#i lost my mind when i found this top via crime a while back

[aethernoise]

obsessed tbh

[dolliedarlin]

Hi I’m one of the anons who’s obsessing over the P.A series!!!!! For some reason my brain has been full w diff things that could happen IDKKK! Hope u don’t mind if I dump a few....

TW: this is A bunch of rambling and some grammar errors LMAO sorry

Idk y I c y/n having a stalker💀 this prob sounds rlly weird but hear me out. (To add drama, also I Lowkey wanna c Mina,Sero and kiri get mad idk y-)

Since we all know y/n is the baddest most sophisticated b*tch (sorry idk if I’m allowed to cuss or not LMAO) her Ex lover is still obsessed w her and thinks that they are soulmate even tho they obv aren’t. I feel like y/n knows he stalks her but she ignores it until it gets worst. Like he found out where she lives. (He finds out where she lives while she’s sick which is now loll)

Anyways I feel like Mina would be over at y/ns place and since she’s getting better they are In her living room talking abt who knows what and y/n gets a knock on her door she goes to open it and admittedly closes it looking shocked. Mina being a pro hero is  supposed to be able to read body language. Mina ask her if everything is Alr and y/n OFC (stupid a**) says yes. Mina didn’t want to keep pressing the issue so she dropped it until it became a reoccurring thing with y/n and it’s not just her that noticed. She (y/n) is extremely hesitant to open the door and when she does she opens it a little bit. (And then idk her EX does crazy like breaks into her apt and scares the sh** outa y/n) THIS IS WHERE MY BIG IDEA STOPS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 that was a lotta rambling my apologies

Have a great day dollie!

oh no! please don’t feel bad, it’s always fun for me seeing what you dolls would want to happen next

although i don’t plan on bringing any psycho exes into ‘the p.a’ series, as a writer and an avid daydreamer, i can’t help but play around with this idea 

warning: there are brief mentions of violence ; this is not a part of ‘the p.a’ series but is just a little thought that i just couldn’t help but try my own hand at also ; i didn’t edit this either 😂 so kindly forgive any grammatical/spelling mistakes 

continuing on from your idea...

⏤mina, having the sneaking suspicion that something bad might happen to you that night, notifies the rest of the group later on that day

⏤usually, bakugou was in charge of you during the night and always sat in a chair beside your bed on high alert, ready to serve your every need...

⏤BUT!

⏤now that mina told them about your suspicious behaviour, all of them were put on high alert. 

⏤they all agreed to keep you unaware of their intentions by having bakugou take care of you like usual but they made sure that when on the night patrol, they were close by with their radios on and constantly being hyper aware of the shortest route to your residence from wherever they were situated - just in case of an emergency 

⏤naturally, they trusted bakugou with keeping you safe but that didn’t mean that they had no worries for you at all 

⏤seeing as you usually feel asleep before bakugou switched with the sero, who took care of you in the late evening, you were under the impression that you were alone at home 

⏤your current condition disallowed you from comfortably staying awake so you were constantly tossing and turning in bed, brows furrowed and sweating more than usual

⏤”what is she dreaming about?” bakugou utters in frustration as he continues to wipe away the vastly accumulating sweat rom your wrinkled brows

⏤he wasn’t frustrated at you no no, he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t make you comfortable no matter how many wet towels he uses to cook your forehead or wipe your sweat clean off your skin 

⏤as the night progresses, you eventually fall into a dreamless sleep, far too exhausted to continue stressing over your ex with the added burden of your fever on your body

⏤nevertheless, bakugou continues being on high alert at all times except for when he momentarily leaves to room so as to go to the toilet 

⏤this was the perfect opportunity for your crazy ex to sneak into your room via the window bakugou left ajar so as to help cool you down better 

⏤your ex was a creepy and disgusting man - someone that you had grown to dislike the more you got to know him and naturally left as quickly as you were able to 

⏤what followed was harassment to the highest degree, thankfully you were able to protect yourself due to your self defence training and quirk, however, it didn’t take away the shuddering feeling of being watched constantly

⏤you grew paranoid and extremely fidgety over time and eventually filled for a restraining order. unfortunately, that didn’t work and left you to deal with the situation yourself

⏤you were naive enough to think that you had shaken him after a particularly horrible beating he took from you in self defence. he had come at you with a knife but you were able to disarm him and send him limping home with a dislocated arm, a black eye and a bruised ribcage 

⏤over time, you got busy with work and slowly forgot about him, it wasn’t until today that you were reminded of his crazy obsession with you and were thrown into a panic 

⏤believing that you were alone at night and in your most vulnerable state, you didn’t feel safe and sought to deal with the situation however you could, even in your dreams

⏤all attempts were in vain, however

⏤bakugou, returning from his momentary break to the toilet came back just in time to see your creepy ex hovering over your sleeping figure. as if you sensed the unpleasant existence stalking you, your body stiffened under the blankets and you began to breathe uncomfortably, beginning to sweat bucket-fulls once more

⏤not wanting to disturb your sleep as rest was the top priority for you, bakugou crept up from behind the unknown figure and instantly went for his neck, choking him into silence as he dragged his thrashing figure outside, far away from you all the while sending a emergency signal to the rest of the squad 

⏤in no time at all, the rest of the squad arrived and had your crazy ex cornered. at this time he had already been tied up by bakugou and was ready for a quick chat 

⏤”what the hell were you doing with our yn?” kirishima began, sharp teeth grinding together as he clenched his jaw 

⏤silence 

⏤”speak up, we can’t fucking hear you,” bakugou spat as the others glared on from beside him, their eyes piercing through the moonlight and darkness of the night 

⏤”y-yn isn’t yours - that’s the first thing,” your ex finally cracked, giggling creepily in between 

⏤”you’re right,” sero began, “yn doesn’t belong to anyone so why were did you break into her house,” it took everything in sero not to lash out but they needed answers

⏤”wrong again!” your ex sang, “she doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to me! i’m her boyfriend!”

⏤”yn doesn’t have a boyfriend,” kaminari spoke up

⏤”that’s right! and if she did, we would have known,” mina agreed

⏤“that’s because she doesn’t know it yet, we broke up but we’ll get back together again soon” the tied up man giggled to himself, “it’s only a matter of time before she realises her mistake and she comes back to me,” 

⏤the team of heroes didn’t know what to say, they were so shocked and appalled at what they were seeing and hearing that they couldn’t bring themselves to utter a single word of response, they only listened further

⏤”i hoped she’d come back soon, anyway...but i was getting impatient so i had to try and convince her a little more. she’s been ignoring my love for her all this time, she can’t continue rejecting me for long...” he laughs, “i bet she misses it”

⏤“miss what...?” bakugou didn’t want to know but it had to be said

⏤”i bet she misses being with me. she’s so beautiful and so soft to the touch, she always smells good too and she has such a lovely voice - i want her all to myself, she doesn’t deserve to be anybody else’s”

⏤it was then that the team of heroes just about lost their minds. the creep before them didn’t say anything explicit but the madness in his eyes and the harrowing smile he was displaying was off putting. they dread to imagine what a lowlife nasty sob like him put you through but they saw flashes of unforgivable scenes that sent all of them into insanity 

⏤someone so precious to them didn’t deserve any such treatment. you may not have disclosed anything to them strict on being professional but if this man was willing to break into your house...they were fearful to think about what else he was capable of

⏤he deserved a beating from that act alone, actually, and a beating he got

⏤they could’ve killed the guy - they were more than tempted to and it would have been so easy...but he deserved to suffer in jail for his crimes against you so they held back no matter how painful that was for them 

⏤the very next day, under their authority and recommendation, the man was locked up for as many years as they could tally up and seeing as they were heroes, they were able to look into his past documentations and found you had filed a restraining order for him under harassment, assault and a number of other things they grew all the more furious at the more the read

⏤they would prefer it if you didn’t realise what they did that night but the media couldn’t let the story of 5 high class pro heroes sending a singular, beaten man to jail for life

⏤your creepy ex’s battered photos were all over the news and you were so incredibly grateful  

[popculturebuffet]

Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers Part 3: Storkules in Duckburg! aka THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES TERRIBLE BUT WELL MEANING ROOMATE OUT OF MYTH

Hello all you happy people! And welcome and welcome back to Of Moons, Millionares and Mothers, my look at the season 2 arcs of Ducktales! This arc was paid for by WeirdKev27 and I truly enjoy his support. if you want to know how to commission your own reviews or to get a guarnateed review of me of your choice from me a month, stick around to the end. I realized that shoving all my plugs in up top may be driving people away and while I DO make them because I want to make a living off this, i’ts not fair to those of you who simply can’t afford to buy a lot of extra shit like myself to keep shoving it in your face. 

