “Yo” and the team is like “this might as well happen.” He doesn’t live with them, but he’s an honorary avenger. Then Wakanda is like “heyyyy um we’re actually hella advanced, but we hate all y’all and we’ll only work with the Avengers because we have a legacy of heroes in this country also they answer to no nation, so we like them bc they won’t put up w colonial bs” and the avengers are like “wow we fuckin love Wakanda, how about we be allies because holy shit your king is a cat” and Shuri was like “please T’Challa I wanna meme w Peter” so they’re allies now. Then the GOTG show up and are like “yo watch out there’s this purple dude in a chair tryna collect rocks” and then Carol shows up like “yo watch out there’s this purple dude in a chair tryna collect rocks and also I’m GAY” and so the avengers like like “hell no” so they fight thanos and Clint shoots Scott up Thanos’s ass and he expands and he dies in a big purple goop explosion!!! And he dies, and they return the infinity stones to where they belong (aka they put the tesseract back in the place the Red Skull found it, they put the Aether back in the weird rock, they give back the time stone to Strange, they Yeet the soul stone back into hell where it came from, they give the power stone to Peter Quill for safe keeping because he’s the only one who can touch it w/o vaporizing because he’s basically half ancient cosmic entity (also he didn’t lose his powers with the death of Ego), and they keep the mind stone). So then Tony and Shuri and Loki are dicking around in the lab and accidentally use a combo of science and Magic and the Mind Stone and suddenly JARVIS has a body??? Aka Vision is born and JARVIS learns how to be a person and a computer at the same time, and sort of falls in love with Wanda along the way.

Or, the AU in which Loki and Bucky are best friends and little shits and prank the fuck out of everyone, Steve is Tired Team Mom and also an Angry Feminist, Shuri and Pete are baby avengers and meme bros, Thor is actually a smart dude and not entirely played for laughs even though he still waxes poetic about pop tarts, Clint lives in the Vents with Sam and they’re bird bros, Nat is sneaky as fuck and shares Team Wine Aunt duty with Pepper (who still has her lit af fire powers), Carol and Fury laugh about the crazy kids, Tony and Bruce are Science Bros, Tony lives off of caffeine and his love for Peter and Bruce is team doctor and also the only reasonable one here, Strange makes a few appearances from time to time with wise words of advice, Rhodey supervises from the background, sometimes the guardians pop in, and it’s all good and no one has to hurt too much, even though there’s angst, but everyone lives and they all get a happy ending.

Also if you all think I forgot about Morgan Stark you’re dead wrong, she’s a darling girl and all her aunties and uncles and non-binary caregivers love her very much.

Also because I’m gay and I rub my queer hands all over fandom, Steve is Bi and has been gone for Bucky since the 20’s and they’re practically married (and probably literally married by the end of the work), Loki is gender-fluid like in the comics, everyone is feminist as fuck and pretty darn liberal, Clint is the Ace rep we deserve (the thing for purple is a dead giveaway), Nat is bi af, and so was Peggy, also Valkyrie is actually shown to be bi and not just implied because of stupid Disney and their stupid rules, and all the relationships (straight or gay or whatever) are built on mutual respect and trust and they actually talk out their issues like rational people instead of causing excess drama. They’re extra, but not that extra.

The only things I’m keeping from Endgame are Nat and Carol’s cool new hairstyles, and Professor Hulk. Also the “America’s Ass” comments because damn. That’s a nice booty.

[my-love-peterp]

Mistaken Chapter One

Word Count: 2103 THERE ARE NO ENDGAME SPOILERS, THIS IS A DELAYED UPLOAD FROM AO3

Fic Summary: Peter Parker has been given the responsibility of bringing in a new recruit. Now, as an adult, he realizes that none of the trashy YA novels he read in high school could have prepared him for this. There was a storm on the horizon, and all they could do from the Tower is watch.

Chapter Summary: A new recruit is brought into the fold and is more than a handful.

Warnings: language, mentions of injury, non-graphic violence (brief)

A/N:  You may have seen me over @fabtasticass which is my main blog. So this is my first fanfic and it's going to be a big one. It is a Soulmates AU but not in the traditional way. That won't show up until later chapters. I'm going to try to keep endgame a secret the best I can. I have some very angsty ups and downs planned but I'm trying to hold back. So I’ll tag each chapter with what pairing might be in that chapter in the official Tumblr tags but never at the beginning.

I ran, dodging rats, and clumps of unidentified garbage that lay literal feet from a plethora of garbage cans and dumpsters. God, I hated this city.

I especially hated this city in the rain, dashing through back alleys of Queens with all of my belongings in tow.

Rolling in and out of huge asphalt craters, my suitcases jostled my already pained arm. It had only been three or so hours since I’d reset the dislocated joint against my fire escape.

Blood dripped from a split along my hairline, mingling with sweat and city rainwater. At this point, I felt like a drowned cat and probably smelled like a wet dog. Super, awesomely attractive, right?

Bracing myself against the wall of the nearest building, I pulled a flask out of the interior pocket of my jacket and took a swig. The flask was light pink with the words “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” emblazoned on the side. It filled me with a dark sense of glee and irony every time I used it. I nicked it from one of those chain party supply stores a few months back, which I supposed could be my version of fun.

The whiskey burned as it went down but as it hit my stomach it helped to warm my rain-soaked bones.

I began moving again. As I wove in and out of the misshapen piles in the alleyway, I felt the hair prickle on the back of my neck. It felt like I had a curious pair of eyes, tracking my every move and staring me down. I ignored my most basic instinct to turn around and investigate and my training kicked in instead. My eyes swept the alleyway ahead of me, monitoring the shadows, ears open and head down. I checked every shiny surface to see the reflection behind me. Empty alleyways are all that I was shown. So I shoved aside my intrusive paranoia and started whistling tunelessly as I moved. I’d felt that prickle for days and nothing had come of it.

In front of me, business lights filtered through the rain, casting a glow over the stone walls. Wet, sputtering and a little drunk, it only made sense that I was the target of some less friendly men who had stationed themselves outside of a local dive bar. They jeered and reached out at me. “Piss off you assholes, I’m not in the mood.”

Their demented shouts ranged from demands that I take off my clothes, false coos asking me if I needed their help to warm up and jokes about them being so good in bed women were jumping at the chance and willing to move in with them immediately to lock it down.

The rain got harder as I clenched my fist, glaring daggers at them and trying to subtly move faster. Everything about my body language screamed 'don't fuck with me', but it's hard to be intimidating when you're a generous 5'3. They advanced anyways and with a woosh, they all got tossed back into the brick wall, hard. The crack of a few skulls echoed down the empty alley, interrupted only by their groans as a few immediately came to.

The tingling on the back of my neck got more intense, this time joined by a fuzzy feeling alarm in the back of my brain. I hustled along, eager to get the hell out of Queens. I hadn't taken more than three steps when I heard him. “Woah, what was that? I webbed up those guys back there, they won't be able to move for a few hours. What was that though, can you like manipulate energy or is this outside the realm of earthly physics? Are you an alien? Or a mutant maybe? Or..."

Without looking up I sent another blast towards the overly excited voice and immediately heard an oomph followed by the sound of a body rushing towards the pavement. Or, rather, a dumpster.

“Hey not cool,” said the guy, poking his head up and out of the dumpster.

I groaned, immediately recognizing the mask, despite it being covered in what looked a lot like smashed avocado on the left side of the heroes head. Spider-Man.

Pushing my bags together, around my feet, I bound them to myself and alighted on the nearest rooftop, gently floating upward. I figured the enhanced cat was already out of the bag with the current company, so to speak. I ran along the flat roofs of the decrepit, abandoned buildings with still no destination in mind but out.

“Wait up, where are you going, stop! We're friends now right? It's rude to ignore your friends, and I'm the friendliest of friends, you know. Friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and all...” he babbled on lamely, his voice fading in and out as he swung between buildings, keeping up as I hopped from roof to roof.

“Buzz off buggy”, I grumbled before sending another shot his way.

