#disassemble it and try again. it's gross in here i know it is.

[boyheros]

finally tried to sketch out a little of how i've been imagining. the cloning machine. not too crazy or maybe it is i dont know. the base black membrane is not just a floating window i promise, it's attached to the rest of the thing and is supposed to swing down and lower into the feeder reservoir (crucially, with the part facing us right now facing upwards when it's moved parallel to the floor, as opposed to just closing it face-to-face like a laptop or something) but for some reason i'm struggling to imagine what a mechanism that could do that would look like. even though it's not thaaat complicated.

anyways. the membrane is fed the template DNA (blood is most often used) and once it accepts the sample it is swung down into the body tray and sinks into the feeder reservoir, where all the "raw materials" are i guess. i've been envisioning that the membrane frame has some sort of shutter element that can move the membrane around but i haven't figured out if i could design it to make sense mechanically yet? but the reason i want that is because once the membrane accepts the DNA sample it starts. wiggling around on it's own. and it would kinda be nasty as hell if you could see it pulling the shutters open and closed... cool right.

the reservoir is initially filled with just . raw materials that a human could be made of. fullmetal alchemist style like chemicals i guess. but as the machine gets used it eventually all grows into weird amorphous meat mess in there. it's fine for it to stay that way for a while (esp. bc base black needs to be attached to living material in order not to decay) but if you keep it too long the machine will try to self-replicate and make clones willy-nilly. and it gets more likely to be DNA contaminated. so the whole machine has to be gutted every once in a while.

hazmat suits just because yeah lots of weird human clone goo but also base black is a semi-corporeal substance meant for gluing your soul to your body. if you touch it with your skin, other organic materials like cotton fiber, or with only a thin layer covering you like latex gloves, it WILL attach to you and you WILL contaminate the whole thing. employees are even advised not to enter the room if they have open wounds of any kind cuz. the machine loves the flesh.

[bluginkgo]

Wtf am I doing ranting again, you may ask. I was gonna talk about absolute solver again... but then my brain said "Nah, more nuzi." And who am I to refute that argument?

Spoilers, duh

Yes, how fricking typical. A duo of an emotionally scarred emo girl and a retriever puppy boy that get together. But honestly, after being in the usual angst department shipping for a couple of years now, Nuzi is such a refresher. Not to mention, that despite Liam Vickers focusing his story mostly on lore (LORE THAT I CRAVE AND LOVE), he takes time to include little things like nuzi. Nuzi didn't have to happen, but I'm so glad it is pretty much canon. Makes the dark and unbearably scary moments for the duo... bearable. I could go on a whole tangent about these two, but I mostly want to take note of how N interacts with Uzi. (I might do a post later doing the opposite, analysis of Uzi interacting with N.)

To put it simply, N is soft. Wow, Ginkgo what a revelation! (That was sarcasm) I know thank you. But seriously. When he talks to Uzi, his voice softens. Especially taken notice in ep4 during the Falling... for you? scene. Perhaps I'm just dense, or maybe I wasn't paying enough attention when watching the first time, but when N pulled the "therapy session" I was fully expecting for him to chat to her about the murder spree. How fricking wrong I was. N took me by surprise and asked the question that was ACTUALLY bugging Uzi the entire time. Not the killing spree, not the issue with her solver going haywire, not the backstory of her mother. None of that! It was if she was lonely.

"No, don't look. I'm gross and eating people and stuff."

"Yeah, we'll figure that part out. But you know that's not what I mean."

After rewatching the Murder Drones like 20 something times, it still baffles me how he talks to her. Softer, more open, willing to admit he's also scared- despite being a fricking disassembly drone, a demon in the eyes of regular worker drones. I can see where that trust comes from.

Uzi's fought and killed N before. But instead of fighting again, she puts blame on humans that "supposedly" made him.

"Do you really think that the company won't dispose of you, once all the workers are dead?"

Of course, there's way more evidence on how Uzi's comments, mannerisms, and remarks gave N a reason to trust her. There's also something I took notice of. The difference between N's chat with V and Uzi.

In ep3, N is cornered. Uzi and him had a misunderstanding, and V is very hush hush about their past. He has no other place to turn except to V for answers.

"V, if you're hiding something. We can figure this out together!"

He's open, here. Trying to get answers from out of thin air. Now, don't get me wrong. I love V. V is, by far, my most favorite character in the show. I love her violence, sarcasm, and character growth. But because this was only ep3, she's also trying to do what she believes is for the best. And we see why she was very hush hush about their past. N himself said "Not dealing with this great to be immediately honest." When he first lays his eyes upon the experimentation absolute solver was doing in the mansion. In V's perspective, it's better for N to forget. Ignorance is bliss as they say.

You can even see that she's guilty in the following frame for what she was about to do- cut N off literally and figuratively. Of course, since then, V has come a long way. Going even as far as trusting Uzi with everything.

But here's the difference.

"Just avoid another whole spire. Baby steps, together?"

Maybe it's just the moment, maybe it's just simple animation choice. But they made him here uncertain. The same "we can do this together" line, following his attempt with V, is less bright and more uncertain. A question, instead of a statement. He was at least somewhat ready to be shot down again, but instead Uzi met him halfway and took his hand in this big mess. It's these somewhat little moments that build the trust between the two, and what makes Nuzi so wholesome. There's no secret past about them, no big overdramatized misunderstandings. Just two people- or robots- learning how to get through this big mess of the universe ending.

And not to mention that the "together" line comes back to bite on us. The teaser for ep7 and 8 have that line as the last thing we hear.

"...figure things out... together."

I'm probably repeating things people have already said... bite me. I love Nuzi and how they've developed throughout the season. I may be after Murder Drones mainly for lore, but damn me, Nuzi is a really great addition to the entire package.

[mandareeboo]

Unfinished Work #57: "Untitled" (Completed)

This one is a bit wild! When the camping episode first came out I wrote a oneshot about Uzi descending into oil-need back in the bunker- hence the arm in her backpack. But I didn't know if it was all that good- also, I had absolutely no idea how in the hell to tag it- so it's going on here instead!

Title: N/A

Summary: N/A

The first time is- well, Uzi can't rightly say it was an accident, but it wasn't intentional.

The day had been hell. No sleep, long school day, that stupid dance. Doll had never been a friend or anything, but it was still surprising to see the usually quiet and private worker just... decimate like that. And her hand still hurt from the damn knife. And when she looked down at her fingers, stained an ugly black color in this land of slaughter and insects, it hadn't felt like a big deal.

(She doesn't know N and V, like, super well, but she's seen them feed a half-dozen times. V specifically seemed to enjoy trying to get her to watch during her time in chains, slurping on an oil can with the confidence of someone at a fancy brunch who doesn't realize they're being rude.)

Her ears were ringing, everything stung, and something in her mind whispered why not? What's one little taste? Lots of robots stick their wounds into their mouths to stave off fluid loss. Hell, the disassembly bots had fixing saliva as part of their repertoire for that very reason.

Uzi pops them into her mouth. It's not as gross as she thought it'd be. The flavor is sharp and strong, but it's a fluid every robot smells and deals with on the daily. She's numb to it. She's seen it drunk from the disembodied necks of her father's coworkers. Simple. Easy.

(...Why does she suddenly feel a lot less tired?)

She grabs N's hand as he helps her over the table, the drone completely unaware of her transgression, and Uzi honestly feels okay. It feels... normal. As normal as digging through someone's corpse-covered house can be. Maybe they can laugh about this after- ha-ha, look at the silly worker drone trying out the fluid we eat every day, thinks she's so badass for it.

Then Doll says she's sorry, and Uzi's not okay anymore.

———————————————————————————————————-

Sleep doesn't come easy for Uzi that night. Sleep protocol has always been a bit finnicky anyway. It's great for recharging, but the slightest emotional mishap can have it cutting in and out like a fuzzy tv signal. And Uzi is nothing if not full of emotional mishaps.

Tossing, turning, feeling uncomfortably hot.

She wishes N was here.

She'd even settle for V. At the very least, the jerk gives her something to focus on.

Uzi's eye is buzzing again. She presses a hand against her visor. It's nothing new. It doesn't help. This isn't a button that needs some extra oomph to be activated. It's deep inside her mainframe, to the point where no one can get it out. (Maybe she's finally going mad. Honestly, Uzi was surprised it took so long.)

Something ugly and red flashes across her wall. Uzi knows that symbol. She's seen it on N and V. It's a warning.

But... her cooling system is still intact.

Isn't it?

Sitting up, Uzi rams her chest a few times, trying to force her fans to kick in. Nothing. Not even a splutter. And if there's one positive thing she can say about Khan, it's that he's always kept her updated.

This is bad.

It's not so bad, the stupid, hopeful part of Uzi says. She usually squishes that protocol deep down inside. Just go get some oil, dummy.

Which makes even less sense! Uzi's a worker bot. They don't need to feast on oil. They get a tune-up twice a year and everything's fine. That would be murder drone behavior.

So what? The more cynical side says. You're basically a murder drone by now anyway. You literally lived with two for a week. You saw N rip a guy's spinal circuit out to get to the main fluid line. He offered you some! You thought it was sweet he was trying!

The cynic did have a point. Besides- if she doesn't fix this now, she can't figure out what the hell is wrong later.

Khan sleeps like the dead. Uzi never understood it- how a man who put his wife out of her misery can just snore his way through everything. But it's always something she's used to her advantage, sneaking tools to make weapons or inventions. Tonight she grabs Doll's keys and stumbles into the hallway. Oh, coordination is not liking her right now.

It feels wrong to be doing this alone. A remnant of her whole trusting others arc, probably. But she can't exactly go outside when she can barely see past the Absolute Solver and 'danger: overheating' clouding her eyes. N would make this so much less scary. He'd probably carry her- he seemed to enjoy hefting her onto his shoulders or into his arms. Uzi had chalked it up to her being, well, a worker drone. It was probably fascinating to be so easy to throw around. N would put the oil in a little cup, or a bowl, and try to joke about it. V would call her a wuss and try to stick an entire head into her mouth.

They're dysfunctional, but familiar dysfunction is so much nicer than what she has to do alone.

There's no strict guard in the bunker, mainly due to people over relying on her father's stupid doors, and Uzi assumes that's why no one comes upon her before she's fumbling the key into Doll's door and thrusting herself inside.

Oil and death. Before the stench had been normal. Now it was... nice?

Uzi hightails it over to the pot. There's no time for decorum. The blaring of her alert is getting louder. She shoves her hands into the mess, ladling out handfuls she eagerly sucks on.

The smell was nice. The taste was suddenly... wrong. Uzi finds herself battling against purging protocol, coughing and hacking.

It's not fresh, a new voice says. It's clinical. It reminds her a lot of the monster J had sprouted from her corpse. It's a mixture of various 'bots, which means the oil quality is all over the place. You need something fresher.

Uzi's fingers dug into the counter. Not possible. It was this or nothing.

(She's never killed another worker before.)

Sucking in a deep breath, Uzi grabbed a disconnected arm. She very carefully doesn't think about the trash can full of missing posters as she tips the oil out into her mouth. The overheating warning slowly peters out as she feels her faculties righting themselves. Strong. Steady. She tilted it back more. It's wrong not to finish a good meal, right?

(She's tumbling out of control.)

Eventually, all that's left is dangling wires. She tosses the limb to the side, hearing it clatter against the tile. Uzi sinks to the floor, pressing her head to the cupboards. She's disgusting. A monster. She's... full. Warm. Tingling with renewed energy.

(Is this what the murder drones felt, all the time? She kind of got it now.)

Robo Jesus, she just drained an arm. What was she going to say tomorrow? Sorry, I got kind of snacky. Sorry, I guess being a cannibal is contagious. Sorry, I need a tune-up. (She's so sorry.)

Uzi shook herself. There wasn't any need to get N and V involved in this. It wasn't their fault she was a disaster. N had always done his best to be kind to her. And V... she was usually too busy doing murder things to do more than snip at her. Uzi would just pull up her diagnostics in the morning, fix the issue, and never have to think about it again.

(She's scared.)

Uzi goes back to her room, slowly and methodically, confused and alone.

(She takes another arm with her.)