Previously on the Louie Inc Arc, Louie, after believing he had no skills and it was a matter of when not if he ws going to die, found his talent: seeing all the angles and thus being Sharper than the Sharpies. With newfound confidence and a chip on his shoulder from Scrooge saying he could one day be a bigger success than Scrooge himself, founding Louie Inc as a result. But what is Louie Inc? Does he actually have a plan or a bunch of buzzwords. And what does STORKULES, MANLY GAY OUT OF MYTH have to do with any of this? Join me under the cut to find out. 

We open with Louie giving Scrooge his sales pitch that is essentially...

Naturally Scrooge buys none of it. I mean he’s somewhere in his hundreds, he’s probably seen about 80 thousand pitches that amount to “I have no plan but give me money anyway”. There’s a reason there’s a Butch Hartman shaped crater on the lawn from where he threw his ass out. 

Scrooge does mentor the lad, or at least attempt to pointing out he needs an actual product or service (Louie rejects the idea of a lemonade stand as too easy), or as he puts it “Find a problem and create a solution”. 

While the basic PRINCIPAL isn’t bad, find something people want or need and provide it, phrasing it that way sounds like “find a problem people are having and exploit the shit out of that problem for fun and profit.” Granted that IS a guiding principal of business, it’s just not something an uncle should be teaching his kids. They should be teaching them about the anime and cartoons they grew up with as I do with my niece and nibling. 

He does show him a valid example of this in action in the form of Donald. Turns out Donald has found a good way to make money while he looks for a job, can relate: since Duckburg is facing a housing shortage, likely because several square blocks probably get destroyed by Scrooge’s Adventures, Glomgold’s Schemes, Superhero Battles, whatever creation went horribly wrong for Gyro, etc at least once a week. So he’s taken it upon himself to offer up the spare room to whoever can rent it.. and to steal Scrooge’s chandelier which even when caught he still takes anyway. Scrooge.. you called the guy a god-damn moocher in the season premiere, despite the fact he lives there soley because YOU offered and because he’s you know, being responsible and staying by his boys so they have their father figure around. So yeah I feel he’s doing this partly out of spite as is the McDuck way. I mean if your going to call him a freeloader just for being a responsible parent, then he’s going to take it up a damn notch.

Scrooge proceeds to laugh off Louie wanting a million dollars and gives him a dime instead because of course he was. Seriously Louie there are two other billionaires in town who are FAR dumber and far more easily swindled. Just go get star up capital from them. Hell with Glomgold all you’d have to do is tell him it’d upset scrooge and he’d literally throw money at you. Or give you a shark full of money. He needs the shark back though. He’s family. 

Meanwhile Donald prepares for his new tenant and finds.. THE INCREDIBLE STORKULES! Who to his mounting horror as he realizes it, IS the new tenant. And who throws him into the sun. Cue credits. 

So after Donald somehow survives being thrown into the sun, Storkules explains why he’s here: Zeus responded to his son playing the lute a lot like any rational reasonable 

No of course he responded to the “crime” of “playing his instrument a lot” with sending a swarm of harpies on the town then blaming Storkules for it and casting him out. What’s most shocking is not the action, this is honestly him staying the course of being a fucking disgrace, but that Zeus somehow ISN’T the biggest asshole i’ve dealt with this week. No that honor is reserved as always for this bitch:

Keep in mind she manages to be this obnoxious in only TWO scenes. Also keep in mind I had to put up with Julie for a MUCH larger chunk of the previous two volumes I covered before volume 5 yesterday for my Scott Pilgrim Retrospective and she is ALWAYS like this and you now feel my pain. 

This does create a problem though: Zeus casts Storkules out until he’s a responsible adult.. and thus paints Storkules as the bad guy... in a situation where the only other person in the story sent a swarm of HARPIES down at him for simply playing his music too loud. It just dosen’t work as a catalyst: Storkules objectively did nothing wrong. The only person he annoyed was a person who clearly dosen’t love, respect or like his son in any way shape or form anyway and essentially assaulted him and a bunch of innocent people via harpie and then cast him out. Zeus is an abusive asshole and i’ts weird the narrative sides with HIM and not our well meaning doofus. Zeus being an asshole with harpies is not a bad catalyst for the episode, and the harpies being unleashed is used well.. it’s just not a good catalyst for THIS story to try and portray an abuser as in the right. And make no mistake Zeus is a domestic abuser: he had his son mind controlled to try and MURDER innocent people, something Storkules begged him not to do, sent a swarm of creatures after him for the crime of playing his music too loud and in his next episode manipulatives Storkules sad emotional state for personal gain. Why would you try and paint THIS jackass as in the right?

Speaking of painting this jackass in the right sadly.. this episode does not do my boy donald justice. In most episodes he’s pretty nuanced and i’ts fair enough he’d be frustrated by Storkules as a roomate. Storkules has little sense of personal space, breaks his stove thinking theirs hydra in it, makes a mess of the kitchen making them a meal, and in general clearly dosen’t know how to live with a roomate much less in modern society. He has valid concerns and the episode COULD have used it that way.. but he’s also horribly impatient with Storkules. He refuses to get the guy just hasn’t had to live in a modern society and dosen’t know HOW to function in it and instead of helping him just gets mad again and again and gets really pissed when it’s clear Storkules dosen’t have a job and didn’t consider paying rent. He’s not WRONG to want him to pay Rent, despite what ironically the musical Rent would try and have you believe, but he dosen’t have any patience with the guy. And stork isn’t nearly coming on as strong as he normally does. The worst he does is cook the guy lunch and bring his donald fan art with him. Which we don’t see but I am assuming is mostly naked. What i’m saying is for once that while still bombastic, Storkules isn’t trying to force a relationship/friendship on him and simply wants to learn t be an adult from his best friend.. and Donald isn’t bothering teaching him.

Asking for rent or for him not to destroy the stove is fine, but not explaining WHY he needs either of those things or why he needs boundaries, he makes a roomate list, isn’t helping the guy. And this would be fine... but the episode dosen’t call Donald out on it for no real reason. It feels like it’s setting up for a “you should learn to wokrk with someone instead of just screaming at them aseop” that never comes and like with Zeus takes his side because shutup. I’d also LIKE to say this is the only time the writers reduced one of the cast to a caracture of themselves.. but I can’t.  Several episodes in season 3 forgot Louie’s character development and another episode in season 2, The Duck Knight Returns!, somehow reduced both Scrooge and Dewey to parodies of themselves with Scrooge SOMEHOW, despite Della as stubborn as she is being in his care and by his side for decades and Movies bein ga huge business, not having seen a movie since the 1920′s and not knowing how they work and Dewey being reduced to just hyperactive moron. It isn’t as common as other shows like say Regular Show, The Loud House or, for the exact reason I lost intrest, Rick and Morty, but I still expect better, especially since they went into this season KNOWING Donald would be gone for half of it and this would likely be one of his only spotlight episodes. 

Back at the good part of the plot, Louie is having a company meeting aka already treating Huey and Webby like his employees. Webby of course is glad to sign on, if little help in actually coming up with a product while Huey just wants to nope out. And if your wondering why Dewey isn’t involved Louie outright says he’d make a bad employee and while Dewey rises from his bed to object.. he stops halfway to opening his mouth and concludes he has a point. Best gag of the episode. Louie being louie easily cons Huey into staying by making Webby his charts officer. 

So the three have a corporate retreat at Funso’s... granted they don’t have a product but Louie figures this might help. Huey.. still wants out of this and suggest since they already spent what they had on ski ball “Company over?”. It’s clear that Huey just sees this as another one of Louie’s short sighted schemes... and while he’s not ENITRELY wrong, Louie has genuine ambition.. he just has no earthly idea what he’s doing and is shooting way too high.. but for understandable reasons. 1) He’s 11 at this point. 11 year olds aren’t great at business strategy or reinging it in. 2) he wants to live up to what Scrooge said to prove he can be successful and really be worth something like his mom was. 

But sometimes fate throws you one and the harpies bust in. And while Louie wants to do nothing and hope they go away Huey and Webby spring into action.. as does Storkules, who had to leave but warns donald there’s Orzo in the slowcooker and to not open it “LEST THE PASTA FAIL TO ABSORB THE BROTH!” Which is just.... Chris’ best line dleivery the episode. He says it like he’s saying the title of an old Stan Lee and Jack Kirby comic, i’ts wonderful.