“You’re really bad at paying attention to where I am, aren’t you” Spidey suddenly whispered in my ear. I shrieked and came to a halt, dropping my luggage next to me as I sat to dangle my feet off the ledge of whatever shitty building I was on now. As expected, that lanky ass fool sat down right next to me.

“So, where are you going, miss uh… strange power lady?”

“I don’t kno-” I cut myself off and looked at him strangely. “Wait, why are you even here?”

“Well funny story," he huffed out, looking over at me. His masked eyes contracted as he continued to just look at me in silence for several minutes. I was seconds away from physically shoving him off of the building. For someone who apparently couldn't keep his mouth shut when I wanted him to, he was as silent and one of those monks now when I actually wanted to hear his whiny voice. Then, just as I was about to snap, he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders.

"Have you ever heard of the Avengers?”

Like any normal person on the planet, I obviously had. I may not have been in New York while it was being leveled by aliens over a decade ago, but a person would have to be seriously deprived of outside stimuli to not know who the Avengers were.

Instead of speaking to the impertinent, entirely too perky Avenger at my side, I just glared, sending a message loud enough that even the most inept individual would comprehend me.

“Woah, woah, don’t shoot! You could be like, a really weird and reclusive alien for all I know at this point. The boss didn’t exactly give me all the details when he sent me out to trail you. I don’t even know your name, which tells me that we actually don’t know a whole lot about you…,” he trailed off his rambling as he finally realized I was now staring at him expectantly, waiting to get a word in edgewise.

“My name is Kaida, and I’m not a good person. Also, thanks for the invitation to join your little cult, but I’m going to have to pass.” I stood to leave and find shelter for tonight when all of a sudden a schnick sounded and webbing surrounded my foot, holding me in place.

That sneaky little son of a bitch.

“No can do, we’re going to talk this one out. Either you agree to come in and meet the team or you get to sit here all night and listen to me ramble about them and what ridiculously stupid things we’ve all been up to in the past few months. Your call… Kaida.” He said my name as though it could take form, leap up and bite him.

“Okay Spider, I see you want to play hardball. You take that mask off and I’ll come with you to ‘meet the team’ or whatever touchy-feely bullshit y’all are into over there. But I’m not agreeing without some kind of skin in the game other than my own.” I lifted my chin, triumphantly, secure in the knowledge that he would never reveal his identity to a complete stranger, especially while various factions of the government and private entities were trying to round up enhanced individuals.

Spidey scoffed. “That’s it? It’s not like I was going to leave it on once we got to the tower anyways so, here you go I guess,” and he ripped away his mask as though it didn’t faze him in the slightest.

He was… younger than I had expected. Cute, in a safe, boring schoolboy kind of way.

“What are you, twelve??” I all but shouted at him. There’s no way this kid was the real deal, a bona fide Avenger that had helped save numerous lives, my own included if you count what happened just a few years back.

“I’m twenty-two, thanks though. If I’m twelve, I’ve gotta say you’re a toddler. Granted, a toddler with wicked skills but it’s not like you’re even really an adult at this point, are you? Why aren’t you with your pare-.”

“For one thing, they’re dead. Secondly, I’m twenty but I guarantee you I’ve seen shit that you can’t really even comprehend. Even outside of all the crazy whack alien bullshit you all seem to be attracting. It really ages a person, or so I’ve heard.”

“Oh look at you, pulling the big bad ‘I’m so tough because I’m an orphan and my life wasn’t sunshine and roses’ act. Literally, everyone has bad shit happen to them. From what I’ve just seen and from what we’ve caught on security monitors, you’re wickedly talented and could actually use your powers to help others. Unless you’re too much of a coward, I know we do deal with ‘crazy whack aliens’ and all, but it shouldn’t be hard for a big kid like yourself, huh?”

I had half a mind to blow him off the roof right then and there. Rage swirled in the pit of my gut so violently, I might have vomited had I eaten at all in the past day or so. The wind picked up and began buffeting around the Spider guy and myself, throwing debris from decrepit roof and buildings towards us. All of the shrapnel conveniently avoided my person, but Spidey was dancing back and forth like a puppet on a string.

Deep breaths Kaida, deep breaths. We wouldn’t want another Wizard of Oz-esque incident. Again. I often found myself talking to myself in different perspectives to calm down. Anger, improperly channeled was a very dangerous thing for me, and honestly, I was being a brat just like he was. No need to level an entire city block just for this one intrusive, presumptuous asshat who dressed up like a fucking spider. I wasn’t about to tell him that though.

The wind died down almost immediately. Until it didn’t.

Not a minute later, the biggest bolt of lightning I’d ever seen struck a building a block or so away, no doubt short-circuiting every device plugged in at that residence. Two seconds later there was a solid thunk and next to Spider-Man loomed perhaps the most handsome being in the known universe, Thor. King of Asgard.

“You hit your panic button Man of Spiders. Are you in need of assistance… carrying bags?” Thor looked at you, tied down, and your bags tossed askew, then back at Spidey. Quizzically, he opened his palm and sent a burst of lightning up into the sky, as if looking for something. “All seems to be in perfectly good spirits here, no strange magics… so.”

“Listen, man, two minutes ago she was literally shaking the building so hard I thought we were all going down. I just don’t know how… all I did was ask her some questions, maybe play hardball with her a little,” he just shrugged at the god apologetically.

“Hi, I exist too, and I can speak for myself,” I asserted, repositioning my body so I wasn’t standing quite so hunched over. “We,” I continued, looking at Spidey, “would love your assistance in getting my bags back to wherever this team inspection or meeting is supposed to happen.” Anything to get inside and secure, before I lost it completely.

“As you wish, Lady of the Winds,” Thor almost yelled, thrusting a cane into the sky.

“No, Thor wai-.”

Before the insect could finish whatever he was trying to say, we were engulfed in a kaleidoscope of bright colors and rushed away in the blink of an eye.

So much for having a normal, Wednesday evening.

If you’d like to be tagged in future chapters (I have 28 written) drop me a message or reblog this!! As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[spamzineglasgow]

(SPAM Cuts) Two Poems by Heather Christle

In this bumper SPAM Cut, Hannah Lee Nussbaum responds to two poems written by Heather Christle — The Running of Several Simulations at Once May Lead to Murky Data and Learned Has Two Syllables and I Only Have One — published here as a diptych in Granta’s August digital issue. Working alongside Christle’s language, Nussbaum considers why we need weird lossy metaphors created by defective machine learning algorithms, the rotten state of metaphor in late-stage human language, the possibility of applying a reverse Turing test to your best friends, and why things feel so good when we are told they are only simulations.

> Learned Has Two Syllables and I Only Have One is the first poem in this diptych by Heather Christle, although the poem isn’t a staccato mono-syllabic exercise, and there are some duo-syllabics and a few sneaky tri-syllabic words in there too. The title of the poem made me try to cram each double into a single (ma-chine as m’chine) and each triple into a double, but manually speaking, this was a total failure when I tried to read the poem out loud like this.

> Christle is conservative with syllables in this poem, because too many would ruin the machinic pace of the piece, would disrupt the leaden plainness of the language being used. Each stanza acts as a divestment from metaphor, and there’s a crystalline, Ouilippan thing happening here. Christle’s words are tautologically sterile, are trying to mean only what they mean, although this is difficult, because even the most ordinary language is metaphorical by nature. Like how happy is a metaphor for up and sad is a metaphor for down, which Natasha Stagg points out in an essay she wrote in 2016 called Internet as Horror, which I read around the same time as I read this poem.

> Christle’s clipped, germ-free language makes me think of Stefan Themerson’s semantic writing, which would not say ‘horse’ but would rather say ‘a solid-hoofed, plant-eating domesticated mammal,’ and it seems true that her language practices the kind of estrangement required when you are doing childcare. The kid will inevitably point to something, like a hair on your arm or a blemish on your face, and say what’s that, what’s that on your arm, what’s that on your face. And you, inevitably, will be really stupefied, stupid feeling too, because your sculpted human brain is trained in abstraction, not literalism, not low-level classification. It’s shame, it’s the abject body, you will probably tell the kid, and you’ll give them an orange cracker and pat their skull, and they will grow up surrounded by words and images which they have been taught to classify as broad political and cultural concepts.

