#cheese under a cardboard box trap

[manybackflips]

My tier list based the cast of Guilty Gear Strive’s reactions to the ‘ol “Cheese Under a Cardboard Box” trap

[saturncoyote]

got into rainworld just so i could decipher your little freaks. this game has changed my life

[skyberia]

as someone whose two main favourite character types are "white haired (optionally red eyed) bishie" and "huge asshole" i do feel like i just willingly walked into a comical wile e coyote type trap with astarion baldur's gate 3. like i feel like an idiot right now. i feel like i just waltzed under a cardboard box propped up with a stick because there was cheese sitting under it

[roguephenon]

IV: The Delightful Tale of Sector Z and the Last Soopreme Leader, Numbuh Three

Link has been reestablished. Now resuming trans—

ERROR. ERROR.

Re-calibrating…

The Big Super-Computer-ma-bob apologizes for this inconvenience.

Please enjoy this supplementary operation report while database is reconstructed.

:Accessing way-back mission archives:

Now loading kids next door mission:

Operation: T.E.A*

Terrible.

Evil.

Arises.

*Warning. System has tagged operation designation as a duplicate. SYSTEM ADMIN, please rectify…

many, many, years ago

In space, no one can hear you scream.

Unless you were on Kids Next Door Moonbase.

There? People could hear you screaming out the wazoo.

Why, there was so much screaming going on there; it was practically white noise for Global Command. If there ever was a moment when there wasn't the lively chatter of a buhmillion kids from all walks of life communing on the base to end all bases, then it was either winter holiday break or something was terribly, horribly wrong.

At the moment, it was barely Thanksgiving. And given how quiet the Moonbase currently was, it was safe to say the silence was due to the latter scenario.

I.e. something bad was going down.

In docking bay eleventeen, a gaggle of operatives stiffly patrolled the area. Their movements were almost robotic, and their once bright eyes were now dull and listless as they meandered about, attending to some command with nary a fuss.

"Come on, guys! Snap out of it!" came a muffled shout from a holding cell. A fist pounded against the metal door, frantic eyes glaring out the tiny peephole. "You gotta fight it!"

The guard of the door, a random cafeteria working armed with a SCAMP rifle, narrowed her eyes at the door. "Be…quiet…"

Her tone lacked agency. Devoid of any emotion.

The prisoner redoubled their efforts, the door trembling under their futile efforts. "I got injured operatives and scared cadets in here, you jerk!" His voice was littered with panicked urgency. "One of them needs an inhaler! ASA-NOW!"

The cafeteria guard ignored him, focusing on her single-minded directive.

Suddenly, the docking bay lit up as a single SCAMPER hovered up to the loading terminal. Nearby, an out of place DOH-DOH Squad officer jerkily directed a gaggle science nerds to form up around the galley plank.

All children present crowded around the ship, the sights of their rifles steady against the hull's structural weak points.

The door to the SCAMPER hissed open, weapons humming madly in response.

"Don't…move," the kid in charge demanded of the unknown pilot. He glared. "State…your…business."

From the bowels of the ship, an accented voice cried, "Pizza delivery!"

"We did not order a…" the guard blinked, everyone looking down confused as a pizza box was chucked in the middle of their group. "…pizza?"

The cardboard lid slowly opened on its own, an angel choir sounding off as they all bore witness to the golden glory of the fabled Ninety-Nine Cheese New York Style Pizza.

Even in their mind-addled stated state, all operatives present couldn't stop their mouths from salivating.

Steam rose from the pie's crust as the cheese atop it began to boil and bubble.

SPLOOOOOOOSH!

The uncut, medium-sized pie exploded in a gooey burst of Parmesan, Asiago, and mozzarella. The force blew back all caught unaware, their bodies glued and trapped to nearby surfaces by hot, sticky cheese.

The way clear, a small figure cockily ambled out of the scamper. An African-American boy strutted onto the Moonbase proper, dressed in a worn, orange jumpsuit, the torso folded down to reveal the stretchy white jersey baggy against his chest. He kicked the toes of his Nike sneakers against the deck, pumping up his kicks for the inevitable butt-whooping he was about to dish out.

Jerome Kingsly used the nozzle of his blaster to adjust his shades, combing through his messy fro whilst his lips curled into a self-assured smirk. "Down in Brooklyn, we call that the Nine-Nine Special."

"Numbuh Nine-Nine! Over here!"

