#dismemberment? fabulous

[scaryscarecrows]

Lil bit of an unusual ask 🤭 but like..riding jason while kissing his pretty lips <333 sorry Jason!!!!

Y'know that niggling feeling of 'what did I forget?'

I've had it for a few months and I now remember! I had a pinned post asking people not to send me these, but I got rid of it when the US decided I should have fewer rights than a corpse. :/ Anyways, find your joy, but, uh, I can't help you here.

[riordanverserpdatabase]

A GLORIOUS DEATH TO YOU, USERS!! (we do not really wish death upon you of course) WE ARE VERY EXCITED TO BRING YOU THE MUCH ANTICIPATED (by mod Dean) ASK MEME OF THE WEEK!! ENJOY!!

ꎭꉓꁅꍏ ꆰꀎꂦ꓄ꍟꌗ ꍏꌗꀘ ꎭꍟꎭꍟ

(Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard Quotes Ask Meme)

"I hate this plan." (P1) said. "Let's do it."

"Even if we can't change the big picture, our choices can alter the details. That's how we rebel against destiny."

"Etiquette tip: If you're looking for the right time to leave a party, when the host yells, "No one leaves here alive," That's your cue."

"(P2)." (P1) said. "Shhh," (P2) said. "I'm incognito. Call me... (P2)." "I'm not sure that's how incognito works, but okay." (P1) (P2), aka (P2) climbed into the chair (P1) had reserved for (P3)

"(P2) likes to be noticed. (He)'s not exactly lowkey."

"They're not dead." (P1) told (P2). "They both have pulses." "Oh." (P2) sighed. "Well, give them a few more hours and they'll probably be dead." "What's wrong with you?" (P1) "Everything." said (P2)

"At this point, most people would have thrown themselves down on the ground and given up hope. And by most people, I mean me."

"You're a strange person.' (P1) "I prefer the term fabulously weird." (P2)

"Should I get you a shovel, so you can dig that hole deeper?"

"I'm pretty good at multitasking, so I figured I could flee in terror and argue at the same time."

"Where's the gold?" (P1) demanded. "Don't make me unleash my sword's playlist."

"I told my new friends I was allergic to dismemberment. They just laughed and herded me towards the combat arena. This is why I don't like making new friends."

"Blades before babes, you know what I'm saying?"

[fandomanimatic-tournament]

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 1 Side B Round 2

Christmas Kids - Roar

"You'll change your name or change your mind And leave this fucked up place behind But I'll know, I'll know"

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

"Hold still, my sweet I'm trying to measure the space between Your molar and your jaw This caliper No cause for fear, no, it, it doesn't hurt It only helps me measure How much skin you have"

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

"Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love, and war But I can't fight with you anymore This will be the death of me"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

Christmas Kids - Roar

Propaganda:

ohhhh there are MANY animatics to this song. owl house, dhmis, the magnus archives, and many, MANY oc animatics.

Animatics with the song:

The Owl House

Chainsaw Man

YHS/Tokyo Soul

Don't hug me I'm Scared

Generation Loss

Ever After High

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

Propaganda:

It’s sexy and menacing

Animatics with the song:

The Magnus Archives

The Arcana

The Sun and Moon Show

Hermit Archives

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Propaganda:

The angst these animatics contain is fabulous.

AAAAAAA it is always in my headphones

Animatics with the song:

Double Life

Tangled the animated Series

Last Life

The School For Good and Evil Dovesso Animatic

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

[reno-the-himbo-turk]

UPDATE

FAQ about mun

Mun is 25+ trans male. He him pronouns please. This blog is pretty self explanatory its a ask and rp blog for Reno there will be gratuitous NSFW content as that’s what Reno is all about.

Now as for…… HEY CAN IT ITS ALL ABOUT ME THE MIGHTY RENO. ALL YOU LOOSERS NEED TO KNOW IS ITS NOTHING PERSONAL BITCH BUT IM TOOO FABULOUS. https://reno-the-himbo-turk.tumblr.com/Reno-au https://reno-the-himbo-turk.tumblr.com/xtra-au-ifno (These are the two pages I have devoted to my AU information please click and read if you want to explore more) Rules, and limits are down below feel free to click and read

DNI: I refuse incest*, dismemberment, anything to do with bathroom control or bodily fluids (obviously things like blood and jizz are the exceptions), forced shipping, and rape* anything with an asterixis unless it is heavily discussed and planned out for the plot is a no. Also I figured this was self explanatory but after someone has continued to use my ask box as well as pm's GODMODDING. If you do not know what this is "taking control of another player's character during roleplay". Incest: If you have a twin’s and want a two on one with Reno provided both twins are the same gender thats fine (think twins from Ouran High School Host club) I draw the line at different gender twins for reasons I will highlight in a moment. Rape: I am NOT OKAY with using Rape as a plot without discussing it first. If you wish to have it be a characters back story or have them recall it as a trauma that is one thing but I do not condone rape of any kind without it being heavily discussed before hand as a trauma or backstory, NOTHING MORE. Mun is a survivor of childhood SA/rape from a family member that went from when they were 3 until 14/15ish. As such I am willing to use this as a backstory element but I would prefer it to be planned accordingly. Blocks/Bans/no longer wanting to rp. Look you want to rp I appreciate that. Don’t wanna I appreciate that as well. Feel free to reach out and be like “hey I don’t like blank I’d like to stop our rp.” Or “I need a pause.” I will wait around for ever. Don’t like me then ask me to unfollow or block me. Replies: If I have not replied within a 2 or 3 days at max please feel free to DM I am autistic and between the stresses of life and everything else namely work sometimes replies get eaten by tumblr and I don’t see them.

[bluebyrd-bookreviews]

Watching the "shockumentary" makes the whole thing feel even more surreal

Yeah, Party Monster is just about horrible people being fucking horrible

I do completely understand the complaint about how the documentary focuses on Micheal and builds up his mythos while not touching too heavily on the story of the very real victim of Angel (even just five more minutes talking with his brother about their back story would have been fabulous), but I can't help but be fascinated by how on earth these people got themselves to this place and it blows my mind how casually all of them talk about the very real murder and dismemberment that their friend committed of someone that they knew.

Micheal's mom is particularly egregious, saying on camera that she has a fucking suicide pact with her son if prison life gets to hard for him. Also, she was one of the first people to know that he killed someone and made no effort to tell the police about what he did. What the fuck is wrong with you Elke?!?! I get that he's your son and you are allowed to love him, but the lack of reflection over his actions and how much pain he has caused in absolutely abhorrent

I wouldn't highly recommend this documentary, but it is an interesting watch especially if you are interested in the club kid scene in the 80s and are down to watch the most insufferable people on earth talk themselves up for 57 minutes

[shieldagentburr]

I had the VP of HR as my sign-up buddy today and it's kind of sad how happy I was to ask her stupid questions lol.

[mandalora]

Feeling some kind of way after the first two kenobi episodes and putting out a list of things I loved and general observations because I forever cry over Hayden and Ewan not getting their proper recognition at the time of the prequels so I want to do my part in spreADING POSITIVITY FOR ONCE

SPOILERS:

The opening order 66 scene was harrowing, thank you. The choreography there was so good. I wanted that jedi to be my mom. Rip jedi mom

Obi-wan is absolutely miserable on his sad meat conveyor belt and I couldn’t have asked for anything else

I would die for the eopie

Obi-wan lives in a fucking cave. What a miserable dude I’m crying I love him I’m so depressed

The special effects on his little porridge thing reminded me of the inflatable bread from TFA and that’s always a win. We should all be more like the inflatable bread from TFA

Obi-wan having literal prequel flashback dreams tO THIS DAY, TEN YEARS LATER,

SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

I swear to god if we don’t see him communing with Qui-gon I’ll riot

Obi-wan leaving presents and treats for Luke is so fucking precious and Owen bringing it back is the sheerest of pain

“I KiLL vErMin oN My FaRm”

Ah finally some dismemberment

LEIA. BABY LEIA. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS

it’s been so long since we’ve seen live action scenery that isn’t sand dunes and seedy limestone towns; Alderaan is such a breath of fresh air, I’m so happy to see it

Special mention to Breha and Bail for being fabulous and beautiful. And of course Bail is the real mvp dad

Obi-wan refusing to go after Leia for so long is just [clenches fist] so frustrating and so good and so pain. What a sad man

Lola better get fucking fixed or I’ll fuckebwnebekrjrkdkfk

Obi-wan keeping both his and Anakin’s lightsabers in a neat little box side by side.

Obi-wan giving credits to the old clone despite how much it probably hurts.