So our heroes defeat them and Louie steps in to charge for the service and quickly comes up with a company idea and name “Harp-B-Gone” (A Subsidary of Louie Inc). Louie hires Storkules on the spot. Storkules proudly tells Donald he has a job the next day and goes off to it. What follows is our heroes hilarously shooting a commerical with Storkules playing a baby to promote themselves so they can help who needs it. They just need to find out what they want.. and thanks to the JWG and the harpies stealing it find out they go after people’s most treasured posessions   Cue Ghostbusters-Style Montage

And this isn’t just me saying thing. The Rewriting History Entry (Which as a series weirdly stops around mid-season 2 and I don’t get why frank hasn’t gone back and finished it since) states they specifically based this whole operation on ghostbusters and the entire sequence of our heroes cleanin up the town reminds me of it. The highlight of it is a glomgold cameo where he’s kidnapped.. and refuses to pay so Louie just lets him go. And were this an innocent person who couldn’t afford it, i’d call him a monster.. but it’s glomgold. he brought this on himself.. and also sues himself for it. Wonder if he won. 

So with their stars rising, our heroes get booked on the hottest show in town: Dewey Dew-Night! I had honestly forgotten there was a Dewey Dew-Night segment in there, and delighted I get to talk about this recurring bit.  It’s one of the shows funniest runners and just perfectly FITS Dewey: of course the most egotistical and energetic of the kids would not only want to be a late hnight host but make up his own show. I also love the slow evolution of it: it started as something everyone clearly knew about but he stlill tried to keep hidden, slowly escalated to him allowing the rest of his siblings (Webby very much included) and the giant man who stalks his uncle in, and by later this season he’s putting the show online in the web shorts and gladly shooting it into space, with Season 3 having him spend the first half of let’s get dangerous making a documentary that includes an episode of the show featuring Darkwing. It’s a small thing sure, but it’s the little things like this that make the show special. 

The show does reveal a problem though as it turns out they’ve GOT all the harpies and while Storkules merely wanted to help, Louie points out they need more to keep a buisness going and naturally never bothered to ask Storkules just how many there were. They need SOME plan to get going. Webby submits a legitamte and great idea, training the harpies as she’s been trying to do in the background of the episode and aside from a hole in the floor they are starting to listen. But Huey is an ass about it and not only shoots it down saying let’s keep the dangerous creatures contained, even though A) he has no idea WHERE they’ve been kept so he can’t verify it’s safe, and since i’ts Donald’s Closet no no it’s not. and B)There’s no where he knows of to keep them. He isn’t aware of the other bin till next season. and C) it’s not ehtical to keep creatures locked up forever epsecially since while the harpies are dangerous they arent’ MALEVOLENT and are clearly acting on instinct. oh and for D) at least she has a plan to keep the company going instead of just wanting to end this and cash out. 

Which Huey tries to.. but naturally Louie spent all their money on...

So their broke.. and Storkules has no rent money and feels like a failure despite having done NOTHING wrong. We do get a clever little nod to Disney’s hercules though “I”m not a hero, i’m a zero”. Webby rightfully glares at Louie who decides to fix it... by sneaking into Donald’s house that night to free the harpies. 

Though to the shows credit it’s a VERY bad idea, and Storkules coming in mid attempt and congradulating Louie when he lies about checking the door gets the kid to come clean. And it’s a nice character moment: He could still go through with it.. but it’s clear he realizes just HOW low he was about to sink to save his own skin and that as much as Storkules WANTS a paycheck and deserves one, it’s not worth hurting people to get it. Louie tries to justify after this.. but can’t. 

Unforutnately Donald took a lot of stupid pills this episode, yells about his no pets rule and frees them instead of you know, THINKING for five minutes.

So yeah NATURALLY Donald is an angry shit about it , refusing to actually TALK to Storkules about this or maybe admit this is partly HIS OWN FAULT. Yes their both at fault, Storkules shoudln’t of shoved a bunch of harpies in a closet. That’s a classic blunder. But Donald still opened it and isn’t called out on taking zero responsibility. Huey sees the fracas and just takes down their days without an accident placard, good stuff and he and webby arrive to help. Donald fights with Storkules and Storkules worries about loosing his friend.. lead to them going after the thing he values most aka donlad and hyjacking the house boat, though the kids manage to get aboard. 

As Storkules saves Donald, Louie realizes the most precious thing he has is  his merch and willingly gives it, and his buisness up to save everyone. It’s good character stuff and shows that despite his problems with greed, Louie IS a good kid and will do the right thing. It’s what seperates him from the Rouges Gallery the family faces: He has FLEXIBLE morals but he has morals when it comes down to it. So everyone tosses the stoff to help direct the hapries and make it home tying them up. Donald has a heart to heart with Storkules and agrees to help him find another place, but still considers him a friend and they hug. Awww.  One intresting thing I DID find out from rewriting history is they originally fully intended to have Storkules STAY on the houseboat. He was going to be a permenant member of the household, at least as far as Season 2 was concenred and plans were made for several episodes down the road: the whole bit with him in “The Golden Spear” was simply because he lived there, he was going to be the one Della met in the houseboat, obliviously guilting her about what she’d missed, and he was going to set off the kids subplot in “Whatever Happened to Donald Duck?”

This ended up not happneing for logistical reasons: Frank, and I swear this was the term he used, felt they already had the perfect Himbo in Launchpad and it was just too much HImbo energy for the two to coexist without one taking the others screen time or neither getting a lot. 

The next reason was having a god around simply broke the story: He cited the gilded man from “Nothing Can Stop Della Duck!” as a specific example. There were just too many hoops to jump to have him not break any story he should be around for.  Finally with Della being added to the cast soon there simply wasn’t room in the main cast. Della brought it up to 9, Storkules would make it 10, and as i’ve gone on about the show already had trouble ballancing it’s cast, something Frank admitted to. Adding him would both be too big a stiatus quo change and be one on top of the massive one of Della joining the cast. So he was dropped back to recurring and only showed up one more time. And while it was the right call I am dismayed he didn’t show up for the whatever happened to donald duck subplot and it does feel very weird he never adresses Donald being gone despite, at least for season 2, apparently living in Duckburg. Otherwise though as funny as this wouldv’e been.. yeah it was the right call. 

Scrooge returns... having been absent all episode because otherwise it wouldn’t work and easily saw Louie loosing it all coming.. but gives him a can of lemonade for his troubles and comforts the boy. The heart of htis arc and what makes it work at it’s best.. is these two. Scrooge GENUINELY wants to help Louie see his potetial successor in buisness: oh sure adventure wise he’s throughly covered.. but Webby, Dewey and Della all are more focused on the addventure part and that’s where their passion and talent lies, Huey’s better at science and given his close frinedship with fenton and how much that part of things seems to truly inspire him, i’ts what he was born for, and Donald just wants a regualar life and can’t manage his own life much less a company. 

Louie is the only one in his family whose the right fit to inhereit that part of his legacy and I feel that’s why he takes a special intrest in him and webby over the other two: While he loves all of them and will clearly again leave a piece of his fortune and empire to all of them, Webby is the most like him, as we later find out not coincidentally in the slightest, when it comes to adventuring and curosity and a love of exploration. But Louie is the most like him in other ways; He’s cynical, money driven and passionate. Scrooge simply wants him to be as good a person and buisnessperson as he can be and is trying to push him in the right direction. And does so here by pointing out that failure isn’t a huge problem..it happens, comes with the terriotiry and as we’ve seen with life and times, even with portions of it clearly not happening in this universe, he failed a LOT to get here. What matters is that he tries and tries to do it the right way. 

Scrooge also sympathizes as he was buying a lemonade company in cape suzette, giving Louie the can as a present... but laments there’s no cheap effective way to deliver the lemons. Louie notices the harpies going after the can after he throws it and Webby controlling them with it and muses that theyd idn’t think about what THEY wanted.. nad rightfully gets punched across the lawn by Webby, whose had to spend an entire episode having her surrogate brothers talk down to her and ignore her valid ideas. She dosen’t even open her eyes she just bops him one.

So we end with Scrooge having enlisted the hapries, Louie trying to take credit again and both realizing they might just steal the lemons instead of work for them. Ha ha ha their going to get so sued. 