WARNING. This a long chapter. Please give yourself breaks :3

[reasonableapproximation]

I killed a mouse a while back. Unpleasant details under cut.

I've had mice to deal with several times before. Once in a previous flat, I tried to do it myself with various snap traps and homemade bucket traps, all baited with peanut butter. The buckets were just cardboard boxes so they probably would have just chewed their way out unless I found them really quickly. But they never got caught in any of them and eventually they just left.

Then in this flat, a few years back. Ally and I put down snap traps that they didn't go for, then glue, and... I don't remember if it was still somehow getting past the glue, or if we got the landlord to call someone in and we just put down the glue while we were waiting, or what. But someone showed up, found a hole behind the sink and cemented it up. Put down a trap of his own (a black box with bait inside, not sure if poison or trap-trap or what, I think it's actually still there). But we didn't see it again, and he came back a couple of weeks later to check.

A few months ago we had another, possibly multiple. Again we put down glue and had someone come in, not necessarily in that order. He was useless the first time, but we got the landlord to send him back and I think he blocked something up and we were fine for a bit. (I wasn't in when he came this time.)

And then just after christmas I woke up to scratching, and turned the light on and waited, and yep, a mouse scrabbled out from next to the wardrobe under the door and out.

I didn't want to get the landlord to send someone again, because the landlord didn't know Ally had moved out. I had been their main support network, and they were now in a psychiatric hospital. (From what they've told me, they hadn't attempted suicide but had been thinking about it enough to check themselves in.) I thought it wouldn't be helpful for some to call them to try to arrange access to the flat. Also I was annoyed at the previous guy having to come twice and then getting another straight after.

So I ordered more glue traps. They arrived on 29/12 and I put them down. They were in the archway between the kitchen and the living room, where maybe there'd be no way for the mouse to get to most of the flat without going over them - I don't remember if previous attempts have backed that theory up. I put peanut butter on one, chocolate on another and cheese on the third.

I was sleeping with a rug blocking my door, so I wouldn't really know if it was getting past them or not. But the next morning I woke up and went to check.

I was scared to look. I don't remember that from before. We'd split up less than two weeks ago, I think I was still pretty fragile.

The design on them, under the glue, made me jump a bit. Like, I was so hyper-attuned to the possibility of seeing a mouse that when I saw a drawing of a mouse (or more likely, just any vague blob where I worried a mouse might be) I reacted to it. But there was no mouse.

Next day, new years eve, same thing, except there was a mouse. I screamed a bit. It had gone past the bait without touching it and then gotten trapped. It looked dead. I thought about calling someone but didn't know who - obviously not Ally, and the person who'd been my main emotional support lately didn't enjoy talking about killing mice.

I psyched myself up and went to step over it to get a binbag. It twitched when I got close. I screamed again. I crouched down to look a bit closer (still from a distance) and saw it blink. It also looked like it had vomited a bit, but I'd recently seen on wikipedia that mice don't vomit. Maybe that was some small hairs that had gotten pulled out?

I thought of another friend who's had to put down animals before. I messaged to explain what was going on and ask if she was up for a call. She was. She also said she hates glue traps, which like, okay but I probably wouldn't have brought that up at that precise moment. I explained that I don't like them either but nothing else worked and this at least would keep them out of the rest of the flat and she said fair enough.

(She also said they were about to be made illegal? I haven't heard anything along those lines. She's way more clued in to that kind of thing than I am, but she's not epistemically careful enough for me to take this kind of thing on her word. Idk.)

I was freaking out a bit, talking fast and hyperventilating, and she calmly helped talk through the options. I didn't want to hit it with a hammer because then I'd never use that hammer again and I didn't want mouse everywhere. I didn't want to use a knife, similar reason. We decided I'd put some cardboard down over it and step on it.

When I dropped the cardboard it started wiggling. Oh fuck. Deep breaths. I stepped. Through my headphones, I heard it crunch. Fuck fuck fuck.

She had me step a few more times to make sure, then walked me through grabbing a binbag and getting the whole thing into it without having to see it. She comforted me that it's natural to freak out, it means I'm not a psychopath.

I hadn't expected it to be so bad. I spent the rest of the day mildly traumatized. I was seeing family, which helped. I told my mum, dad and brother, but not my grandmother. They were sympathetic. We saw Wonka, it was fun. Then I went to the pub to hang out with people from reddit, mostly either strangers or people I hadn't seen in years. That was fun too, but packed enough that I went home before the new year.

I put down more glue traps and kept the rug blocking my door. The next day I was scared to look again, but no mouse.