[the-firebird69]

It's a giant number of people watching they see all the stupid threats there's piles of them and haven't done anything for them. The empire is interminguals it looks like they're all going to be on the same side sure for us to come in not dressed up ones and this looks like Jason here but he can't tell and we mean Jason can't tell. The moving in on their positions and so are we and the percentages are going up and they haven't figured it out pretty soon it's going to be a pain meaning it's going to start and they're going to be at war all over the place again and the bunkers are going to be dwindling and the people and it's going to be a sad day for them which is great we're going to take full advantage of it and crush them and it's not going to be that hard. Several other things are happening

-Charlotte county is still firing people and they think they're on the same side it's ridiculous banter asinine talk and they got to push out the door still saying it so we're on for tonight and I mean fighting but it's gross and we don't want to hear it so we're putting out a notice we are not to imitate them or to make fun of them and so on there's a lot of people hear it and are obeying it already and it's good it's working and we know what to do and we see it working and we're calling up reinforcements to get the job done and what's going on now. And of course he Wheels ain't he's an idiot and it's going to get beat up today for his mini production and making miracle went out there and found him doing it and hers or at him. And they're at the plants and it's in Italy ironically and is a lot going on there and they're trying to get to the Vatican and it's pushing people to get the keys there and they're looking for the crown that was for some reason disassembled

-the number of people getting fired in Charlotte county is going up and it's tremendous now it's just a huge number of people the firing practically everybody and it is the three now and they're going through them and not realizing that they're probably the ones getting kicked out but they're being used for it and they're kind of like familiars to vampires has Jason is still thinks that the prison is his and it's not and the one up north you still has and that's what he's doing his people are getting beat up up there by the three and others and it's really a lot they are getting hit a lot there are tons of them going down and the clones are trying to come in too and the clothes are getting beat up there's a huge number of them that are infiltrating in the place is going to be a nightmare and I'm pretty rough one

-and there's more to it too with all this going on they say they can't get him anything they can't fix the house and they are immobilized with getting stuff and they're trying to extort things by doing this to him it's starting to really piss us off I'm going to use Force I'm going to start beating you all to death and taking your shifts and you make sure you don't have any we have a date to meet and it's going to be a month fairly soon and that's pretty quick and it's a huge project and we need tons of stuff out we also need these clothes to lunch and they're just sitting there like vegetables it's giving us time to get control over many things we certainly needed it

-but now's the time in Zeus and Harris said this morning we're going to have to force it anyway we can if those engines fail we're not ready it's going to be a catastrophe worse than the Earth's ever seen and we have backups what we don't want to use them and they'll probably forget in moments and we'll have to go after tons of them if we have to but sincerely we do not want to be forced into it and they could be doing that so we're going to have to make up some time and we don't have to push it and we have to get up there and make sure it goes they say they're going to try for tonight I'm good for them and sitting around deteriorating losing stuff and they're probably going to start losing ships and they'll have to and they'll have to start losing personnel and France and you'll have to and you have to last time so I looked at it and said we have to start pushing all these buttons and now and yeah there's a lot of carbon coming from that thing and tons of foliage all the way over to Texas from from the exhaust it's ridiculous.

-automobile production is up 5% this week including today it's Monday and it's up 5%. That's a huge uptick it includes assembly and we have a lot of vehicles and with a lot of shells being shipped out huge numbers on globally and it's due to demand we're going to continue to do so until the demand is met and the market is more or less saturated because we have to there are other things happening

-this place is a zoo already we did not encourage it we don't allow it and we are calling on people to stop them from doing it. We must infiltrate here and we need a basis and for bringing the ships out the 20s and 30s pens fives and small ships but more importantly the water is starting to drop and they're trying to form another storm and they have to a degree said about 20 to 30% and it's still offshore of Africa about 200 MI. But we have to be ready to stop that and all these things have to be going very quickly and we need troops and we need them now. And we're still behind horribly so we are requesting them and they're coming shortly but we need more than that I'm putting the numbers out there and we need a recruiters in right now

Thor Freya

Olympus

Kind of sick of these dummies go ahead and do things you're not supposed to and not supposed to take the money out what's running affects the cycle tells her every time and she just goes ahead and visit there's more too it's ridiculous stuff. I really like the fact she's having mom's body on that's gross and she knows about him she's an idiot. We're aware of the fact that she had left a tough time and she still is and your face looks like Lois by the way and it's not attracted to you. I'll make a point of saying that I'm huge and he's huge and you wouldn't pass ever when you would die if you're trying to have a child from blood poisoning

Hera again

[theminecraftbee]

The thing is that everything goes way too bloody fast for Joel to really properly think about anything. Which, like, is silly, right? This whole world has been a slow countdown to victory, whatever victory ends up meaning, but the day victory’s supposed to come, everything goes too fast to even properly savor it.

So Scar dies, and they make him a grave, and frankly Joel isn’t surprised but he won’t pretend he’s not a little upset, and then it’s like, ‘instead of traps we need to stick together because everyone we’ve ever wronged has free reign to come and kill us’, and it’s like, sure, fine, okay, that makes sense, the ghosts of Joel’s past are absolutely the kind of awful ghosts that would want to murder him dead. Why not? Then he’s running with Grian, and trying to figure out how to fight back when the ghosts disassemble the things Joel had put up for bragging rights in order to kill him, and look, he’s no poet, but -

- right. Then he blows up, and that’s too fast to process, too. And he doesn’t go quite yet, because Grian’s fighting three guys, and they cut him down like he’s an animal, and all Joel can think is: at least he also didn’t make it to 100 hours. Joel would have never lived it down if he’d blown himself up with a minecart and then Grian had actually made it.

He has enough time to contemplate that: wait, he’s dead, what’s even supposed to happen now, and then he doesn’t have time to process that, either, and he’s lying face-up in a lake.

“Oh, you didn’t make it,” Scar says, peering down at him. “I think you both had at least another hour.”

“Thanks, Scar,” Joel says. “Hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re welcome!” Scar says brightly. “I was hoping to have time to do something fancy before you both got here? Like build a tower! Or maybe just bake a cake? But man, you all didn’t last nearly as long as I thought you would!”

“Excuse me,” says Grian next to Joel, pushing himself out of the water. “I lasted ninety-nine hours.”

“Technically you lasted forty-five and then -”

“Shut up, Joel!”

Joel shoves himself up out of the water as well. It’s gross now. His feet are wet. Everyone’s feet are wet; the lake goes on for quite a ways, for all that it’s shallow. “Where even are we?”

“I don’t know,” Scar says.

“Why is it so wet,” Joel says. It’s not really a question so much as a statement of fact. “Why does it make me feel so tired?”

“Tired?” Grian asks.

“Look, I don’t know,” Joel says, but it’s true. As soon as he says it, he feels exhausted, like he should just sit back down in the otherwise-still water and sleep. Sleeping in water, he reminds himself, is bad. That’s how he drowns. Although, he’s already dead. Can he even drown? The water seems too shallow for that. In fact, with water like this, even if they built high up, they’d hit the ground fine. He doesn’t feel hungry, just tired.

“The world’s baby-proofed for you,” Grian says, yawning.

“It’s not!” Scar says. “It’s... oh geez, though, you’re right. I really am exhausted. Maybe we should all get some sleep. It’s been a busy day. Everything just all happened so fast.”

“It did,” Joel says.

Joel does not say: we’re dead and I’m not an idiot; when we fall asleep I probably won’t wake up again. Joel does not say: sorry that we didn’t get to properly hunt together this time, either. Joel does not say: you should have seen us though, we were fantastic. Joel does not say: I didn’t really have time to be sad but that doesn’t mean that I wasn’t. Joel does not say: I care about both of you a lot and it was nice being with you, even if it was hardcore and also ended with all of us dying. Joel does not say: maybe next time we can try to sell magic crystals again. Joel does not say: maybe next time we’ll have fun killing again. Joel does not say: of course, high odds there’s no such thing as next time after this.

He yawns.

“When we wake up, I think we owe Grian something as the winner. Like, I don’t know. I have some minecart traps that I won’t blow myself up with.”

“What kind of prize is that?” Grian complains, energy too sapped to do more than quietly quip.

“Nah. I think I’ll just give you all hugs,” Scar says.

“...lame,” Joel says. “But fine. We can do that now, you know.”

“Oh! Uh, I didn’t think I’d get - oh I really need sleep - I didn’t think -”

“Get over here, Scar.”

It is incredibly awkward, and also damp, on account of all the water, and it feels strangely muted, probably on account of being dead. But they take their time, sitting there, and Joel figures that’s probably alright, and he probably didn’t have to say much of anything anyway, and Grian makes a joke and Scar starts laughing and slowly they drift away to sleep again, waiting for the next time around.

[happytroopers]

Sick days // Hunter x reader

My google history search after this: what do they call toilets in Star Wars? Star Wars rabies?

Summary: I would do anything for Hunter, even take care of him when he has food poisoning. I saw a sick day prompt list and didn't end up using anything but it inspired this cluster fuck

TW: throwing up, alcohol mention but no use, bad writing I just love him ok

"Hey, have you seen Hunter? I need him to sign off on some damage reports." You announced as you entered the cockpit of the ship as it barreled through hyperspace, throwing a pointed look at Wrecker who was the main reason for most of aforementioned damage reports.The other members of Clone Force 99 made some sort of acknowledgment of your existence. Wrecker grinned obliviously at you as continued doing bicep curls with a GONK droid while Tech made brief eye contact with you before going back to some sort of machinery he’d dissected. Crosshair was the only one to actually somewhat answer your question, giving you a sassily quirked eyebrow and motioning down with his toothpick. "I’m assuming that super vague motion would mean he’s in the cargo hold?" You pressed but you had already turned around to go find the sergeant. "Should we tell ‘er?" You heard Wrecker ask but when no one answered him, you assumed things would be fine. Besides after almost a year with the Bad Batch, you’d walked in on them in all sorts of compromising moments. Nothing would surprise you anymore.

After popping down the ladder into the cargo bay, you did a cursory sweep. Crosshairs rifle was disassembled on a crate for cleaning, more of Tech’s mechanical experiments in a heap by the bay doors, your own trunk of belonging… but no sign of Hunter. "Hunter? Are you down here?" You poked a little further into the sleeping quarters, like any room that housed four soldiers who didn’t know how to mop, the smell chased you right back out. Shaking your head you thought to yourself, That should be considered a hazard zone. You paused by the fresher to listen for water running but heard nothing, which officially meant Hunter hadn’t been anywhere you checked, Hell, did he jump out of an airlock? Just as you were about to give up, you heard an awful noise come from the fresher. Like a bantha dying in a fire. Did some animal stow away? Absentmindedly you considered getting Wrecker to handle it- the last thing you needed was contracting some planet-specific strain of rabies. But then you considered that in the process, Wrecker would probably destroy the entire bathroom. And then everyone would be without a bathroom for the next two days… and that could get ugly. Then the noise came again, bringing you out of your mental debate. With a heavy sigh, you decided you’d have to check it out yourself. So, after pulling a random tool off your belt, you let the door slide open. To your surprise, Hunter was the first thing you saw, bent at the waist over the vac tube, bracing himself with one shaking arm against the durasteel wall. His helmet was discarded carelessly two feet closer to the entrance, and the enhanced trooper was heaving breaths, looking rather haggard. Almost stupidly the first thing that came out of your mouth was, "Oh my God, did the animal do this to you?" Hunter actually startled, which had never happened before. He was impossible to sneak up on, it was his whole thing. When he did look up at you, he looked confused, among other things. His skin pallor was four shades lighter than it was supposed to be, slightly greenish gray, and dew dropped with sweat. "Animal? What animal?" "The animal that made that-" You cut yourself off suddenly feeling dumb, now lamely dropping your defense tool. Then the disbelief, "Oh my- that noise was you?" He didn’t get the chance to answer again, instead turning his head back towards the vac tube to wretch again. Now with that information, the haggard appearance made more sense. "Hunter… you look like shit." You scolded, hesitantly moving closer, “Like, legitimately corpse like.” The sergeant coughed a bit before throwing you glare, “Thank you, (Y/L/N), that’s very helpful. Did you need something?” Damage reports long forgotten, you ignored the question instead more concerned with the trooper in front of you, “Why the hell are you standing like that? What’s wrong with you? Are you sick?”

Hunter was confused with this sudden line of questioning, turning his head to gag a little bit but this time he kept it under control to answer you, “Clones don’t get sick.”

“So this is normal for you?” You snarked right back, “Here, try kneeling, it won’t take as much of a toll on your body like that.”

At first he didn’t listen to you, just when the ship hit a patch of turbulence it triggered another wave which forced him to a knee. Then it hit you, clones don’t get sick, they’re engineered with near perfect immune systems.

“You’ve never been sick before have you?” You whispered sympathetically, he legitimately didn’t know how to handle being sick. Frowning, worried welled up in your stomach. It was almost painful to watch the man be so sick, after all how many times had he saved you or helped you out of a tight spot, so you looked away until he quieted again. This time he took a minute to catch his breath so you took some liberties.

“First, let’s get your hair off your neck and face. You’ll feel less gross.” You promised, going behind him to gently scrape his long hair into a makeshift bun and tie it off with a spare hair tie.

“What are you doing?”  He croaked, but didn’t pull away from your hands.

“Taking care of you, now shut up and let me.” While your voice was still kind, you were just stern enough not to argue with you, “Now, lean up.”

You didn’t wait for him to follow the orders, instead you started unfastening pieces of armor on his arms before moving on to the chest and torso pieces. Moments later he was able to move a little freer and his armor from the waist up was neatly stacked to you right.

“There, that should help with the overheating.” You announced, not mentioned how he couldn’t bend over properly with a piece of plastoid against his abdomen. You gave him another once over, he was taking deep breaths with his eyes closed, little baby hairs already escaping your rather pitiful man bun situation. You’d never seen him so vulnerable.

“So clones don’t get sick, why are you throwing up like my roommate after her twenty first birthday?” You asked quietly, gently moving the stray bits of his forehead.

“Would you believe that I ate an expired meal ration?” He asked with enough doubt in your voice that you immediately shook your head.

“You’re not that stupid Hunter.”

“I lost a bet with Crosshair and had to eat part of the Yalbec stinger. Tech did say it was a delicacy on some planets.” He sighed, dry heaving again.

“I also remember him saying it was mildly poisonous to humans.” You reminded him, going past him to the shelves that held shower things. Reaching into your own caddy, you produced a rag before wetting it in the sink.

“Yeah, I lost the bet before he enlightened us.” Hunter admitted, visibly relaxing when you put the cold rag on his neck before sliding into a sitting position next to him, “How do you know all this stuff?”