Final Thoughts: This one was mediocre. It has some good points, Louies arc continues to fascenate me, Huey’s done with this shit attitude is hilarous, and Storkules is at his best in this episode: his crush on Donald is toned down from this..

To this

To the point I could see shipping them off this one if Storkules episode didn’t have him do eveyrthing short of .. well see above.  So it’s not WITHOUT merit: I love me a ghost busters style plot, there are great jokes and Chris Dimatopolis is a gem as always. Glad he’s getting work after this show on Invincible and hope he gets to play Darkwing again some day. But the Donald stuff and the fairly predictable plot drag this one down. I’ts fairly obvious they’ll run out of harpies, Louie will have spent the money and they’ll somehow get free. It’s not a terrible episode but it’s it’s sandwiched story wise between two straight up classics on both sides: the previous two episodes were even better than I remembered and the next two are incredibly good: Whateve Happened to Della Duck?! is one of their finest hours and The Outlaw Scrooge McDuck, while not making my best of list for the series as a whole is still one of my favorites for the season.  It’s just disapointing this one wasn’t nearly as good as I remmebered and it’s understandable why I forgot almost all of it, unlike the previous two episodes. Thankfully as I said better’s over the horizon.

NEXT TIME ON OF MOONS, MILLIONARES AND MOTHERS: I’m taking a break for a week. One of two weeklong breaks for the arc, the other being the first week of July where i’m on vacation anyway (Though i’ll be doing the episode I would’ve done for that week the week before to keep the pace up, so no worries),

 As for why, it’s my utmost honor to announce GOOF WEEK! Goof Week is a weeklong celebration of Goofy’s birthday. The idea came about because as I do for the big three, I intended to just do a shorts special. But Kev , the guy who made this very review possible, suggested doing the two part Goof Troop pilot. And since kev pays for a house of mouth episode a month anyway and thaks to you lovely people I hit my patreon stretch goal to review the goofy movie, I figured “why not make a week out of it. Hence Goof week. So next week we’ll have a review of the two part pilot for Goof Troop, the special Sports Goof, the House of Mouse episode Super Goof, your regularly schedule shorts spectacular, with The Goofy Movie for the grand finale! yaaahoooooieeee! 

When we come back i’ll be shuffling episodes around slightly so I can do the Della comics from the Ducktales Tie-In Comic before her debut and in time for Donald’s own theme week in June, i’ll be saving “Whatever Happened to Della Duck?” for the week after Donald Week. Instead next we get a fun wild west adventure as Scrooge tells a story of his outlaw days, his tension with goldie and his encounter with a certain robber baron as John D Rockerduck FINALLY makes his screen debut. Yee-Haw!

If you liked this review, subscribe and follow for more and consider joining my patroen, patreon.com/popculturebuffet. I have exclusive reviews, my most recent duck based one being an obscure carl barks story about wigs and the boys attempting to murder a guy with a blow gun, and your contribution helps me reach my goals and thus gets everyone, patreon or not, a bunch of neat new reviews. If you get me to 20 dollars a month, i’m currently at 15, EVERYONE will get a monthly darkwing duck reviews, reviews of the two remaning ducktales 87 mini series including the origin of GIZMOOOODDUUUUUCCCKKKK, and a review of the Danny Phantom movie The Ultimate Enemy. And with the month running out NOW’S the time to join. YOu’ll also get to pick one of the shorts for my Donald Duck birthday specail next month, so if you want to join in NOWS the time. But wether you can or you can’t, thank you for reading, i’ts been a pleasure. 

[toosicktoocare]

i’m experimenting with a multi-chapter fic because it’s been a while since i’ve written one, and i wanted to share the first chapter with you all! 

It can also be found on AO3 here!

it’s called “one for the birds” and it’s a BatFam multi-chapter. 

“Dick?”

Dick’s mid pull up, the wooden rafter rough against his palms. He glances to see one of the new ones, Jenny, standing hesitant in the doorway, her eyes cast downward and one foot scuffing the dusty floor.

He lets go of the rafter, dropping to the floor with practiced ease. “What’s up, Jenny? Everything okay?” He keeps his tone light, inviting, as he does with all the new kids.

When Jenny looks up, her matted, brown hair hangs forward in her face, half hiding her wide, trembling eyes. Dick studies the fear silently, his jaw clenching, as he waits for Jenny to gather up the courage to say what she needs to say. He’s learned far too quickly that if he pushes anyone here to speak before they’re ready, they’ll lash out via flying fists or running away. After five punches to the jaw and three near death runaway scenarios, he worked on building trust with each person that stumbles upon his shelter.

“Some man is here to see you.”

Shit. Dick rakes his fingers through his sweat-soaked hair to hide the slight tremors jolting through his hands. Could be the cops, he thinks. Though, he’s made it very clear to everyone that he’s only able to maintain this warehouse as a shelter with the promise to GCPD that everyone will behave. There’s too much crime in Gotham as it is, one cop had said to him, so if he keeps his kids in line, the cops will turn a blind eye to the trespassing.

Maybe not the cops, then. Unless there’s been trouble with one of his kids. But then, he would have heard about it by now. Word of mouth travels fast amongst his crew. He mentally picks through today’s schedule, running brief analyses over each person on today’s food crew. He currently has a handful of troublemakers, a rowdy group of pre-teens taking their anger of their current life situation out on each other. But, he’s been keeping their daily duties separate to avoid conflict, so—

“Yo, Nightwing!”

The budding fear diminishes the second Dick hears the rough, familiar voice accompanied by steady footsteps that deliberately avoid each creak in the stairs. He smiles at Jenny and nods to the door. “Thanks, Jenny. I’ll take it from here.”

The second Jenny turns, she bumps into Roy, who steadies her with a hand clapping down to her shoulder.

“Why thank you, sweet messenger.”

Dick cocks a brow as Roy steps around Jenny and enters the room, arms as wide as the smile stretching across his mouth.

“Code names again, Roy? Really?”

Roy crosses the room and slaps a hand across Dick’s mouth, and Dick has to swallow back the annoyed urge to lick his palm.

“No speaking of Roy Harper here, Dickie. Only Arsenal when I cross through this threshold.”

Dick swats Roy’s hand away, tilting his head. “Arsenal? That’s new.”

“Yeah, well, I decided to stop rolling with Speedy. Sounded too drug-like, if you ask me.”

Nodding, Dick side steps around Roy and jumps up until his hands are latching onto the low-hanging rafter above him. He ignores the unsettling creaking against his weight as he pulls himself up until his chin’s tapping the top of the rafter.

“Well, Arsenal,” Dick starts, dragging out the new code name, trying to gather a feeling of it on his tongue. “What brings you here?”

“Well, first of all, you are looking at the new mid-day stocker at Queen’s Market and Café.”

“Shit, you got the job?” Dick drops down after his tenth pull-up and arches his back into a stretch before moving downward to work through a set of push-ups.

“Yep, Oliver said he sees real potential in me. He said I’m a good last piece to his arsenal.”

Dick pauses, laughing lowly under his breath. “Of stockers and baristas?”

“Yeah, he’s kind of a weird dude, but he gave me an advance so I could get an apartment.”

“Have you told him about…” Dick doesn’t finish; he doesn’t need to. The dark flash that pulls across Roy’s face says enough.

“He knows I’ve been in between homes, but that’s it.”

Dick can fill in the gaps easily. He’s been in this warehouse since he was 12, after fleeing from his first foster family. Roy joined him not long after, and together, the two built this place up, swaying reputation and all. He finishes his tenth push-up and slowly gets to his feet, a sigh slipping past his lips.

“I’m not embarrassed by it, Dick. It is what it is. I just… Oliver sees so much in me. I don’t want—”

“You don’t want him to judge based on this,” Dick finishes for him, gesturing around the two. The room, one everyone’s dubbed as “Leader’s Lair” for years now, has a sleeping bag in one corner and a box in another. There’s a pile of worn-out books beside the sleeping bag, and a beat-up, battery-powered lamp off to the side. It’s bare boned, but it’s been home for Dick for years.

“I get it, Roy, and I’m happy for you.”

“I can still help,” Roy starts, quick tone mismatched from the determination lighting his eyes, “so you aren’t out busting your ass every night for minimum wage to feed everyone. I can give you money—”

“It’s fine,” Dick interrupts, and he means it. More than just offering a place for people in need, Dick wants to push everyone to better themselves, to thrive off independence, and Roy did just that. He doesn’t want anyone to feel like they owe him or this place anything. “I mean, I’m not saying that if we cross paths, I’m not going to insist you treat me to lunch,” he jokes, jabbing Roy with his elbow. “But that money is yours, Roy. We’ll get along just fine.”