> But when you speak like a computer, or to a computer — which is what Christle seems to be doing in this first poem — you must necessarily turn away from this human meat language of ours, which is supersaturated in allegory and metaphor. Ours is a language deployed towards symbol-heavy populist speechifying, where words are all units of metonymy, where words are constantly circulating and evolving like memes, where each single syllable is pregnant with history and culture, and in fact I would even argue that each syllable in its own right acts as a tiny self-driving metaphor, a little sound island that makes us think of this or that. In late-stage human language, meaning has gone totally viral and each sound has a thick crust around it. Context accumulates and accelerates as words are repeated. Late-stage human language is apparent in terms like “globalist,” “states’ rights,” “locker room,” “inner city” — all saying and not saying, all totems of the way metaphor and abstraction have ossified our words into compact, lazy symbols. Christle’s poem pokes at what’s at stake in moving backwards or outside of our lazy regime of abstraction. Which is, certainly, what is required if we are to approach the problem of machine learning as it relates to language, which is, on the level of content, what this poem is directly about. And maybe it’s not a problem, I’d like to add, but an opening.

> I imagine that she originally wrote a decadent and highly pigmented poem, or at least thought of one, then took a palette knife to it and attempted to strip it back into its constituent zeros and ones. The difficulty — the one she calls a readjustment/no more/painful than/a thicket — is that all of this abstract, high-level information is lost when you strip an image or a word or a whole poem down to its back-end code. New metaphors are created. Metaphors of misidentification, of confusion. An imperfect algorithm might accidentally categorize a red robin as a smear of blood. A long man’s face might be sorted into the column category. To backpedal words into non symbolic, bag-of-formal-qualities territory creates a moment of reverse emergence — concepts are stripped back into their constituent aesthetic facts, and a culturally innocent machine might well make connections between these constituent aesthetic facts, and new, stranger metaphors will be the upshot. The result is inevitably a weird realism, a Picasso-esque reality, which sounds sensual to me, do you agree?

> Said another way, these new lossy metaphors produced by still-too-dumb technology might help us make connections between seemingly disparate words, tease similar properties out of culturally dissimilar symbols. In this way, machinic metaphors might well be a tool of world building that verge on magick — they can make our sense and they can re-arrange it.

*  

> If the activity of cutting language away from abstraction — doing language like a sort-of-dumb machine would do it —  is the move happening in the first poem, Christle’s second poem does something tangential, cock-teasing but not straightforwardly delivering on my guilty desire for facile conceptual twinning between the two texts. The second poem — The Running of Several Simulations at Once May Lead to Murky Data — moves with a protagonist who imagines her meaty human companions — the real ones she is eating dinner with around a real table with real salt shakers ­— to be virtual (or machinic, or programmed, or otherwise computationally choreographed). The protagonist invites us to join her in an uneasy case of pretending, an induced brain-game that makes everything look different. A reverse Turing test that coats real humans (which are typically bland and predicable social organisms) in the dazzling gloss of life-likeness (the amazement with which we hear a machine speak in a women’s voice, as though we have never heard it before, so clear, so feminine). The poem knows that when a virtual object is life-like (what verisimilitude!), it is eons more astonishing than the real thing, because the real thing is yesterday’s news.

> And so Christle’s brain-game (this poem) allows real things to take on the glittery mystique of the virtual or the simulated: artificially I will induce this feeling in myself, the speaker tells us, pretending/—until it is real—that each person/is speaking from a highly naturalistic script,/having carefully rehearsed each/tiny gesture. What intrepid attention to detail! What finely tuned mockups! I am reminded of a short story written by Ben Marcus in 2013, Notes From the Hospital, in which Marcus describes a hospital on an island — a fastidiously fashioned space in which the air is breathable, the scale is one-to-one, and even the most advanced scrutiny cannot reveal the setup to be constructed and forged — so close is it to an actual hospital, with all of the bodies and walls and smells therein. But this hospital isn’t real, we are told — it’s made by a technically masterful artist — and so the thing feels miraculously life-like, accurate, while still retaining some of the impossible and strange and utopian feelings we associate with and assign to things we know to be virtual.    

> Simulation is at the very centre of what poetry is, in the sense that poetry is always a necessarily really inadequate representation of the thing the poet originally tried to evoke. A poem on a page is always a simulation of an original ghost poem, and in this sense a poem is always a record of failure, says poet and critic Allen Grossman (to whom I was led by Ben Lerner, who also writes on this). The actual poem is a failure, but the virtual poem (the poem the poet meant to write) holds within it that feeling of immense potential, the deep, instinctive sensation of a yet-to-be-executed idea in all of its impossible perfection — a schematic, a model, a mockup, a prototype: all perfect ghosts prior to the flaccid not-quite-right of real life execution. Virtuality itself is a way of feeling, a way of looking, and simulation is a sensation, and the sensation is generous, hopeful, rapt.  

> The ginger minutiae of social tics and turns, the remarkable talent it takes to speak, to reach for the salt, to be alive (being alive not being the norm) — all of these signals are consigned to the filing cabinet labeled ‘actual’, and so we don’t see the poetics in these small and ceaseless triumphs. Perhaps it takes a brain game, a reverse Turing test, a clever cranial experiment, a poem that writes around these little moves, to entertain the possibility of the actual poem being the virtual poem, the actual friend as the finely tuned machinic replica, and with such skill! Producing perhaps some awe for their remarkable talent/ for portraying with such detailed conviction/ the humans I know as my friends. Can the meat world shock and delight you as much as an imagined version or close approximation of it might? Does the long cold distance have to be so far?

~

Text and Image: Hannah Nussbaum

Published: 8/3/20

[ace-octo-pix]

This is... going to be a bit long. sorry, mobile users. The ocs are listed by team!

SPLATOON 1 TEAMS

ROKA/OLIVIA/AGENT 3. A bit of a lovable goof, with caring too much for her little inkling body. Fierce in battle. Yes, she gets the scar in the OE arc, but the OE arc goes a bit differently in the story due to... reasons? yeah, reasons. She goes missing for a full year and that’s when Akim takes up the Agent 4 handle.

MINT TEA/PAIVA. A bit of a gossip, but also a wall of support. Wants to cheer everybody up, but is hiding issues of her own. Close friends with Roka. A possible ship with roka, as well. She’s the second leader of the team, and the only one in contact with Roka, right up until her disappearance. Oops. Literally the only one with a picture like this.

GLASSES/HENRIETTA. I did not know that the splatoon manga glasses was known as glasses, and this is awkward. and also full moon is a thing and AGH. anyway glasses. Seems to be a sarcastic little piece of shit, but honestly it’s just a front to her inner core. Of someone who likes to snipe and have fun. Wonder what caused her to be like that? hm.

Bandanna/Daphyne. She exudes an aura of edge, an aura of Not Caring... but she really does care... a lot more than she lets on. Will Fight anybody who disses her pals. Honestly a teen girl at heart. Loves black.

RETRO/AKIM/AGENT 4. A bit of a prick, but the kind of prick you know doesn’t mean his words. He’s kind of skilled in battle with his roller, which makes this W O R SE !! a big fan of music, and gaming, and also being gay. he makes jokes about that a lot.

SPECS/MARK: you know the stereotypical nerd? stays in a bedroom most of the day, tinkering around with stuff? That’s Specs! He likes to play video games with Retro, and... oh, look at that, another ship. Wow. Analytical!

SUNNY/GWEN. Similar to another person, she appears to not care, while caring a lot. Apathetic seeming, but able to come out of her core to care. Probably has a lot of interests from her girlfriend...

RAINY/SARAH. She’s fueled by a firey passion most of the time, but it tends to fizzle out quickly, and that’s how she and Sunny met, basically. Not pictured is the Traditional Headband she wears. Yes, she and Sunny are girlfriends. yay matching outfits.

PAINT! Er, she looks... not like this as much? Her gloves cover her fingers, and her hairstyle is the enemy octo hairstyle! In the ‘first game’ aka the first arc, she actually wears the paintball mask which covers her whole face, and also mains chargers. She just switched to brella in the second game. Shy, kind of nervous, but willing to put her foot down when push comes to shove. Er, she also has to be pushed to that point. Poor girl.