“Well, us normies get sick a lot.” You teased, laughing when you caught the disgusted look on his face, “But, I learned most of this stuff taking care of my hungover friends.”

“Oh, just your friends?” It was Hunter’s turn to sass you, but you just rolled your eyes. The two of you fell into a halfway comfortable silence, so you took your data pad to do a little research on Yalbec poisoning.

“You don’t have to stay for this?” Hunter reminded you, using the back of his hand to wipe sweat off his forehead. When you looked back over to him, he was staring at you. Even when puking, his eyes could stare straight through you. Hurriedly, you dropped your gaze back to your data pad.

“Well, you spend all your time taking care of them,” you motioned up towards the cockpit, “And me. So someone has to look out for you when you need it, you don’t have to suffer alone.”

His eyes softened as he relaxed slightly, you were glad to see his coloring was already getting better. But after a few moments, even the softness of his stare brought a flush to your cheeks so you just cleared your throat, “Well, the good news is that the holonet says someone of your size and weight will be fine. Symptoms should pass within twelve hours at the most, and it’s already been five.”

“Thank you, (Y/N).”

Your head snapped back up, he rarely ever called you by your first name. Somehow it almost felt intimate.

“Of course, Hunter.”

You scooted a little closer so that your knees would touch. Closer than you had ever been to him, but he didn’t scoot away. You smiled at the small contact, shaking your head.

“Can I impart on you a bit of civilian wisdom?” You asked teasingly, not even waiting him to nod. You took the rag off his neck and used it to dab sweat off his forehead, “Don’t eat random things on a dare, especially things you cut off foreign animals.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

[rmbunnie]

read from the end of the Sports Maxx fight to the very start of the Jailhouse Lock arc and my GOD do i have thoughts. Mostly about FF, but some not! I would usually put them in the tags, but i have so many i’ll probably just elaborate in the tags.

So, Stone Ocean thoughts AND SPOILERS (up until the jailhouse lock arc) below! (have not done this before, hope it works)

- First of all apparently people hate the Dragon’s Dream fight?? Which I do not get at all. I mean it wasn’t an intense and extremely-well-fought battle or anything but come on the dragon was really really good. Absolutely loved him. I DID hate the Westwood fight, as well as the very end of the Dragon’s Dream fight, but not because it was bad, but because it was SO VERY GROSS. Westwood is officially my least favorite JoJo character just because every new panel he was in made me physically cringe in disgust.

- On the topic of Dragon’s Dream, I got the whole Feng Shui set up pretty fine but i do NOT get that thing they did with the water and FF opening her mouth being a bad thing, whatever was going on just did not convey to me. It kinda reminded me of that scene with the ghosts in Rohan at the Louvre? Props to FF for fucking BITING Kenzou though, I laughed out loud (and the “attack and defense” comment? again, that dragon was GOOD)

- Also, the appeal of Pucci hasn’t really connected with me yet but him putting a CD IN GUCCIO TO PLAY HIS FAVORITE SONG WHEN SOMETHING GOES WELL FOR HIM?? That GOT ME. God that was so so funny of him. Speaking of Guccio i honestly think Survivor was a pretty cool stand ability, it did remind me of that stupid joke from here about the “bazinga frenzy shout” thing though so there’s that.

- So Anasui’s here now! Not going to lie I dislike him by default, mainly because he and Jolyne just don’t work as a ship for me, but everything else about him is actually pretty great. His discussions with FF were stupid funny, overall he was just pretty good for comedy, and his “disassembly” thing was REALLY interesting to me. Sometimes I don’t like the way he looks in the pngs and such, but I think Diver Down looks SUPER complementary color-wise with him, to the point where it improves his overall appearance when he has his stand out. The anime choice to make his hair more purple toned is a downgrade to a ridiculous extent though. Also, although i don’t like them together, his crush on Jolyne made for some jokes that really landed for me, with him going in for romantic moments OVER AND OVER in the Yo-Yo Ma scenes (constantly getting absolutely nothing of what Jolyne was actually trying to communicate) and asking FF to trip her so he can make sure he rescues her dramatically. Also worth noting, his crush on Jolyne itself doesn’t bug me, he’s actually more respectful about it then i thought he’d be (to her) and some of his lines, like “i can see hope for myself through you” (paraphrased) were kinda interesting, I just don’t really see her reciprocating.

- I kinda skipped over this, but Ermes in the Sports Maxx fight was so so good. I love her automatically, I think KISS is a really neat stand ability and overall she’s just my favorite Stone Ocean character (although that’s heavily contested by FF as of now.) I think the way they introduced her backstory and vendetta against him was really good, with the combination of Jolyne just happening to not know this important information about a close friend and the implied conversations that FF is having with Ermes and other people between events, I just liked it really well. The “when i peel this sticker off, it’ll come back together. And this next one is also for Gloria, the next one, and the one after that.” was a VERY good moment for me, and the way Ermes uses her stickers really showed her creativity and intelligence, which overall made her a more serious and well-rounded character to me considering most of her other moments up to that point were either displays of knowledge or comedic. Overall, Ermes was super likable in this fight! (also, iirc she said something like “I don’t want to spend the rest of my life forcing myself to forget that my sister was thrown away in the gutter” which was a RIDICULOUSLY good line and overall reminded me heavily of early SDC Polnareff. Ermes’s dedication to putting Sports Maxx in a grave to the point where she went to jail on purpose just to get at him is SUCH a interesting and cool trait for her to have, it’s pretty much impossible for me to dislike her when she has that amount of drive and love for her sister)

- Also the line “I really, at your side, want to cry as hard as i can, but i don’t think i have time to cry right now” was so sweet and also kinda uh loving to be saying to your bestie

- Lastly, Foo Fighters. My GOD was that sad. Bucciarati is still at the top for “deaths that made me the saddest” but christ alive is FF a close second. I could pretty much tell from the moment they separated that FF wasn’t gonna be part of the story much longer but the DETAILS as fate kinda just slowly closed in on them ruined me. The fact that even after Atroe’s body is destroyed FF shapes her plankton into the shape of her down to the hat because that’s the body that she got to have an identity and self in, the way i was so hopeful when Weather Report came through with the rain and when “Weather Report” showed up through the mist, the “this was my intellect, I was alive,” the “I was so scared i would forget to say goodbye, but at the end i remembered i have to say it” ESPECIALLY with that line kind of doubling in meaning because FF only learned norms like “you say goodbye after a conversation” so recently, it was all SO mean! I really really liked it though! I’m sure it was the intention, but I was so so worried that FF wouldn’t be allowed a soul like all the other deaths because they’re just a stand/plankton, it would be way too mean if that had happened. It’s a bit sad to think that FF won’t be able to come back if they use the stand disk again, but also kind, because the impermanence of FF means they got to really be an person, and as such are treated as a stand user would be. If they could come back when the disk is used again, it would be invalidating to their choice to become something other than a stand and have an personhood that is shaped by experiences because it would mean “really, FF is only a stand, and like an object that can be replaced, instead of a being with a life.” It would be a lot sadder if everything FF worked to be was destroyed just so they could exist in a lesser way again.

tl;dr it was really good and i love Ermes and FF but i’m so very sad

[ghosthan]

hello!! i saw that you made a lot of stuff for 1872 and i was wondering if 1872 tony is similar to regular comics tony?? i know mcu and comics tony are different and i want to get into 616, but if 1872 comics are more easy to read i might try those first! 😅

Hello, hello! 

Thank you for asking, and sorry it took me so long to get back to you! I wanted to think about it and put together a thoughtful response because I am desperately trying to convert MCU fans to 1872. Or comics fans who just haven’t gotten into 1872.

This post will contain some 1872 spoilers, but not the Big Spoiler that you probably already know about anyways. 

Anyways, let’s get into it. Yeehaw.

What is 1872? It’s Steve/Tony in the wild west.

1872 comics are very easy to read, very short, and you need absolutely no prior knowledge to get into them; I highly recommend these as a start point for MCU fans who are curious about dipping their toes into some of the other Steve/Tony universes. And 1872 is, indeed, a Steve/Tony universe. It’s really gay, (and dramatic.) Uh. So gay, in fact, that one of the comic artists who drew pages even occasionally shares Steve/Tony shipping memes. So.

Marvel 1872 is a four issue series released as a part of the Secret Wars event; you really do not need to know anything about this to enjoy 1872, because it is a self-contained alternate universe in a “pocket dimension”, meaning it’s totally separate from the 616 cannon but technically exists in the expanse of the multiverse!

Here’s the summary:

In the Battleworld zone of 1872, Sheriff Steve Rogers faces corruption and fear in the boom town of Timely. Can Anthony Stark pull Rogers' fat from the fire? Probably not, since the only thing he seems capable of pulling is a cork from a bottle. Things in Timely are bad, and getting worse — and when a stranger arrives in town, Timely will be changed forever.

Now, to compare “regular comics Tony”, or 616 Tony, with 1872 Tony.

The main difference? 616 Tony wears this sexy little under suit (or nothing) under his armor, like this:

And 1872 Tony wears dirty, stinky one-piece pajamas under his armor (not sexy):

He’s so gross, he’s a mess. I love him. You’ll love him, too. 

No, okay. Being serious.

 616!Tony’s backstory is a lot more complicated just due to how long the character has existed, and the decades of cannon (much of it self-contradictory at points.) Like MCU Tony, 616 Tony used to manufacture weapons, experiences something life-changing, and becomes who he is as a result of this as a catalyst. 616 Tony’s backstory has been rebooted a few times, and I’m definitely not the definitive source on Iron Man lore compared to people who have read all of his comics, but I’ll try to touch on the basics.

Originally, 616 Tony Stark is shaped by his experience in the Vietnam War. This is later rebooted and changed to war in the middle East (we see this in the MCU when Tony is held captive in Afghanistan.) In both circumstances, he is taken captive after being in the air for war technology, and then he creates the suit to save his own life (losing a beloved mentor in the process, the guilt of which stays with him after.)

Tales of Suspense #39

In 1872, Tony’s formative event is the Civil War in some ways, but in other ways, this is only half of it, because this is not the event which causes him to build armor or set him onto his “become a better person” trajectory, like in the other comics. Mainly, the Civil War functions to cause Tony to stop weapons manufacturing and throw his life away down a bottle.

We get a flashback of Tony in the year 1862 with his female companion, picnicking and about to watch a battle, (rich people from the North did this in real life. If you’re interested, read more here!) We don’t get much of his past, but we discover that he is a rifle manufacturer and that he has created something called the ‘Stark Repeating Rifle’, and it seems that he has done so with the hope of encouraging a cease-fire, more than a slaughter.

Well. We don’t always get what we ask for.

Tony vows to actually never touch a weapon ever again, and this personal oath means so much to him that he gets creative at times during 1872 when he’s being chased by baddies:

Witnessing the extreme bloodshed of the Civil War, and feeling responsible for a huge amount of deaths, Tony turns to drinking, (and presumably moves to the west to escape the Pain of his Past, but this is not shown explicitly on panel; I have assumed, though, that Tony’s weapons manufacturing company was in the East, probably Boston or New York, since he comes from family money and because the American West was still “young” at this point in time so it would be unlikely that an established business would be supplying a war from lawless territory with little infrastructure.)

In 616, it’s worth noting that Tony builds the armor to save himself from danger in a war scenario; this is not the case in 1872, things unfold a bit differently. The Civil War certainly sets in motion the chain of events that eventually lead to the creation of Tony’s armor, but he’s not in physical danger or physically traumatized by the war in this verse as he is in other verses, and 616 Tony seems to have a stronger sense of duty than 1872 Tony, but this might be a complication of the depression/apathy related to the alcoholism.

What I mean by this is that both iterations of Tony struggle with alcoholism, but differently. Mainly, while 616 Tony has several alcohol themed arcs, and hits rock bottom with his alcoholism to cope with his trauma, he is sober more than he is drunk in the comics. His drinking almost kills him, and he almost loses everything because of the drink. It’s a source of enormous shame for him.

In fact, during this time in 616, I think Tony at his lowest reminds me a lot of 1872 Tony; 616 Tony is not an apathetic person and he holds himself accountable for an obscene amount of responsibility, but during what is referred to in fandom as The Second Drinking Arc, Tony basically gives up. This is the most “like” 1872 Tony, at least at the start of his arc. Rhodey takes over the mantle of Iron Man, and 616 Tony spirals, not caring whether he lives or dies, not hero-ing certainly.

We see both versions of Tony express similar sentiments, a certain cavalier attitude about their lives (and outright suicidality at other points) with nothing left but the drink.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #182

Compare with:

And you can certainly see a resemblance between this set of panels from IM v.1 #176 and in 1872:

Iron Man Vol. 1 #176 and Marvel 1872 #1

It’s a little different in 1872, where his drinking really is purely a result of his existing despair, and it doesn’t cause enormous problems for him, (minor problems, sure. He spends a lot of time drunkenly singing to Sheriff Rogers, or bothering him from the inside of a jail cell.) But this Tony lives at rock bottom, whereas 616 Tony only stays at rock bottom long enough to get his life back together (as many times as it takes.)

This Tony really doesn’t show any outward shame about his drinking; presumably, the people he knows in Timely have only ever known Tony as a drunk, and none of the people from his old life are here to see him like this. 