There’s conflict in Roy’s eyes, the fire dimmed, and Dick’s already prepared to counter-argue anything that comes out of Roy’s mouth, and he knows Roy knows this; the two have been butting heads for years, but Dick’s wit always gives him the upper hand.

“Fine, but the next ten burgers are on me.”

Smiling, Dick claps a hand to Roy’s shoulder. It’s only been a few weeks since Roy left to pester Oliver Queen daily regarding the “Help Wanted” sign outside his shop, and he’s genuinely glad to see him.

“What else?” Dick asks finally. “You said ‘first of all,’ so what else?”

Roy’s smile drops instantly, and Dick matches his frown, his own brows furrowing.

“There’s this kid,” Roy starts as he begins pacing the small length of the room. “He’s been hanging around Oliver’s place for about a week now. He’s doesn’t beg for money or anything, he just… watches the store. All day.”

Crossing his arms, Dick waits patiently. He’s heard this type of scenario multiple times before, but Roy’s demeanor is telling him that there’s a catch. Then again, Dick’s grown to learn that there’s always a catch.

“So, I finally approached him. Went through the whole spiel: asked him if he was lost, had a home, needed a place to stay, yadda, yadda.”

“And?”

“He told me to fuck off.”

“Look, Roy, I don’t—”

“Look, man, I know, okay? Frankly, the kid’s a prick, but I’ve just got this feeling—he just… he’s been through some shit, man. I can just tell. And weirdly enough, I don’t think he’s casing Oliver’s place. I just think he’s tired, and he needs help.”

“I don’t force people to come here.” Dick replies flatly, and Roy nods quickly.

“I know. I just… You’ve got a way with people, Dick. You know I’m shit at talking to people, but you? You could help him.”

“I can only help people who want to be helped.”

“He does. Just trust me on this?”

Dick moves to the small, cracked window, shuddering slightly at the chilly breeze that filters in through the splintering gaps. It’s nearing the end of October now, so he should probably work on re-covering gaps in windows to keep the warmth in now that it’s getting a lot colder.

There are numerous uncertainties flicking through his mind, the top one being that he’s bringing someone dangerous into the warehouse. He has too many kids to keep safe, with the youngest being only 7. He’s accepted long ago that he can’t physically save everyone and that some people just aren’t going to work in the warehouse. Still, among the sea of uncertainties currently attempting to drown his brain, there’s one small, nagging bubble of air that he can’t help but cling to.

Dick’s been there before. After watching his parents die, he shut down, and he’s spewed his fair share of curses at adults trying to “help,” not understanding at the time why he couldn’t just shut himself away to properly grieve. He didn’t have anyone to help him; he worked through his shit on his own, until Roy came along. So maybe…

“Name?” He sighs, turning from the window.

“What?”

“You said you talked to him. Did you manage to get his name?”

“Oh, definitely not. After he told me to fuck off, I stayed, and he very calmly threatened to slit my throat in my sleep.”  

Dick swallows thickly around a pull of instant regret. “There are multiple kids that hang around Oliver’s. How will I know who he is?”

“Easy,” Roy starts. “He’s always got this red hood pulled up and over his head.”

[fanfics4all]

Painless

Request: Yes / No 

Requests are closed <3 Have a nice day/night

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3200

Warnings: SCHOOL BOMBING, CURSING, it’s criminal minds so read at your own risk! 

Y/N: Your Name 

PLEASE DO NOT STEAL MY WORK, I WORK HARD ON MY FICS AND IT’S NOT COOL TO STEAL SOMEONE ELSE’S WORK! 

If you want to be on the tag list for anything (My series fics, specific character fics, or just all of them) All you have to do is send me an ask and I will add you! 

Masterlist 

(Not my photo, credit to whoever made it!)

Another day at work. Another day of someone dead. I thought as I walked into the office. I saw everyone was already in the round table room and sighed. Another case. I put my stuff down at my desk and walked into the room. I took my seat next to my boyfriend Spencer and gave a smile at everyone. 

“Does anyone remember this picture?” Garcia asked, bringing up a picture of a man and a girl looking distressed. 

“Hotch and I were there. That’s Principal Doug Gavens. We had to drag him to safety.” Rossi said, making everyone look at him. 

“High school bombing in Boise, right?” Emily asked. 

“School shooter and school bomber.” JJ said and it triggered my memory. 

“A kid named Randy Slade shot three students and then set off an I.E.D. in the cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and thirteen kids total, but not before posting all his plans online.” I said and Garcia nodded. 

“It was one of those “Where were you?” events. My whole campus was glued to the T.V..” JJ said. 

“Last night, Principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.” Garcia said. 

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the school together after the bombing. It’s a pretty symbolic target.” Morgan said. 

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre.” Hotch said. 

“And today is the first day of a four day event to commemorate the bombing at the school.” Garcia said. 

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub.” Emily said. 

“No. He wants to relive it.” Hotch said. We gathered our things and got on the plane. We were all sitting down and going over the case files. 

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack. This guy hid his in Givens’ clock radio.” Spencer said. 

“Yeah, and progressive. Each one tries to top the body count of the one previous.”  

“And they’re loners by default, not by choice. They try to join various social groups, but they get shut out.” JJ said. 

“Randy Slade wasn’t a loner at all.” Hotch said. 

“The family cooperated fully with us. He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.” Rossi said. 

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful. His explosive of choice was Semtex.” I said looking at the files. 

“It’s found at demolition sites, but it’s held under lock and key.” Spencer said. 

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner. Never found one.” Rossi said. 

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit. But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.” Hotch said. 

“His sense of control?” Emily asked. 

“And the end game that he’s working toward.” Hotch answered with a nod. 

“Slade’s pathology revolved around the big kill. This unsub could have done the same if he’d waited for the candlelight vigil.” Hotch added. 

“Which means there’s no blaze of glory fantasy here. This unsub has more bombs made, and he’s savoring the anticipation of his next attack.” Rossi said. After we talked everyone moved to their own spots to think and relax before we had the hard work to do. I sat next to Spencer and smiled at him. 

“This poor town.” I said and he sighed. 

“I know, but the odds are against them in this situation.” He said and I nodded. 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less.” I said and he nodded. 

“It’s a hard thing to deal with.” He said. 

“Yeah…” I sighed. We tried to keep our minds on things that would help us, instead of how much people were hurting right now. 

As soon as we landed we dropped our stuff off at our hotel then split up. Hotch and Rossi went to the station with Emily and Morgan. Spencer, JJ and I went to the crime scene. We walked inside and it was a mess, not shocking though considering what happened. 

“Okay, so the unsub has to be tied to the school somehow, right?” JJ asked. 

“Current student, alumni, family member who lost someone…” I listed off. 

“It could be Slade groupies celebrating his hero. He taped nails to the exterior of the bomb, specifically to rip open flesh. That’s a sadistic detail of Slade’s the unsub copied.” Spencer said. 

“Except he tricked Givens into blowing himself up. A groupie probably wouldn’t show that much self-control.” JJ said. 

“But someone with an ax to grind against the principal would. Maybe he’s a surrogate for the tomenters in high school he can’t punish.” Spencer said. 

“Who were yours?” He asked us. 

“I don’t even remember.” JJ answered. 

“You don’t even remember? Wait, were you one of those mean girls?” Spencer questioned. 

“No.” JJ said. 

“Valedictorian, soccer scholarship, corn-fed, but still a size zero. I think that you might have been a mean girl.” Spencer said. 

“Spence.” I said. 

“I was actually one of the nice girls, even to guys like you.” JJ answered and I shook my head. There was no stopping this now. 

“Guys like me? I’ll have you know that my social standing increased once I started winning at basketball.” Spencer said, I always forget that he coached basketball. 

“Oh yeah? You played basketball?” JJ asked. 

“Actually he coached it.” I answered. 

“You coached it?” She asked. 

“Yeah, I broke down the opposing team’s shooting strategy.” He said. 

“Is that why Morgan kicked you two out of the pool last week?” She asked. 

“Yeah, it took him three rounds to realize we were hustling him.” I answered with a laugh. 

“Huh.” She said and we went back to looking at the crime scene. As soon as we were done looking we got a call about another murder. So we made our way there. The three of us looked around and JJ decided to call Hotch and tell him.

“You’re on speaker JJ.” Hotch answered. 