FISHFRY. A super out-there kinda kid. sorry, some ocs don’t have much personality. He will Protecc Paint with his life. Probably does research and field expeditions for her.

PEAKS. Proud of her role in battle, and probably the first one Paint trusted with the secret of her being an octoling, and the one best fit to break the news.

VECTOR. Full Attacc mode. Fueled by battle, loves to battle. Whenever Paint is taken off guard, she’s probably the one there to back her up.

ZEKKO. Leader of the Marksmen. Sorry there isn’t much about him. he’s definitely gay tho? Loves bothering the other players with his gun.

PANEL. A bit of a nerd, though he hides it behind his huge blaster.

SQUIDMARK. Reclusive? shows little emotion, but its definitely there.

CHECK. Loves the feeling of his hair. Probably more muscly than you would gather from his shirt.

SATIN. Loves this style and doesn’t get why people laugh at her scuba mask. knows what she’s doing in battle, but... not much outside of it.

CANCEL. Tends to ignore the outside world for her daydreams, even in battles, and still does well?? how does this team function

Ah, this is how they function. PARKA. Aka the straight person- well, they’re nonbinary and are hiding their ponytail in that hat of theirs. The person who sets the team straight and directs them in the right direction. Beakons help.

Zink. Just as odd as the rest of his team. He says his headband helps him, when it very clearly doesn’t. Or maybe it does and its just a hidden condition. Who knows? He’s just a bit bizarre.

BERRY. Leader of her team, she’s Suspicious of everything, and fierce in battle. Loves being Warm....

Olive. Er, he has the wrong ink color, and his eyes are blinking. It’s better like this instead of the WRONG PIECE OF HEADGEAR. Suave and cool, and yet constantly bickers with Berry. Ah, sibling culture. Super strong. A bit of a brat, but he won’t press on Berry’s anxious triggers. That’s Just Rude.

JELLY. Sometimes called Baby because of just how precious she acts. Will kick people if she has to.

SHRIMP. AKA... well. You know that headcanon that Pearl, Emperor, and Prince are siblings? Well, Shrimp’s their cousin. He’s got the short genes. He tries to compensate for it by being loud, and is often jokingly called Pearl’s cousin. Likes telling tales. That are often mostly true.

SPLATOON 2 TEAMS

HOOK/ATA/AGENT 8. A soft and kind soul, friendly and loves to talk more than take action, but when she takes action... whooo. she knows how to take action. If she’s angry, you don’t want to be around. Mostly quiet. Another possible ship with Roka.

YAMAGIRI/ADRIAN. Confident, and a bit cocky, but it’s mostly only a bit of exaggeration: he loves to stick to his ideals, and truly believes himself to be carrying those out to the best of his ability. Stupidly loyal to his friends.

TOOTHPICK/NOELANI. Two words to describe her: mom friend. Caring, worrying for everybody that crosses her vision, analytical to a stupid degree. Strong, so she can help throw her friends into a food cart so they can EAT FOOD. 

OCEANIC/VICTOR. A soft-spoken octoling, but is willing to do whatever it takes for his friends to Remain Happy, happy to shoulder their burdens. Hides his emotions under his big ol’ hat, though if you look under it, he’s probably a blubbering mess. Whenever angered, his voice seems to drop octaves and inflection. That’s terrifying!

BLOCKER. Oh my god, he’s a party animal. Oh my god. He likes doing memes and tricks, and, you know who this should remind you of? Aloha. Anyway, Blocker’s well known for his tricks with his brella, and his excellent dance skills... which also aids him in battle!

FUGU. He has a Big Ol Crush on Blocker, and I don’t think Blocker’s noticed yet. Oof. Kind of quiet and likes to observe before hopping into things, useful for a blaster with such a short range...? Awkward, but he’s trying to get better.

SEA SLUG. Constantly on the go, constantly moving, she’s gotta Go Go Go!! Hyperactive, probably can be seen stimming. Has an attachment to her gun.

LEAF. Seemingly hard-boiled, constantly huffing about something or other. She’s- she’s a Rider Tsundere, that’s all I can describe her as. Her friendships with Blocker the Party Master and Sea Slug have definitely Lightened her up. Still a little bit of a grump?

ARROW. Dependable. You can depend on him to tell you when you’re doing some Bad Shit, Stop That.

HOTHOUSE. A... a bit of a flirt, and a good punster. two things that shouldn’t be combined into one girl.

TACKLE VISOR. Keeps their face hidden purposefully, which hides their non-standard hairstyle. Rough and tough, a sneaky little bastard. You know, despite the TACKLE VISOR on their head.

MATCHA. A silly little guy. The oblivious one that somehow still manages to cooperate with Hothouse’s jokes anyway. May be faking obliviousness...

HICKORY. Such a casual guy. Him and Blocker are probably pals. Party pals. Would drink your soda on accident and then apologize.

DO-RAG. oh my god, look, it’s a lesbian. She loves to show off, and is super strong. Could probably lift her teammates above her head. Actually can’t see much without her glasses, they’re made for her weird-ass eyes.

REDLEAF. He looks like the type of guy who hyperfocuses on everything and has to be told to back off, but he’s not trying to be creepy. Soft. Would memorize your food favorites and cook it for you.

CLAMS. He. he loves being super fancy. Not because he thinks he’s above others, he really, really loves the aesthetic of it! He and Do-Rag fight over which splatling is better sometimes. And then help each other score dates.

EGG. Super silly, has probably eaten a raw egg whole on a dare. Easily dared into things, though this means she’s very resilient. Can and Will say silly things just to confuse people.

CARROT. Helps out with Egg’s jokes. Has shoved an entire carrot down her gut before. Egg and her were actually friends before they both traveled to the surface. They are... bad influences on each other.

RAINBOW: He’s a casual gay. I- uh. He’s super fun in battles, and is often the one daring Egg and Carrot to do things because he loves putting it on whatever the octo media is. Loves sandals, hates his toes feeling constricted.

CANARY. Oh my god this is a swamp gremlin. You know the meme versions of agent 4? that, times like 100. Jesus. This team is crazy.

SEASHELL. Doesn’t use the deco because her teammates described what the burstbomb and carbon did to people and she doesn’t wish to cause people harm....

JADE. he’s blue ba due be- i mean. he’s a good singer, but still learning the ropes of his new weapon.

DEEPSEA. A friend. The dad friend. Will tell jokes to make you feel better, but always a shoulder to lean on. Always will wear silly clothes too.

FORGE. ..... a guy of few words.... kind of like skull. doesn’t really talk much, but evidently is a good prankster and loves spicy things. Will tuck you into bed and then doodle on your face.

[dailysarina]

The Sarina Project

Ok so I gotta put a little A/N at the start of this one beacuse I realized I have to make a litttttllllleee change to this story. Soz. Annyywaaayyyy... I’ve decided to change the POV from first person to third person, which I know is probably SUPER annoying for you but I promise this chapter would work better if it was not just from Karina’s POV. So I hope y’all are ready for some ~e p i c~ punk!Sarah thoughts ^-^

The Sarina Project

Chapter 18: I Hate My Freinds

“Are you sure your ready to do this?” Emily viciously inquired of DJ, who just happened to be sitting next to her. (A/N: Remember, Karina is NOT narrating this she is NOT HERE hehe ^-^)

“Are you kidding??? I’m literally James Bond,” DJ said, popping the p. “I’ve snuck into like 15 classrooms already this year.”

“OMG ME TOO!” Emily said back in response to DJ.

“Ya exactly we snuck into those classrooms together,” DJ unimpressedly said. They both laughed at Emily’s forgetfulness.

“Haha,” she laughed, giggling.

“Ok lets go,” DJ said, immediately jumping into a James Bond somersault and kicking the door to the classroom. Emily crept in behind him, her greenish, hazelish, slightly brown speckled balls of sight gazing over the cold, lifeless, OPPRESSIVE, torture seats... aka... DESKS. (A/N: hahahahhahaha I hate school sum1 halp plz 😭😂)

“There’s no one in here,” Emily said after about ten minutes observations.