The girl selling drugs made me sad

The Jedi scam artist is honestly such a good concept and gives me mad KotOR vibes for some reason. Also - Kumail Nanjiani?! [beyonce?????.jpg] And Obi-wan being Done all throughout their conversation is so good

The gosh darn meth lab…………… ben broke bad

One thing star wars never fails to deliver on is beating obi-wan up

LEIA WHACKING HIM WITH A CHAIR…………

“Your father sent me” “WHERE’S THE ARMY”

“You’re kinda old and beat up” girl that’s the whole point

Leia is amazing and so is her and Obi-wan’s banter

Always good to see infighting between imps :’)

The new inquisitor lady that the grand inq brought on to replace the third sister is gorgeous and I would like more of her, thank you

“[Lola]’s hurt” “GOOD.” Obi pls

That’s so in character though it’s hilarious. The fact that he visibly feels bad immediately after saying it but doesn’t apologize and just changes the subject asjskskfkfjf

“Inquisiting people”

Obi-wan having to strain to use the Force…..he really hasn’t used it in years……he really felt That Shitty for it to have gotten so far out of reach…………….I am in pain

I was starting to get the impression that the Grand Inquisitor doesn’t want them to catch Obi-wan for a reason, but then he went and got run through. Either he somehow gets back up later, or this isn’t the same guy from Rebels after all 🤔

The ten- or twenty-odd-second close up on Ewan’s face when the sister says Anakin is alive. The micro expressions. The subtlest of changes between said micro expressions. The sheer trauma in his eyes. Jesus

Him trying to get his shit together later on the train and absolutely f a i l i n g

A n a k i n

The entirety of this was pure agony and I couldn’t be more grateful

[alderaphid]

New Hire (Glamrock Freddy/reader): Chapter 5

Rating: Teen

Summary: A promotion comes with new responsibilities... and new problems. Karens are, unfortunately,  universal.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

6409 words

---

Being promoted to a new position at the Pizzaplex meant one thing was sure to happen again.

Training.

With the switch over came new responsibilities and rules as well as a boatload of NDAs - and of course, the dreaded training videos.

At least those ended up being somewhat enjoyable (and not as god-awfully long). They were vintage; a relic of times long since past. With handlers simply not being a thing for so long, there had been no reason to make cutsy little videos with Helpy the bear outlining how to perform basic animatronic inspections alongside warning of dismemberment and bodily harm. Instead a man with a tired, if slightly eccentric, voice went over the details of what a handler would do while on the clock with ancient images of the old pizzerias. There was enough emphasis on the harm and lawsuits that would follow for trying to take a peek under the costumes that you couldn’t help but give a chuckle. This had to be exaggerated to some extent - then you thought about the missing children and their gruesome fates. That wiped the smile off your face really quick.

But again, the videos were quick. Just under two hours of watching and you were then made to descend into the sublevels to enter Parts and Services where you were to be trained on simple maintenance.

The same mechanic that had helped you with Freddy was waiting for you alongside an energetic, familiar face.

“Hello friend!” Chica exclaimed, waving with both hands and hopping on one foot as you entered the wide open room.

“Hey Chica!” you replied with the same enthusiasm, walking forward and lacing fingers. She shook your hands back and forth excitedly.

“I’m so happy that you got that promotion! You’re going to do fabulous!”

“Eheh, thanks.” you replied, face heating up at her compliment. She blinked happily and then backed up as the mechanic coughed.

“Alright you two, we should get down to business.” they gestured to a work bench made of steel and Chica nodded, walking over to stand beside it.

“I’ll be the lab rat! Or is lab chicken more appropriate?” she pondered aloud as she tapped the bench, creating a metallic clang that reverberated around the chamber.

“It’s time for my diagnostic check and you’ll be performing it!”

You balked at her nonchalance.

“Oh, I don’t want to hurt you.” you said. She giggled, a bubbly high-pitched sound.

“That why the mech’ is here! They know what they’re doing and they’ll show you the ropes!”

You looked to the mechanic, who nodded. You swallowed hard and Chica winked.

“I trust you.”

“Okay. How do I start?” you asked the mechanic.

“We ask the animatronics to show us all their articulation. That’s the most non-invasive way to see if there’s a problem.”

“Okay…” you stared at Chica, who stared back, completely still with an intense stare fixed on you. You cleared your throat.

“Can you, uh, articulate all your joints?” the words felt weird in your mouth, but Chica responded instantly in such a way that startled you some.

“Of course!” she leaned on the workbench and lifted one leg, turning it side to side and bending her knee ninety degrees before rotating her ankle in a full circle, then doing so with her other leg. Standing up straight she turned at the waist and then rolled her neck and shoulders, bending he elbows and rolling her wrists before finally flexing her fingers.

“Did you notice how the movements were smooth, without pause or stuttering?” the mechanic asked. You nodded.

“That’s a sign that most everything is running as it should. If there were pauses in articulation or even a complete freeze when rotating, its likely a hardware issue with the endoskeleton. If there’s stuttering, then it’s likely a software issue or disconnected wires.”

The mechanic drew closer to both you and Chica, tugging on a pair of gloves that came from their tool belt.

“I’m going to open up Chica’s shell now. Each animatronic has buttons located at different points on their body that allow removal of their outer components. They need a hard press, so there’s no way to accidentally set them off.”

The mechanic gestured to different parts of Chica’s body.

“Monty’s chest release is located here. Roxann’es is here, Freddy’s is here.” they mimicked pressing buttons at Chica’s shoulders, back of the neck, and her arms.

“Chica’s are located right here.” The mechanic then placed either hand just under where her armpits would be. With a click, the mechanic pulled the pink shell of Chica’s front off, setting it on the bench beside her.

Inside was a dark gray steel endoskeleton surrounded by colorful wires and small buttons, a handful of switches. You felt your stomach squirm at the sight, even despite it not being gory in the slightest. And yet you were fascinated, leaning forward to take it all in.

“Here is where Chica keeps storing the garbage she eats.” the mechanic explained, pointing at a medium sized cavity just around where her lungs would be.

“Hey!” Chica exclaimed, making the best pout she could at the mechanic.

“What? What do you call the contents of a trash can then?” they asked, deadpan. She blinked at them, then mumbled,

“Snacks…”

“Right. Moving on.” The mechanic rolled their eyes.

“The inner working of our animatronics are possibly the greatest achievement of the company. While the software is immensely complex, the hardware is quite simple and organized in color codes. This means that the software is stabilized by straightforward mechanics. If the hardware was any more difficult to manage, the animatronics would hardly be able to move without encountering problems.”

You nodded along to the mechanics lecture, absorbing maybe thirty percent of the information as the mechanic pointed at and prodded wires and buttons. Movement or voicebox problems were usually due to loose or uncoated wires, while behavioral or technical problems were due to the switches and buttons being pressed or flicked in the opposite direction.

After the demonstration, the mechanic finally replaced Chica’s shell, which she brushed off with her hands in a sort of soothing motion. You had the idea that seeing her own skeleton was a bit uncomfortable, and you couldn’t blame her for feeling relieved that it was over.

“Now, verbal commands are something that the technicians have been messing around with since the handler position had been suggested.” the mechanic stripped their gloves off and stuffed them into a pocket of their tool belt, “ These are person specific - each animatronic must be able to see the face of the person issuing the command, which will then be validated or not before responding. It’s a quick reaction, though, microseconds if I remember.”

“Yeah?” you said. The mechanic nodded and then handed you a slip of paper.

“Here’s a list of commands that are currently active. Try each one out.”

You looked to Chica, tilting your head. She clasped her hands together.

“Don’t worry, your employee profile has already been verified! Just try them out!”

“Okay…” you unfolded the piece of paper.

The list was short and honestly a lot of sense. Each phrase had to be uttered after the word ‘ protocol’ and was straightforward in how it affected the animatronic.

Halt made Chica completely freeze for a few seconds, hands opening wide. That seemed to be in place to interrupt movement.

Diagnose made her slump a little, eyelids half-closing. She responded when you asked her if she was okay, and the mechanic explained that it enabled a more passive state to properly evaluate her condition.

Red alert made her jump right back up, pupils shining with a bright white LED. Her face was blank, completely void of the microexpressions you were used to. Her eyes bounced between the mechanic and you before scanning the room.

“You should say the next one.” the mechanic whispered, gaining the attention of Chica who stared dead-eyed at them.

All clear made the light wink away from Chica’s eyes, and she blinked a few times before gasping.

“Well, that was a little weird!” she chirped, giggling.

“What happened there?” you asked. The mechanic opened their mouth, but Chica cut them off.

“You activated my security programming instantly.”

“Yeah-” the mechanic jumped in.

“The technicians decided that the manual switch could be upgraded with voice activation. It’s for emergencies.”

“Emergencies like what? Chica’s a performer, wouldn’t the S.T.A.F.F bots be the security?”

What could the main animatronics do with security - how could there be a benefit to giving their most expensive robots free roam and retrieval?

The answer came to you a second before the mechanic answered.

“Missing kids.”

“Ah.”

-

Your training was pretty much done after that visit to Parts and Services. There wasn’t much else to teach you - the job was essentially glorified robot babysitting. A ‘99% boredom and 1% panic’ type of deal with a splash of child herding. Your presence in private party rooms warranted a special note on the website as well, which felt a little weird. You would obviously be in uniform, it wasn’t like you were a random guest slipping into places you weren’t supposed to be…

The new job had your security clearance move up four levels, from level Two to level Six. You could enter plenty of places you couldn’t before to allow you to move quicker from one place to another. As it turns out, you were going to be running all over the Pizzaplex facilitating interactions for the four main performers. There wasn’t a real plan in mind other than allowing you to go to the sublevels and other mostly deserted places to avoid the crowds that would otherwise slow you down.