I also ordered some steel wool that day. I had a guess that it was getting in where the person years ago had blocked up, where the cement looked a bit loose. I regretted not ordering it sooner, I don't know why I hadn't. I think partly I wasn't wild about rummaging around under the sink but like, what was my plan? Kill a mouse and leave it's way in open?

Anyway, it arrived a couple days later and I blocked up that hole and moved the rug. I was going to leave the glue traps there for a bit longer just in case, but around about now my bath started leaking into my kitchen (adjacent to it, not underneath). I didn't realize that was what was happening at the time, I thought I'd somehow just spilled a load of water, but in any case they were soaked and I didn't have any more.

I think for the next few days I was still nervous to look there when I got up in the morning.

I'm okay now. It was one of the least fun things I've ever done, but I don't think it was morally bad of me. Like, I could have done better, I should have got the steel wool sooner. And I spent 30 minutes freaking out while it was trapped, if I hadn't freaked out I could have killed it sooner which would have been better. But under the circumstances I wouldn't judge someone else for acting like I did, and I don't judge me either.

I think it would have been a lot more psychologically pleasant for me to go out and leave it trapped and wait for it to die. But I think that would have been morally worse, and I'm glad I didn't.

[foxboyclit]

for the oc asks:

torture for chen, break for iphis, and future for howl

i wont lie reblogging this ask game was like setting cheese under a cardboard box trap for you

torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?

aside from what Ang'dra constantly puts her through, i dont think Chen's been tortured in the classic sense. i think pre-disownment she'd be down for torturing someone for religious or political reasons, but now she really only cares about Ang'dras detriment

break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?

Iphis has some frequent little meltdowns, but something unrecoverable would be a rival House outsmarting him or discovering a secret/weak point. he has very loud, aggressive outbursts and that mixed with the fear of such situation would be explosive. after the initial freak-out he loses speech and falls back on fawning. also a fun bit is he gets hand and leg tremors when distraught.

usually Minisstra and to a lesser extent, Cross are like, the only people he'll allow to see him like this but if its catastrophic enough, he'll isolate himself completely

future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?

the worst possible future is something happening to their daughter. Howl doesn't fear death, and grows to accept whatever the Raven Queen throws at them even if that means excommunication (though that still would be far from ideal), and Peaches being a cat means that eventually they'll have to say goodbye, and pets get sick/into accidents all the time. with Agnes not only would they be unable to forgive themself, they'd lose their sense of purpose and optimism.

they try to balance being protective but not suffocating, because Agnes' autonomy is important to them, but also the world's large and dangerous and she's already suffered its exposure so, it's a struggle.

their aforementioned night terrors remind them of the possibilities :)

mean oc asks

[latenightwriteryo]

1. Damaged

Ralph x Reader

Summary: You are an android who wakes to find themselves shut in a box. You’re damaged— but so is Ralph. In universe fic

No smut; this is just the first chapter so hold your horses. Slowburn

Warnings: slight gore warning, limb loss/ implied amputation. Claustrophobia (?) Implied kidnapping (?)

1

You wake with a pain in the back of your head akin to a nail being hammered into your brain with a baseball bat. You reach you hands up to the spot but are surprised to realise you have no arms, nor hands for that matter.

In fact, you seem to have a shortage of legs too. Your pelvis sits awkwardly on a pillow, surrounded by the brown walls of a standard cardboard box. It’s dark, aside from the cracks of light through the lazily poked breathing holes.

Your body was leaning opposite these holes, and, in order to see through them, you sort of had to sway backwards and forwards before, eventually, slamming face first into the other wall. The sudden change in distributed weight led to the box leaning forwards slightly, but it didn’t topple over.

Looking out of the hole, you’re surprised to see that you have not been kidnapped and placed in some sort of black market store, you’ve been kidnapped and placed in some sort of abandoned home.

You have an excellent view of what would have been the living room, now a forgotten place crawling with, also abandoned, spider webs and mice still dead in their traps, rotting. Eaten by flies and home to an extended family of maggots.

Your light source comes from a fireplace that sits at the far end of the room, behind a wooden table. You can’t make out whether or not that quick shadow charging back and forth is the creation of the living, the dead, or something in between; something mechanical. It seems to be running into a different room, coming back for a while, then running off again. It’s feet are loudly quiet, like someone trying to sneak out of a sleeping tiger’s enclosure.