“Wow it’s not like I can see the exact same classroom,” DJ sarcastically quipped back at her in such a tone that only DJ could recreate.

“Just get to the desk,” Emily said, deciding to suddenly use her gymnastics skills to backflip across the room and onto the teacher’s desk.

“Wow I, definitely good enough for the olympics if I can do that,” Emily said, obviously very very proud of her recent accomplishments. Ever since she was two days and fifteen hours and 32 minutes old, she had wanted to be an Olympic gymnast. Gymnastics was her LAIFE!! (A/N: Chipotle is laiiifffeee heh XD). DJ rolled his brown orbs he used for seeing almost every day back into his head at Emily’s showyoffiness and walked over to the same teachers desk Emily was standing on.

“I saw Mrs. Bersbedasukeon put the paper with our group project partners on the third drawer from the bottom on the right said,” DJ told Emily, DABBING and pointing toward the correct drawer. Emily pulled open the drawer and grabbed the single piece of paper sitting on there. A piece of paper that could change the life of ALL THE NAMES ON IT. This paper would be the most sacred thing Emily would touch in a long time.

“This piece of paper is so precious,” Emily hugged the paper to her chest while violently popping her p’s.

“Just switch the names!!!!,!!!!!!!” DJ annoyingly said, banging on the desk to gain Emily’s attention back. Emily nodded and started whiting out a few names on the paper with... WHITE OUT; which she had conveniently stashed in her coat pocket and had just pulled out for this specific reason.

(A/N: okiiii idk how to describe this next part because it always plays like a movie in my head... if that makes sense... IDK. But anyway I’m gonna write this next part like a script so it’s easier for y’all to understand. Remember dailysarina cares about her followers!!! ;))

Emily: *quickly runs white out over a few ^convenient^ names*

DJ: *rewrites the new group partners aS THEY SHOULD BE*

“Good. That’s good,” Emily said as DJ forged the teachers’ handwriting. Then the super sneaky spy duo (A/N: “Nice use of alliteration” -Mr. Scoggins, my English teacher haha jk I would DIE if he read this lol xD) left the classroom until the next day.

THE NEXT DAY............,,....

I enter through the doorway to my art class, brushing my newly dyed pink hair out of my eyes and adjusting my lilac colored flower crown. ‘I wonder if Sarah will notice my hair?’ I wonder. Wait. WHY DID I THINK THAT?? Ugh this is so annoying. Sarah is literally the scariest person I’ve ever seen and yet I am CONSTANTLY worried about what she thinks of me. What is up with that?? It probably just because I’m a weird person, and that’s what weird people do. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

“Ew your hair looks like a fairy threw up on it,” Sarah quipped at me the second I walked in the room, without even making eye contact. What the heck?!??,.! Why is she so MEAN? “You also look like that girl from LazyTown.” OH THAT’S IT.

“Yeah, well... you look like Susie from DELTARUNE!” I screamed back at her, crossing my arms in satisfaction. I can’t believe I actually stood up to her! She didn’t get mad and punch me in the face like I thought she would. She didn’t even yell another insult back at me. She just smiled a bit, and went back to drawing a skull and cross bones on her ripped jeans with eyeliner. I skip over to a giggling Emily and DJ, who were sitting at the table next to Sarah, and sit down, fluffing the skirt of my light pinkish salmon dress as I sit.

“What are you laughing about?” I say to my freinds, who seem to be cackling about something I don’t know about. Are they laughing at me?? I wouldn’t be surprised if they were, considering all my old friends at my old school started bullying me for being weird. UGH! WHy is being weird so hard in high school??

“Nooooiittththhhhhiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg............” the blonde haired girl and the brown eyed boy said in complete unison. Ok, that was creepy, I’m just going to ignore that.

“I will now read out the partners I’ve assigned for this art project y’all will be working on,” our teacher, Mrs. Bersbedasukeon yelled at us. I really hope I get a good partner that doesn’t make fun of my pink hair. And I rreeeeaaallllly hope I don’t get Sarah. ANYONE BUT SARAH.

“The first pair will be Karina and Sarah.”

...

...

WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

“Ummm, can I please- but I am cut off by the rudest teacher to ever exist. She just goes on giving out partners like I don’t have a problem with mine. HOW RUDE IS THAT

“Ugghhhhhhh now our project is gonna be covered in rainbows and glitter and pink flowers, gross.” Sarah said, banding her head on the table. I feel like I’m about to cRY. THIS IS GONNA BE H O R R I B L E. why does all the horrible stuff always have to happen to me? My life sucks,

“Well have fun with you Project, you guys,” Emily quips sarcastically, popping the p, but I did NOT think it was funny. She gets to work with DJ, and that’s NOT FAIR. why can’t THEY work with Sarah???” At least they sort of l i k e her.

This is probably all their fault.

I hate them sooooooo much. :( 😭

...

WHOOOAAAAAAAA CLIFFHANGERRRRRRRR!!! xD. Soz that this chapter was a little confusing but a lot of stuff that needed to happen so the story can finally pick up (I can’t believe I’ve written 18 chapters!!!) I honestly think this is the best thing I’ve ever written, but REMEMBER. I have NEVER written anything before this is my FIRST time trying fanfic and I really don’t want anyone to judge me. Don’t be r00d LOLOLOLOL.

On a different note........ my mom is FINALLY taking our family to Chicago and I’m literally going to be spending all week hunting for my two favorite people EEEEEEEEEE. I’m hoping to see them at least 7 times, maybe more? I mean I know what kind of places they like to eat at and where they hang out with people (don’t ask me how I know I’ll never tell hehehehe) so it shouldn’t be too hard to find them. By the end of the week they’re gonna LOVE ME! xD xD Anywayyyyy because of that I probably won’t be writing another chapter next week, but I will still be posting d a n k memes about our children! Dailysarina is signing off now hehe. Peace!!! ✌️

[shiphaussecretsanta]

Deserving

Secret Santa gift from isitjustmeinhere for @staranon95

Ship: Killemses

warnings for torture and angst!

It was stupidity on his part, when he thinks on it. Needing a speedy escape from a heist was no excuse to cut through an enemy gang’s territory alone, yet he’d done it without a thought. In his defense, it’s hard to think with three dozen heavily armed, pissed off LSPD officers on your back. He couldn’t have anticipated how quickly it would go south, however, high profile enough that a scout had seen him two minutes into his excursion. The ensuing fight hadn’t been much of a fight at all, a sneaky blow to the back of the head leaving him off balance and nauseous enough to only throw  a handful of punches before he took another hit to the temple and went down hard.

There’s no telling how long he was out for, but it must have been significant if the ache in his ass from the metal chair is any indication. He can feel the dried blood on his lips from where the punk scout had gotten in a solid hit, but the taste of blood is absent, so it was definitely an extended time lapse. His head is still fuzzy, his stomach churning and eyes burning even in the low warehouse lighting. His arms are bound and his wrists feel raw from the shitty rope as he wiggles to see if he can loosen the knots. The door must be behind him, because he hears a creak and some grinding, followed by a shout he’s too exhausted to bother understanding. It only takes moments for him to realize what the guy must have been saying, as the door squeals again to herald two sets of footsteps.

It’s not the first time he’s been tortured, and it probably won’t be the last, with his luck. He’s already in agony when they bring out the bucket of water. His arms and torso are a battlefield of fresh new wounds and old scars, black t-shirt in pieces on the floor. The leader of the two interrogators takes a long drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out in the bloody mess that he’s sure his forearm is underneath somewhere.

He straightens his suit and asks a question he must know Adam isn’t going to answer. When he gets no response - as if Adam could come up with a single coherent thought through the pain - the other man sits the water bucket in Adam’s lap and forces his head down until he’s taking a startled breath of water right into his lungs. His body tries to cough but that just gives him a mouthful of water that he tries desperately not to inhale. The man holds against his thrashing until his lungs are on fire and his vision goes spotty.

When he’s finally allowed air, he takes it in like a dying man, which, considering how much water he just coughed up, he kind of was. It’s a pretty rudimentary version of waterboarding, but definitely just as effective. More efficient. To the point.

