#guess who finally learned how to pin a post motherfuckers

[powerbottomsonic]

don't rock the boat

an interactive horror story by elliot degrassi

A women's crew team plagued with internal debate over who is allowed to row in their league finds themselves stalked by a river monster. 

cover art by @fruityhag

~~ 🚣‍♀️ ~~

hi all i truly never post original content on here (to the point that this is literally my first time using the new post editor... whew,,,,,) but i spent the last week writing this twine about team sports and transphobia and i'm really proud of it and hope people play <3 let me know what u think!!!

[lost-technology]

You Can't Outrun Your Past, No Matter How Hard You Try...

So, I got a DM from someone looking for an old fanfic of mine - or, they didn't know if I was the author, but were looking up stuff from the old Live Journal days and found me somehow - managed to connect my regular pename to my account here - well, I do mention it on my pin-post. They were looking for a particular old fanfic and I was all "Okay, that sounds vaguely familiar" but I couldn't find it. I googled the title mentioned and... promptly had a thousand-yard stare. I used to get up to some seriously fucked up shit in my early Trigun fandom days in the early 2000's. So, I had one of those experiences that fell into the annals of "this is why I do not do co-writing." It took a bad experience in the She-Ra and the Princesses of Power fandom to finally solidify that, but I really should have learned back then. I have had more bad experiences co-writing than good ones (although there is a Zelda fic I do not regret co-creating and a pretty good Super Smash short I did with someone I'm still friends with). Anyway, I did this fic back in the day with someone whom I eventually had a huge falling out with and hope to never see hide nor hair of again in my entire life - and, if possible, I'd like to continue that relationship of no-contact into the afterlife, should one exist. The falling out wasn't over this fic we created together, it was over a variety of other things that happened later and I can admit that there were two assholes in the equation, not just one - I was just as much of an asshole as my former friend. Anyway, indeed, I am the co-author of some fic that... people still talk about, I guess? titled "Dark Mirror." As I remember it - being that I erased its presence from the Internet as much as I could and no longer retain files (if I ever kept any, they were several computers and virus-attacks / hard drive reworkings ago), it was a WEIRD fic. I remember it being a take on the "Dark Vash" toy repaint. It involved Vash going evil, but not of his own choice. He basically got Plant-rabies. He got a fungal disease that was slowly killing him and eating his brain. He also found a somehow Survived!The!Big!Fall! Rem (coldsleep pods, baby)! who reunited with him, tried to help him find the cure and they fell in adult-style love. BLECK!!! WHY?! YOUNG SHADSIE, WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!!!! YOU WERE INSANE! (In my defense, I have figured out exactly what mental illness I had / have and have gotten medication and treatment, thank you). I also seem to recall that most of the idea - certainly the structure of the Plant-fungal disease (which was actually one of the cooler ideas in it) was courtesy of the person known as "MillyFan" (or as I'd like to call them today, the Motherfucker). I think Vash / Rem was their idea, too, but I can't be sure. It was entirely my fault for going along with it. Certain stupid cameos from other animes were my fault, I recall that. (I was trying to insert Haibane Renmei characters into the whole mess for some reason). I... feel like taking a shower now. I already took one today... Anyway, I have a lot more weirdness and "What was I thinking?!" stories that do actually still exist on my old fanfiction.net account if anyone is interested in those. I have one where Legato propositions Vash for sex in a dingy hotel (Vash runs away very quickly). I have one where a woman that Midvalley got pregnant confronts him and he preforms an abortion by saxophone. I have this one really annoying anti-Vashwood piece back when I was an annoying little shit about Vashwhood. I have one that I actually recently re-read in thinking I could transfer it to Ao3 that isn't so bad, but I was overdramatic and predictable about Vash getting a pet cat. (You know the cat is doomed from the start, right? Very "Does the Dog Die?" stuff. Blech). I really like to think that I have become... a much better writer than from my early days. Please stick to my Ao3 page to see anything that I think is actually halfway decent in this fandom.

[whiteheartlight]

felt like posting a random snippet of some of my longer writinggggg so here you are

.