Woof.

But hey, the pay. And the uniform wasn’t that bad either, especially since it was free. Cheap cotton pants were replaced by sturdy black jeans with a little blue star embroidered on the left scoop pocket. The shirt was nearly the same (though that had been good quality in the first place), but instead of a short sleeve pull over it was a long sleeve button up, and instead of stripes it was mainly one solid color. The shirt was a dark plum purple with a pen pocket and bright red sleeve caps. A black patch had been sewn onto the right sleeve with white letters that proclaimed you a ‘Pizzaplex Handler’ alongside a goofy design of Freddy’s face, also highlighted in white thread. Your shoes and cap stayed the same as there was no reason to change them.

The timing of your shifts had changed as well. As much as the company would have liked keeping you there from open to close, that was simply impossible. Instead, they narrowed the hours that parties could book one of the four main animatronics and put your shift exactly to those hours. This meant, of course, that bookings were now tightly packed within your shift and would make everything harder. You had the fleeting thought of asking for a segway like the guy in Mall Cop - but you knew the company would adamantly refuse that request. You had legs, didn’t you?

So, suited up in your brand spanking new uniform and a card reel for your security clearance badge, you walked onto your first shift.

It wasn’t as bad as you imagined it to be.

You were still exhausted, of course. Bouncing from one side of the Pizzaplex to the other like you were in a pinball machine was hell on your legs and feet - you basically wobbled your way to your car and collapsed in the seat - but it could have been way worse.

There had been over a dozen parties you needed to supervise, feeling strange and out of place with your unique uniform and garnering suspicious looks from the parents of the kids. The kids themselves didn’t mind your presence, quickly accepting your role as you made comments and suggestions as to how they interacted and touched whomever you were watching over. Monty seemed to be the most grateful for your helping hand, being much more calmer than you had seen in any kid-involved party participation. His tail was a pretty good indicator of his mood, though you assumed he had no idea, looking at you with a relieved sneer as you directed touchy kids to back off (in much nicer terms).

Roxanne was a bit harder to read, both soaking up attention and then quickly snubbing kids in nearly the same breath. In all honesty she acted more like a cat than a wolf - though you would never utter that in front of her if you wanted to stay intact. You were still trying to figure out her own indicators but you were getting pretty close. Not a single kid cried while you were there, which was a huge success in your books.

Chica was probably the easiest to supervise at parties. She was cheerful and patient, giving hugs freely and accepting as many pictures as the parents wanted. She did try to snatch a slice of pizza out of a kids hands, but you were quick to pick the kid up and away, making a cheeky joke about her being hungry that the kids laughed at.

Then there was Freddy.

There was no problems with him at all; quite honestly he was better than Chica. He chatted and joked with kids, giving piggy back rides and allowing the kids to use him as a playground without issue. He was calm, he was kind, he was patient - that was the matter of contention. Standing so close for so long and helping to herd the kids had the two of you brushing arms or hands, tingles left in their wake. He apologized each time, and you accepted it with a hushed voice, painfully aware of how your heart wrenched and how he could most definitely see your heart rate increase.

But all in all it was fine. Little to no problems like the ones that had been reported for the past couple of weeks. Of Monty and Roxanne breaking things, of Roxanne and Chica making kids cry (for being rash and stealing food, respectively) and you were proud of the fact that it was likely no complaints were going to be filed marked with today’s date.

 This job was going to be easier than you thought.

-

Your Fazwatch pinged ten minutes before each party starring an animatronic was to occur. That meant it was pinging every. Twenty. Minutes.

You wished you could mute it, but adjusting the notification settings did nothing. Something was set up in your timetable to make it beep out a cheery tune that grated against your ear drums.

Like what was happening right now. Chica was chattering excitedly at a kid, graciously accepting their drawing as others looked on, fingers in their nose or some sort of food in their hand, waiting their turn to get a hug or give her their drawing. You already had a few in your hand when your watch jingled the tune that you would likely be hearing in your nightmares.

You fought the urge to rip the stupid thing off your wrist and smash it against the table and instead smoothed a hand down your neck. The current kid stepped aside for the one behind him to step forward. They had a few fries in their hand, snacking on them. You watched as Chica’s eyes widened slightly before she leaned right down.

“Oh hello there!” she chirped, speaking to the kid with all her attention zeroed in on the food in their hand. Uh oh.

“Hey all!” you called out, catching the attention of the room.

“Chica’s gotta head out now to practice her guitar!”

As you said this you put a hand on her shoulder and applied a bit of pressure, the animatronic standing up and out of range of chomping on the fries with a disappointed expression.

The kids all cried out in defiance but you stayed firm, aware of the seconds ticking away from your next appearance.

“If you stay around she’ll be playing a show soon! You can see her again then!”

You motioned for her to follow you, which she did with a little huff.

“She was offering those fries to me!” Chica argued as soon as the door to the room had closed.

“No, she was eating them. Totally different.”

Chica grumbled, and you glanced at your Fazwatch to see where you were supposed to appear next.

Roxy Raceway. Great. That was almost exactly opposite of where you currently were.

“So do you wanna come listen to me practice?” Chica asked.

“I have places a person can sit, and I think the nail polish on my vanity are real-”

You cut her off with an apologetic expression.

“Sorry Chica, I gotta skedaddle right now. The Raceway is my next stop. Maybe another time?”

“Okayyyy. “She sighed, crossing her arms, “Another time then. But I’ll keep you to that!”

You laughed and gave her a wave before jogging away, weaving around a few guests before stepping into a merchandise shop and slipping into the backroom, heading down the dim hallway.

You emerged from the side door in the Raceway to a huge group of kids and parents milling around and causing the regular amount of chaos. There had to be at least twenty kids in the party, and guessing by their excited chatter this was the party that you were supposed to supervise.

As you tried to catch your breath from the rush to get to the Raceway, one of the parents spotted you and immediately deemed you as smaller than an ant.

“Um, excuse me? Excuse me!”

You raised both eyebrows as a short woman with a shorter haircut stomped her way over to you.

“Where is that robot? I paid a lot of good money for the racer party package and we haven’t seen a second of it since coming in. My baby has been waiting so patiently to see it!”

You blinked hard at her superior tone.

“Well, it looks like she’s in a race right now.” you replied, pointing at one of the monitors embedded in the wall that swapped between a few cameras that overlooked the racetrack, showing a current race where about ten go carts were zipping around the track. Roxanne was in the lead, expertly performing tight corners and drifting like she was made with wheels in her feet.

You weren't sure how the parent had completely missed this. The entrance to the racetrack was about fifteen feet away and there was clearly racing music and the sound of engines revving pumping out of it.

“Well, I don’t see why there’s a race going on right now, I paid to have the race track for an hour! Alone!” she punctuated her words with jabs of her finger. You were quickly coming to terms with the idea of being stuck with her for that entire hour, and suppressed the urge to sigh.

“I’m sorry. If there’s a race right now, it means that they paid to use the track as well. It’s obviously a scheduling issue and entirely on the company.”

The mom sniffed.

“You’re damn right it’s on the company. I have no idea why my baby likes this place anyway, it’s noisy and full of greasy, horrible food.”

You silently agreed but made no move to let her know.

“The current race should be done soon. As soon as that happens I’ll make sure your group has a full sixty minutes on the track. Again, I’m sorry.”

The lady ‘humph’-ed and then turned away, stomping back over to the group to relay the news. The kids seemed relatively indifferent, messing with the steering wheels on the wall, and you sucked in air through your teeth while making your way to the S.T.A.F.F bots manning the counter.

“Hey there.” you pulled your badge up from your hip to let the bots scan it.

“Is a birthday party currently scheduled for the Raceway?”

“Yes.” one of the bots responded automatically.

“Can you extend their time an extra fifteen minutes, from sixty to seventy-five minutes?” you asked. The one you were talking to nodded stiffly.

“Are you authorizing the time change?”

“Yes.”

The bot then made a few beeping noises.

“Time for the party has been extended.”

“Thanks.” it was likely much more time than they needed for the current race to end, but it wouldn’t hurt to let them know of your generosity.

Of course, when you went to tell the mom, she simply replied,

“Well, it was the least you could do!”

Great.

It was only another minute before the racers exited, a bunch of tweens no older than fourteen talking excitedly amongst each other and carefully avoiding the group alongside the mom, who gave them all a sour stink eye.

The birthday party quickly erupted into cheers as Roxanne exited the track, flicking some of her hair over her shoulder. Her tail swished from side to side at the kids excitement.

“Well hey there pups, you ready for some rockin’ motor mayhem?”

A chorus of yes-es made her trademark smirk flash across her face. She placed a hand on her hip and beckoned to the group with the other.

“Well come on then!” Roxanne began to turn away, trusting the kids to follow.

“Hold on!” a shrill voice screeched, stopping the gaggle of kids from rampaging into the raceway. Roxanne froze as well, before making a slow, deliberate turn to face the same mom you were having trouble with.