They must be pretty well hidden if no one has come for him yet, far away or more likely in some dump his gang doesn’t know is an enemy safehouse. Smart, on this gang’s part, honestly. It’s bought them some time to actually get to the interrogation before they die. Which is unusual, because normally the guys don’t take more than a couple hours to bash their way into a hideout when one of their own is inside. But it’s totally fine, because they’re definitely coming, despite what this dickfuck in the suit is saying. His friends wouldn’t abandon him, right? Because they were friends, not just partners. Yeah, of course they’re coming. Lawrence and Bones are typing away at computers and the rest are suiting up, no, already suited up, because they are just waiting on a location, chomping at the bit to go save Adam because they care about him and love him and would protect him and are definitely going to save him. Yup, yes.

They take no notice of his burgeoning panic attack, shoving his head back under the surface of the water. This time he doesn’t hold, actually tears Adam’s head back out by the hair before dunking it again and again. It forces his breathing pattern to something abnormal, closer to hyperventilating that regular breathing. Ah, so they had noticed his panic attack. Nothing better for panic than not knowing when your next breath will come!

He tries to remember all the techniques for keeping calm, but he’s probably concussed and his head is fuzzy and his thoughts all jumbled, everything too much for him to comprehend and this motherfucker is still dunking his head like he’s a damn piece of laundry in the olden days. It’s almost a relief when his head is held underwater for longer, his neck and upper back twinging with pain after the rough treatment. His eyes burn no matter how hard he squeezes them shut against the water, his lungs feel heavy, his heart is hammering in his chest and ears. He might die here, he realizes.

His head is released, not torn from the water as it had been before, which is how he knows something is up. They’re not just going to go good cop on him for no reason. A smile breaks over his face as he hears a shitty high pitched imitation of a woman’s voice from the door. He’d recognize James anywhere.

Things should have gone batshit after that, guns-a-blazing and blows flying, but Elyse comes down from the ceiling behind Suit Guy and puts one into the back of his skull, followed quickly by one between Other Guy’s eyes. How she got through the ceiling without being noticed, Adam will never know, and he doesn’t particularly care to. James is already undoing his bonds, cheap twine splitting easily against his knife. Once he frees Adam’s legs, Adam throws the damn bucket of water onto the ground and kicks it with a fervent hatred he hasn’t felt since his teenage years. Maybe he promptly falls over because his head is still swimming, but the point is made.

“Hey,” he says, looking between the two, speech slurred and throat raw, “Can we go home now?” James laughs and Elyse smiles, shaking her head fondly as Matt peeks through the door to see Adam flat on his ass on the floor.

“Yeah buddy,” James says, “We can go home now.”

——

The drive home is objectively short, but it feels like a thousand years to Adam, battered and exhausted. Nothing sounds better than falling face-first onto his bed and sleeping forever. But instead Peake is wrapping his arms in old cloth until they can get to gauze and proper medical supplies, silent like he knows Adam’s head is still buzzing.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” is the only thing Matt says, murmured just after they walk into the penthouse and go their separate ways. Adam makes his way to the nearest bathroom, more than ready for a few painkillers to dull his headache and the agony of his arms and chest. James and Elyse come in to find him sorting through the pill bottles, trying to decide which will be most effective without thinning his blood too much. Some of the wounds are still bleeding sluggishly and he doesn’t want to make them worse.

“Hey buddy,” James greets him, grabbing a bottle of something Adam can’t quite remember but is pretty sure is oxy. He gives Adam one and says he can have another only if he really needs it. It’s good to have someone care like that, enough to bother taking his addictive personality into account.

Elyse hands him a small bathroom cup of water to help down the pill, getting to work on unwrapping Adam’s arms and torso. It sticks in a few places and Adam can’t help but hiss as a few wounds rip back open. Some need stitches, and James has a suture kit at the ready. He begins and Elyse switches between helping him and gently showering Adam’s face in kisses.

The maybe-oxy kicks in a handful of minutes later and Adam’s already tired brain is even more desperate for sleep. He thinks of curling up in James and Elyse’s bed, one of them on either side, and sleeping until his body is sore from it. Yeah, that sounds like a good plan. But James has decided to close up the majority of his injuries, so it’s taking forever and a day, suture kits being jammed into the little bathroom trash can one after another. They’re gonna need to order more at this rate. Usually, he would be grumpy about having to sit on the edge of the tub for so long, but he’s getting a kiss per stitch, so maybe it’s not so bad.

James finishes cleaning off the last wound and starts applying gauze, thank god. They may as well just wrap him up like a mummy at this point, chaining together so much gauze he’s practically wearing a really weird shirt. Could you imagine a gauze shirt? Sounds itchy and fragile. Hard to sew. He may be a little loopy, but he thinks it’s justified after literally everything that happened today.

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asks, leaning his forehead against James’s to look imploringly into those ocean-clear eyes. James laughs again like before, one of Adam’s favorite sounds, pressing their lips together slowly before agreeing. Elyse tosses the last suture pack into the trash, teaming up with James to help Adam up off his perch. They’re so gentle with him it’s practically unbearable. He can’t believe he ever doubted them.

The walk to their bedroom is short, Adam’s stumbling kept to a minimum with them under either shoulder. They lower him onto the bed first, James helping him pull up his legs so he can lay down right. He scoots over to his side of the bed, closing his eyes gratefully while he waits for them to get in too.

“Hey, move over,” Elyse says, nudging him carefully. He opens his eyes and tries not to show how delighted he is to be relegated to the middle; it’s the best place to be and he usually only gets it on bad days. Well, today has certainly been one hell of a bad day, he guesses. He moves over until he hits James, who wraps arms around him in a tight hug that might have hurt without painkillers in his system, while Elyse slides into bed and pulls the covers up over the three of them. Once James releases him, Elyse pulls him in, holding him just as tight.

“Sorry it took so long to find you,” she says, voice warbling from unshed tears. He just hugs her harder, placing a kiss on top of her head. When she finally lets him go, he kisses her soft and sweet until the tears subside.

“James, now you have to cry,” she says, to James’s laughter that may or may not be a little soggy, “I can’t be the only one.”

“Already there,” he sniffles, slinging an arm over a clear part of Adam’s torso, “But our baby boy is home.” Adam preens at the nickname, nuzzling his face into Elyse’s neck with a content sigh. This is where he belongs. Right here with the two of them, even sliced up and brain-bruised. Everything is tolerable, he can make it through anything, so long as he has this to come back to.

James kisses the nape of his neck and whispers more terms of endearment there, while Elyse talks reassurances against his lips and oops, he might be the one crying now. He wants to blame it on the concussion, wants to find some reason for it that isn’t just him being overwhelmed at their love, but he doesn’t have to with them. He doesn’t have to find excuses for his emotions anymore, not with James and Elyse. He’s allowed to cry and that just makes him cry more, because they’re so lovely and he doesn’t know what he did to deserve them.

He turns so that he can reach James’s face too, and cycles between giving each of them kisses until his tears stop and his eyes won’t stay open any longer. He drifts to sleep safe and warm, between the two he loves who love him back.

[piratetrafalguy]

20 Years at Sea, Day 16 - Love

Title: Captain’s Love

Rating: T

Summary: You see, Luffy had this sneaky, endearing way of creeping into people’s hearts. Endearing, because he didn’t do it on purpose, or often didn’t seem to realize he’d done it all. Sneaky, because by the time his victims had realized it had happened, they were already too enamored to really care.

His crew mates, of course, are not immune.

Alternately: Just a few of the ways Luffy wormed his way into his crew’s hearts.

A/N: Gah, another late one... -_-’

(Read it on Ao3 here)

For Usopp, it was the first time Luffy had asked, “So, what happened next?”

At the time, the question had come seemingly out of nowhere - Luffy had only just plopped down beside him, after all, and that seemed like a weird way to start a conversation, even for the strange boy he’d just started calling captain.

When Usopp had said as much, Luffy had only frowned at him, as though Usopp was being the weird one, and then poked Usopp in the side. “After you defeated the leader of the giant beetle lord. What happened next?” he’d repeated, referencing the tall tale Usopp had been telling several hours ago, before they’d accidentally almost killed Zoro’s old bounty hunter friends.