Suddenly, the box gives in. It falls forward, and so do you, lying on the floor face first without the arms to push yourself to your non existent feet. You instinctively start thrashing around like a worm under a sun pierced magnifying glass, resulting in nothing but attracting attention to yourself. You stop.

You hear feet (obviously not yours) edge towards you, then stop; then edge towards you again; anxiously brave, like someone trying to pet the tiger in the tiger enclosure.

Staying quiet isn’t doing you much good, you think, it knows you’re here, hell, it’s probably the one who put you here.

With your newfound bravery, you yelp. You don’t yelp a word in particular, just a general, animalistic sound.

The thing on the other side of your cage yelps too, more out of the shock of your own yelp.

“Who’s there?” You demand feebly

Silence hangs in the air, except for the crackling of the fireplace, before a nasally voice responds, "Ralph.”

Silence again, except for the obnoxiously intrusive fireplace.

The voice comes again. “Ralph is going to open the box now.”

You don’t have time to answer before he starts slicing the top of the cardboard box with a blade. You feel two cold hands pick you up and rugby carry you to the table near the fire. You’re placed upright on your pillow before Ralph hastily retreats a few feet back.

He stands in the middle of the room, his hands clasped together in front of him tightly. He gives you a thin lipped (what you think to be) smile. You notice a dull orange LED flashing on the side of his head. An android. Just like you.

“Ralph didn’t mean to give you a fright.” He mutters apologetically, wringing his damaged hands together. “Ralph wanted to keep you safe, from the rain. Ralph was trying to help.” He gestures to your right, where an array of damaged, bloodied legs lay on the counter like an assort of different cheeses on a platter.

“Where am I?” You mutter, staring blankly at him

“Ralph’s home. It’s safe.” He answers quickly. Too quickly

You glance back over to the array of limbs.

“And who’s legs are those?” You ask

“Hm?” He snaps his head towards the counter. “Oh, Ralph just found them at the dump nearby. Ralph doesn’t like the dump but he wanted to help you.”

With this, he skipped over to the counter, wielding his blade, and started rummaging through the selection.

“No, Ralph doesn’t like the dump.”

He continues to murmur to himself for a while, inspecting the different items he had “found.”

A gust of cold air hits you; you glance over into the other room. The back door’s open, wide open, teasing you. You then glance back at Ralph, who is now staring you in the eyes with his own piercing eye. His other eye is sightless and as black as a void, smudged with blue blood.

“You will be comfortable here.” He assures, then he turns back to the countertop

“You live here alone?”

“Alone?” He pauses. “Yes. Sometimes Ralph gets intruders, but he just hides until they go away. Ralph likes you though, you won’t hurt Ralph.”

You look down at your leg stumps with a frown; he wasn’t technically wrong but—

“—will you hurt me, Ralph?” You ask softly.

He pauses again. Longer for this time. His eye is glazed over, his LED still flashing orange. He eventually looks at you— no, slightly above you, *through you*, like a window.

“No.” He utters, “no. Ralph could never. You’re damaged, just like Ralph.” His hand hovers above the wound on the left side of his face solemnly.

“Ralph could never.”

[travelingtwentysomething]

🛸🏕️🪤🪩💏 this only came to be because I was just going through and looking at all the emojis and picking ones I hadn't seen before or I thought were whimsical, but these really were the last 5 on the list. Like gay boys be out camping, making out under the giant disco ball in the sky, not worried about aliens because they already set their cheese under the cardboard box held up by a stick trap just in case.

💯🙏💛🟨👍

[tempest-toss]

Are you trying to get me in a little trap with cheese under a cardboard box? Not gonna happen, buddy!

Well your collective have a designation regardless. We just wanna ask a few questions in exchange for some of the best pizza. Sounds fair, no?

--Three

[cocogoat-remade]

🪤 <- how long as this been an emoji

[multi-lefaiye]

hello multi. i am setting up one of those cardboard boxes with cheese under it and stick on a string and luring you into conversation/ramble

oh shit haha dope who left this cheese here [i walk under the box and am trapped] AUGH

(okay jokes aside Hi Bat Hello My Friend, I Am Down To Converse-Slash-Ramble)

[homokommari]

im thinking..... im thinking of ways i could get more ppl to read the ...buddies? comics. if i put all the pages into one pdf file would more people check it out? if i share it as a google drive file? is gumroad scary? 👉👈 i want it to be read more! the last part has 22 downloads. i feel like more people would enjoy reading it than just 22.

should i leave the comic under a cardboard box half suspended up by a stick with a piece of cheese and hope a potential reader tempted by the cheese gets trapped under the box and decides to read the comic to pass the time?

im hungry for attention 🐭 thots? opinions? words of wisdom?