This is a Tony who has essentially given up on himself and has moved out West to hide from his shame and his past; this is not a Tony who is scared of letting down his friends by drinking, or scared of shirking his “duty”, because this Tony has moved away from all of his friends and has given himself no duties. He’s a bit more apathetic, but I would argue that this is not because he inherently is a less moral version of Tony, but because in this verse, he was drinking for a very long time and circumstances unfolded differently so it took him a longer time to find that sense of purpose and responsibility (beyond just shutting down manufacturing guns,) which is awakened in him by Steve Rogers. 

616 Tony’s sobriety is a major part of his character, and a conscious choice that he makes, even during some lowest points:

Civil War: The Confession

He takes some amount of pride in his sobriety, and when he does fall off the wagon at times (or magic makes everyone think he did,) it absolutely tears him up because 616 Tony cares very, very much about his sobriety and does not like who he is when he’s drinking. We do not know if 1872 Tony’s father had been a drunk or not, but we know 616 Tony’s father was, and that the drink lead to him treating Tony abusively.

Iron Man Vol. 1 #285 

Avengers Disassembled #1 (This was when ~magic~ made Tony drunk and it wrecked him breaking sobriety without ever having actually drank. Oof.)

616 Tony’s long struggle with alcoholism is a major part of his character and he has had relapses over the years and throughout the reboots, but in general, he does not drink.

1872 Tony starts drinking in 1862 and doesn’t stop until the last pages of the story, so in terms of the cannon we have for him, he is a current drunk, rather than a former drunk. This isn’t to say he doesn’t stop; but since it’s in the last page or so, it sets the reader up to imagine his sober future, rather than exploring his sobriety as 616 does. (Calling all fanfic writers!)

Anyways, both Tony’s are excellent. Both are damaged and traumatized, both are Iron Man in their own ways, both (eventually) find sobriety, both have some cute, quippy dialogue (though 616 Tony tends to be more reserved/polite for sure, in general). 

The last thing I’ll point out, is that both Tonys’ narratives are intertwined with and influenced by their respective Steve Rogers. I’m not saying soulmates but I’m saying soulmates.

Anyways. Sorry this post got super long, and I apologize if any of it is confusing or redundant, I am not functioning at my highest capacity currently. Please read 1872. Let it rock your world. Create & consume the fanworks, I would love to see a boom of 1872 content (more than the fics and art I keep making!) And my ask-box is always open!

[ambertea]

Hello!

What are your top 5 quotes?

What are your top 5 pieces of jewellery?

What are your 5 top female characters?

<3

Oh my god you absolute darliiiiing <3

5 favourite quotes:

1. I’m reading Astrophysics for People in a Hurry at the minute and thiiis quote stuck out so much for me: “We are stardust brought to life, then empowered by the universe to figure itself out—and we have only just begun.” I love that it’s so beautiful.

2. “I have this strange feeling that I'm not myself anymore. It's hard to put into words, but I guess it's like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling.” From Sputnik Sweetheart, just ugh 👏💓 definitely feeling this so hard right now when there’s this tentative step back into socialisation and I can’t quite remember how to be Amber anymore

3. “Let's never come here again because it would never be as much fun.” From Lost in Translation, that film has always meant so much to me and it becomes more so as I get older and it feels like all the brilliant parts of my life are like all these snapshots that were amazing at the time but I know I can never return to, and would never really want to either

4. “Sometimes life’s a bitch and you keep on living.” From Bojack Horseman. Ohhh man. When I saw that for the first time I instantly wanted it tattooed on my body, the only reason I haven’t is bc of lockdowns.

5. I feel like I need to include a ten/rose one because that is essentially what I come to tumblr to spew out 😂😂 and that has to be the “I was inspired” line from the Stone Rose. Just— [screams into the void]

Top 5 jewellery:

Unfortunately I literally never wear jewellery because I am a terrible fidgeter and always end up leaving a trail of jewellery that I’ve scattered behind me. I got a nose ring briefly last year but fiddled with it too much and hurt my nose haha.

Top 5 female characters:

SCREAMS what a great question.

1. Okay so first off Valkyrie Cain from the Skulduggery Pleasant books needs to be on the list. I started reading the books when I was 12, and she was everything I needed to see from a girl when I was that age: she was funny and strong and her entire life wasn’t revolving around men (like most of the other YA fiction of the time.) ALSO as both myself & the character have aged it’s been so helpful for me to see this character that I idolised as a kid go through mental illness and addiction which were things I suffered with terribly for years as a teen, and I found so much comfort in that.

2. Naomi Jones from I Hate Suzie also needs to be on this list because I feel like that character is just a version of my irl self put straight to screen. Always trying to be in control, always acting the mother and caring for other people who are falling apart, and not taking any time to focus on herself, and her own needs and wants. Also it’s so nice to see a bisexual on screen who has sex, and is a sexual being in a way that doesn’t feel gross or portrayed through some male lens that isn’t accurate or kind.

3. Britta Perry from Community!!!! Okay I know a lot of people reallly don’t like her and I get why. But I so relate to her early on, when she desperately wants to do good things and work for charity and be this shiny kind figure, but finding it difficult and expensive and just hard. It’s so easy to be charitable if you’re rich, it’s so hard to be generous when you don’t have much to give in the first place.

4. OK DOCTOR WHO CHARACTERS. Donna fucking Noble. If I had watched Doctor Who for the first time as an adult, she would definitely be my favourite character. I know this character, I’ve met so many people just like Donna. So funny and absolutely brilliant who just have no awareness of it because life and other people have always kicked them down.

5. Alright. You guessed it. It’s Rose Tyler. I think the reason I still love this character so much is what she meant to me as a kid. I lived on a council estate, I didn’t feel especially smart or brilliant, and I didn’t really have much ambition because I didn’t really know what success even looked like in reality. That she was this kind of classic “chavvy” noughties girl who got jealous and petty but was also funny and clever, and so so good with emotional intelligence—that meant so much to me.

I made this waaaay too long sorry!!! But thank you so much for your ask it entertained me for a good chunk of time 😂

[katrinawritesthings]

Jonghyun/Taemin; Flashbabe; PG

happy Pride fellow gays here’s superhero Jonghyun going to Pride. He has light super powers it’s like Flashbang except he’s a babe

hey I wrote this last year and put it in the queue in like December so I definitely apologize that he's not 7000% more anti-pig lmao

One shirt is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, “Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate.

“Hey boo—which one?”

Taemin looks up from his laptop, at Jonghyun walking in from the bedroom holding up two shirts. Taemin assumes that he's going to put them on over his superhero outfit, because otherwise he probably wouldn't already be wearing the stylish black and white and aqua accented suit. He never wears it at home unless he's planning to go out in it. His mask and shades are both tucked into the collar of his suit’s long sleeve shirt as well, which further leads to that conclusion. Taemin raises his eyebrows.

“You're going in the suit?” he asks. This whole time when Jonghyun was talking about going to Pride, Taemin thought he meant like, as a normal average mild-mannered citizen. Not as Flashbabe. Jonghyun nods, though, wiggling his booty in his comfy super suit skinny’s and flexing one arm to show off his beefy bicep.

“Yeah,” he says. “all of my little queers out there need to know that I'm fighting for them specifically.” he winks at the end of that sentence and Taemin rolls his eyes. That's true, he guesses, and also cute. Jonghyun holds up the shirts again, wiggling them insistently. “Which one?” he asks again.

This time Taemin actually looks them over. One is covered with diagonal rainbow stripes, including the black and brown stripes, and says, in big, bold letters, “Pride was and is a riot.” The other one is pink and just says simply, “fuck cops” in all black caps.

“The back of this one says cops don't belong at Pride, too,” Jonghyun says brightly, turning it to demonstrate. Taemin nods in approval. Both are good, but. Hmm.

“You're going to be on the news when you go,” he says slowly. “They'll censor that fuck in the pictures.” He knows that they will. They'll probably even censor the whole shirt. Jonghyun frowns, looking at the shirt with disappointment.

“You're right,” he says sadly. He tosses in the shirt over the back of the couch, and then puts the other shirt on right there. “I can just say fuck cops out loud when I get there anyway,” he says, voice muffled as he struggles to get his head through it. When he pops his head out of the collar, his wide grin is lopsided and dazzling. “They can beep me out but everyone will still know what I said.” he says.

“Hell yeah,” Taemin grins. Jonghyun throws him a finger pistol as he fishes his mask and sunglasses out from his collar.

“Sure you don't want to come, boo?” he asks. His voice is a little hopeful but not so much that Taemin feels guilty for shaking his head. It's too loud and crowded and hot out there and he knows his feet will hurt after like twenty minutes. And Jonghyun knows this, because he nods back with an accepting little shrug.

“I was going to watch the livestream when BoA starts performing, though,” Taemin says, tapping the screen of his laptop. No fucking way would he miss that. Jonghyun nods again, looking at his mask as he fumbles with it and tries to figure out which way is the right way to put it on.

“When is that, like an hour?” he asks, pulling the mask over his head so it covers his hair down to his nose, still showing off his mouth and perfectly framing his lovely jaw. Even though his mask has custom sunglass lenses built into it, he also pulls out a neon aqua pair of regular sunglasses and crams those onto his face as well. When Taemin makes an affirming little noise he makes a clicky noise with his mouth and ticks up an okay symbol with both hands.

“I gotta go hit up Kibs soon, then,” he says, “so I can bug him to draw me pan stripes and gender-fluid stripes on my cheeks before she starts so I can get there on time. Fuck, and Minho has my glittery high heel boots also, they were going on about tinkering with their armor to make them like bouncier or something?” Taemin can't see his eyes roll, but he rolls his whole head so Taemin knows that he did it. “You know how it takes them forever to do anything,” he mutters. Taemin giggles. He does. Or, well, he knows that Jonghyun thinks that Minho takes forever. He also knows that Jonghyun has approximately three seconds of patience before he starts getting annoyed.

“Are you leaving now then?” he asks. He looks like he's ready. Jonghyun hums, fixes his shirt around his waist, rocks back on his heels and then forward onto his toes.

“One more thing I gotta do,” he smiles. He flounces to the couch that Taemin is laying on, bends over the back of it, leans close, and presses a gross, slobbery, wet smooch to his forehead. “Love you, boo,” he chirps. Taemin makes his most disgruntled noise and turns to wipe his head on the couch cushion. He also reaches up to hold Jonghyun’s hand for a few seconds fondly.

“Have fun, lovey,” he says, tacking on the nickname just to watch Jonghyun’s cheeks literally glow pink. He sees it for just a few seconds before Jonghyun hides his face in his hands and stands up, but it's enough.

“Oh my gosh,” Jonghyun whispers. “Bye boo. I'll see you later.” And with that, he disassembles into a sparky ball of light, zapping into the lamp next to the couch, and then to the night light by the front door, and then outside into the closest street light, which Taemin assumes he's going to follow all the way up to Kibum’s apartment. He is incredibly certain that by the time he zaps himself unannounced into Key’s living room he'll be glowing pink all over.

The next time Taemin sees Jonghyun, it's when Flashbabe appears at Pride by zapping himself on top of a street lamp right over the stage float. He sits there, extremely visible in the livestream camera, faintly glowing through a cycle of soft rainbow colors and waving around at the crowd. He ignores all of the news reporters that catch wind of him and try to grab him for an interview, but when BoA, mid performance set, notices him and calls him to the stage, he zaps himself directly into one of the stage lights and drops down easily.

BoA hands him the mic and he gives a nice little speech about Pride and his identity and how he'll always do his best to protect his favorite little queers and wraps It up by zapping to sit on top of the stage float, pointing over at a group of cops on the sidelines, and saying, “Fuck y'all.”

Then he drops the mic down to BoA and teleports away, zipping from street lamp to street lamp, from float to float, to some of the marchers’ glow up accessories and outfits. Taemin just watches the concert . He doesn't have the energy to check all the news and the social media sites and whatever to keep himself updated on where exactly Jonghyun is right at every moment. He knows that his babe is out there having fun and supporting himself and protecting people. And he knows that Jonghyun will be back later to flop on top of him and give him just as much love and attention as he does everyone else.

[comicsnas]

showtime

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

context john gets kidnapped by his mom dave doesnt panic

Los Angeles, CA, Wednesday

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Houston, TX, twelve years ago

You’re blind.

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

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

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

This is it.

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

“Yeah,” you croak. “You at home?”

“At the dorm, yes. What’s going on?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

On a plane, Thursday morning

“What’s on your mind?” Rose asks.

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

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

“Us,” you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Washington, DC, now

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

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

All according to plan.

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

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

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

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

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

Look, it’s a good car, alright.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your phone vibrates.

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

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

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

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

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

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

TG: 10 mins TT: On my way.

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

You have to get to John.

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

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

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

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

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

Someone in the garden yells, “Motherfucker!”

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

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

[the--sad--hatter]

Frozen Heart (4)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -  

When Nick Fury finally catches the Ex-Shield Agent knowns Black Ice, The Thief with a Frozen Heart he puts her where she belongs. With The Avengers.

You’re not happy about that decision but you’re the only one who’s kicking up a fuss.

Natasha and Clint are happy to have you back in their lives, Sam Wilson is a big fan, Tony Stark just wants you to keep your hands off his stuff and Steve finds out that not only do you have a connection but you were there for him when nobody else was.

Bucky Barnes is one of the few people who doesn’t have a connection with you but he’d really really like one.

Frozen Heart Masterlist 

** Everything in Italics is being signed, not said out loud.**

Chapter Four - Fire and Ice 

By the time Clint got you back to the compound, you were stumbling so much he had to wrap an arm around you and drag you inside while you giggled at the fact you were walking without moving your legs. You passed two blurs that you were relatively sure were Steve and Sam and waved happily at them.