“Yes?” Roxanne asked, short and clipped.

“I want pictures before they all go racing! I paid for it!”

Roxanne’s eyes flickered to you, showing blatant dislike, and you grimaced but nodded.

“Fine.”

She made her way over to the group, pausing for a second as the mom directed her to the wall, staring into the mom’s eyes for an uncomfortable second before complying. The mom then began belting orders to the kids who, frankly, looked bored as they lined up for a group shot, then smaller group photos of five or so kids.

Somewhere around the twentieth photo the trouble mom noticed you were still hanging around. She lowered her digital camera and made a face at you.

“Don’t you have work somewhere else to do?” she snapped. You bit back a nasty, vitriolic reply, but before you could filter it into something nicer Roxy responded for you.

“This is their job.” the wolf said, still holding a kid at her hip.

“They’re my handler to make sure everything goes smoothly. It’s stated on their uniform. Do you need glasses or something?”

Roxanne’s icy words coated the area with tension, even the kids didn’t dare breath as the animatronic tilted her head at the mom, who for once had no snotty reply.

“I think you’ve gotten enough pictures.” Roxanne set the child she was holding back on their feet before crowing,

“Come on kids! Race time! Adults can sit in the stands!”

She pointed at the entrance to the racetrack and the kids all ran happily into the safety area as Roxanne herself slid up to you, lacing her arm in yours.

“You get track time too, handler.” she said, looking down at you while not-so-subtly shielding you from the poisonous look of the trouble mom while leading you into the safety area.

“Ha, thanks Rox- um, but I can sit in the stands.” far away from the trio of parents who were now giving you bad looks.

“No can-do hun, you’re racing and that’s it. Don’t argue!” she tapped her finger on your mouth, interrupting you from opening your mouth to indeed argue like she said. You frowned instead as she unlaced her arm and then grabbed a helmet from the rack, weaving around the mess of kids as they argued over colors and sizes.

Roxanne had selected you a green one, and you accepted it with a huff.

“Don’t act so glum, it’s bad luck for a race.”

“Is it?” you couldn’t help but snark, a smile coming over your face as Roxanne shrugged.

“I dunno, probably! Come on now, the bot’s almost done rambling.”

There was indeed a S.T.A.F.F bot explaining the rules of the racetrack on an elevated stage in the corner that you had missed. If it was any consolation, the kids didn’t seem to be listening either. As soon as the bot was done its spiel the service door began coiling upward, allowing you, Roxanne, and the group of kids to properly enter the racetrack.

You had never been inside before. The ceiling was curved, a concave orange ceiling with purple structural supports. A bright green line of light ran along the length of the room. On either end the walls sported huge murals of Roxanne standing in a sort of desert, mesa formations in the distance while she held two checkered flags in her outstretched hands, wearing a red leather jacket and black shades.

The racetrack itself was full of twists and turns, elevated to at least twenty feet in the air at its highest point. The elevated track had stripes of purple lights along with bumper guards to stop kids from tumbling off.

The carts were in standard formation on the racetrack, each parked at a white line and staggered. The birthday kid beelined to the cart at the front, and everyone else started squabbling over which carts they wanted.

You didn’t have a preference, deciding to wait on the last cart. You could see the stands just past the racetrack and the parents were sitting with a handful of randoms, all three together in a tight line. You looked away, feeling awkward for being the only adult on the track.

“Ah ah kid! Sorry but that’s my car.”

You turned to watch as Roxy plucked a kid up out of the green cart at the end, setting him on the ground before climbing in.

“Why do you get it?” he complained.

“Because it’s my racetrack.”

You jumped in before the kid could get the idea to cry.

“You can take this one!” you pointed at the cart just next to Roxannes.

“It’s the same color and everything!”

The kid pouted but did as you said, climbing in and buckling up. You shot a look at Roxanne who rolled her eyes. You mouthed ‘be nice’ at her, which she pretended to not see, checking on her nails.

Jeez, how fickle could she be?

You brushed it off and hopped into an orange go cart; the steering wheel stuck out of a rectangular shape that forced your legs into different sections, each with a pedal you could press on. The steering wheel sat somewhere around your belly button, the plastic seat needing to be pushed back some to hold your adult body. Front, back, and side bumpers protected the body and rubber tires. Two cross belts had to be clicked into place before the on button lit up, allowing you to turn on your cart.

You had the fleeting thought that you should have made sure that all the kids were buckled properly - why wasn’t there anyone there to do that? - but it was quickly dashed by a disembodied voice speaking overhead. Funny enough, it was the same one that announced performances on the Main Stage.

Roxy Raceway recruits, ready your engines!

You heard revving all around you, and carefully tested your own pedals. The left one did nothing, but when you touched the right pedal your own engine growled. Oh wow.

On your marks!

You’d probably be great at this. You already drove on a daily basis, and it wasn’t so different, right?

Ready… Set… Go!

An honest-to-god airhorn sound wailed through the arena, and you smashed your foot on the gas.

The tires squealed as your cart jumped forward, sputtering from your harsh pressure. You eased up immediately, gulping as carts grumbled behind you. As the first corner came up, you turned your wheel, then turned and turned and-

You had let up on the gas while turning, going even slower than before. The three carts behind caught up and passed you, Roxanne being the first to zip ahead with a loud, brash cackle. Wh- she passed you on the right! That was a mean maneuver!

Yeah, no, this was nothing like driving. The controls were floaty and the carts needed slow acceleration or they’d shudder like they were in an earthquake. You were quite embarrassed by both being dead last and by how difficult it was to get around - each corner the momentum made you slow down unconsciously, each straight away making your cart shudder from the speed and quick acceleration. You were actually looped by a few of the kids including the birthday girl, who was pretty good at go carting, before finally getting it somewhat.

Halfway through your second loop, the next person to pass you was Roxanne.

She was leaning way forward, spinning her wheel like a roulette wheel and expertly drifting around the corner, disappearing from view with a wavering chuckle. Whoa, she was even better. It made sense though; she drove this track every day, sometimes several times a day. She knew it like the back of her hand.

You decided that racing kids after being shown that you sucked at go carting was a lost cause. Instead you continued to practice, setting aside your ego to imitate Roxanne. Leaning forward, keeping your palm to the wheel and turning with that pressure, fish tailing in the straight aways.

Time passed so quickly that it felt as if you had only been racing for ten minutes before the fast-paced music that was pumping through the speakers was cut off.

Last circuit! Make it count!

You were most likely way, way behind everyone else, but you still furrowed your brow in concentration, using all the tricks you had garnered to speed up, no longer fearing the inertia of the corners but instead laughing at the fuzzy feeling.

You slowed down and stopped at the designated white line, unbuckling yourself and hopping out of the cart, breathing heavy as you took the helmet off and shook your head from side to side.

“Wow…” you whispered to yourself, tucking the helmet under an arm and using your other hand to fix your hair, which was definitely suffering from being stuck under the helmet. You heard the chatter around you disappear, but you were still stuck in reliving the moments.

“Hey pup, enjoy the race?”

The voice made you jump and you turned, smiling, to face Roxanne.

“Did I? That was incredible, I’d never go carted before and just- wow, the inertia around corners was so fun! No wonder you like racing!”

“For sure, Roxanne chuckled, “So what score didja get?”

You scoffed.

“Is a negative number possible?

“Eh, win some lose some.” the wolf tipped her hands side to side, “Except for me. I always win.”

“You got first place?” you asked as the two of you began walking back into the gear room, absent of the birthday party group.

“Of course I did!” Roxanne bragged, rolling her head as she placed a hand on her hip, ears wiggling.

“That kid was good, but not good enough to beat me! Gotta spend more time at the track if she wants to even have a chance at that.”

“Now now.” you chastened her, setting your helmet back on the rack.

“Being competitive is fine, but no one likes a braggart.”

“Says last place.”

“And I own it! I’m humble!” you rolled your eyes and playfully poked her arm.

“Have a slice of humble pie sometime!”

Roxanne huffed and gave you a look, to which you poked your tongue out at her. She couldn't help but laugh.

“Okay okay, I’ll stop.” she replied.

“Good!” you looked to your watch, fighting a nostril flare as it conveniently beeped right in your face, alerting you to the fact that another party needed your attendance, again at the opposite end of the Pizzaplex. Whomever was allowing this needed a smack.

You wanted a quick exit, so you gave a quick goodbye to Roxanne and left her in the gear room to tidy the helmets as you fast walked out the exit, intending to slip back through the employee side door.

Unfortunately for you, you were quickly accosted by a seething parent.

“You!” the mom who had been making trouble for you all this time stepped right in your path, blocking your exit and making you nearly skid to a stop. She jabbed one of her fingers right in your face, making you flinch.

“How DARE you let that stupid machine beat my daughter! She’s been bawling her eyes out for coming in second! I should have you know that she is a go cart CHAMPION and has never lost a race until now! You need to control that DOG and put it in it’s place! My daughter DOES NOT deserve this kind of treatment! We are

Each sentence only seemed to embolden her, her voice rising to a pitch that only dogs could hear as she screamed in your face. You were leaned back, frozen in shock and letting her keep fueling herself. She started insulting you and the company personally, calling you ‘lazy’ and ‘incompetent’ while threatening to start a review tanking campaign on Facebook as her kid howled behind her, being comforted by the other two parents.