Usopp had blinked at him stupidly, surprised Luffy hadn’t already forgotten about it. “T-that… didn’t actually happen, you know,” he’d said finally, staring down at the Merry’s railing so he wouldn’t have to keep facing the captain’s disturbingly wide and hopeful eyes. He’d never been in the habit of admitting his lies, but in that moment it had felt… wrong, somehow, to let Luffy believe otherwise.

“So?”

Usopp had startled, then, and looked up to find Luffy frowning at him again, head cocked and one finger up his nose.

“You… still want to hear it?” Usopp had asked hesitantly, a feeling he usually only associated with Kaya warming his chest.

Luffy had beamed. “Of course!” he’d exclaimed, before wrapping a rubbery arm around Usopp’s shoulders.

There would be other moments after that one, of course; smiles and laughter, bold proclamations, and a hand extended in forgiveness when Usopp still wasn’t sure he’d deserved it.

But for Usopp, that moment would always be remembered as the first.

~*~

For Franky, it was every time Luffy marveled at one of his inventions, sparkles literally dancing in front of his eyes.

“So cool!” he exclaimed, oohing and aahing over Franky’s newest upgrade - a shoulder cannon he did not, strictly speaking, have an actual use for yet, but was sure to be helpful sometime down the line. Probably.

“It’s a beam,” Franky explained, just to see Luffy’s jaw drop in excitement.

“A BEAM~!” Luffy shrieked, positively drooling in delight as the stars in his eyes starting shining even brighter.

“Okay, but was does the beam even do?” Sanji asked, with a skeptical expression both Robin and Nami were sharing.

“Who cares? It’s a BEAM!” Luffy cried, arms pumping in the air excitedly. “Franky, you are the COOLEST!”

It was not the first time Luffy had expressed the sentiment, but it was the absolute certainty that it wouldn’t be the last that made Franky break out into his “SUPER!” pose.

Because for Franky, it would always be his captain’s unbridled excitement.

~*~

Zoro didn’t know the exact moment it happened to him. More than likely, there wasn’t one; his and Luffy’s relationship had never been the same as the rest of their crew mates’, so it wouldn’t surprise Zoro if they were different in this regard, as well.

That being said, while Zoro couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment Luffy had started to worm his way into Zoro’s heart, he did know the exact moment he realized his captain had settled there.

The utter, heart-stopping panic Zoro had felt at seeing Kuma start to lift Luffy’s unconscious form had haunted him for far longer than the pain he’d agreed to take from his captain’s body ever had.

And if that surprising spike of emotion had meant setting aside his own dream for Luffy’s life... well.

Luffy would have done the same for him.

~*~

“She’s a good person.”

She hadn’t realized it then, but looking back, Robin was certain that that was when it had started. She hadn’t believed the words, then - still didn’t really now, if she was being truthful with herself - but they had still left a peculiar sensation of warmth in her chest, a feeling she hadn’t recognized at the time but could easily name now.

Certainly, there were several things that Luffy had said and done since that had shown the depth of his loyalty and care:

The casual way he showed physical affection, or when he would lay his head down on her lap for a nap when Sanji wasn’t around to shout at him for it.

How he seemed to consider her advice more than any other member of the crew bar Zoro.

“ROBIN!” and “Sogeking, shoot down that flag.”

But for Robin, those first few words - “She’s a good person” - would mark the first time she had ever felt love for her captain.

~*~

For Nami, it was the moment she had felt warm, worn straw touch her head.

Because she had understood the magnitude of Luffy entrusting her with his hat - his treasure. Even after everything that had happened directly after that moment - destroying Arlong Park, and bringing the person who’d taken so much from her to his knees - that one gesture would be the thing that stuck out.

Because after all she had done to him - after she’d lied to him, used him, and stolen from him - she’d still been entrusted with his treasure. He’d still trusted her.

You’re my friend, that one gesture had said. You’re my crew mate, and I won’t let anyone hurt you.

Not any more.

Nami had returned the gesture by promising to navigate him anywhere he wanted to go - and by also silently vowing to mend that stupid (precious) old hat whenever it was needed (which would end up being quite often on their long, dangerous journey).

She’d get him (and his hat) to Raftel if she had to strap him to her back and swim him there herself.

~*~

For Sanji, it was much more than jubilant cries of “Sanji! MEAT!”

It was the bright boy who didn’t laugh at his ridiculous dream of All Blue.

It was offhand remarks of “Sanji’s is better,” whenever they ate a dish that wasn’t cooked by Sanji but the rubbery captain recognized as something Sanji had served before.

It was smacking away fingers trying to sneak a bite when they thought Sanji wasn’t paying attention, and puppy-dog eyes demanding ‘pirate lunchboxes’.

It was a laughing boy proudly holding up his newest catch, followed by excited requests for Sanji to cook it.

It was steadfast loyalty, and a bloody, bruised face exclaiming, “It’s delicious!”

It was secret, knowing smirks in the middle of battle, orders that never needed voicing because Sanji could hear them without any words, and a bond much tighter than anything Sanji had had with the brothers he was related to by blood.

So, like Zoro, Sanji didn’t have a definitive moment he could point to and say, “That. That’s when that little shit snuck in.”

(“Sanji! Meat!” Luffy had cried that first day, making Sanji bite through his cigarette to hide his smile.)

All Sanji knew was that - even though he had long ago claimed it was only reserved for ladies (and cooking, and the All Blue) - there would always be a place in his heart for Luffy.

~*~

For Chopper, it was absolute acceptance...

(“But I’m a reindeer! And a monster!”

“Shut up! Let’s go!”)

...as well as unfailing confidence.

“I just don’t understand how you can let yourself get so hurt!” Chopper wailed, flailing his arms as he took in Luffy’s newest assortment of injuries.

Luffy laughed. “Cuz I know you’ll always just patch me right back up,” he said cheerfully, and patted Chopper on the head with his uninjured hand.

And maybe others would hear it as carelessness on Luffy’s part, or just another example of his devil-may-care attitude and reckless nature. But what Chopper heard was, ‘I know you can do it,’ and ‘I trust you, and I’ll always trust you in the future, too.’

“That doesn’t make me happy, you bastard~!”

‘I won’t let you down, Luffy!’

~*~

For Brook, it was the uproarious, uninhibited laughter.

Or, specifically, that first burst of laughter he’d heard from Luffy in the Sunny’s galley, after treating the Straw Hats to their very first skull joke.

Brook had been a bit worried at the time; it had been several decades since he’d been around people, after all, and the looks his soon-to-be crew mates had given him at the joke had not been promising. Except -

“Skull joke!” Luffy had parroted, before cackling like a hyena.

It had grown from there, with an upside-down face grinning at him from the top of a piano (“So… can I join your crew?” “Sure!”). With more laughs and bigger grins, and casual affection in the form of warm hugs uncaring of a sharp, angular body made entirely of bones.

Yes, Brook had lived a great many years, and seen and felt a great many things…

But none would compare to the way his heart had positively burst at the sight of his would-be captain laughing at one of his stupid skull jokes.

(Even if he didn’t have a heart to burst, yohohoho~!)

[cloudmonstachopper]

Chiimquisitor Shenanigans

The epic tale of GARDENING PARTNERS IN CRIMMMMMMMME (literally lmao)

So blackwall just like. Straightup. Disappeared. To go to an execution???? And Chiim is just like blackwall come baaaaack what will I do without my gARDENING PARTNER IN BEEF?????

Blackwall: I’m not blackwall! Chiim: GASP (also explains why he didn’t hear/answer the ‘calling’) BUT GASP

Chiim: *wanders by storekeeper on way to prisons* Storekeep: make your purchase quickly, please. They say you are...... disruptive. Chiim: You know, this is why I hate Orlesians, ya damn right I’ll be disruptive cause Y’ALL ARE ASSHOLES Chiim: I mean what who said that

Chiim: ....hey, blackwall Blackwall: I’m not blackwall Chiim: then how about... friend? Blackwall: I lied to you Chiim: doesn’t change the fact taht you’re my friend. I’m friends with Leliana, and Varric, too, and they lie ALL the time (to me, even!)