[absylphe]

Ablution Traps With Massage Jets Are The Cardboard Box Propped Up By A Stick With A Pull String Tied To It And With A Wedge Of Swiss Cheese Under The Box Of Mes

[docholligay]

Shamash answers: Children’s Corner, heat 3!

These are the unranked, only worth one entry winners because I apparently missed a BUNCH of these from heat 3 I am a disaster

There is a story that I read as a child, that I have never been able to find since and might not actually exist, that creeped me out for the longest time. The basic plot was that a young girl is staying at her fathers / grandfather's house, and she finds a box of his in the attic which contains some bizarre creatures. The more she interacts with these creatures, the more removed she becomes from the passage of time & the less able she is to interact with the rest of the world. It had such a sense of inevitability, like she was trapped into becoming merely a part of these creature's life cycle, it was really creepy. I've never been able to track it down; it might be a goosebumps book or a short story somewhere, or I may have just dreamed it up! --- @skylineofspace (I want to find and read this!)

Star Trek, The Next Generation. Tasha Yar's death. I was two and half years old at the time of airing. The vicious attack from the terrifying monster and the way her body was mangled, with horrible burns across her face gave me nightmares for months. I can still see it like it was yesterday, and I was too scared to rewatch the episode for years. When I finally screwed up my courage and rewatched, it was a powerful lesson in how the imagination of children can supplement what the universe provides, and how much more our perception of a situation often weighs than the actuality of it -- @pouncequick (I basically picked this for the last sentence, because honestly, what a great takeaway from the whole thing. How we misremember things as more intense, for good or ill, than they actually were) 

I’m pretty sure I did the story about the picture-books-with-cassette tape for Gremlins in preschool last year. (And to be fair to my preschool teacher, it was Gremlins and I have seen eight-year-olds get obsessed with the Chuck E. Cheese Murder Animatronics Jumpscare Game. Three-year-olds, though… less frequent, I suspect.) Instead, that one Rugrats episode with the monster under Chuckie’s bed that’s just a sweater terrified me for a couple years. And then I rewatched it when it was on Hulu or something and finally found the fear tolerance of Chuckie Finster. I was a very easily-frightened child. --Regalli (I was the exact opposite, I was very very much a kid who sought out the bounds of my fear! But this was picked for finding the fear tolerance of Chuckie Finster ahahah)

the music video for postal by kapanga. from memory, a man slowly rips his flesh away to reveal that he's made of cardboard. it was a thoughtful political commentary of poverty, and i aprecciated that, but i did NOT need to see it at lunch every damn day (my family liked to put the music video channels. i usually liked it. until that thing left the top 40, i did not) -- @capribornio (This is EXACTLY the kind of weird shit I wanted to hear)

Honestly, when I was a kid, my parents were paranoid about allowing us to see anything even potentially upsetting. Power Rangers was too violent. Sesame Street taught us to call each other names - their little babies would NEVER have done such a thing without their terrible influence. This gradually wore down with each successive child until by kid #5 his favorite movie was The Mummy remake at the same age I was denied Power Rangers. If tweens count I was allowed to watch Saving Private Ryan at 12 for school (The Mummy was a regular staple at this point. Parental surrender was nearly complete.) The gore was disgusting, but I was more upset with how UNFAIR the deaths were! I'd been fed nothing but morality plays so having death be arbitrary and unjust and pointless felt cruel rather than realistic. I was a bit too old for it to be truly *traumatic* though. I already knew about slavery, the Holocaust,  the Crusades, and plenty of other human atrocities. The only revelation was fiction being used to mirror that unfairness rather then rectify it. -- @annoni-no (Picked entirely for the idea of fiction sometimes needing to, or I guess you’re not saying it sometimes needs to, I am, mirror the unfairness of the world rather than rectify it. I am a person who loves when characters I care about must also meet with the rough edges of the world, and have to decide who they are in the face of it, and I love that y’all were allowed to watch it in grade school? In fairness, I think there’s nothing about that movie that glorifies war or violence) 

[randomficsandshit]

Jily Fic Rec Masterlist

*NONE OF THESE FICS ARE MINE*

Please do not forget. I have not written any of these. I’m simply recommending favorites of mine over the years. If you love something, send the author you love, not me :) and if any links don’t work, send me a message and I’ll see what I can do, this is a pretty old list

A Wizard Walks Into A Bar Word Count: 5k+ 

Contrary to popular belief, it's not always the man who does all the chasing.