“So, we might have another one.” She said. 

“Might?” He asked. 

“One of the North Valley alumni was killed in her motel room.” She answered. 

“No bomb or gun this time. Looks like he used his bare hands.” I added. 

“You got a name?” Hotch asked. 

“Chelsea Grant.” Spencer answered. 

The next day Spencer and I returned to the crime scene with Hotch. It was good to come back and look at it with fresh eyes. 

“The unsub crushed Chelsea’s throat so she couldn’t scream, then he pulverized her ribs, sending fragments of bone into her heart.” Spencer said. 

“Principal Givens was high-profile. Chelsea wasn’t. Right now the only thing connecting them is they’re both on the kill list.” Hotch said. 

“A list that Brandon kept secret for ten years, but he was in custody when this happened. So the question is, how did the unsub get the exact same list?” I asked. 

“Well, we ruled out a partner, but not conclusively.” Hotch said. 

“Slade made every part of his plan public. It doesn’t make sense that he would hide a partner.” Spencer said. 

“He didn’t want to share the credit. And this weekend is the partner’s best chance to claim it.” Hotch said. 

“Let’s go back to the station, we have a profile to deliver.” He said and we followed him. 

When we got back to the station we gathered everyone up and we were ready to deliver the profile. 

“Partners of dominant psychopaths are usually submissive, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be intelligent or that they’re physically weak.” Hotch said. 

“This unsub laid low after the bombing and successfully evaded police and FBI. That took cunning and patience, which he’s exhibiting now with his current murders.” Morgan said. 

“We think he fits the loner profile Slade debunked. He grew up in an abusive home, which kept him from forming the normal social bonds in high school.” JJ said. 

“We interviewed all the outcasts from back then. How did this guy slip through?” Chief Cole asked. 

“Even outcasts eventually form friendships. But this unsub was the outcast the outcasts rejected.” Spencer said. 

“Exactly, he won’t stand out in any capacity, and as a matter of fact, most of his fellow students probably won’t even remember graduating with him.” I said. 

“And that invisibility is what made him attractive to Slade. This partner wouldn’t steal the spotlight.” Rossi said. 

“Slade targeted the cafeteria because most of the names on his list ate there together during fifth period.” Spencer said. 

“So his hatred festered when the names on the list emerged from the cafeteria as media heroes. And now he wants to finish the job that Randy started.” Morgan said. 

“Emotionally, this weekend is more a high school reunion to him than a memorial. We go to reunions to show who we grew up to be. Often that means changing everything about who we were.” Rossi said. 

“Consciously or not, Randy Slade revealed clues as to his partner’s identity when he detonated his bomb. Agent Prentiss will be conducting cognitive interviews to see what the survivors might remember.” Hotch said. We answered a few questions the cops had then went on to try and work out who this guy could be. Emily was with the survivors now working on them. 

“So, as you can see from your board there, this kill list is weirdly similar to high school. 

“Group on is like the popular kids, prom court, football team, dean’s list. The Heathers, if you will.” Garcia said. 

“Kids in Slade’s social circle.” Hotch said. 

“What about number two?” JJ asked. 

“Uh, mmhmm, that would be the kids from the other side of the tracks, 180-degree difference, kids this close to getting kicked out, Stoners, burnouts, mental cases. Chelsea Grant is on this list.” Garcia said. 

“Maybe Slade targeted them because they disgusted him?” JJ asked while Spencer’s phone was ringing. We have been doing a lot of that since we got here. 

“But they didn’t threaten Slade’s sense of superiority. He wouldn’t have even cared about them.” Hotch said as we ignored Spencer’s phone. 

“So maybe the partner put them on the list. They’d be closer to his social status than Slade’s.” I said as Spencer’s phone stopped ringing. 

“Why would the-” Spencer was cut off by his phone ringing again. 

“I’m so sorry.” He said, taking his phone out and hung up. 

“Why would the unsub list kids that he fit in with?” Spencer asked, putting his phone away again. 

“Apparently that’s how this clique worked. The kids in it were meaner to each other than kids on the outside. Garcia, separate out all the kids who got into trouble regularly. Then eliminate the names that the partner put on the list. Now, who’s left that came to the memorial?” Hotch asked. 

“Right. Whoever made the list wouldn’t put their name on it. Uh… sir, I think- I think I’ve got him. His name is Lewis Ramsey.” Garcia said. 

“Where is he?” Hotch asked. 

“Uhh… According to his cell phone he’s at a local bar.” She answered. 

“Send it to Morgan’s phone.” Hotch ordered and called him. Morgan brought him in and him and Hotch started interviewing him. Once they were done they told the rest of us. 

“You buy it?” Emily asked. 

“He fits the profile, and the evidence points to him, but he seems sincere.” Hotch said. 

“He’s not the unsub. He was the partner, but look at how Slade added “All the losers in this Godforsaken school.” This capitalization isn’t an accident. Look.” Spencer said and wrote it on the white board. 

“L-S-R, Lewis Stuart Ramsey.” He said. 

“So Slade named his own partner.” I said. 

“Ironically, Lewis’ marijuana addiction saved his life.” He said with a nod. 

“Well, that puts us back to our original problem. If the unsub isn’t the partner, how did he get his hands on a list that Slade and Lewis kept to themselves?” I asked. 

“The only answer is that part of the profile is wrong. The unsub’s vendetta has nothing to do with the list. Did you get anything from Jerry Holtz?” Hotch asked Emily. 

“Only that he mixed up the cell phones that Slade used. It felt like he was making the story up, but I only had a hunch.” Emily said. 

“We need to find him now. There’s a connection to the victimology that we’re missing. Whatever he’s holding back might be the key.” Hotch said. We found Jerry, but he was dead. He was killed at the school. We made our way there and Emily met us there. 

“Jerry Holtz? How long?” She asked. 

“Less than an hour. Security guard heard the commotion, but the unsub was already gone.” JJ answered. 

“The only people who knew we were doing the cognitive interviews were the other survivors. The unsub must be part of that group.” Emily said. 

“Well, we don’t know that for a fact. He could have been lying in wait.” I said. 

“Look, Hotch wants me to go through the victims’ lives and find the overlaps. We can compare their histories with the unsub’s.” JJ said. 

“What else do we have to go on?” Emily asked, looking at Spencer and I. 

“Spence said the unsub would have broken his hand beating Chelsea to death. Did you notice anyone with a cast on their hand, someone who seemed hurt?” JJ asked. 

“No.” Emily shook her head. 

“I might know why.” Spencer said and we all looked at him. 

“This unsub doesn’t feel pain.” He said. 

“You mean he has pain asymbolia?” I asked and he nodded.

“We need to get back to the station. Spencer told them about his theorie and no one understood what he was saying.  

“In english for the other people in the room.” Morgan asked. 

“There’s a medical condition called pain asymbolia, where patients register harmful stimuli without being bothered by it. They’ve been documented holding their hand over an open flame because their brain doesn’t send pain signals to the central nervous system.” Spencer explained. 

“Sounds pretty rare. You sure the unsub has it?” Rossi asked. 

“The crime scenes prove it. Once Spencer said it, everything clicked. He displayed an unusual level of savagery towards his victims. And consider this, he smashed through a glass display case, but there were no cuts on Jerry. That means he most likely punched through it as a show of force.” I said. 

“Now, the only way the human body could withstand that level of pain is if he couldn’t feel it at all.” Spencer added. 

“It must take a major toll on someone’s emotional development.” Rossi said and Spencer’s phone rang… again. 

“A significant contributor to our sense of empathy is the way we personally experience pain.” Morgan said and Spencer silenced his phone again. 

“And the unsub didn’t develop his sense of empathy because it was cut off. Does every person with Asymbolia have this?” Hotch asked. 

“Actually, most feel empathy just fine, which makes me think the rest of our profile is still accurate. Loner, invisible, outcast, boiling rage- Son of a bitch!” Spencer said, pulling out his ringing cell phone and answered it. I notice Morgan trying to hide a smirk. 

“Hi! This is Dr. Spencer Reid. I actually can come to the phone right now with a very special message that your mother is-” 

“Reid.” Hotch cut him off and he hung up. 

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I don’t know what got into me. Where were we?” He asked, putting his phone away. 

“I’m going to have Garcia check medical records. Uh, what causes Asymbolia?” Hotch asked. 

“Ssss- Severe trauma produces lesions on the insular cortex, usually after a stroke but this unsub’s so young, it’s most likely caused by an external factor.” Spencer said looking at Morgan the whole time. 