“I have NEVER experienced this kind of LOUSY and HATEFUL customer service! I want the name and number of your manager right now to report you for a horrific experience! I will never be coming here again, do you understand me!?”

As the mom paused to take a breath, puffing up to continue her tirade, a clanking sound came from behind you.

“EXCUSE ME?”

Roxanne shouted so loud that it shocked the kid so much they stopped crying, the mom stopping mid sentence. You looked to see her stalk up beside you, absolutely towering over the mother, who seemed to shrink under the utter look of hatred Roxanne held.

“YOUR BRAT LOST FAIR AND SQUARE. THERE IS NOTHING YOU OR YOUR ENTOURAGE CAN DO TO CHANGE THAT.”

Her hand dropped to your shoulder in a harsh thud, which you again flinched at. Roxanne’s gaze snapped to you, eyes softening to make sure you were okay before zeroing back in on the mom.

“You will not be leaving a bad review. You will not organize a review tank. In fact, you won’t be doing much of anything here anymore.” She spoke firmly, shortly, each word full of venom.

Security S.T.A.F.F bots seemed to come out of no where, surrounding the group of kids and parents, who gasped and then chattered nervously. The trouble mom seemed to shrink even lower.

“Hope you really, really meant it when you said you’d never come back, because you just earned both you and all those snot nosed brats a long term ban from the Pizzaplex.”

Roxanne made a sharp movement with her free hand, which made the security bots starting speaking out of unison, directing the group out of the Raceway and to the nearest exit.

“Now get. OUT.” Roxanne snarled, lunging forward and snapping her jaw at the mom. With a shriek the woman turned on her heel and waddled as quick as she could to her entourage, who were then whisked out of sight.

“Need a hug pup?” now that the mom was gone, Roxanne’s voice quieted down from a thunderous boom to something a touch lower than her regular volume. You shook your head, then nodded, turning into her arms as a sob escaped your lips.

Roxanne shushed you, patting your back as you pressed your forehead to her shell, hands covering your face as tears fell from your lashes.

You had been yelled at before. Had customers give you nasty looks and clipped answers. But this was the first time someone had concentrated all their anger onto you like you were a burden the entire world had to deal with. Like you were the source of al their problems, ever. You had enough of amind to think about reprimanding Roxanne for snapping her jaws at a guest, but not enough to actually do it.

Then you heard something that had a sob catch in your throat.

“Is something wrong? Who is crying?”

Oh good lord. Of course this would happen.

You heard Freddy’s hard footsteps come up, a small sound leaving his voice box as he identified you.

“Angry guest.” Roxanne explained, pausing her patting of your back.

“If you saw a group being escorted out, that’s them.”

“I see.”

You grit your teeth, sighing, which was picked up by Roxanne.

“You good now?” she asked, releasing your shoulders. You nodded, brushing away stray tears with your fingers, smearing wetness off your cheeks.

“I have to go.” your voice was small, low to avoid cracking. Your hand kept at your lower eyelid as you turned some, rubbing at your lower lashes, trying to scoot around Roxanne and avoid Freddy’s searching eyes.

But of course he still probably saw your puffy eyes and tearstained face, still as he was, giving you a wide berth.

You ignored the urge to look back at the two animatronics as you scanned your card and slipped into the back hallway, covering your face again as the door slid shut, bathing you in darkness.

What a mess. And now you had only a handful of minutes to calm down and get your butt to the birthday party.

You tried breathing evenly as you walked to the party room, hoping you just looked tired as you arrived no more than a minute late.

As you facilitated the interaction between Monty and the kids, you were surprised by him offering you a napkin in a quiet moment. He said nothing, turning back to receive a fist bump from a kid hopped up on FizzyFaz, but you felt the kindness as you retreated to the trashcan to blow your nose and discard it. Someone must have communicated to him over the network, and for that you were glad. It made the rest of your shift a little easier.

[tolcnsky]

“Red is such a lovely color on you”

This ~fabulous~ drawing of my X-Men OC, Blood Diamond was inspired by listening to this song* a bunch and wanting to draw her in a glitzy burlesque costume.

Mia is a sweetheart and would never torture anyone, but if she did you can bet she’d make it a production number. Literally.

*Cw: violence, blood, dismemberment, etc.

[kiranatrix]

❝ everything is poetry when you’re drunk. ❞ for BLight if you're still doing this 🌸

(Well shit. I realized I wrote this for B/L AFTER I posted it LMAO— sorry Ika I’ll write you another one but maybe you can dig this too)

L sorted through the mail that Watari had placed on his desk, tossing aside most of it without opening any of the envelopes. He was of the general mindset that you sent a damn email if you expected someone to read it. Paper mail was a relic, cumbersome and hardly secure. 

He paused as he came across a singular black envelope that looked more like it belonged in a pre-teen’s locker than in a detective’s inbox. Cartoonish gel-penned hearts had been doodled alongside grisly explosions and charming dismemberments, surrounding messy script that read, “DON’T READ UNLESS YOU ARE DRUNK! I MEAN IT!!!!” 

L muttered under his breath, “What in the fuck is this...” He thought he sensed an odor from the paper and sniffed it-- it smelled sweet and...fruity? He sighed and pressed the call button for Watari. “Watari, what is up with this weird letter in the mail?” He flipped it over but there was no address, only more scribbles of pink hearts and bloody daggers. At the very bottom of the other side read, “TO THE WORLD’S GREATEST DETECTIVE (OF MY HEART).” Oh great....

“Weird letter, sir?” Watari’s voice sounded tired over the intercom. “Hmm, I thought I checked everything but I was a bit distracted getting the mail this morning.”

“Distracted? Why?” L zeroed in on a cutely-drawn scene of some buzzards circling a spiky-haired stick-figure corpse. He didn’t have to wonder who the figure was since the figure had a shirt on that plainly said ‘L.’ Definitely Beyond.

“Because someone lit a bag of dog poo on fire on the front steps! Ugh. A childish prank and wasn’t very pleasant to clean up.”

“I see.” L snorted, because that hadn’t been just a prank, it was a distraction to keep Watari from checking the mail too closely today. “Alright, nevermind. I already know who sent it anyway.” He lifted his finger from the intercom button and turned back to the letter. What the hell, why not.... 

For all Beyond’s rantings about wanting L dead since they broke up, L knew better. Although it was hard to admit, he’d missed Beyond too. Life seemed less colorful, more boring and predictable without him. But L was stubborn and he wouldn’t take Beyond back until he apologized. There were certainly no apologies anywhere on the envelope.

He ripped open the envelope and made a face when a large puff of glitter spilled out all over his desk, muttering, “Beyond I’m going to strangle you...” He grit his teeth and took out the paper within in pinched fingers, holding it up to read.

“YOU BETTER BE DRUNK!!”

L rolled his eyes because Beyond knew he rarely drank and certainly wasn’t going to be blitzed at 10 am in the morning when the mail came. He kept reading:

“Lethargic heart, you beat too slow-- less like a pulse than as a tide.

Predicted waves that lap my shore and pull in all you want to know.

The sand cannot withstand the waves, its muddy words are flung to sea,

to spice you with adrenaline and drift inside for all your days.”

After that, there were only lots and lots of black ink scribbles, becoming more chaotic until only the tiniest bit of page was left in the corner. There, minutely, was (barely legibly) written, ‘I’m sorry L.’

L snorted and put the letter down, sighing as he surveyed his much more prismatic and fabulous desk, thanks to the glitter. “You bastard.” He picked up the phone and dialed Beyond’s number, a little smile on his face. “You complete dumbass.” His smile widened as Beyond picked up on the first ring.

From this meme

[yespolkadotkitty]

New Traditions, pt 2/2

Part I here

This fic has been written with the ever fabulous @hopelessromanticspoonie​ A week later, most of the party planning had been done. For a bunch of legit superheroes, the residents of Stark Tower hadn’t been that much help.

Take for example, the cake. You were gonna push for chocolate, because everyone loved chocolate. A classic. But every-fucking-one was an expert.

Steve: “Those sure are a lotta e-numbers. Do they have those on Asgard?”

Tony: “You can’t beat pecan pie, Spoons. It’s the best. That’s all I’m saying. It’s a clear winner.” It was not, in fact, all he would say, by an awful long way.

Natasha: “I was too busy being trained to kill in my childhood for cake. Although if I had to choose now, I would definitely want lots of frosting.”

Bruce: “Baking is a science. You can’t rush it. You’ve got to make sure you have all the right ingredients first.” Which wasn’t exactly an opinion on what kind of cake to make, and he also didn’t help you run to the store.

Thor: “At what point do we sacrifice the animal?” You were pretty sure he was joking, but you also didn’t stick around to find out, rolling your eyes as you set off for the next Avenger.

Stephen Strange: “As a medical doctor, I can’t really condone cake. Bad for the arteries.” You would note later that this opinion didn’t stop him mainlining three slices.