He looks like Nikila and that, he thinks, is what he hates about him the most.

It's sort of cruel, really, because people say shit like “if you live long enough you will learn to see the same eyes in different people,” and he supposes he's lived so long now that he has to see this, the worst thing of all – some kind of cosmic replacement for his sister, his heart, his old friend. Because Nikila and Kopaka have the same eyes, somewhere beneath all the frost and anger Kopaka carries around. Kopaka has eyes just like her.

He guesses that's why they fight so much, although he's not really sure. In the moment, he always knows why he's screaming at him or sneering that he doesn't know what he's talking about while Pohatu watches on with an expression torn somewhere between confusion and irritation, and when Kopaka snaps back that he's a reckless fool it just heats up whatever is boiling in Lesovikk's stomach. But right now, just lying in their one beam of starlight, he doesn't know why he exploded on him the last time, or the time before that, or the time before that. They should be allies right now. But fuck, he hates that about him – hates those eyes looking at him.

Hates that he's so beautiful right now, asleep on the other side of the cell, quiet and exhausted, curled against the wall. His great white wings spread out behind him, the feathers torn and burned. Lesovikk gazes at him, mouth taut. She used to sleep like that. Ferocious all day and then cuddled up like a kid who never did anything wrong while she slept. She used to have bad dreams and shift closer to him. Just to him, never their brothers or sisters. Kopaka nightmares too these days. His face contorts with pain for a second, his pale mouth parting, and he calls out, just whispering: “Pohatu. Pohatu?”

Lesovikk sighs, sitting up again. At least Kopaka, when he is awake, has that comfort – the knowledge that he made sure Pohatu went home, even if the two of them ended up stuck here. Honestly, if Lesovikk were alone here, it wouldn't matter much. If Kestora decides to kill him, fine. Sarda and Idris will miss him, but they'll be okay. Kopaka, though – Kopaka has a family. Not to mention that there are so few Ice Toa left.

Kopaka has to go home. Like Pohatu did. Even if it means Lesovikk gets left behind. Too bad Kestora fucked up the transporter about five seconds after Pohatu got through it. He wonders how much that killed the Stone Toa – ending up back home and then turning around with a smile on his face, waiting for his brother and Lesovikk to come after him, but then – well, no one came. Lesovikk hopes he's okay back in the wrecked remnant of their world. He hopes he made it home to his other siblings and that some part of him knows Kopaka is still alive.

“Pohatu,” Kopaka repeats, softer, softer. “Pohatu.”

“Kopaka,” calls Lesovikk. “Wake up, you're just dreaming.”

But he doesn't wake. Too tired from the things Kestora is putting him through. But when she's here, he's just as ferocious as he was the first day they met her. Biting his teeth and snarling at her. Nikila would have done the same thing.

The door to their prison clangs and Lesovikk straightens, narrowing his eyes and smiling at the door. “Speak of Karzahni.”

“Very funny,” answers Kestora. “Give me the angel.”

“He's tired. Leave him alone.”

Kopaka's eyes are sliding open, filled with hatred for her from the moment he's awake. He says nothing and does not move, glaring at her from that curled-up ball of anger. One wing twitches.

“You want me to have you instead?” she asks, stalking forward.

“Sure,” replies Lesovikk, tilting his chin up. “Let's go. I'm not scared of you.”

“Liar,” whispers Kestora, smirking at him. “You Toa all talk so big. So long since I got a live one in here, but you two are just like every other of your kind who came through here. Watch your goddamn mouth, Toa of Wind, or I might decide to do the same thing to you that I did to that fat little Onu-Matoran who was trailing around with you.”

Lesovikk flinches, turning away. He wouldn't mind dying if he were alone, no. But Kopaka's here. And for all that the Ice Toa does, in fact, talk a big game, and for all that they fight, well – Lesovikk can barely survive this place with a companion. He doesn't know what he and Kopaka would do if they lost each other.

“Get up, little reaper,” says Kestora, grabbing Kopaka's arm. Lesovikk sees him clamp down on a groan of pain. His arm is broken from the elbow down and movement can't help. Kestora grabs him by the collar when he won't get on his feet for her and Lesovikk hears him choke.