“Hellooooooo!” You called.

 “We passed them two minutes ago. They’re gone.” Clint chuckled and you swung your head around wildly in confusion, searching for them.

 “Go back!” You insisted.

 “No, you need to lie down before you fall down.” He insisted.

 “I wanna see Cap!” You whined, unaware that your attempts at signing were coming out as pure gibberish.

  Bucky rounded the corner in concern, needing to see why you were arguing and sounding upset. What he saw was you stumble away from your brother who looked semi amused and semi frustrated as you fell into a wall and bounced off it. You turned around with your fists up, looking around to see what had bumped into you.

 “Please don’t fight the wall.” Bucky laughed, realising you were drunk.

 “Bucky!” You yelled, spotting him.

 For a drunk person you were fast as you shot towards him and he barely managed to move in time to stop you barrelling into him. Apparently drunk you had no depth perception. He steadied you with a hand on your shoulder and you blinked at him, looking strangely awed.

 “Your eyes….” You said.

 “My eyes?” He asked.

 “They’re… they’re really pr……” You stuttered before your eyes closed and you slumped forwards, nearly headbutting him in the chest.

 He wrapped his arms around you and held you upright as you passed out. Clint barked out a loud laugh and hurried forwards to take you from a perplexed and frantic Bucky.

 “Is she ok?” Bucky asked, fussing over you.

 “She’s fine, this is what happens when someone without a super soldier metabolism drinks a bottle of cheap whisky.” Clint chuckled, slinging you over his shoulder and walked away, whistling a jovial tune.

 Bucky watched him carry you away and whished you’d finished your sentence before you fainted. It had almost sounded like you were going to say his eyes were pretty but that couldn’t have been it. Could it? Well he’d never know now.  

 Hangovers were so not fun, but at least someone had been kind enough to leave a putrid looking green smoothie in your suite that while tasted gross, did wonders for the pounding in your skull and shaking in your body. Whoever it was, you owed them a thank you card.

 The compound was quiet and you took advantage of the calm, sprawling out in the common room with a cup of coffee and a pile of trashy magazines Wanda had leant you. You spent an hour that way, enjoying the serenity before you were interrupted.

 “We have a mission.” Natasha told you, standing above and blocking the light.

 “Alright, have fun. Bring me back a bad guys ear or something.” You joked, flipping through the magazine Wanda had leant you.

 A few moments passed and when Tasha didn’t move you slowly looked up at her in horror.

 “When you say we?” You gulped.

 “I mean we…. Wheels up in 20.” She smirked.

    You were sat in the corner of the Quinjet, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible because Clint kicked you out of the co-pilots seat when Stark dumped a black case in front of you and when you didn’t immediately open it he rolled his eyes and flipped open the clips on the case and did it for you. Curiously you peered inside and gasped.

 “Tracking Point Precision-Guided Bolt-Action .338 TP, with a few upgrades by yours truly.” He said proudly.

 “Why?” You asked suspiciously.

 “Heard you were a good shot; thought you might need something with a little more oomph that your usual standard issue long distance rifle.” He said shrugging.

 You realized he was apologising for locking you in the gym, in the only way he knew how.

 “She’s beautiful.” You said, unpacking the various parts from the case and familiarising yourself with her.

 He nodded in satisfaction and wandered away. Steve took his place and sat down next to you.

 “We’re putting you on the roof with Barton. If you see something call it, if you must take a shot then take it but you’re mostly here to get to know how we work on a mission. It’s not often we get to ease a team member in properly so we’re taking it.” He said, offering you a comforting smile.

 “Pretty sure I can handle it.” You lied, grinning at him.

 “Cap, you wanna get up here and actually explain what this missions about or shall we just wing it so you can sit there and flirt with the newbie?” Tony asked.

 “You’ve got this.” Steve whispered, smiling at you as he stood up.

 “We’re taking down an AIM Research building. We’re not trying to be subtle about it, they’ve got unwilling test subjects on site, so our objective is to rescue the prisoners and shut down the operation.” He began.

 Everyone watched him as he stood there, explaining things with an easy and inspiring confidence but you glanced around, sure you could feel someone watching you. Years of paranoia and hiding had given you a good sense about these things and you pretended to be studying the rifle scope while pinpointing the direction the eyes on you were coming from. Without warning you looked up, right at Bucky Barnes. He looked taken aback when you met his gaze. You raised a questioning eyebrow at him and he nodded towards the rifle in your hands. Of course, he was a military sniper you remembered. He was watching the gun, not you. You motioned with your head for him to come over and after he quickly glanced at Steve, he silently made his way towards you, settling in the seat next to yours.

 You turned your body so you were facing him and he silently watched as you held the different parts for the rifle, getting used to the weight of them before you finally assembled it, taking your time. You disassembled it at the same slow pace and he cocked his head curiously at you.

 “What are you doing?” He whispered.

 You shot him a soft smile before you closed your eyes and seamlessly assembled the rifle quickly without looking. When you opened your eyes, he was gazing at you with an impressed look and he nodded once in approval at you.

 All could do was nod, his throat had all but closed up. He dug his fingers into his thigh, hoping you didn’t notice. The sheer practiced ease with which you’d blindly assembled a complicated weapon after only trying It once had sent every single ounce of Bucky’s blood rushing south and it took all his self-control not to gape at you. Friends, he reminded himself. Friends and nothing more. He had to repeat the word to himself over and over in his head like a fucking mantra as you offered the rifle to him for a go.

“Hey, gun buddies. You two paying attention?” Sam called and the two of you whipped your heads around to see that Sam had drawn everyone’s attention to you.

“Cap and I are going in the west side, Nat and Wanda from the east, Banners waiting to knock on the front door, us Barton’s will be covering from the residential building opposite the facility and every team has a flier covering them.” You rattled off with ease.

Steve nodded at you, satisfied you had been listening and thankfully nobody saw the sly wink you shot Wanda to thank her.

   “So, which one of the frosty fans are you flirting with? Or is it both?” Clint asked you as he scoped out the roof, looking for the best place to set up.

“I’m not flirting with anyone; I’m just trying to make friends.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“You don’t make friends. You have family, fans or enemies.” He pointed out.

“Yeah well I’m stuck here on team Superhero now, I have to make the most of it.” You grumbled.

“You are sizing them up to see if they can be trusted with your mission against Magneto?” Clint guessed as he found his spot, setting up.

You were supposed to stick with him but there was a small nook on the other side of the roof that you would fit in perfectly, it would give you cover, and you could set up the rifle on the ledge. Clint saw you eyeing it up and nodded.

“The Barton’s are in position.” He said over the comms.

“I’ve got eyes on Team Red; you might want to duck down a couple more inches Wanda.” You told Wanda and Nat and barely a second later the top of Wanda’s head disappeared from view.

“Thanks.” She said over the comms to you.

“That’s everybody in place. Ground teams, move in.” Cap instructed.

You took a deep calming breath, exhaling slowly. As soon as the last bit of oxygen was pushed from your lungs your mind cleared. Mission brain took over and your training kicked in as you looked around, moving the scope with you. You carefully watched the windows, looking for movement. Two men in a filing room caught your attention and you saw them pulling files out of a cabinet and dumping them in a metal wastepaper basket. When one of them pulled a box of matches out of his pocket you realized they were trying to destroy evidence. You pulled the trigger and the back of his skull exploded half a second later. Before his companion had a chance to duck you pulled the trigger again and his head went the same way as his companions.

Keeping a watchful eye on the door to that room through the window you turned your attention elsewhere. On the lower levels you could see flashes of a fight, but you didn’t have a good enough view to see who it was until you saw a flash of metal and identified Bucky.

“Hawkeye do you have eyes on Cap and Winter?” You asked.

“Got them.” Clint answered and you turned your attention away.

“Ice we’ve got runners on the west side, I’ve got the two on the far left.” Tony said and you swung the rifle around to see what he was pointing you towards.

You caught a flash of movement, a white lab coat.

“Kill or maim?” You asked coldly.

“Maim.” Tony said and you pulled the trigger, taking out the scientists’ right kneecap in an explosion of blood and bone.

“Could use a little help here guys.” Tasha said and you saw Clint turn in her direction out of the corner of your eye, so you trusted him to take care of that one.

You saw movement in the doorway you’d been idly watching as someone dove inside, out of the line of fire. They scrambled for the box of matches and you internally swore. You watched carefully, waiting for your moment and when you saw a hand holding a flickering match your eyes zeroed in on it. Gently squeezing the trigger, you shot at the match, not the hand. If the dropped the match, then even dead they would have succeeded in destroying the evidence. Your aim proved true and the bullet whizzed through the match, taking several fingers with it. Clint let out a low whistle of approval and fired an arrow through the window, killing the mark for you.

“Guys, we aren’t the only ones here!” Steve yelled and you had a moment of confusion before all was explained.

The explanation came in the form of a fireball shooting from the sky and landing on the ground in front of the facility. A fireball that was shaped like a person.

“Is that…” You asked.

“The Fantastic Four.” Sam grumbled unhappily.

You saw the human fireball shoot a line of flames at the building, at the second floor and swore.

“Cap, there’s a lot of files on the second floor that AIM keep trying to burn. If blaze boy isn’t careful, he’s going to do their job for them.” You said.

“Can anyone get to the second floor and retrieve those files?” Steve asked and was met with a resounding chorus of ‘no’s’ and ‘little busy here’s.’

“I can do it.” You offered.

“No Ice, you’re on watch only.” Steve said.

“Tell that to the two men missing the backs of their skulls.” You muttered.

“Cap, if AIM don’t want us to see those files, I really want to see them.” Tasha pointed out.

“Come on Cap. Breaking in and stealing shit, it’s my forte. I can do this.” You said.

“In and out. Get the files and get back to Barton. And be careful.” Steve said, sighing.

You stood up with a grin of satisfaction and rotated your shoulder.

“Want me to open a path for you?” Clint asked and you nodded.

Two second later an arrow attached itself to the ledge above the window of the room you were heading for with a zip wire attached. You pulled your jacket off twisted it into shape. Sitting on the ledge of the building in front of Clint you felt a lost feeling of excitement bubble up inside you and smiled.

“I have missed this.” You admitted and Clint chuckled at you.

“Go get em Tiger.” He instructed and you swung your jacket over the zip line and pushed away from the wall.

You speedily zoomed towards the window and waited until you were a foot away before letting go of the jacket with one hand and pushing your feet out in front of you, sailing easily through the window and landing on your feet. You swung your jacket over your shoulders and zipped it up and you peered into the waste paper basket. You didn’t have time to go through the files so you gathered them all up and looked around the room. You found a briefcase under a desk and emptied out the contents of someone’s personal effects and lunch onto the desk and shoved the papers inside, catching the apple before it rolled off the table and biting into it as you clicked the briefcase closed.

“Files obtained, making my way out now.” You said over the comms, chewing on the apple.

“Did you stop for lunch?” Tony asked.

“Gotta get my five a day somehow.” You defended yourself as you made your way back over to the window and climbing onto the ledge.

“ICE GET DOWN!” Clint yelled and you barely made it back inside the room before a wave of fire hit where you’d been seconds before.

“Uh, I don’t think the Fantastic Four got the memo about me.” You realised out loud as the flames roared over your head.

There was movement in the flames and when you looked up, there was a man standing behind you.

“I’m going to need that briefcase beautiful.” He said, nodding at it.

“Alright, Johnny Storm, right? I’ll tell you what, since I’m such a big fan you can have it.” You told him, holding it out and smiling.

He tentatively reached out, looking at you suspiciously as he took it. You held your hands up in the universal symbol of surrender and looked as innocent as you could.

“Now why can’t all bad guys be this smart OOOOFT” He grunted as you dropped to your knees and grabbed his leg and yanked, knocking him to the floor.

“Listen to me. LISTEN!” You yelled, pinning him down.

“When you said you were a fan, this wasn’t what I had in mind. Not that I’m complaining.” You joked, cocking an eyebrow and looking down at the way you were straddling him.

“Not really a fan. I’m an Avenger Hot stuff.” You said, rolling your eyes at him.

“Sure you are. And might I say, you’re looking pretty hot yourself.” He said.

You felt uncomfortably warm as you realized he wasn’t flirting and you rolled off of him a split second before he burst into flames underneath you.

“Motherfucker.” You swore as he shot flames at you.

You didn’t have a choice and brought your hands up, blindly reaching inside yourself for the power that lived within you and just before the flames would have hit you, they hit an ice wall. He pushed more of the blazing heat at you and you desperately pushed back, shooting Ice at him. The resulting chaos of fire meeting ice blew out of the side of the building, leaving a gaping hole in the side of it and you and Johnny were blasted apart, landing on opposite sides of the room.

“You know I’d ask you dinner, if you weren’t going to spend the rest of your life in prison.” He said, standing and brushing himself off.

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and they’ll allow conjugal visits…” You said, winking at him.

He really did look more like Steve in person than you’d expected but he was smaller, cockier and just different. Still, it was a little unsettling.

“Look, I really am with the Avengers.” You told him, holding your hands out.

“Starting to hope that’s true.” He said, blatantly checking you out.

“Uh yeah, she’s with us. Need a lift Ice?” Sam called, hovering outside of the window.

The look on Storm’s face was comical as he looked between you and The Falcon and you bit down a bark of laughter and ran for the window, picking up the briefcase on your way and leaping out of the hole in the building, being caught easily by Sam.