“Like a bomb going off next to him?” Rossi asked. 

“Yeah, like a bomb going off next to him.” He repeated at Morgan. Morgan just smirked and Hotch walked off to talk to Garcia. 

“I will crush you.” Spencer whispered. 

“What?” Morgan asked. 

“What?” Spencer repeated and walked off. I looked at Rossi and shook my head with a smirk. 

“You two are seriously pranking each other while on a case?” I asked and Morgan just smiled. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said and I shook my head again. I swear these two… 

JJ and Emily came by a little later with some new information. JJ was rearranging some pictures on the board. We looked on with confusion. 

“Recognize the top ten?” JJ asked. 

“No.” Hotch answered. 

“They were the students that went in front of the cameras after the bombing.” She answered. 

“I thought all the surviving students were interviewed?” I asked.

“After the initial aftermath, yes, but these are the kids that went on talk shows, traveled to other schools. My guess is that they didn’t self-select who made the cut.” JJ said. 

“Principal Givens did.” Hotch said. 

“That’s why the unsub killed him first. He was an outcast who wanted to fit in. Being a survivor should have been his golden ticket.” She said. 

“But he was excluded again, and that’s why he’s killing them.” I said. 

“Yeah. The rules of high school never changed, not even after a tragedy.” JJ said. Hotch’s phone rang and he put it on speaker. 

“Go ahead, Garcia.” He said. 

“Hey, listen up. I crossed-referenced student files with medical records. Now, there were six kids that were knocked unconscious in that blast, but only one fit the outcast profile. His name is Robert Adams, and he just used his credit card at a local restaurant, the address of which I just sent you right now.” She said. 

“I’m on my way.” Hotch said looking at us. Hotch gathered everyone up and JJ and I stayed back. When they came back Robert wasn’t with them. Hotch had to shoot him, there was no other way this was going to end. Once we got everything sorted we got on the plane to go home. I was sitting next to Spencer, who was resting his head on my shoulder while I read a book. We were sitting across from Morgan and Emily, Morgan was listening to music and Emily was reading a paper. He took his headphones off and we heard Spencer screaming from them. 

“Okay, kid, that was cute. But that’s all you got?” Morgan asked him, he was very clearly pretending to be asleep. Morgan’s cell ran and he answered it. 

“Hey baby girl-” He was cut off by Spencer screaming coming through his phone. Spencer had a smile on his face and Rossi held up a white napkin. 

“Uh-uh. Alright, Reid, it’s on. Just know that paybacks are a bitch.” Morgan said. Spencer just responded with snoring. I shook my head at the two of them. 

“You started this Morgan, it’s your own fault.” I said with a slight laugh. 

“Of course you’re taking his side, Y/N.” He rolled his eyes. 

“Well I am dating him, so yes I’m taking his side.” I said and Rossi chuckled. 

Tag list: @les-bio-lie @tashy-bear @ashwarren32 @hollie-blogs @schisbro87 @lover-of-books-and-teas @nerdygaloresposts @teenwolfbitches2 @genius2050 @drw0301bieber @softgamerking @lady-of-lies @simonsbluee @ravenmoore14 @maynardqueen101 @pettyjayy​ @reidssmile​ @currentfangirl-futuremedexaminer 

[crackedoutgiraffe]

To the Moon and Back

PART 1

A/N: Chapter 2 

Warnings: Mentions of bombs

“Hi, I'm Dr. Spencer Reid,” he said, extending one arm for a handshake.

“Dr.?” you said with a smirk, reciprocating his handshake that went on a bit too long. 

“Dr.” he replied, still not letting go of the handshake. He seemed to be staring into your soul, all you did was stare back. His eyes were searching yours as if he had lost something in them. His scruffy hair made him seem so innocent.

“But we just call him pretty boy,” Derek said, hitting Reid on the back, releasing you both from your trance. 

“Ok, pretty boy,” you replied, looking him up and down while messing with your hair. He seemed to shift his foot stance. 

“Round table meeting in 5,” Hotch announced right on queue. You noticed JJ walking over toward you with Prentiss at her side, they reminded you of the mean girls from high school. 

“There is one more member of the team you should meet,” JJ said as she grabbed your arm and led you out of the hustle and bustle of the bullpen. She took you down a hallway, passing more agents who all seemed to stop and stare at you. Was there something on your face? Just then JJ led you into a room just bigger than a janitor’s closet. Sitting at the desk was another blonde dressed in a very interesting outfit. She reminded you of Ms. Frizzle.

“Penelope,” JJ announced. “This is the newest member of our team, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Another Doctor?” Penelope said. “ Do they give away Ph.D.’s like their candy now?” You stood there confused. Was she being mean or was she being sarcastic? Sure, you looked a little young to have a Ph.D. let alone 2, but you worked really hard for them. “I’m just kidding,” she said. “It’s so nice to meet you, I knew Hotch was looking for a new recruit but I didn’t know we would hit the jackpot,” she said pulling you into a hug. “Wait, are you smarter than the Mighty Professor?” 

“They haven’t played poker yet,” JJ interrupted. “They did meet though, and I’d say it went well,” She said giving Penelope a wink. “Are you good at poker Y/N?” You had played before and you had won, but this professor sounds awfully good.

“Over spring break one year in college, I accidentally entered into a poker tournament in Vegas. I won $100,000, paid off half my student loans.”

“How do you ‘accidentally’ enter a poker tournament?” JJ asked. To be honest, you didn’t know, so you answered JJ’s questions with a shrug. “We have to get to the round table meeting.”

The three of you walked back into the bullpen and up the stairs, you entered a new room at the end of the platform with a TV screen and a round table. 

“Alright let’s get started,” Hotch said, walking in and sitting down. “Garcia.”

“Does anyone remember this picture,” Garcia started.

“Hotch and I were there,” Rossi answered Garcia’s peculiar question. “That’s principal Doug Givens, we had to drag him to safety.”

“High school bombing in Boise, right?” you added. 

“School shooter and school bomber,” JJ continued. “A kid named Randy Slade shot 3 students and then set off an I.E.D. in the school cafeteria via cell phone, killing himself and 13 kids total, but not before posting all of his plans online. It was one of those ‘where were you events’. My whole campus was glued to the TV”

Garcia nodded looking at her tablet, “Last night principal Givens was killed by a bomb modeled exactly like the old one.”

“It feels like the unsub wants to attack the man who kept the whole school together after the bombing,” Morgan added. “It’s a pretty symbolic target.”

“And this week is the tenth anniversary of the massacre,” you added

“And today is the first day of a 4-day event to commemorate the bombing at the school,” Garcia continued.

“Except commemorating it isn’t enough for this unsub,” you said.

“No, he wants to relive it,” Hotch said. “Alright, wheels up in 30,” As you started walking out you heard your name called and looked back to see Hotch cleaning up some papers. “Do you have a go-bag ready?” 

“No sir, should I?”

“Yes, head back to your house and get one ready,” He replied. “Here is the address for the airstrip, show them your badge and they’ll let you park there for as long as we’re away.”

“How long will we be away for?”

“Pack for at least 4 days.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Also, Y/N, good job in there today. I think the team is really warming up to you.”

“Thank you.”

As you made your way out of the FBI office, you thought about all the ways your life was about to change. First off you’d have to buy more work clothes, which you were not opposed to. Your favorite activity, second only to reading, was shopping. Your drive back to your apartment was boring. The idea of packing was boring. The idea of going to Iowa was frightening. You grew up in the midwest and didn’t want to go back. Nonetheless, you packed up what you needed in terms of toiletries and clothes you were good. For entertainment, you packed a deck of playing cards and your favorite book The Narrative of John Smith. You called a neighbor you know asked them to feed your cat. Throwing your bag in your car you groaned at the thought of not sleeping in your bed for four days. While driving your mind wandered back to the team and you started to rank them in your head. Just as you got to the mysterious Dr. Reid, you pulled into the airfield.  You showed the guard your badge and drove to the parking lot. As you got out of the car you put on your sunglasses and grabbed your bag. Then you noticed JJ was walking over toward you. She too had on glasses and were carrying a bag. Once she caught up with you, you both made your way up to the jet that was sitting on the tarmac. “You guys have a private jet?” you asked seeing the surprise. 

“Wait till you see the inside,” JJ responded.