“Get off him,” says Lesovikk, standing up unsteadily. Oh, his body hurts. He'd kill for something to eat too. Of course, if he had any way to kill Kestora or her little minions, he probably would have done that for nothing at all. Damn the Code.

“What are you going to do?” asks Kestora, dragging Kopaka to his feet. “Huh? With your power all bound up and your body halfway to joining the rest of the corpses tucked away in the closets?”

Lesovikk grips at the collar on his throat, eyes bitter. He had asked her once how she managed to contain his and Kopaka's powers, but all she had done was look him in the eye and said: “You can kill just parts of a person.”

He hates her.

“I think I'll find a way, one of these days,” says Lesovikk, advancing on her. “I think I'll find a way to burn this whole star down.”

Kestora just laughs. Lesovikk jerks forward as she pulls Kopaka out of the cell, but the Ice Toa pins him with a dark look.

“I'll be back soon,” says Kopaka, finally moving with her, following her out of the cage. “Just – don't get hurt worse.”

“You brat,” hisses Lesovikk. “You think it's any easier for me to – to watch?”

Kopaka flips him off, and then he's gone.

“Fucker,” snaps Lesovikk. “Motherfucker. I hate him.”

He hates parts of him, yes, but overall, he thinks what he hates most is that he's starting to love him too.

“Sorry, sister,” he mutters, sinking back down against the wall. “Hope you don't hate me for this. Not being able to save you you would forgive me for, but making eyes at an Ice Toa? Ouch.”

He talks to her sometimes, just when he's up here. He didn't used to. Didn't believe in that sort of thing. But when he asked Kopaka why he has started leaving his Akaku abandoned in the corner of their cell, Kopaka turned away from him and murmured:

“There are so many bodies in the walls.”

So Lesovikk supposes that Nikila is with him in more ways than one now, and he doesn't blame Kopaka for the fact that he won't wear his mask, or for the way that sometimes, in his sleep, he cries out: “No, I don't want to die here. I'm scared to rot away. The air smells like corpses. Pohatu, where are you?”

Their one beam of starlight fades away as the bodies of the sky move the same way they always do, and Lesovikk is left lying in his prison, alone.

[dibidibifiction]

A Hundred-dollar Bill: PART 1

Warning: foul language Word count: 1.5k

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction made for personal entertainment of readers. The writer does not ever intend to offend her readers nor does she aim to spread false information about anyone as to pay any disrespect to the real-life persons whom the characters are based on. She also does not claim ownership to any of the images that are being used.

masterlist

“Mmm, Y/n, these are delicious!” Kibum exclaims as he takes one more full bite of my homemade triple chocolate cookies.

“Hand me one!” Taemin says, concentrating on the television screen where he and Minho are playing PS4.

“I'm really glad you like it. I’ve always loved baking,” I say to Kibum while joining him on Minho’s bed, ignoring Taemin. “This is actually my first time baking again ever since after my mom passed long ago. If you want I could—”

“Yeah!” Minho roars in the middle of his basement bedroom, making me jump. “I won, motherfucker!”

“I guess you're happy now?” Taemin mocks him while throwing the controller on the couch. Minho doesn’t ever let it go every time he loses a game. He would force his opponent to play more of FIFA 18 with him until he finally wins.

Minho continues to yell victoriously while he runs around the room with both of his hands in the air like an Olympic champion. He proceeds to Kibum and I on the bed. He jumps, and lands on us belly first.

“Ah!” I shriek in cramping pain, his boney hips hitting my thigh. “What the hell!”

Kibum, who doesn’t even look up from his phone, scrunches his forehead in irritation. “Hey, get off!”

While Minho annoys us even more by moving all his limbs like he’s swimming, together with his contagious high-pitched laugh, an idea comes to mind. With all the strength I have, I heavily climb on top of him, sitting on his butt to pin him down. I avenge, starting to poke and scratch his sides up and down.