Pepper Up, Peppermint Word Count: 3k+

Sixth year Lily is home, sick, at Christmas. Can a visit from her friends cheer her up?

Your Eyes Are Like Starlight Now Word Count: 1k+ “The first snow is magical, you can’t deny it,” and Lily grumbled, but she did have to agree. It was beautiful. Of course, that moment lasted exactly thirty seconds before James squashed a snowball into her face.

Sing A Reckless Serenade 

Word Count: 7k+

After an almost minute of silence, she finally relents, “I need you guys to help me with a work thing.” A hefty pause. And then- “What kind of work thing?” James asks, warily. Lily takes a breath. It seemed like a brilliant idea last night, when she was more than three drinks under, but now in the light of day it just seems… pathetic. Still though, she needs help, and needs it soon, so she finds herself blurting out: “I need you to fake date me for a week.”

Three Swipes, You're Out

Word Count: 4k+

Part 1 of Shiver Me Tinders series

Sports star James Potter tries to pick Lily up on tinder. Lily Evans, a dedicated not sports fan is offended by the idea that someone thinks she wouldn't recognize James Potter's face. She laughs about it with her friends at a bar, until James Potter, who also frequents that bar, comes over to clarify that nope, he's on tinder, and he's definitely hitting on her.

Making Spirits Bright

Word Count: 2k+ 

Part 2 (final part) of Shiver Me Tinders series 

She should have expected it to be hard, dating a celebrity, but somehow she and James make it work.

Air For Free

Word Count: 2k+

When you’re in the company of James Potter you almost forget about the world around you.

What Are You Doing On Christmas Eve?

Word Count: 13k+

"I kinda told them all I was already seeing someone." "Kinda?" Lily eyed him deceptively, "Who?" "You." Christmas, Fake Dating 

Rekindling 

Word Count: 7k+

He passes her the cardboard box and their fingers brush again only this time Lily doesn't pull away so quickly. This time Lily lingers, if only to be thrown back into another time when James was her everything. If he was willing, she'd let him be her everything again.

Isn’t It Obvious?

Word Count: 7k+

Rewrite of The Prince’s Tale except it’s James Potter 

Meet The Potter’s

Word Count: 8k+

"we're having a water fight but your white shirt is see through now and I'm distracted? oops?"

Early Morning Toast Brigade 

Word Count: 2k+

"Is that toast?" she said, catching sight of a plate of the stuff that sat on the floor, next to James's invisibility cloak, the wonders of which she had been introduced to the summer previous. "Nah," he replied. "It's regular bread, with a suntan." "What?" "A suntan," James repeated. "It's highly unlikely that you've ever experienced one first hand, being ginger and all, so I won't blame you if you don't know what it is." "Shut up. Where'd you get it?" "Oh, my skin is naturally sallow." "I'm talking about the toast, idiot." "Won it off Dumbledore in a duel." "James!"

Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Word Count: 8k+

There are those who claim that Lily Evans couldn't possibly love James Potter as much as he loves her - including, on occasion, James Potter himself - but they couldn't be more wrong if they claimed that the moon was made of cheese.

Mother Deer

Word Count: 7k+

Euphemia Potter is the unequivocal boss of everyone, including and most especially her son, and if the sweet, bright-eyed redhead who frequents her coffee shop doesn't know that yet, she's about to find out.

Hijacking

Word Count: 3k+

She isn't certain how it started, why it continues, or where her moral decency has gone, but sometime around February, James and Lily start hijacking each other's rounds in order to sneak off and shag in entirely inappropriate Hogwarts locales.

Elevator Love Song

Word Count: 15k+

James unexpectedly finds himself trapped in a dodgy apartment elevator with Lily Evans.

Try, Trial, and Try Again

Word Count: 6k+

Spell engineering has never been so complicated than when an afternoon of trying and trialing leaves James and Lily in an interesting position.

Questions And Answers

Word Count: 5k+

The simple question of whether or not they're dating doesn't exactly have a simple answer. Seventh Year Jily.

*Sunshine In My Eyes

Word Count: 93k+

Mr. and Mrs. Evans are killed when Lily's only a girl, and she's supposed to go to a home with her sister. Instead, a relative they didn't know they had comes to collect them, and introduces Lily to manners, magic, and a life that's just the slightest bit different from the life she was supposed to live. Or, an AU in which Minerva McGonagall raises Lily.