Blackwall: I’m a traitor and a coward and a MONSTER Chiim: the GUY WHO PLANTS GIANT TURNIPS WITH ME ISN’T A MONSTER. Unless you think I’m a monster. Which i guess you could. We can be monsters together, then. Monsters don’t have to be bad. Not always.

Blackwall: (looks at Chiim and sees how their men trust them, but also how Chiim really isn’t fond of Orlesians, the game, the lies) Blackwall: I embody all of those things you hate, how can you be so kind to me, love me as a brother???? Chiim: clearly you’re having a crisis, and as your brother in arms, it is my duty and PLEASURE to HELP YOU THROUGH IT GDI Chiim: *gently* I can’t lose my gardening partner, buddy

Josie: so, Cullen, ur gettin love letters from ladies from the ball Cullen: BURN THEM Leliana: ohooooo, no, give them to me, this sounds JUICE I mean useful to the inquisition? Cullen: LELIANAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Leliana: oh hush you, just stand there and look pretty ;D Chiim: I love my family. Especially when they act like siblings. Amazing.

Chiim, adventuring with Leliana: you’ve been here before? Leliana: Yeah, it’s where I met Justinia. She was just Mother Dorothea back then Chiim: well... what are we lookin’ for? Leliana: heh, straight to business, inquisitor. That’s why I like you (she looks so charmed)

Natalia: *shows up* Chiim: SUSSPEEEEEEEECT Natalia: forgive me, my lord, for not recognizing you earlier Chiim: I’d rather not be recognized, though it’s kind of a tough gig when you’ve got horns and a glowy fade hand. Please don’t call me my lord, Inquisitor is fine. Natalia: oh, oh I see. *goes back to chatting with Leliana* Chiim: hmmm maybe she’s ok

Leliana: *opens secret passageway, immediately puts blade to natalia’s throat* Chiim: *in reality is shocked but plays along* ohoooo SHE WAS PLAYIN UUUUU THE WHOOOLE TIME AND U DIDN’T EVEN KNOW

So Chiim gives Natalia a chance to join the inquisition. Not only does she refuse (understandable) she INSULTS LELIANA (UNFORGIVABLE). You just don’t go insulting Chiim’s found family. YOU. JUST. DON’T. (those people end up dead. fast.) (Chiim is ruthless when someone insults their found family. There’s a reason they’re an assassin.)

Chiim: *returns to skyhold* people are calling me your worship again it’s so uncomfortable *ick face*

Chiim: wanna go take out a dragon? Bull: Y E S Sera: Y E S Solas: do I have to? Chiim: Yes Chiim: *going through giant area to reach dragon* AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Chiim: *breaks for stealth* ahhhhhhh

Bull: So Solas. You go into the fade ON PURPOSE when you dream? just to.... hang out? Solas: yup, pretty much, exactly that.

Chiim: DRAGON KILLING TIME.... right after..... I go to the Hinterlands to buy this grenade recipe Chiim: which I’ll do... after doing some war table things.... Chiim: I also have some light gardening to tend to.... Chiim: oh yes I also have a perk to spend Chiim: oh yeah I ought to beef up these tonics too..... Chiim: ok now that we’ve done allllllllllllllll of that. We can go buy that recipe. And then beef up that grenade. And THEN fight the dragon. Sera: it’s like being dragged with your mother shopping, with the promise of candy at the end s i g h

Dorian: I thought you’d go to weishaput with Hawke, Varric? ... though Weishaput is awful, everyone’s so serious and no one can take a piss Varric: *sigh* Hawke would be there. Dorian: haha we all know how fun Hawke is Varric: no, really. Mishka’s a hoot and a half. We’d have a grand old time. Mostly taking the piss outta everyone else. It’d be amazing.

The noise Solas makes when he jumps is the MOST PATHETIC THING I HAVE EVER HEARD OKAY

Chiim: I’m gonna judge him. *steels self* I’M GONNA GET MY GARDENING PARTNER B A C K DAMMIT Blackwall: you did this!!! THROUGH CRIME!!! YOU’RE JUST AS BAD AS I AM NOW Chiim: Blackwall I was either gonna get u back by being a sneaky sneakypants or get u back by storming the castle would u r e a l l y have preferred I Killed people in this process dammit???? Blackwall: no, you should have left me there! (or gotten Josie to pull strings tho I still woulda been sour) Chiim: I DO IT BECAUSE I LOVE YOU Chiim: *offers freedom so he can redeem himself, blackwall pledges himself to the inquisition* Chiim: DAMMIT. I AM GOING TO HUG YOU. I AM GOING TO HUG YOU SO DAMN HARD. MY BELOVED GARDENING PARTNER IS BACK WHETHER HE WANTED IT OR NOT, STOP BEING SUCH AN ASSHOLE TO URSELF BLACKWALL I LOVE YOU SO MUCH PLEASE LOVE YOURSELF EVEN A LITTLE BIT

Chiim @ randomass masked orlesians hangin around in the gardens: GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY PLANTS, ASSHOLES

Chiim: sup dorian Dorian: the chiimquisitor’s work is never done without me, it seems Chiim: *worried that they’re bugging dorian so much and being a burden or not self-sufficient* I.... should go.... Dorian: *winks* try not to kill anyone without me (please)! Chiim: *feeling significantly reassured* okay!

Sera really has a good friendship with Blackwall. During gardening sessions she likes to camp out up in one of the trees, eating some fruit (and pelting berries down at newcomers to the secret garden). It’s great.

The invisible market stall is now visible. The rumors aren’t sure what to make of this. Chiim just rolls with it, pretends absolutely NOTHING has changed (secretly they’re slightly perplexed but it’s coo’, it’s coo’)

Chiim: *enters great hall* Randomass orlesians: *disrespecting blackwall* Chiim: GET THE FUCK OUTTA MY HALL, ASSHOLES

BLACKWALL’S NEW CARD IS BADASS also Chiim totally calls him their gardening partner in crime now. Blackwall doesn’t find it amusing. Literally everyone else does tho. (Blackwall’s secretly a little fond of it.)

Chiim: GET IN THE BOAT, KIDS Chiim: WE’RE GOING DRAGON HUNTING Bull: oh boy, today is the BEST DAY

Chiim: oh. Electricity dragon. Viv’s electricity and I brought her with me. Welp I’m just gonna charge into this dragon all reckless like. And see what happens. Chiim, literally the entire battle: FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK Vivienne: *dragon dies* Smells a bit of dead fish, don’t you think, my dear? Chiim: *panting heavily, like their life depends on it, still stabbing the corpse frantically, gasping* FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK- oh mAH GOD WE DID IT Get back to skyhold and Varric looks at them like “FUCK what happened to YOU GUYS” (they’re all limping heavily and dorian is just totally COVERED in blood. Viv mostly looks the same, except she is nOTICABLY disheveled so you KNOW shit went down) Bull: *holds giant skull aloft* WE KILLED A DRAGON AND I GET TO KEEP IT Krem: NO BULL, IT WON’T FIT IN UR ROOM Krem: not with the others already there, at least Bull: I’M STARTING UP A COLLECTION Chiim: well I mean there’s only like three dragons left so idk if you’re only starting just NOW that’s kinda sad Bull: good point, good point. Can we buid a hall for me to house my skulls in to gaze at them lovingly? Cassandra: we are NOT doing that Dorian: idk cassandra, it sounds like a delightful idea to me Chiim: I mean, I have my agrden, why can’t the boys have their hall of dragon skulls? Cassandra: I can’t believe YOU’RE the person I made the inquisitor

People in the hall: your worship Chiim: *hands over ears, screaming* STOP CALLING ME THAT AHHHHHHHHH *runs from the room*

Bull: There’s our dragon! *v proud* Sera: Oh wow, that’s a BIG one <33

Addendum: I realize, after having been shown some other things for context, that Chiim’s reaction to Blackwall was underwhelming. For that, I offer: Chiim: well. I mean. It’s WEIRD. But you’re still you???????? the person I know is cool???? so I’m keeping you. Whether you approve or not. Chiim: so get in the fuckin wagon, blackwall Chiim: We’re going GARDENING

you are welcome