Clint was the most helpful. As a Dad, he’d made - ”If by make, you mean mixed the contents of a box with eggs and oil, then yeah, sure, I’ve made a cake a bunch of times” - lots of birthday cakes. He agreed with you on chocolate. Simple, sugary, birthday perfection. “And balloons. You gotta have balloons at a party.”

So today was the day. You had filled the conference room with balloons. You’d baked a three tier cake - chocolate and loaded down with fresh buttercream frosting. You’d instructed everyone to be nice to Loki all day, or else you’d enact revenge. And you were the best IT tech Tony had, so he, and they, all knew you were smart enough to hack into their private laptops and expose whatever dirty secrets they might have. 

Although you really didn’t want to do that. Who knew what kind of porn superheroes were in to.

You changed into a sleek red party dress sprinkled with embroidered stars as the lift pinged loudly outside the conference room. You’d tasked Thor (and Jane, because she was the sensible one) with keeping Loki busy and distracted while you prepped the room. Nat and Clint had helped you hang banners and balloons. You’d tried to do it yourself, but Nat had threatened you with “actual dismemberment” if you stood on a chair. You really liked her, on the days when you weren’t terrified of her.

Thor appeared in the doorway, leading a blindfolded Loki. The birthday boy wore a white shirt, open at the neck, and jeans that hugged his lean hips and thighs. Just looking at him made your hormones sit up and your breath catch in your throat.

“Must I be blind for this birthday business?” he drawled to his brother.

“This is fun for the Midgardians!” Thor boomed. “Let your love do this for you, brother. Jane is always trying to surprise me.”

You glanced at Jane. The petite scientist rolled her eyes. “Well, I would surprise him, if he wasn’t like a kid at Christmas with everything. He’s so excited that I always end up giving in early.”

Thor cast her a look of pure adoration and you couldn’t help but grin.

Behind you, Clint lit the candles on the tower of chocolate as Thor steered Loki towards the cake.

“Three, two, one,” you counted down, then moved forward to stand before Loki.

“Ah, kitten.” He lowered his voice so his next, intimate words could only be heard by you. “I would know your scent anywhere.”

You smiled and brushed a chaste kiss on his lips. “Happy Birthday.” The blindfold was silky to the touch as you reached up to it. You reminded yourself to keep it for re-use another time. When you two were alone.

His eyes locked onto yours when they were revealed, full of adoration as he swiped the blindfold from your hands to tuck into his back pocket. He captured your lips in a deep, thorough kiss that stole your breath, his hands splaying across your back to hold you to him. You melted into him, your arms twining around his neck so your fingers could tangle in his sleek raven hair. Throats cleared around you, pulling you from the bliss of his lips on yours, and you tugged on his hair, pulling away with your cheeks flaming.

“Blow out the candles or get a room, Romeo!”

Loki cut a quick glare at Tony, shifting so that you were tucked against his side underneath his arm. Just as he was about to lean in, you patted your hand on his chest urgently, stopping him.

“Before you blow out the candles you have to make a wish! Birthday rules! And, you can’t tell us what it is.”

His brow furrowed, deep in thought as he looked down at you. So many emotions flickered through his gaze in that brief moment that you couldn’t pinpoint just one. He pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, inhaling deeply before turning and blowing out the candles on your culinary masterpiece.

It was a bit chaotic after that, the party goers swarming to grab a slice of the cake. Somehow, you and Loki both ended up with a glass of champagne in one hand and a plate of cake in the other. People spread out, congregating in small groups about the conference room and spilling out into the recreation room just outside the door. The faint sound of music could be heard in the lulls of conversations, ranging from thumping club music with bass that rattled your eardrums to lilting classical music that smoothed over the crowd. You guessed everyone was taking their turn at playing DJ. Honestly, sometimes it was like living with a bunch of overgrown teenagers.

Loki was off, talking to Dr. Strange. You caught a snippet of “Excuse me? No, you may not have my enchanted cloak as a birthday gift-” when you stepped outside for a breath of fresh air and a moment of peace. You had spent all day working hard to get the party ready for him, and your back was letting you know in no uncertain terms that you would be paying for it tomorrow. With a heavy sigh, you leaned against the sleek metal railing, staring out at the glittering New York City skyline. The never-ending din of the busy city couldn’t reach you up here, just the view of a community that never slept.

“Loki was wondering where you ran off to.”

You glanced over your shoulder, smiling softly at Jane. “He’ll find me soon enough. How’re you doing?”

She propped her elbows up on the railing, shivering slightly from the cool metal against her bare arms. The moonlight caught on the curling ends of her tumbled chocolate brown hair.  “Fine. I’m glad Thor convinced me to step back from work and come. It’s nice to see him and Loki getting along. Well, at least better than they used to.”

“They have thousands of years of history between them. I can’t imagine what that does to a relationship, how you manage that.”

Jane frowned, clasping her hands in front of her. “It’s weird, isn’t it? Dating a being that is, for all intents and purposes, immortal? At least compared to our lifespans? I just can’t fathom it, some days. In fact, any day,” she laughed.

You shifted to face her, cold seeping into your hip from where it was leaned against the railing, offering some relief to your aching body. “It is so weird. And can I be honest?”

Jane’s dark eyes darted around the balcony, reaffirming that the two of you were alone. “Of course.”

You blew a deep breath through your mouth, your cheeks inflated. “It just… It hurts my heart knowing that they’re going to have to watch us die. Loki always talks like I’m ‘it’ for him.”

An unreadable expression passed over Jane’s face, and she opened her mouth to reply when the doors to the balcony opened, Loki and Thor strolling through them to a backdrop of deep bass. They were nothing alike in appearance, one long and lean the other broad and golden, but they carried themselves with the same pride and strength. If nothing else, the matching smiles on their faces as they took in their partners spoke of their kinship. 

Loki’s arms wound around your waist. You caught Thor leading Jane back inside around his arm, the brunette genius dwarfed by the blond god.

“You are absolutely frozen, kitten. Come inside,” Loki beckoned you, tugging you into the warmth of his body, scented with spice and leather.

“Just a few minutes longer. It’s nice out here, peaceful. And I’ve got my champagne jacket on.”

He couldn’t deny you anything, and you both knew it. He rubbed his large hands over your arms, infusing some of his heat into your skin. His mouth anchored itself to the crown of your head, and you felt his smile against you. “As long as we can go inside soon. I would like one more piece of your delectable cake, and I vow I have never seen someone so small as Parker eat so much.”

You laughed, nuzzling your forehead into the hollow of his neck, staring out into the city that didn’t know, nor care, of the quiet moment you shared just then. “He’s a growing boy! That’s why I secreted away another cake in my apartment, just for us to share.”

“Oh, how I love you,” he replied, affection suffusing his low voice. “Thank you, for hosting this celebration in my honor. Aesir celebrations are ever entire family affairs, and so all this… for me - I find it...” A blush crept up his neck and it was just adorable. “Overwhelming.”

Your arms wrapped around his slender torso, squeezing him tightly to you. “And this is just for the first of many, for at least a little while. So get used to it, mister.”

You just barely caught the sadness at the edge of his gaze when he lifted your chin to him, but you didn’t have the chance to question him about it, as any and all thought was driven from your mind with light nip of his teeth on your bottom lip. For an old man, he sure could kiss, you thought, chuckling internally.

“Kitten.” Loki drew back and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “When we return home, I have a gift for you.”

You swatted him playfully. “Nuh uh. It’s your party.”

“Perhaps you will humour me?” he teased, holding you close.

The prosecco had clearly wound its way through your veins, because you stage whispered, “Is the gift your impressive dick?”

Loki laughed out loud. “You have either imbibed too much Midgardian alcohol or not enough. Let us remedy this. We shall talk of gifts in the morning.”

You let him lead you back inside to the cheering and laughing of the Avengers and their gathered friends. As you stepped through the doors, Steve started up a “Happy Birthday to you” chorus and you blinked back a tear as not a single person abstained. Today, at least, Loki would remember feeling special. Wanted. And so very loved.

Permanent taglist: @myoxisbroken​ @lotus-eyedindiangoddess​ @polireader​ @wiczer​ @just-the-hiddles​ @vodka-and-some-sass​ @brokenthelovely​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @amarisyousei​ 

Please comment to be tagged in either author’s permanent tags OR in an As You Are story.

[margauxolivier]

&&. word has it ( margaux olivier ) was just spotted around the city. ( she ) is a ( 25 ) year old affiliated with ( the corsican mafia ). it’s been said that ( she ) resembles ( emily ratajkowski ). ( she ) has been said to be ( artful & captivating ) but also quite ( cruel & domineering ). ( she ) is currently serving as ( both an heiress and socialite).

( Hi guys! I’m Jay and this is Margaux my sour cherry, my vicious little Veruca Salt. I’m super excited for you all to get to know her and plot with you all! Below the cut you’ll find her bio. Please mind the trigger warnings! )

                                                                  ♟une.