“Shit, no!” Now laughing even louder because of the tickling, he suddenly draws his whole heavy body to roll to the side, making me crash onto Kibum’s shin. Now he’s the one pinning me down. Before I know it, Taemin jumps in and starts tickling me with his fingers, switching back and forth my neck and my stomach. It’s like they planned to destroy me.

“What did I ever do to you, Taemin!” I scream at him breathlessly, shaking my whole body in a struggle to escape the boys’ strong grasp.

“Hey! Would you guys stop that?” Kibum, the one who bitches the most, shakes up from the bed and transfers to the sofa where the other two boys were playing video games. “Why am I even friends with you?” he complains, taking another one of my cookies from their box on the side table.

Minho and Taemin stop what they’re doing. Breathless but are still laughing at me. 

I’m finally free, exhausted from their physical bullying. I look like I’ve just had rough sex and got all fucked up in bed. “He’s right. Why am I even friends with you?” I sulk. I am sick of always being the weakest target. I blow my messed up hair away from my face as I get up and follow Kibum to the couch. I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his neck. “Kibum, save me.”

“That’s on you, babe. That’s what you get from bringing us all together in the first place,” he says, as sassy as ever. 

Oh, right. I did introduce them to one another. I met them all separately. In different places and different times, but all in the same year. Two years ago.

I first encountered Kibum on Instagram. I followed him and commented on his IGTV about easy outfit hacks. It’s from him where I learned how to cut my jeans stylishly when they’re too long, or turn old clothes into good-as-new ones. He is brilliant. I even sent him a private message to tell him that, and we ended up hitting it on.

A few days after that, I ran into him on the streets of the city. I’m genuinely surprised that he recognized me, chatted me up and practically forced me to have lunch with him. He fell comfortable with me that same day and blurted out all his frustrations about being stuck in life. He had been wanting to go to fashion school but money was too tight and the influencing career wasn’t really working. I was weirded out at first since I’m not really good at making friends. But this guy appreciated me instantly just because of my comment on his post. I don’t get that a lot. He said that I was only one of the few who constantly followed him and actually cared. Plus, I was the only one who's close by. 

He’s been doing Instagram for years but his audience had grown too slowly, which I didn’t understand. Kibum’s work was absolutely impressive and effective. 

We had been having dinner at the same café, where we had lunch for the first time, almost every evening since then. We just connected.

Taemin used to be a famous pop singer but his career fucked up because of rumors gone wrong about him using drugs to appear happy and funny in reality shows. 

It was a late night, just around two months after I met Kibum, a man with bleach blond hair in a dark hoodie bumped into me for running from men with huge cameras. In my attempt to help out, I ran after him and pulled him up into an alley where he’d be hardly seen. However, my plan failed and he started to panic. When the paparazzi was gaining on us, I started panicking as well. So without extra thinking, I pushed him onto the wall and made out with him. That way, they’d be too uncomfortable to even look and just puzzledly proceed to different directions. 

Taemin stayed on my couch that same night and disappeared the next morning. On my way home from work a few days later, he randomly approached me to borrow money for some errands—which I did lend him—and offered to pay triple. I immediately and strongly declined that payment. Instead, I asked him to have dinner with me and Kibum at the café. 

We, including Taemin himself, expected that he’d just eat with us only for a few days, but he figured it was a safe place where almost no one crazy could recognize him and chase after him, especially when he dyed his hair back to its natural color. 

Since then, I’ve got two best friends by my side.

Minho is the son of my boss—well, former boss—who is the CEO of the company I worked for, which he’d soon inherit. He hated the company. Hell, he hated his father. So did I, which is why I quit just recently. 

Minho and I bonded over cigarette breaks every four P.M., right before my work hours ended. I’d then head to the café to meet up with Kibum and Taemin. 

One afternoon, he just invited himself to join us since he claimed that he had nowhere else to go. 

Just then, our little group stopped growing in numbers and started growing something tight and unbreakable. We would learn about each other’s hardships and be there for one another. We would celebrate every little achievement. The bond that we had was just very natural and unexpected. Some of us had fights but they were never too serious and we would realize that our friendship is always bigger than anything. We are the broken pieces that are mended together by one another.