“See you around Johnny.” You said as Sam flew you away, dropping you off back on the roof with Clint.

Clint was struggling to contain his own laughter as Johnny peered out of the building after you, looking thunderstruck.

“Don’t even try to deny it. That was flirting.” Clint chuckled.

“How would you know?” You asked.

“You left your comm on.” Clint smirked.

 Bucky was even more of a killing machine that usual as he made his way upstairs, trying to get to you but Sam had beaten him to it. You had happily flirted away with the Steve wannabe, and he couldn’t figure out why. You said you weren’t interested in anything like that so was it just a tactic to distract Storm or was there more to it? He was driving himself crazy trying to figure it out and when the mission was finally blessedly over, and all the bad guys were dead or tied up he stomped outside to look for you and make sure you hadn’t been hurt. He came outside at the same time you and Clint did, your bothers arm slung over your shoulder as you proudly presented Steve with the briefcase

 “Well done Ice.” Steve congratulated you, taking it.

“This is Doctor Reed Richards and his wife, Susan Storm.” Steve explained, introducing you to the two people next to him.

“I’m sorry about Johnny.” Sue apologised, shaking your hand.

“Thank you for rescuing the research though. It’s why we were here.” Dr Richards thanked you, also shaking your hand.

“Well you might want to warn the fireball next time. He almost torched it.” You told them.

“Snitch.” Johnny called, landing behind you.

He de-flamed and you had the opportunity to look between him and Steve curiously.

“You get used to it.” Sue whispered to you and you nodded dumbly.

You didn’t see how anyone could get used to that. They were practically identical, if it weren’t for the vastly different personalities shining through. And Steve’s muscles.

“Hey, are you ok?” Bucky demanded, coming over to you and glaring at Johnny Storm.

You were taken aback you the concern but managed to smile at the Winter Soldier.

“I’m ok, really. He’s not that tough.” You teased loudly and Johnny scoffed.

“Anytime you want a re-match Ice Queen, say the word.” He challenged.

“The word.” You deadpanned, raising an eyebrow at him and squaring up.

“NO!” Dr Richards, Sue, Clint and Steve said in unison.

“We need to get you to the med bay, come on.” Bucky all but snarled, wrapping an arm around your waist and dragging you towards the Quinjet.

It was so unexpected you didn’t immediately react and were a good few metres away before you looked at him. He was looking straight ahead, towards the Quinjet.

“I’m fine. Down soldier.” You quipped, wriggling away.

“You’ve got a cut on your leg.” He snapped and you looked down.

“Huh, look at that.” He was right, there was a long bloody gash along the side of your right leg.

It must have happened when you landed on the broken glass or when you’d been blasted by The Human Torch. Now that you’d been made aware of it, it started to hurt and you let Bucky lead you up the ramp of the empty Quinjet and sit you down. He grabbed a first aid kit while you watched curiously.

“Why are you doing this?” You asked him as he gently lifted your injured leg onto his lap and peeled the leg of your trousers up.

“I don’t want it to get infected.” He said simply and started wiping away the blood with an anti-septic wipe.

“Didn’t know you cared.” You joked and he looked hurt for a split second.

It was awkwardly silent while he cleaned the skin around the cut and gently probed at it, making sure there was nothing in it. He found a tube of saline and flushed the wound out, cleaning it.

“You don’t need stitches; I’ll just put on a few steri-strips to close it and wrap it.” He decided.

“I’m not used to this. Usually only Clint or Tasha care if I get hurt and I haven’t exactly been around for them to care lately.” You told him.

His eyes flickered up to meet yours and he saw that your eyes betrayed the pain your tone of voice had hidden.

“You’re one of us now. We care. I care.” He said, looking back down as he wrapped a bandage around your leg.

“Careful Bucky, I could get used to that.” You joked weakly.

He finished wrapping your leg and gently pulled your trouser leg down again but didn’t move your leg from his lap.

“I hope you do.” He said, looking in your eyes to make sure you understand he meant it.

You didn’t have anything to say to that, so you just smiled gratefully at him. The corner of his lips twitched, and he softly smiled back at you.

“Can I just wait in here for everyone to be done or should I go back out there?” You asked.

“Stay. I’ll stay with you.” He told you.

So you stayed. The two of you stayed in the calm little corner of the chaos, together.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

This takes longer to get updated because the chapters are longer and more detailed so I hope that makes it worth the wait. I certainly hope this chapter was worth waiting for!

@shirukitsune @thelostallycat @jsmith509@buckitybarnes@aw-shit-nuggets @pleasefollowmeuwu @nerdy-bookworm-1998@boxofteenageideas @jaynnanadrews@psychoredpanda@marbleowl @l0kisbitch @brownlee-22@fluffeh-kitty @mywinterwolf @poppunkassbitch@angieptt @muggleborngirl @markusstraya @tarastudiesalot@pinkisokay @buckitybarnes @firefly-in-darkness@chipilerendi @psychoredpanda @littledeadrottinghood@boxofteenageideas @pleasefollowmeuwu @aw-shit-nuggets @brownlee-22 @deathofmissjackson @yourwonderbelle @firefly-in-darkness @hiddles-rose @myfandomlife-blog @thosesexytexasboys @liveonce-sodoitright @spnrvt @dilaila95 @dahkness @sexyvixen7

[planetsam]

Alex shuts down and is traumatized after witnessing Michael dying -Max brings him back- and Michael trying to reach out to him. Just them being each other’s life line please!

He shoots up with lungs on fire and his heart pounding in his ears.

He shoots up and cracks his forehead against Max’s.

Max goes down like a cheap drunk.

To be fair if he didn’t remember the sick, cold pull of losing most of his blood, if he didn’t remember Max being dead a few months ago, he probably would have a better reaction. As it is he scrambles over, shoving his fingers against Max’s neck to make sure he’s got a pulse and he’s breathing. The paleness only comes from his powers. Thank God. But if that hadn’t happened, he thinks, he probably would have been more aware. He would have realized that Max wasn’t the only person who was watching him bleed out.

Or maybe Alex is just too damn good at slipping away.

Isobel takes them both home and there’s a lot of hugging. Like a lot a lot. Which means it’s nearly forty eight hours before he realizes that the only reply he’s received from Alex is a quick ‘Working’. That’s not unusual in itself. Alex isn’t big into texting, he’s lived his entire life with his messages being closely monitored. His answers are usually one word or they come from a number Michael doesn’t recognize. So he doesn’t think much of it. He sends a devil emoji and Alex sends back a smiley face. He doesn’t even try to interpret that.

“Where are you going?” Isobel demands.

“I’m going to see Alex,” Michael says, “I think he’s avoiding me.”

“I’ll drive you.”

“Iz,” he whines and she scowls, “I’ll text when I get there,” he offers. She sighs but nods.

“Be careful,” she says.

He fights the urge to make a joke about always having protection and slips out before Max can voice an objection to him being out of sight. He’s not risking fate by texting while driving so he just drives to Alex’s house. His car is in the driveway and Michael frowns when he sees that Kyle’s is there too. The little bubble of worry begins to expand as he sees the parking job Alex has done. He knocks on the door, waiting to see who opens it. It’s Kyle who does, his face very firmly in doctor mode. Michael does not like doctors as a rule, but he likes doctors in between him and Alex even less.

“What’s wrong?” He demands. Kyle seems torn between sympathy and doctor patient confidentiality. It doesn’t make him feel better, “Kyle!”

“Keep your voice down!” Kyle snaps, closing the door, “he needs to rest.”

“What is wrong with him?” He repeats and Kyle glares, “I mean right now,” he amends, “why does he need to rest? What happened?” Kyle looks stunned and Michael suddenly has a renewed desire to kill him, “i was dying, my spacial awareness was not great!”

“You bled out in his lap,” Kyle cuts in. He ducks past him and pulls out a plastic bag. Michael opens it and almost gags at the smell, “He was trying to stop the bleeding. I found him this morning. He’s been in shock.”

“Damn it,” he swears, knotting the bag and shoving past Kyle who grabs his arm, “get off!”

“He’s asleep!” Kyle says, “I have him on an iv and he’s sleeping. I gave him a sedative. He’s not going to wake up for a few hours.”

“I don’t care!” He says and wrenches his arm free, opening the door.

Kyle doesn’t let it slam as he gets from the door into the bedroom. The picture over Alex’s bed is gone and hanging from the hook is a bag. Tubing snakes down into then crook of his elbow. Alex’s face is slack and his hair is unruly from going to bed with it wet. He’s got a grey Air Force shirt on and he’s completely still. It’s a profound disconnect from how Alex usually sleeps. Michael feels his throat tighten at the sight of it. Of him. He died but Alex was trying to stop that. Alex who never met a battle he didn’t want to fight was watching him bleed out. Was in shock for two days, probably locked in the basement wearing those clothes. Michael doesn’t know who he’s more upset with.

“Damn it Alex,” he mutters, tossing his hat to the side and toeing off his shoes.

Almost dying doesn’t mean Alex is going to let him off the hook if he goes under the covers in his jeans. Which is fine, he climbs on top of them, getting as close to Alex as he can. Sedative or no, he can’t really just lay there watching Alex sleep so he closes his eyes, focuses on the deep, even breaths that Alex is taking and let’s himself drift off.

“I’m fine.”

“You absolutely are not. Don’t say you ate. Tequila is not a food group.”

The huff brings him fully into consciousness. It’s late and there’s a lamp on. Alex is scowling up at Kyle who has his arms folded and no intention of letting him up. Alex glances over and his eyes widen in surprise. Michael rubs his eyes and realizes he was really asleep. Kyle looks from Alex to him which only seems to piss Alex off.

“He needs to eat,” he says.

“Okay okay,” Michael says.

“There’s food here.”

“I’ll make sure he eats,” Michael promises.

“Thank you,” Alex says to Kyle.

He doesn’t look thrilled Kyle is leaving. But Kyle’s the only one with a stable job and people to help. Which kind of leaves them together. Alex dips his head and looks at him quietly. Michael is very used to Alex initiating conversations like this, his silence is strange and unsettling. It feels like they are playing chicken. He caves first.

“You’re working?”

“I was.”

“What if Kyle hadn’t been here?” Michael demands, “what if you had been passed out—“ he’s not the only miserable liar apparently, “you were passed out?!”

“I’m fine,” he says.

“You are not fine! Stop saying that! God—i didn’t even know you were there or I would have checked on you way earlier,” Michael shakes his head in self disgust, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he says. His stomach rumbles, “lets get food, okay?” He looks over, knowing that his stomach has good timing for once, “can you help me?”

Grateful for something to do besides just hugging Alex in the bed—he promised Kyle he’d make him eat—he glances around for Alex’s prosthetic. Alex nods towards his crutches which are positioned near the bed. Michael picks them up and looks around, putting two and two together. It’s odd to see Alex get out of bed with one pant leg rolled up and tucked around the missing part of his leg. Alex hates the crutches, in more than just a metaphorical sense.

“I’ll clean it,” he says.

“You don’t have to—“

“Course I don’t but I got it,” he says, “where’s your leg?”

“Bathroom,” Alex relents, “I have cleaning stuff in the kitchen.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

He goes into the bathroom. Alex’s leg is disassembled and Michael realizes that they’re trying to dry it out. Blood is caked everywhere on it. They aren’t trying to dry it out because it’s wet from cleaning. His blood has damaged it. The metaphors is nauseating. But at least this is one area he can actually help in. He grabs all the pieces and makes his way into the kitchen where Alex is putting food on plates. He ducks under the sink and grabs the cleaning stuff. He ignores the food in favor of making sure Alex’s leg isn’t messed up by him bleeding out. Alex doesn’t react to the water in the bucket turning pink and then red, he focuses on other things.

“This is gross,” Michael says finally, “seriously this is disgusting. It’s not even all blood.”

“I mean,” Alex swallows, “you were pretty badly hurt.”

“Tell me all of them are dead,” he says looking over at him, “come on I need one piece of good news.”

“They’re dead,” Alex confirms.

Good. He isn’t thrilled about dying but he’s more concerned with the emotional distress they’ve put Alex under. Max can fix physical wounds. Alex is full of grit but he’s making progress damn it. Michael’s been enough of a setback for him. He scrubs the various pieces and wipes them down, making sure they are all clean. He fixes the vacuum mechanism. When he turns to Alex though, Alex shakes his head. Michael can’t blame him. He gets up and puts the leg back in the bathroom.

“Thanks,” Alex says.

“Seems like the least I could do,” Michael says.

“You’re here,” Alex points out and he doesn’t have a response for that.

He cleans up and eats. Alex is eating slower but he hasn’t had Isobel feeding him for the past 48 hours. Even though they’ve slept for most of the day, Michael finds himself tired. He yawns before he can stop himself. When he looks over Alex is yawning too. He smiles but Alex looks at him far more seriously.

“Do you want to sleep here?” He asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says. Alex nods, “Lemme text Iz.”

“I’ll get you something to sleep in.”

One berating later, he finds himself climbing into Alex’s bed. It’s strange and nod just because the bed is big enough. It’s strange because this is the most clothed he’s been laying next to Alex in his entire life. He needs this though, they both do, but his heart is pounding in his ears as he climbs in. He doesn’t know why he’s nervous, maybe it’s just because the dark and not seeing each other have always been crutches in their relationship. Whatever that relationship is in the moment. He rips the bandaid off as he turns to Alex.

“Talk to me,” he says, “come on.”