( margaux ) would describe ( herself ) as a ( summer ) person and would identify as a ( entj/lawful neutral ). ( her ) birthday is ( february 6th ), making ( his/her/their ) star sign ( aquarius ) and ( her ) animal sign the ( cat ). ( her ) biggest pet peeve is ( incompetence ), and ( her ) theme song is ( fuck with myself by banks ). finally, ( her ) primary goal is to ( promote the interests of the corsican mafia ).

                                                                 ♟deux.

She was born a girl of secrets and half truths; of sickeningly cruel games and gruesome punishments. It is in adulthood that men become monsters, but Margaux has always been a beast of prey patiently waiting to devour supple flesh. She was born cold, calculating, patient. Like a snake’s threatening rattle, a bell’s final warning, she was nothing if not  a bad omen. Perhaps it all began years ago in private school when Claudette Dubois mysteriously fell from the tower of the jungle gym during recess and sprained her ankle after being chosen for class leader. When questioned about the incident, Margaux only smiled and a flutter of sable lashes erased any and all suspicion that may have surrounded the young Olivier girl. Even then, She’d never been the type to make her desires known. No, the enemy must first suffer before ever hoping to peer into her desires. Of course, this ideology isn’t exactly self taught. Such putrid ideals had been whispered into the docile ears of this young girl since birth by both her mother and father. How could she not believe in them? She’s a fucking prodigy, her father would endlessly sing her praises at the dinner table as he crudely scraped her mother’s fine china with the blades of his silver fork. Aren’t all masters proud of their creations no matter how devious they turn out to be? Every victory claimed by her hand earned her a sleek and pretty smile from mother and an approving glance from father. Throughout her childhood, Margaux fashioned herself into the perfect mirror image of her mother’s sharp, regal beauty and her father’s quick wit and brutality. But what happens when a child claims the best pieces of their parents for themselves? They begin to look past them for power and they grow to resent them for all that they are not.

She’s known fabulous wealth and privilege her entire life; a small yet prominent debt owed to her mother’s everlasting trust fund and her loan shark father who had quite the penchant for frauds and finagling. Margaux has never been blind to the swindling and jugular slicing of her father’s career. His familial connection with the Olivier run mob was well known in her sixteen room chateau but was never spoken of outside of it. By the time Margaux’s designer heels stepped foot off the marble floors of the all-girls private boarding school in Switzerland that she quite literally dominated, she was prepared to sink both teeth and talons into the gritty world of the Corsican mafia that had bitten so many people back. Of course, her mother and father had other plans for their daughter’s future and none of them included  her being apart of the blood soaked and diamond hungry mafia. No, their princesse was meant to be just that: a princesse. Smart, beautiful, and cunning does not a mafia member make. No, in their eyes Margaux was destined for the ivy league where she would likely fall into the arms of some wealthy aristocrat that she could forever control. This is where she made her first mistake. Sometimes mommy and daddy do know best but how can a child who’s been raised like a young god be certain of what others think is right or wrong? So she charged in head first, a woman grown who’d honed her feminine wiles into a shiny blade of terror. High on the power, frightening in her intellect, and drunk on the international influence, Margaux forgot that even gods bleed from failure.

Her second mistake happened very early on in her brief trial period as a soldier. It was all so thrilling to her. She’d been an untouchable princesse both at home and with her brothers in the mafia. A girl of diamond wit and burning cruelty, she easily gained respect and earned her place among the ranks of the Corsican monsters (and of course, her last name and status didn’t hurt her chances for success). After being given nothing but small errands and minor debt collections, Margaux was finally tasked with a real job. Margaux was to meet Henri Baptiste, a man that the mafia had been keeping an eye on due to his outstanding debt. Ever the capable little harpy, Margaux accepted the challenge and met with the man on the balcony of his luxury suite in the 6th arrondissement. What should of been a game of wits where Margaux would have easily had Baptiste by the balls turned bloody when he revealed that he had no intention of repaying his debt to the mafia. Thinking that she knew best, Margaux quickly withdrew her gun and with frighteningly accurate precision, a golden bullet hit him square between the eyes (a skill that had taken her months to learn and perfect). With a swipe of the linen napkin against the apples of her cheeks, Margaux wiped the blood splatter from her face without even flinching, and exited Baptiste’s suite unseen.  Her father never revealed how he handled those who couldn’t pay their debts, but she had an idea. If they couldn’t be loyal in life, then they would be loyal in death. Well, that was the end of that. Or so she thought. Afterwards, Margaux had never felt more alive. Unfortunately, her arrogance blinded her to the mafia's the golden rule: your failure is your mess to clean up. The mission was never meant to end in death, but since it did and because it cost the mafia a great deal, Margaux’s punishment would be to discard the body.

She began with dismemberment, severing as many pieces of baptistes body as her stomach and senses would allow before sending the pounds of flesh through a wood chipper. After five hours and several pools of vomit, all that was left of the man was an empty suite and two garbage bags full of his remains ready for the incinerator. The image and the smell of his mutilated body was seared into the back of her mind; a reminder of the hefty price she paid to be where she was. Princesse, you knew this could happen. I warned you against joining them. Her mother sang the words sweetly, softly into her ears on the night of the bloody deed. It wasn’t the gore that disgusted her, but instead the failure. If she’d been smarter, quicker, or less arrogant, Baptiste would be alive, and she wouldn’t feel like such a fool. Her cousin’s mafia cleaned up the rest, and Margaux was sent back to her father’s chateau in shame like the spoiled little child she was. Going away to college never sounded better.

Shortly after her discharge from the mob, Margaux applied for universities in the states and was unsurprisingly accepted to Yale University on a full scholarship due to her impeccable grades (as if she even needed it). With the corsican mafia now spreading its influence in the upper east side of New York, Margaux was able to cement her new life in the states while residing in a luxury penthouse owned by her cousin Damien no less. After 4 short years, Margaux graduated Summa Cum Laude from Yale University with a degree in Political Science and had seemingly overcome the horrors of her failures back in France. The last four years of her university experience were spent perfecting herself once more, stealing every opportunity she could in order to win. But of course, she wasn’t done paying for the mistakes of her past quite yet. In an effort to build a bridge between the Corsican Mafia and the Russian Bratva, Margaux was to marry the second son of the Russian Mafia that had already been established in New York long before her kind ever stepped foot on American soil. The sting of being sold off like a prized cow to the spare son of the Russian Bratva felt like a knife in the back, but she accepted the proposal to show that she is still fiercely loyal to the mob that has always protected her and showed her what it means to fail. The Valentina spare, the little princeling is but an obstacle that can either be dealt with or overlooked. Surely, a woman of her status and intellect would be better suited to wed the Pakhan instead, but perhaps with a bit of work, the serpent can fashion a leader out of her fiancé. For now, she’s content with playing the role of the park avenue princesse and the pink-lipped heiress that floats across the floors at high profile galas and enchants the Americans with her French accent. She’ll be content… until she grows bored again. Because New York is boring. Because Dimitri is boring. Because without a secured place in the Corsican Mafia she is nothing but a bitter bitch with a taste for blood. Because the last time she ever truly felt alive was on that balcony in France.     

[summervanlife]

31 July

A nice cool morning and back onto cereal for breakfast. We had our very own picnic bench outside the can which made things nice and easy. Clare was the only one to shower - we have had quite few recently, so probably overkill. We drove a short way to Blois where there was a chateaux and castle but these were not our objective. We were heading the the Maison de la Magie. Clare had spotted a description in Lonely Planet which had us sold. We parked in the closest above ground spot and went wandering. The signs pointed us to an inconspicuous building at the end of a pedestrianised street. We found the entrance and were greeted by a lady telling us that the show started in 5mins. A show! We payed the entrance fee and descended into the depths of Maison de la Magie. The auditorium was almost full, the audience must have been upwards of 200 people on tiered seating. We were then treated to a thirty minute magic show. We were not allowed to take photos. The set was a small house with fireplace, bunk beds, desk, wardrobe and other paraphernalia. The two magicians, a lady and a man, took us through their day. Along the way various escape illusions, disappearing acts, dismemberment tricks and a huge amount more took place - it was brilliant! A great find by Clare and perfect timing. The Maison closed between 1230 - 1400. We only had time to look in one room before it closed. We had other stuff to do before returning later when it reopened. First - lunch! But before then we had a tip that every 30mins dragons appeared at the windows. We hung around for 5mins and sure enough, bang on 1230hr windows started opening. Then, one at a time, dragons poked their massive heads out of them, swirling and roaring at the crowd. Pretty surreal really. Eyes glowed and smoke came from their mouths. It lasted for about 5 minutes before they began retreating inside the building. Then a race to the patisserie before it closed for... lunch! After lunch we went to find the Mona Lisa. Not the real one of course - a better one. This one was painted onto the risers of a flight of stone steps. The height of the staircase was about 30 metres, so this was a large canvas! We found the top and looked down, nothing special to be seen from this angle. Looking back several metres from the bottom, however, a magnificent image of the Mona Lisa became apparent in perfect proportions. Then we took a stroll through the old-town streets, taking in some of the oldest buildings. Many had brilliant carvings incorporated into the woodwork. This led to the Cathedral which we did go in, but not for long (we've almost had our fill of cathedrals!) By the time we had put some more parking time on the car the Magic House was open again. Five floors of illusions, live magic shows and history of the magnificently clever Robert Houdin (the inspiration for Harry Houdini at a much later date). For the top floor we had to put on headwear. A band and head support fixed a mirror in front of ones eyes which reflected everything that was on the ceiling. Navigating by holding onto a rail we followed a simple but magnificently effective route, seemingly balancing on floating cards and avoiding the circular saw!! Weird but cool. Robert Houdin was no only a illusionist but also a horologist who made some acclaimed clocks. Jay loved this bit! With his grasp of mechanics and clockwork Houdin was able to create some of the first mechanical illusions. Of which, his magic table with secret compartments and moving apparatus allowed items to disappear or transmogrify, and the magic mechanical tree were some of the spectacles. A grand day out! At 1700hr the carpark meter was up and we still needed a pan-aux-chocolate and bread. Once again we raced against the clock. Then sat in the van and worked out how far to drive and where to stop. An hour later we pulled into the municipal campsite at Monthou-sur-Cher, played on the zip wire, had a game of doubles badminton on the tennis court and set up the slackline in our pitch - not bad all before dinner. After another fabulous curry dinner, Nia and Cian disappeared like Robert Houdin's assistant to the play park as Jay and Clare cleaned up. Jay fell off the slackline repeatedly and Clare planned some forward progress on the maps. Odometer at start of bets: 113973 Odometer at end of day: 114061 Total: 88