“Hey, here’s an idea,” I announce to no one in particular after a moment of silence.

“I hope it’s not another sketchy party like last time,” Kibum grumbles. He is laying on the sofa, using my lap as his pillow.

“I heard the family I used to babysit for is going away for the weekend. What do you guys say?”

I sigh when nobody says anything. “They have a pool. So…” I trail off, waiting for somebody to be excited as I am.

“There’s no way I’m breaking and entering someone else’s house,” Minho blurts out.

“We’re not breaking anything, we’re just entering,” I shrug.

“Yeah, Hyung. Stop being a wuss,” Taemin pats Minho’s back once. “I’m in! There’s no reputation to ruin anyway,” he shrugs as he walks towards the couch and sits under Kibum’s feet, taking my side.

I turn to Kibum, who is biting dead skin off his nails, pretending not to hear us. “Fine!” he rolls his eyes as he sits up. “I’m in too. Just for one night, right? We’re not staying there the entire weekend. My life is fucked up enough. I’m not going to jail.”

“Yes!” Taemin and I high five. We three then look to Minho. We are not taking no for an answer. 

“Oh, what the hell,” he gives in. I love that he doesn't need much convincing. He stands up, and runs towards us. Once again, he flops his wings, jumps, and touches down on all three of us. 

There was loud laughter, which I always love experiencing with these people. Next thing I know is we are group hugging. 

“So, when do we go?” Minho asks when he pulls away.

I smile cockily. “Tonight.”

PART 2

[garden-ghoul]

return of the blog, part 4

“today was a good day for kabbalah but there’s only so much reading I can do. anyway here’s a summary of a huge amount of text I’m about to read”

THE BATTLE OF THE PELENNOR FIELDS

The Rohirrim are here! I think they legitimately have more fighters than the entire Minas Tirith, especially right now after a bunch of Gondorians got killed. AND they’re all mounted. So they’re doing great, and the Witch King is pissed. Naturally, he shoots Theoden’s horse (pinning him under it) and flies his pterodactyl down so it can eat the horse. Sorry that’s sick as fuck. Also I’m pretty sure Theoden is going to die, given how many times he’s emphasized that he’s an old man and just wants to do some last killing before he dies. That’s fine! He’s dying well. The only people around who could possibly help him are Merry and Dernhelm.

Merry crawled on all fours like a dazed beast, and such a horror was on him that he was blind and sick.

‘King’s man! King’s man!’ his heart cried within him. ‘You must stay by him. As a father you shall be to me, you said.’ But his will made no answer, and his body shook. He dared not open his eyes or look up.

That good... catatonia feel...

Dernhelm yells at the Witch King and calls him a “dwimmerlaik,” which, I don’t know what that is but it sounds very insulting. In response he tell Eowyn not to interfere or she’ll be taken to the “houses of lamentation,” which sounds like honestly a pleasant place to publicly grieve your loved ones but actually it’s a place to be flayed and have your mind crushed by Sauron. No living man can touch him!

Well it’s a good thing Eowyn is a WOMAN (for now)! She will SMITE him if he touches her uncle. Merry thinks that she should not die! And then amends, because he has realistic expectations of himself, that she shouldn’t die alone. While he’s trying to psych himself up she chops the pterodactyl’s fucking head off. NICE. All the extra light it was sucking up gathers around her and she shines. The Witch King is Looming angrily over Eowyn when Merry stabs him in the knee, leaving Eowyn free to stab him in the face (aye! stab him in the face he hasna got!), and then there’s this cool bit where his clothes just suddenly are empty and they fall to the ground. Eowyn passes out from the magical backlash and Merry is left alone among the dead. Theoden says goodbye to him and he apologizes a bunch of times, sweet teen. Eomer rides up and composes a poem on the spot?? about  how they should save mourning for later. Very cool. He’s crying as he recites it.