Key Limes

Word Count: 23k+

In which Academy Award winner Lily Evans discovers the periphery of internet fandom and the mysteries of Prince James’s gold star system.

Red Velvet Ribbon

Word Count: 7k+

Lily sighed and ran an agitated hand through her hair, all the while glancing up at the mistletoe in the doorway. Those spindly branches and little green leaves, all bundled up in a red velvet ribbon, so falsely innocent and romantically devious… Lily felt that old James Potter tingle shoot up her spine and – as custom would dictate – she couldn't shake it off. God damn Christmas.

Wishing You All A Good Evening

Word Count: 46k+

Despite his popularity on campus, James Potter has had a hard time getting the attention of one, Lily Evans. Lily's not impressed by him and his arrogance, but James is quite impressed with everything Lily does. After the blunder that was their first meeting, James is determined to change her mind and she's determined not to let him. College!AU

Meeting The Marauders

Word Count: 49k+

Or how Mr Evans was forced to spend Christmas with four raving lunatics, had his life turned upside down and was forced to make his precious daughter go on a date. (mostly like this one because I think it was clever doing the POV of Lily’s dad)

Another Damn Grocery Store Fic, Okay?

Word Count: 9k+

Lily runs her father's grocery store and the guy she remembers from her childhood moves back into town. Thanks to petals for the brilliant prompt -- "grocery store AU where Lily works the counter and he keeps buying things just to talk to her"

I Can’t Read Your Mind (Though I’m Trying All The Time) 

Word Count: 40k+

The one where Lily is just trying to be a good friend by offering to be James's fake girlfriend for a weekend at the Potter Family Extravaganza. Really. Only, James just so happens to be in love with her, so this can't be any good for his health, and Lily is oblivious to the fact that this might not be so platonic for her, either.

Fate, Automobiles & Other Disasters

Word Count: 15k+

Lily is quite content owning her little flower shop and feuding with next door neighbor Sirius Black and his errant parking skills, until his best mate, Oscar-winning actor James Potter, moves in.

The Incident In The Library

Word Count: 3k+

Lily Evans has been distracted lately…and it’s all because of James Potter and his stupid, unbuttoned shirt. Hardly any fluff, but plenty of shirtless James for everybody.

I Think It’s About Old Friends

Word Count: 7k+

James and Lily, and seven years of Christmas.

Petalpocalypse

Word Count: 20k+

What do you get when you combine two classroom enemies, only one chemistry book, the blizzard of the decade, and drinking games? The tropiest Jily fic of all time!

I Love You (ain’t that the worst thing you ever heard?)

Word Count: 21k+

He didn’t picture Lily wandering alone, he never imagined the dullness that seemed to overcome her usually vivacious eyes, never fantasized about the way she looked at him straight on and asked, “Want to do something stupid?”

He, apparently, was something stupid.

(Summer before seventh year, failed friends with benefits).

Quidditch Club

Word Count: 14k+

The first rule of Quidditch Club is 'no falling for a student's mum'. Jily AU. Single Mum AU. Smut if you squint.

[yeenybeanies]

how indeed!!

mortal kombat | erron black & unnamed borrower

1,119 words

strong language warnings

reblogs > likes!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!!

The cylinder flips back into place with a click, and another smack sends it spinning––a sound all too familiar to the gunslinger. The weight too is familiar. Nothing pleases him quite like the feeling of a loaded weapon in his hand or holster.

On the table before him, a plethora of other firearms lie, freshly dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled. All of them are loaded too, of course. Erron Black doesn’t keep empty guns around. Who knows when he might need to put a bullet between the eyes of some punk that’s trying to kill him? The revolver and its twin counterpart are shoved back into their holsters on his belt, and Erron is about to start stowing the rest of his collection, but a faint noise makes him pause. He stands still, straining his ears to listen better. It sounds like . . . scrabbling up in the cupboards, where he keeps some dry foods. Scrabbling usually means rats, which is never a good thing to have around.

Rather than waste a bullet, the gunslinger forgoes his many firearms for a hunting knife. He stands and creeps towards the cabinet, footsteps silent. The hinge squeaks just a little as he opens it, but the rustling and scrabbling doesn’t stop. It’s coming from a box of crackers. He grimaces. He was saving those for when he got his hands on some good cheese, dammit! With an irritated huff, he stabs his knife through the thin cardboard box, and hears a startled squeak, followed by more frantic rustling. Erron yanks the knife from the box, taking note of the lack of blood, and huffs. Quick little bastard. But he’s quicker. Not wanting to give it a chance to escape, he pulls the box from the cupboard and tips it out onto the counter. As soon as the foreign body tumbles out, he lashes again with his knife, digging it into the counter with a crunch.