[fandomanimatic-tournament]

Fandom song animatic tournament: Bracket 1 Side B

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

"Hold still, my sweet I'm trying to measure the space between Your molar and your jaw This caliper No cause for fear, no, it, it doesn't hurt It only helps me measure How much skin you have"

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

"Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love, and war But I can't fight with you anymore This will be the death of me"

Remember that we're voting on how Iconic they are for ANIMATICS, not for the song itself. In order to make things fair, the tone and mood of the song should not affect how iconic it is (for example, a serious song should not be considered more iconic than a joke song just because it's serious)

Propaganda and animatic links of the songs under the cut:

The Dismemberment Song - Blue Kid

Propaganda:

It’s sexy and menacing

Animatics with the song:

The Magnus Archives

The Arcana

The Sun and Moon Show

Hermit Archives

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Propaganda:

The angst these animatics contain is fabulous.

AAAAAAA it is always in my headphones

Animatics with the song:

Double Life

Tangled the animated Series

Last Life

The School For Good and Evil Dovesso Animatic

Please be cautious and read the title, description and warning cards on the animatic videos if you decide to watch them. If you've got specific triggers I'd recommend even more caution when watching animatics of fandoms you don't know, since sometimes canon-typical themes don't get warnings.

Please keep in mind that I don't know all the media and fandoms of the animatics provided as examples and I don't have the time (nor the will) to research them all. Don't come into my notes or my ask box complaining about them being included, I will simply block you. If a ship animatic included is about an adult and a minor, do tell me and I'll take it out of the post

ALSO keep in mind that I don't know all the artists submitted; in fact, even if I do know them I do not know absolutely nothing about them as people (I do not have twitter nor tiktok) and I could not POSSIBLY have the time to research ALL of the artists' controversies and what came of them so PLEASE don't flood my inbox with the artists' entire crime list.

[reno-the-himbo-turk]

FAQ about mun

Sooo ughh its dawned on me I never did one of these. Mun is 25+ trans male. He him pronouns please. This blog is pretty self explanatory its a ask and rp blog for Reno there will be gratuitous NSFW content as that's what Reno is all about.

Now as for...... HEY CAN IT ITS ALL ABOUT ME THE MIGHTY RENO. ALL YOU LOOSERS NEED TO KNOW IS ITS NOTHING PERSONAL BITCH BUT IM TOOO FABULOUS.

Alright so It's dawned on me might be helpful if we had one of these. Muse: Reno (has no surname but if people want one I go for Sinclair normally as thats what the fandom uses but I am well aware thats not his name) Age: 20's Normally I put my Reno 21-25ish but that is open to debate. In most rp's though he will be 24 as I like him on the younger side in comparison to other Turks. Backstory: Unless we are setting up a specific AU Reno works for Shinra, he has Amnesia of his childhood until he was "taken in" by Shinra at age 14 after he killed several men and escaped from a burning warehouse in Wall Market. How did he end up in Wall Market as a Slum rat he only had one parent who sold him for drug/booze money. DNI: I refuse incest*, dismemberment, anything to do with bathroom control or bodily fluids (obviously things like blood and jizz are the exceptions), forced shipping, and rape* anything with an asterixis unless it is heavily discussed and planned out for the plot is a no. Incest: If you have a twin's and want a two on one with Reno provided both twins are the same gender thats fine (think twins from Ouran High School Host club) I draw the line at different gender twins for reasons I will highlight in a moment. Rape: I am NOT OKAY with using Rape as a plot without discussing it first. If you wish to have it be a characters back story or have them recall it as a trauma that is one thing but I do not condone rape of any kind without it being heavily discussed before hand as a trauma or backstory, NOTHING MORE. Mun is a survivor of childhood SA/rape from a family member that went from when they were 3 until 14/15ish. As such I am willing to use this as a backstory element but I would prefer it to be planned accordingly. Blocks/Bans/no longer wanting to rp. Look you want to rp I appreciate that. Don't wanna I appreciate that as well. Feel free to reach out and be like "hey I don't like blank I'd like to stop our rp." Or "I need a pause." I will wait around for ever. Don't like me then ask me to unfollow or block me. Replies: If I have not replied within a 2 or 3 days at max please feel free to DM I am autistic and between the stresses of life and everything else namely work sometimes replies get eaten by tumblr and I don't see them. Timezone: Central Daylight Time zone in (Redacted) (GMT-5)

Sooo ughh its dawned on me I never did one of these. Mun is 25+ trans male. He him pronouns please. This blog is pretty self explanatory its a ask and rp blog for Reno there will be gratuitous NSFW content as that's what Reno is all about.

Now as for...... HEY CAN IT ITS ALL ABOUT ME THE MIGHTY RENO. ALL YOU LOOSERS NEED TO KNOW IS ITS NOTHING PERSONAL BITCH BUT IM TOOO FABULOUS.

[andauril]

I would really like to learn more about your Percy Jackson ocs!

I currently have 3 Percy Jackson OCs and 2 for Magnus’ Chase (technically 3, but one of them is a cat xD). 

Benjamin Starling is a son of Demeter. He’s that awkward shy kid that got picked on in school for talking with flowers, and his self-esteem is somewhere down there in the cellar. He’s 15 years old, a vegetarian and needs to work on his self image because he needs to realise he’s greater than he thinks he is. When he was 12, he was nearly eaten by one of his fellow students who turned out to be a very hangry Laistrygonian giant. Luckily for him, he was picked up by a satyr while running for his dear life. Actually knows some things about greek mythology because he loved those stories as a child. 

Elizabeth Kim is a daughter of Nike. She’s Chinese-American and her father attracted her mothers attention bc he works as an arbiter for baseball. Don’t call her Elizabeth tho, she thinks the name makes her sound like a grandma. Most people call her Lizzie, unless they want to annoy her. She’s 16 years old, and because she got that Nike competetive streak, she got it into her head to master ALL the weapons. She won’t rest until she can beat every single child of Apollo with the bow. She tends to push people away not because she’s an awful person but because she comes off as pretty … uhm … intense, and scary. 

Cassandra Copeland is a daughter of Hephaestus. She’s a little punk who dies her hair purple and apparently can speak with computers because she absolutely got a knack for them, it’s eery. Her mother died in car crash when she was 8 and she was raised by her grandparents. Btw, she’s partly jewish on her mothers side. Cassie probably can outshoot the children of Apollo but she uses a celesital bronze repeating crossbow, not a bow. Definitely can make machines do her bidding just by talking with them. She’s 14 years old. Came to camp after being almost eaten by a harpy.

Alicia González is a daughter of Freya, and she has the absolutely awesome power of looking fabulous and talking to cats. She’s fairly snarky though most of the time and does not know she’s a demigod. At first, at least. She can see and talk with ghosts because Freya is a goddess of necromancy. She has a Norwegian Forest cat who follows her around everywhere. 

Duchess is Alicia’s cat and she is … well, a cat. But she talks. With Alicia. Because Alicia actually can speak cat. Duchess thinks humans are clumsy and hilarious and it’s a wonder that Alicia is still alive. But that’s probably because she’s here. Because Duchess got the very important task from Mama Freya herself that she has to protect Alicia. 

Dahlia Springleaf is an elfish einheirjar. She doesn’t have any divine heritage but she’s killer with a bow. She rarely talks at all because she doesn’t like talking, and when she talks, she speaks slowly and deliberately. Which is probably because she has chromestasia - she can see sounds as colours, especially the sounds of speech. She learned to play a dozen instruments since she died. She still thinks her coming to Valhalla is a mistake because it’s Aesir heaven and the lord of the elves is a Vanir, so why is she even here? Dying by dismemberment is her least favourite way of dying.