Then he sees Eowyn and shouts “DEATH! DEATH! DEATH!” and tells everyone to go WRECK SAURON’S SHIT. Soon everyone starts shouting DEATH as they ride. That’s. Awesome. Imagine you’re an orc and all these humans on tall horses are riding toward you in a wall, chanting DEATH. DEATH. DEATH. You’d swoon in fear, probably. You’d just lie down and pretend to already be dead.

Merry picks up the shield Eowyn gave him and walks beside the pallbearers carrying Theoden and Eowyn. Prince of Amroth comes up and says “hey Eowyn’s alive might want to check that out,” presumably because he has studied medicine more thoroughly, as a prince, than any of the killers among the Rohirrim. There’s more fighting stuff. Horses don’t like the mammoths that Haradrim ride. Wait holy shit GOTHMOG is here also. I can’t believe nobody has killed that motherfucker yet. He’s got to be like the oldest person on Middle Earth (besides obvious exceptions like Sauron, Galadriel, and Tom Bombadil. What a trio!). And then people see black sails coming up the Anduin and everyone’s like Well Fuck. Except Eomer, who is drunk on bloodlust and wants the corsairs to come on if they think they’re hard enough.

BUT we finally learn that Arwen’s black-on-black flag was actually! Just being seen at night. It’s the standard of Elendil, Aragorn is here. Hurrah. How, uh, how did he get those ships? Is that going to be explained? Anyway for maximum psychological impact Aragorn is holding his magic sword high and wearing the elessar on his brow. We timeskip to sunset, when everything is red. The sky, the ground, even the river. Thank goodness the battle is over and we didn’t have to read any overwrought scenes of Legolas taking down a mammoth on his own. Small blessings. After this we jump into the far future just long enough to hear a song composed by future bards of Rohan about the battle of the Pelennor Fields. It’s basically just a list of people who died, but it has a good ending:

Grey now as tears, gleaming silver, red then it rolled, roaring water: foam dyed with blood flamed at sunset; as beacons mountains burned at evening; red fell the dew in Rammas Echor.

Speaking of people who are dead, let’s check on

THE PYRE OF DENETHOR

Pippin finally finds Gandalf, who is in an extreme hurry to be off somewhere else until Pippin says the words “burned alive.” Reluctantly Gandalf says he’ll save Faramir, even at the cost of the other lives he is currently protecting.

They find that Beregond’s post has been deserted, and he’s fighting several other guards--this is a great last stand, he’s fighting well in accord with the inverse ninja law or whatever it’s called, and has already killed two guys. I hope Beregond doesn’t die, he’s such a nice bloke. Denethor is the one who ordered him killed; I guess they were bringing the fire? Faramir is NOT on fire yet, but Denethor seems to think he is. I can’t tell if it’s a metaphor or a delusion. I don’t like this whole “his mind is broken” thing. It’s tragic I guess but can we not. Anyway Denethor is overcome with despair and wants to just die preemptively, but also he wants to yell at Gandalf for trying to take his throne some more before he does die. And he still wants to kill Faramir so they can “be together.” It just occurred to me that there’s a great Eowyn/Faramir parallel here. Eowyn nearly dies protecting her father-figure after being told not to, and is borne away; Faramir nearly dies protecting his father who low-key wants him dead and instead of rushing to find him medicine tries to burn him alive. This indicates a Theoden/Denethor foil thing; it’s better to die in battle than to kill yourself out of fear, Tolkien tells us. Maybe it’s also better to try protecting your kids instead of killing them?? Just a thought. Anyway I like the contrast of the two kings dying in very, very different ways, with very different thoughts on their heirs.

Denethor throws himself on the fire and Gandalf walks out, closes the door, and addresses the guards: “Well, that’s that! Come on, let’s go put Faramir on a bed and administer zero medicine and let fate decide whether he lives.” Dude no. Gandalf walks outside and sees that the sun has appeared again, therefore the Witch King is dead. And then I guess he immediately divines how that happened? He could have prevented a lot of death and misery if he hadn’t been saving Faramir, so thanks a lot Denethor.

Next time: THE HOUSES OF HEALING. I think this is Eowyn/Faramir gay content.