“I—“ Alex trails off.

“Alex,” He isn’t sure why he’s pleading with him. He doesn’t want to damage him, no more than he seems to do without meaning to. It’s fucking shitty that their relationship only seems to work when Alex is doing all of it, “Come on,” He says. Alex blows out a breath. The second one he blows out is shakier and Michael’s stomach drops, “c’mere.”

Alex rolls into his chest with barely any resistance and Michael grips him as tight as he can as Alex sobs into his chest. He just mumbles nonsense and holds Alex, trying his best to remind him at every moment he stops that he’s alive. He’s here. There’s one benefit to being with a screw up alien whose brother can heal. It’s better for Alex to get it out now but fuck if it doesn’t hurt to have him sob like this.

“It’s worth it, you know? I’d do it again—“

“Don’t,” Alex cuts him off, “don’t you dare say that.”

“It’s true,” Michael repeats, “I don’t want you hurt.”

“You almost died,” he says, “I was covered in your blood. Again.”

“I know, I know,” Michael smoothes his hair back and presses their foreheads together, “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You saved me just as much as Max did,” he doesn’t let Alex shake his head, “you did. Now you gotta stay with me, right here, okay?”

Alex trembles and Michael aches to hold him but he has to hear. He strokes the tears from his cheeks uselessly.

“Alex—“

“Okay,” Alex says, managing to sound partially annoyed. Michael hugs him close, “you too.”

“Okay okay,” Michael relents, “I’m here,” Alex grips his shirt, “I’m here,” he repeats, in time with their heartbeats, “I’m right here.”

[eenefangirlanalysis]

It is midnight! Welcome to EENE Season 4 Appreciation Month! We have a lot to discuss! So, I will finish up this episode analysis and then I am going to stream season 4 episodes on some nights and post theories, facts or questions! I think that will be fun! Right now, let’s enjoy the last of A Twist of Ed!

“I haven’t had this much fun since father let me disassemble his shaver!” An ecstatic Edd exclaims to a quivering Eddy. 

Wait, what? When did Edd’s dad let him disassemble his shaver? That was more fun than all his adventures with Ed and Eddy? Why did his father let Edd disassemble his shaver? Edd could have taken this as a gesture of appreciation while his father might have been trying to get Edd out of his hair.

I love when we get to see Edd’s repressed wild side. So much is trapped. He wants to be the person who we saw having fun with his friends in season 1 but Edd wants so badly to impress his parents. 

BTW, Edd is so cute!

Forcefully pushing Eddy towards the Kankers trying to make him scare them off, Edd is becoming more reminiscent of Eddy’s brother by the second. 

I feel bad for Eddy in this episode. He didn’t want to be a part of this plan to begin with but since he and his friends are considered to be one person, he can’t getaway. I think the plan would have worked if it were just Ed and Edd. The Kanker’s were too scared to notice that Eddy wasn’t contributing. 

Arguably, it’s Edd’s fault. It’s true that Eddy’s influences have rubbed off on him. And he put them to good use trying to make Eddy understand that he is more than just his lackey/smart guy of the group. 

The poor Kanker’s are still cowering in fear. I forget how I felt about them when this episode first aired. Do you feel bad for them or was this what they deserved? Yes, it is a taste of their just desserts but their reactions are offputting. They’re alone. They’re not sure of what is going on. And the girls have had a dark past. 

Very good use of shots in this scene. 

“Go on, Eddy, show them no mercy!” Edd whispers into a fearful shaking Eddy’s ear.

Edd’s expression has Bro written all over it. And I have a feeling that Eddy is experiencing a repressed traumatic memory. Eddy didn’t understand his relationship about Bro until this very summer that the series takes place. The memories have bothered him to the point where he can’t be himself. Remember how laid back Eddy is in the first season and then he gradually becomes angrier and aggressive towards his friends. He is at his worse in the school season.

I have pointed out in theories that Eddy hides under his Bro mask for most of the series. This expression right here is Eddy. My headcanon is that he is a shy boy with low self-esteem who doesn’t know what to believe in.

His entire body shaking Eddy stutters trying to make conversation with the girls.

I like May’s reaction with her tongue sticking out in disgust. 

Sweat drips off his face which is a dead give away to the Kanker’s. 

Or just Lee who has to physically get her sisters to see the droplet of sweat on the ground.

Lee is the oldest. Her mother left her in charge. In a way, she also has to be a mother to Marie and May who look up to her.

What a strange screen-cap.

May’s expression reminds me of an expression that Ed would make.

The jig is up!

Now fully aware of what is really going on the girls run away beginning to set their revenge plan on the Eds.

“Oh, you scare us!”

“You’re so gross!”

“Eek!” That is my favorite of the reactions!

Believing that he actually scared the Kanker’s off, Eddy regains his courage and his Bro mask. Puffing out his chest he gloats about himself and how even he cannot handle his own charm. (Because it’s his brother's charm).

I love Ed’s celebratory fist in the air. He looks up to Eddy!

Oh, and Edd has a celebratory fist, too! Aw, he’s so proud of Eddy for conquering his fear! I never noticed that! Even though this wasn’t the best episode to highlight the Eds friendship (forcing one to do something they didn’t want to do) the Eds are always supportive of each other.

Ed adds, “You’re Eddy! Babe magnet to the... uh... babes!”

I like how Ed slips up trying to think of the word that is in Eddy’s vocabulary. Has Ed used the word babe before? No, I don’t think so. And he is reminding Eddy that he has all the power. Ed looks up to Eddy. He always follows through with his actions whether right or wrong. If you think about it this way, Ed doesn’t have anyone else to look up to considering that his own family is against him.

Eddy declares that they hit on them again for one final round of torture.

[the-daily-tizzy]

ITALY’S COMMUNIST RECIPE FOR DISASTER

Published March 24, 2020 |  By Giacomino Nicolazzo

Montecalvo, Lombardy, Italy. 

As I sit here in my involuntary isolation, it was just reported that overnight 743 more people died and 5.249 new cases have been reported. This brings the total cases of infection to 69,176 and the body count to 6,820. We take relief in knowing that 8,326 people have recovered so far. ( Numbers as of 3/24, 8:30pm in Italy.)

Most towns here in Italy, from the upper reaches of the Alps to the ancient shores of Sicilia and Sardenia, while not deserted, are closer to being ghost towns than the bustling centers of tourism, business and daily life they were just a few weeks ago.Stores and shops have been shuttered. Restaurants and coffee shops no longer serve customers. Schools, universities, sporting arenas…even our museums and theaters…all closed. Even the Vatican City has closed its gates and armed patrols monitor the 20 foot tall walls that protect it!

Streets and roads are now empty for as far as the eye can see. Normally they would be filled with crazed Italian drivers in tiny cars and scooters (the ones that sound like demonic insects) darting here and there, reaching the limits of centrifugal force on our roundabouts. In the piazze of our towns and cities, there are now officially more pigeons than people.Many of us know someone who has been infected and recovered. Some of us know someone who did not recover…now they are dead. But everyone knows someone who has been affected by this microscopic monster in one way or another.

Sixty million of us are in lock-down…it is like a war zone here. We are being held prisoner in our own homes by an unseen enemy that sneaked in unnoticed…by most of us. As you will read in just a few more minutes, there were those who knew something like this was coming…or at least they should have.So who is to blame? With all this craziness swirling like a whirlpool at our feet, I just had to find the blame answer. And so I have spent my free time (of which I have a lot in these days) digging and researching. I was literally shocked to discover how this has come to be.I am not going to bore you with talk of Patient ‘0’ who spread it to Patient ‘1’ and how mathematics efficiently explains the rapid expansion of infection. No…I am going to tell you how (as I see it) the virus came to Italy.It has everything to do with communists. Allow me to explain.Beginning in about 2014, Matteo Renzi, the imbecile ex-mayor of Firenze (Florence) acting as the leader of the Partito Democratico (synonymous with the Italian Communist party), somehow managed to get himself elected as Italy’s Prime Minister. To give you a proper frame of reference, Matteo Renzi was so far left, he would make Barack Obama look like Barry Goldwater!

At the same time that Renzi was leading Italy into oblivion, strange things were happening in Italy’s economy. Banks were failing…but not closing. Retirement ages were being extended…for some reason the pension funds were dwindling or disappearing. The national sales tax we call IVA (Value Added Tax) rose from 18% to 20%, then to 21% and again to 22%.And in the midst of all this financial chicanery, the Chinese began furiously buying up Italian real estate and businesses in the North.Now the reason I mention Renzi and the Chinese together is that strange things were also going on between the governments of Italy and China. A blind eye was being turned to the way the Chinese were buying businesses in the financial, telecommunication, industrial and fashion sectors of Italy’s economy, all of which take place in Milano.

To be brief…China was getting away with purchases and acquisitions in violation of Italian law and EU Trade Agreements with the US and the UK…and no one in either of those countries (not Obama in the US or Cameron in the UK) said a thing in their country’s defense. As a matter of fact, much of it was hidden from the public in all three countries.In 2014, China infused the Italian economy with €5 billion through purchases of companies costing less than €100 million each. 

By the time Renzi left office (in disgrace) in 2016, Chinese acquisitions had exceeded €52 billion. When the dust settled, China owned more than 300 companies…representing 27% of the major Italian corporations.The Bank of China now owns five major banks in Italy…all of which had been secretly (and illegally) propped up by Renzi using pilfered pension funds! Soon after, the China Milano Equity Exchange was opened and much of Italy’s wealth was being funneled back to the Chinese mainland.

Chinese state entities own Italy’s major telecommunication corporation (Telecom) as well as its major utilities (ENI and ENEL). Upon entry into the telecommunication market, Huawei established a facility in Segrate, a suburb of Milano. It launched is first research center there and worked on the study of microwaves which has resulted in the possibly-dangerous technology we call 5G.China also now owns controlling interest in Fiat-Chrysler, Prysmian and Terna. You will be surprised to know that when you put a set of Pirelli tires on your car, the profits are going to China. 

Yep…the Chinese colossus of ChemChina, a chemical industry titan, bought that company too!Last but not least is Ferretti yachts…the most prestigious yacht builder in Europe. Incredibly, it is no longer owned by the Ferretti family.

But the sector in which Chinese companies invested most was Italy’s profitable fashion industry. The Pinco Pallino, Miss Sixty, Sergio Tacchini, Roberta di Camerino and Mariella Burani brands have been acquired by 100%.Designer Salvatore Ferragamo sold 16% and Caruso sold 35%. The most famous case is Krizia, purchased in 2014 by Shenzhen Marisfrolg Fashion Company, one of the leaders of high-priced, ready-to-wear fashions in Asia.

Throughout all of these purchases and acquisitions, Renzi’s government afforded the Chinese unrestricted and unfettered access to Italy and its financial markets, many coming through without customs inspections.

Quite literally, tens of thousands of Chinese came in through Milano (illegally) and went back out carrying money, technology and corporate secrets.

Thousands more were allowed to enter and disappeared into shadows of Milano and other manufacturing cities of Lombardy, only to surface in illegal sewing shops, producing knock-off designer clothes and slapping ‘Made In Italy’ labels on them. All with the tacit approval of the Renzi government.It was not until there was a change in the governing party in Italy that the sweatshops and the illegal entry and departure of Chinese nationals was stopped. Matteo Salvini, representing the Lega Nord party, closed Italy’s ports to immigrants and systematically began disassembling the sweatshops and deporting those in Italy illegally.

But his rise to power was short-lived. Italy is a communist country…socialism is in the national DNA. Ways were found to remove Salvini, after which the communist party, under the direction of Giuseppe Conte, reopened the ports. Immediately, thousands of unvetted, undocumented refugees from the Middle East and East Africa began pouring in again.

Access was again provided to the Chinese, under the old terms, and as a consequence thousands of Chinese, the majority from Wuhan, began arriving in Milano.

In December of last year, the first inklings of a coronavirus were noticed in Lombardy…in the Chinese neighborhoods. There is no doubt amongst senior medical officials that the virus was brought here from China.

By the end of January 2020 cases were being reported left and right. By mid-February the virus was beginning to seriously overload the Lombardy hospitals and medical clinics. They are now in a state of collapse.

The Far-Left politicians sold out and betrayed the Italian people with open border policies and social justice programs. One of the reasons the health care system collapsed so quickly is because the Renzi government (and now continued under the Conte government) redirected funds meant to sustain the medical system, to pay for the tens of thousands of immigrants brought in to Italy against the will of the Italian people.

If you remember the horrible earthquake that decimated the villages around Amatricia, in the mountains east of Rome in 2015, you would also remember how the world responded by sending millions of dollars to help those affected.

But there is a law in Italy that prevents private donations to charitable Italian organizations. All money and donations received must be turned over to a government agency, who in turn is to appropriate the funds as needed. But that agency is corrupt just as are all the others.Most of the money never reached a single victim in the mountains. The Renzi government redirected the vast majority of those funds to pay for the growing immigrant and refugee costs.

As the economy worsened under the burden of illegal immigration, compounded by gross government spending and incompetence, unemployment rose quickly…especially among young people. The unemployment rate for men and women under age 35 is close to 40%.

So more money was diverted from the health care system and used to pay what is known here as guaranteed income. Whether you work or not you are paid here, especially if you belong to the PD! The government simply raises taxes on those who do work

.Let me give you a quick example of the height of insanity to which Italian taxation has risen.