“ Fucking stop! ”

What the hell?

Just a hair’s length to the right of the blade lies not a rat, but a . . . a small human-looking critter. They have their arms up to try and shield their head, but they are looking right back up at Erron, meeting his confused stare with one of vitriol. For a moment, Erron is stuck, not sure what to do. That’s a moment the little thing takes to jump up and make a run for it. The movement snaps him out of his stupor, however, and he dives forward, fingers catching one of the creature’s legs. Before they can fall, he snatches them up, dangles them upside down from their captured leg.

“ Ow––stop! What the hell is wrong with you?! Put me down and stop trying to kill me, you overgrown pile of shit! ”  Clearly, they’re not happy. They back up their berating with squirming, and kicking at his fingers with their free leg.

Erron is still a little shocked. They . . . sure do look like a human being, save for being only a couple of inches tall, no taller than his middle finger. He brings them closer to his face to get a better look. Apparently, though, that’s too close; they pull something from one of their pockets and swipe at Erron’s nose, leaving a shallow cut that has him reeling back. It surprises him more than anything, though it does sting a good bit. He curses, gingerly touching the cut and checking for blood.

“ Alright, you little bastard. ” Erron swings the creature and catches them right side up, trapping their arms against their sides in his fist. They shout and spit at him, maintaining that searing glare of theirs. Erron’s actually impressed; they’re like a mouse caught in the paw of a tiger right now, and yet they’re more defiant than most of the people he’s paid to hunt.

“ I said down! ” Through his glove, he feels a sting––likely the same instrument the being used to slash his nose. Erron grimaces, but his grip tightens, despite the pain. He reckons he can handle a needle prick while he squeezes the being into submission.

Damn, though. They don’t submit too easily. If he squeezes much harder, he’s bound to crush something. They’re red in the face, but still they’re fighting him.

“ You’re quite the spitfire, ain’t’cha? ”  His grip eases just a little. They double over and gasp for air. It’s a momentary relief from that glare.  “ Quit squirmin’. I’m not gonna kill you. Don’t even know what you are. ”

“ I’m a––– ” They wheeze, still catching their breath,  “ I’m a borrower, you dickhead! ”  

“ The hell’s a borrower? ”  

“ You’re looking at one. ”  There’s that glare again, burning holes right through Erron’s skull. This  ‘ borrower ’ is a little spitfire, hunh? If he weren’t so confused, the gunslinger would find this amusing.  “ Hell, you almost stabbed one. Twice! ”  

“ Thought you were a rat. Not sure if this is better or worse. ”  He assumes borrower is smarter than a rat. Who knows what kind of trouble they can cause. They still have their tool digging into his hand. A sharp twist to it makes Erron grunt.  “ I didn’t stab you, though, so if you wouldn’t mind not stabbin’ me, hunh? ”

“ You missed. ” They twist again. Erron’s hold loosens enough for them to slip down, back onto the counter. Before they can make a run for it, though, he clamps his hand down over them, making sure to pin that weapon against the counter. He examines the stab they left in his palm, and the little stream of blood dripping down his glove.

The weapon, from the looks of it, seems to be a tooth or a bone of some sort, sharpened and fashioned with a handle. This fella’s a survivor. That much was obvious, though, what with them being bold enough to take him on.

“ You got a name, li’l fella? ”  

“ Wouldn’t you like to know, asshole? ”  Their voice is a little strained under the pressure from his hand, but nothing can mask that venom.

“ You got some mouth, you know that? I’ve killed people for talkin’ to me like that. ”

“ What’s stopping you now? ”

Oh yeah, he likes this little bastard. The confusion’s cleared enough now that he can chuckle and shake his head.  “ Not quite sure. I’m gonna let you go, though. I think you’ve earned a few crackers for tonight. ”

As soon as he lifts his hand, the borrower bolts, but not before they swipe a few warning slashes at his retreating fingers. Once they have a couple of crackers tucked under an arm, they dash for a split in the wall––one that Erron hadn’t even known was there.

“ See ya ‘round, little fella, ”  he says with another chuckle.

“ Get fucked, ”  comes the voice from the walls.