If you live in a building that has a balcony or balconies…and any of those balconies cast a shadow on the ground, you must pay a public shadow tax! I will say no more!

The point I am trying to make here is that not only did the Chinese bring the virus to Italy (and the rest of the world) it was far-Left politics and policies that facilitated it.

This should hopefully be a warning to Americans that while they work to rid themselves of the China Virus, they should just as vehemently endeavor to rid their government of any politician that circumvents the Constitution and ignores the laws of the land…plain and simple.

Giacomino Nicolazzo  is one of Italy’s most beloved writers.  Born and raised in Central Pennsylvania, he lives in a small village in Lombardy where he writes his books.

[frappucinhoe]

hey!! u said u take requests and i was wondering if u could do one focusing on souda stimming?? or just little asd quirks haha idk i just really like that you write him with asd as i never see that so anything like that id be happy to see if youd like to write it!! thank u!!

Absolutely! This is such a cute prompt, thank you! I hope this is okay, I had this plot kicking around in my head a little bit anyway. I feel like this one’s like… half baked and I feel a little bad that it’s not great, but for some reason I’ve been struggling to put pen to paper recently. This is also available on AO3

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968895

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Exams always wiped both Souda and Gundham out- and they often spent more time apart than together during them. Hope’s Peak High School’s exams were long, public displays of your talent, and it was quite nervewracking. It was much simpler for Souda, as his skill was provable within a few moments by taking apart and repiecing an engine. Gundham had to show off his most perfect animals and convey to the panel why his animals were so good. They weren’t exactly experts, so “I’ve never once had a case of Wet Tail among my hamsters” really meant nothing to them. He really hat

Gundham needed space and time to be with his animals at a time like this, so Souda thoroughly appreciated the time he did get to spend with his boyfriend. Like now, they were sat in the dormitory’s study lounge, pouring over papers and schematics. They were sitting in comfortable silence, but he was strangely anxious and uncomfortable. When he’d asked Gundham if they could hang out, he kind of just wanted to lay down with the other and destress. He was a little bit touch starved, worried about the exams for both himself and Gundham, and worried about a thousand other things all at once (as per usual.)

Because he hadn’t thought they would be studying, he hadn’t really brought any of his things. Usually he had things on him to stop restless hands- dice, a worry stone, small model planes to disassemble and reassemble. He had at one point had one of those spinners that were so popular, but the others poked fun at him for it quite a bit, so he kept that one put away, not trying to make his self-percieved deficiencies any more obvious. He didn’t have anything on him this time, though, and his mind was racing at a million miles an hour. Everything was just too much. The papers, the constant scratch of Gundham’s pencil on paper, the tag of his t-shirt felt like a razorblade on the back of his neck, and Gundham’s barely-there presence that made him feel like he needed to stay silent and unobtrusive. His thoughts started getting the better of him, pelting him with insults as he fought to keep still.

A study date? He doesn’t like me anymore, I knew it. God this exam is driving me nuts. I don’t need to study I know how to build a fucking rocket from car parts. I’ve done it before. He wouldn’t even hold my hand in the hallway today. He’s just waiting until after exams to leave me. Oh god oh god oh god oh god

Unconciously, he brought his hand up to his mouth and began chewing at his nails, which were already basically stumps. Gundham glanced up at him from across the small table and frowned.

“Stop.” He said, simply.

“Stop what?” Souda asked, cocking his head.

“Chewing your nails. Stop it, it’s not good for you. It’s gross. ”

Great. Now he’s mad at me.

Truth be told, it was one of Gundham’s pet peeves to watch (and hear) somebody chew on their nails. It was gross and obnoxious- it didn’t occur to him why Souda may be doing it, though. While he had been given a vague idea of his boyfriends’ diagnoses, he was unsure of their effects. He didn’t want to read up on anything and view anything the other did as a symptom and not just a part of Souda’s behavior- in fact he found many of the other’s quirks endearing.

Just not chewing on his nails.

“Oh.” Souda replied, wiping his hand off on his jumpsuit and then putting his hands on the table, twiddling his thumbs for a moment before picking up a pencil. He began tapping it on the table, feeling minutely satisfied with the way the eraser bounced off the table. After a few moments of that, Gundham looked up once again.

“Beloved One, if you must insist on making noise, can you go somewhere else, I’m trying to focus.”

Souda put the pencil down, slouching, trying to hide his frown. He started scrunching his fist rapidly instead, occupying his other hand with his head as he started looking over the papers in front of him again. He picked up a pen to make a note, and immediately began clicking the pen tip incessantly, searching for something to calm his mind.

Gundham snatched the pen from his boyfriend’s fingers, clenching his teeth with irritation. Souda straightened up, looking at the other with wide, almost terrified eyes. He started crying very quickly after.

Gundham, not noticing that the other had started crying, snapped on him.

“I have requested, politely, that you stop. Can you please, for my sake, quiet down or leave. I am here because you requested my presence and you-”

“I’m sorry!” Souda cried out, cutting the other off as he sniffled and tried to stifle his tears. He was equal parts angry and absolutely terrified that he’d upset Gundham. “I’m sorry, I- I- I- I’m not trying to bother you I just feel so burnt out and I don’t want to look at pa- papers and schematics any more! I just want-wanted to-” he stopped, taking in a shaky breath. “- hang out and n-not think about these fucking exams! I’m sorry- I gotta go, I don’t- I didn’t wanna upset you!” he got up and left in a hurry, leaving his papers.

Gundham watched, immediately feeling bad that he had snapped like that- he was just irritated, beyond stressed about exams. He didn’t want to immediately follow the other, he was clearly upset. He took his time packing his and Souda’s belongings before traipsing out into the hallway, moving quickly toward’s Souda’s room. He was stopped dead in his tracks by one of Souda’s best friends, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu. The two were unlikely friends, but often went out drinking together or cracked jokes together during class, and it made Gundham happy that he wasn’t the only one sticking his neck out for Souda. The only issue was that Fuyuhiko tended to be a tad bit overprotective of his friends.

“What the fuck did you do?” The gangster asked, crossing his arms.

“It appears I have upset my Dark Prince, and I wish to go apologize to him. Do you take issue with this, Short One?”

“I take issue with you makin’ my friend cry, yeah.” Fuyuhiko said, glaring daggers up at Gundham.  He had just caught Souda hastily leaving the study lounge, covering his eyes with his hat and going into his room, slamming the door.

“It was not intentional. ” Gundham said, growing upset that Fuyuhiko would accuse him of hurting Souda on purpose. “I simply grew irritated with his incessant fidgeting. I did not know he would react so poorly.”

Fuyuhiko’s face grew angry rather quickly.

“Incessant fidgeting? it’s self stimulation, you fuckin’ moron.” Fuyuhiko faltered for a moment, failing to find the right words to lay into the other with, angry beyond belief. “So you ignore him for pretty much a whole week, and then when he finally gets your attention, you yell at him for something he can’t control? Why, you fuckin’ idiot, I oughtta fuckin-”

“You oughtta do nothing. My relationship is not any of your business.”

“Like fuck it isn’t! Do you not realize you’re practically his whole world? I am constantly getting my phone blown up with him absolutely racking his brain, overanalyzing every single little thing you do making sure he’s still good enough for you, that he isn’t overbearing, that he isn’t being a nuisance to you. I get that that’s how he is, he’s more skittish than a fuckin’ housecat, but it doesn’t help when you attack him for the few things that make him feel better.”

Gundham took in a stabilizing breath, getting dressed down in public was not something he enjoyed, and if it weren’t for the prefects and auditors absolutely crawling campus, he’d sic his Zodiac Generals on Fuyuhiko immediately. He also thought that maybe attacking Souda’s friends wasn’t a great way to get into their good graces. He and Fuyuhiko didn’t hate eachother, sure, but they certainly didn’t see eye to eye.

“I must be going.” Gundham said, making a sharp about face and beginning to move towards the dorm rooms once more. He felt his arm grabbed, and ripped away from the grip, turning around to face the culrpit.

“If you hurt Kazuichi, if you so much as make him feel bad for one second over something as simple as trying to keep calm, I swear to god, Tanaka, you won’t hear the end of it. Just because you pretend you aren’t human doesn’t mean you can act like human emotion is something below you.”

Gundham nodded, taking his leave. Fuyuhiko was a little bit (okay, maybe a bit over-the-top) protective of his friends. Gundham couldn’t blame him, but he was left fuming by even the suggestion that he was a bad boyfriend over one small altercation. He cared about Souda, he really did. He was just stressed, and upset, and maybe not as educated as he could be on the minutia of his boyfriend’s mental health. He also grew sad, knowing that Souda was so anxious about his presence around Gundham- he absolutely adored the mechanic, and very rarely did he truly bother him. If he wanted to be alone, he made that clear, but otherwise he was very much open to and excited seeing his boyfriend. If he didn’t want to be with Souda, he wouldn’t be, and he couldn’t think of many things that the other could do to change that how much he adored him.

He grabbed his keys and went to just enter the room, but decided instead to knock. It was met with no reply, so he knocked again, this time to announce that he was coming in anyway. He had a good idea of what he was gonna see when he entered, and he was right.  Souda was on the ground, bare feet, headphones in, working on a rubik’s cube like his life depended on it. A few different things were set out in front of him, all things Gundham had seen the other playing with on occasion but hadn’t thought much of.  Gundham had seen this before too, though, when the other was inordnately stressed out. The absolute unbreakable focus, the loud music, doing absolutely anything but the actual work he had to do. Souda was remarkable in his ability to focus, to just absolutely dial in on things and tune the whole world out when he was interested in them. Gundham was actually jealous, he often found his mind drifting as he carried out the tasks his animals required each day.

Gundham approached, and still wasn’t noticed by the other, who was clearly intently focused. He pursed his lips and squatted down so he was at eye level with the other, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. Souda jumped, yelping quite loudly and throwing the cube on accident, watching with wide eyes and a pounding heart as it shattered into 26 individual pieces. He blinked a few times, taking his headphones out carefully.

“I’m… so sorry. I did not mean to startle you.”

Souda just stared for a moment, brows knitted together. He was clearly struggling to shift his focus. Gundham gave about a minute of silence before speaking again, trying to allow the other a moment to calm down. He truly hadn’t meant to startle the other, it was clear that the mechanic didn’t expect that he’d be followed back to his room.

“I apologize, my Dark Consort. You did not deserve my wrath. You were simply-”

“Don’t. Save it. I know, it’s irritating, okay? It bothers me too. I’ve been hearing it all my life. Stop clicking the pen, stop bouncing your leg, stop chewing your nails, stop making weird noises, Hey, Souda, aren’t you a little old to be playin’ with toys? Oh, hey, Kazuichi, your stimming makes other people uncomfortable! I get it, sorry, I was doing it because I was uncomfortable, but I’ll stop. I’m sorry.”

Gundham frowned. He adjusted himself so he was no longer squatting, but sitting on the ground as well. He vowed never to be the person who made Kazuichi feel so bad ever again, and here he was. Bitter memories of quarrels with the other flooded back up with the guilt and he bit down mard on the inside of his lip, searching for the right words to say. There was a long pause. He could hear the music coming from Souda’s headphones which now sat on the ground, a quiet bassy buzzing.

“I understand it is something that you cannot help, and-”

“No. That’s where you’re wrong. I can help it. I can just shut down! It’s that easy. Can’t let your thoughts burn a hole in your mind if your mind is on vacation.”

Gundham sighed, he had clearly really hurt Souda’s feelings when he hadn’t intended to. He just wasn’t the best with feelings, and to be honest, with Souda it was a minefield. He insisted more than once that ‘hey, if I’m ever bugging you, just let me know’, but then as soon as Gundham said something he exploded? It seemed unfair, but in hindsight, bouncing a pencil on the table was harmless, and

“Forgive me, my Dark Prince, for I love you so much and it was not my intention to make you self concious or feel…” he paused, unsure of how to procede. “…less than.”

Souda crossed his arms, half-pouting.

“You did though, but it’s fine. Stop apologizing. I know I’m crazy, okay? I know I’m annoying and quite frankly you shouldn’t have to put up with it.”

There was a long silence, again, where they both just sat there.

As he watched the pout fade from Souda’s face, Gundham scooted closer to the other and wrapped his arms around Souda. Tense muscles became loose immediately, and he knew he had the other within reach again.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, reiterating. “I don’t think you’re different, or stupid, or crazy. I hesitate to think you are anything but absolutely incredible. Your mind is amazing, and l adore you.”

“I-

"And I want you to know that you need not keep secrets. You very seldom are an unwelcome presence. If you are not occupying the room I am in, you are certainly occupying my mind.” Gundham finished. Souda let out a long sigh. He brought his hands up, playing gently with the bandages that covered Gundham’s arm.

“English, please?” He asked, his mind still racing, struggling a little bit to parse the other’s ridiculous, drawn out language.

Gundham hesitated for a moment, watching the hands idly play along his bandages. It occured to him that Souda often did that- running his fingers through Gundham’s hair, playing with the pins on his coatsleeve- it had never occured to him that it may be more than just a simple show of affection.

“You are very much wanted, and you are most certainly more than good enough.” Gundham said, hoping he got his point across well enough. Souda smiled and hid his face in the other’s coat, his face red.

“I’m s-” he started, the words muffled.

“Do not apologize. You did nothing wrong, My Love. Why don’t we take a brief hiatus from our studies?”

Souda pulled his face free from the smothering wool of Gundham’s thick coat and smiled, “I’d like that. A lot.” he replied.