As you too boarded the jet you took a seat at the table next to JJ and across from Prentiss and Dr. Reid. You settled in and noticed that nobody was talking, they were all focused on whatever boring task they chose to do. JJ was playing on her phone, Rossi was staring out the window, Derek was asleep, Hotch was reviewing the case file, and Dr. Reid had brought a book to read, about half an hour into the flight, you guys started to talk about the case

“Perpetrators of school violence are often sophisticated with their weapons. Randy Slade carried his bomb in his backpack. This guy hid his in Givens' clock radio,” Reid noted. God, he was so smart.

“Yeah, and progressive,” Prentiss added. “Each one tries to top the body

count of the one previous.”

“And they're loners by default, not by choice,” you said. “They try to join various social

groups, but they get shut out.”

“Randy Slade wasn't a loner at all,” Hotch said.

“The family cooperated fully with us,” Rossi noted. “He was a high-functioning psychopath, straight-A student, varsity wrestler, lots of girlfriends.”

“With an above-average intelligence that made him incredibly resourceful,” Reid added. “His explosive of choice was Semtex. It's found at demolition sites, but it's held under lock and key.”

“Which made us consider the possibility of a partner,” Rossi continued. “Never found one.”

“Slade was too much of a narcissist to share credit,” Hotch said. “But he was also an impulsive teen, which is what bothers me about this unsub.”

“His sense of control?” you asked.

“And the end game that he's working toward. Slade's pathology revolved around the big kill,” Hotch noted.  “This unsub could have done the same if he'd waited for the candlelight vigil.”

“Which means there's no blaze of glory fantasy here,” Rossi added. “This unsub has

more bombs made, and he's savoring the anticipation of his next attack.”

“You and Reid can go to the medical examiner when we land to examine the bodies. Morgan, Prentiss and I will set up at the police station. JJ and Rossi, you two will visit the crime scene.” Hotch commanded. Once he finished, everyone returned to what they were doing.

[ali-kitkat]

Hisses and Scratches Ch 1

Sometimes life was easy to get through and other times it turned her into a cat. It had been happening to her all week, turning into a cat that is. Her twenty-fifth birthday had passed the earlier Friday and since then she has been shifting back and forth between human and cat. A seal point Siamese to be specific; she had been in her room when she first shifted and every time afterwards. She had considered herself lucky because of that since she transformed back naked.

The present conundrum Marinette was in, was she was lost in Gotham, as a cat. She just moved to the city and had been at a fabric shop before she felt the magic that signaled the shift. Leaving before she bought anything, she ran into an alleyway just as the transformation took over. She wandered for hours before she got lost and she still hadn’t transformed back. She turned around at the loud noise from behind her to see Robin staring at her in curiosity.

“How in the world did you end up out here? I can tell you’re not one of Selina’s, she doesn’t have any Siamese cats. She’d keep you locked up tight. You’re definitely not a stray either, too well kept.” He mused. “I don’t want to leave you out here; you’re wandering around lost. So, I’ll take you with me.”

He scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her hisses and claws. Holding her in his left arm, he raised his right and fired a grappling hook. She stopped lashing out so as not to slip out of his hold but continued hissing and growling. He chuckled at her displeasure and she cast what was supposed to be a glare at him, though she doubted it had any effect. They landed in front of a taller man wearing a bomber jacket and red helmet.

“Another one? You don’t have enough pets already?”

“What’s your point Hood? I found her in Crime Alley, and I wasn’t going to just leave her there; she was wandering around. I’m going to keep her.” He announced. She let an annoyed growl at his statement.

“Are ya sure that’s a good idea? She seems a little angry about that.” Hood asked while reaching out to pet her; yanking his hand back when she started to swat at it. “Shit, she’s a demented little fuck, a perfect match if you ask me.”

“I didn’t.”

She started to squirm, trying to escape his grip was tough and she almost accomplished it before he grabbed her by the scruff. Her body went taut against her will and she let out a pitiful mewl, hoping he’d ease his grip, he didn’t. Another two people landed on the roof and shook their heads at the sight.

“Baby bird, you can’t keep picking up strays.”

“Yeah you’re gonna get fleas that way if you keep it up brat.”

“You lot would know about that wouldn’t you?” He replied shifting her, so she was squished in his arms against his chest. She let out a growl that turned into a purr when he started to scratch her behind the ears. She stopped when she heard someone land and let out an exasperated sigh.

“I’m keeping her.” He announced. “She already swatted at Hood.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t have to father.”

Batman hadn’t given a physical sign of understanding, but the other three vigilantes were falling over themselves with laughter. She heard their mutters ‘It’s genetic.’ ‘Adopting strays is fucking genetic.’ ‘You’ve gotta be shitting me. He adopts animals like B adopts orphans.’ She let out a mewl of disapproval and the vigilante who called Robin ‘Baby Bird’ stepped forward to pet her but backed away after she hissed at him.

“Alright so she’s a little hissy.” He said. She let out a growl at the pun. He jumped a little and stared at her in bewilderment, as did Hood.

“Is it just me or was that a little odd, like she understood Nightwing’s joke?” Hood questioned; his tone worried.

“Hood animals have more intelligence than you. They can understand the human language, though I will concede that it was odd that she growled at the pun.” Robin answered.

They all stopped and stared at her as if she was going to speak, she merely blinked at them in return unfazed by their actions.

“Of course, he found a cat with a similar temperament to his.” Hood said dryly.

Robin let out a snort and resumed petting her, drawing out another purr. She could see Nightwing and Hood pouting. She started to squirm, demanding to be let down. He eased his grip slightly and she slipped out of his hold, she trotted around then brushed against Hood’s leg. She darted away; tail puffed out.

“Way to go Hood you scared her.” Robin sneered and started towards her. She ducked under his grasp running to the edge of the roof. She had almost made it before she was scooped back up, she lashed out against the person holding her, spitting and hissing before she was handed back to Robin.

“Thank you, father. Let’s go home before she makes another break for freedom.” Robin said, while keeping a tight grip on her. She let out another growl. “Yes, I hear you loud and clear you snarling ball of fur.”

*~*~*~*

It had been a few hours since she was accidentally kidnapped by the Bat family.

Robin, who she learned was Damian via his family butler, was laying on his back petting her while the rest of his animals were laying down near them.

He had taken to calling her Eris, since she had sown discord between the brothers when only Damian was allowed to pet her. She was content with the scratches she was receiving from Damian, being a cat wasn’t too bad but that came to a halt when she transformed back into a human. While still laying on him. Lacking clothing.

“What the fuck?” He exclaimed, throwing her off him. She landed on the floor covering herself to the best of her ability.

“Son of a bitch.” She muttered while staring at him in shock. “Could I get—”

He threw a blanket at her before she finished her sentence. Catching it she wrapped it around herself as quickly as possible.

“Hi, my name is Marinette.” She whispered, embarrassment coloring her face. Damian was staring at the ceiling. She could hear the clamoring of footsteps headed for the room, Damian could as well since he lifted his head in confusion at the sound.

The family had rushed into the room, not bothering to open the door but break it down instead, falling into a heap of limbs on the floor. Jason, the first to look up, locked eyes with her. The blanket fell from her shoulders and she let out a squeak as she transformed back into a cat, back arched, tailed puffed out again and started to spit at the Bat clan.

“What the fuck?”

“Isn’t that the cat he brought home?”

“Yes, that’s the cat I brought home. Apparently, she’s not just a cat, are you Marinette?” Damian said finally shaking himself out of the daze he was in, sitting up to look at her. She turned to face him and let out a growl. “Can you transform back?”

She let out a hiss, backing further away from the family as they finally pulled themselves up from the floor. They were wide eyed in shock and awe, but they were on guard. Damian climbed off the bed and approached her carefully, she backed herself into a corner. She was scared, she supposed that much was clear with the family as they eased themselves from their taut posture to a more relaxed pose. Not completely but enough to tell her it was okay. Damian had grabbed her by the scruff again, much to her ire and was keeping hold of her.

“She told you her name?” Dick asked.

“You’re focusing on the wrong thing boy wonder.” Jason sassed. “She was wrapped up in his blanket, shoulders bare. So, when she transforms back again, we should probably have something ready for her to cover herself up in.”

“Will she even transform back?” Tim questioned, moving in front of her.

She was writhing, the need to flee rising. The fear she had, had her so on edge she extended her claws lashing out at whatever was closest to her. Unfortunately, that had been Tim, he let out a swear as she caught his arm. A long scratch stretched up his arm, he glared at her and the scratch. Damian had shoved him back while holding her scruff a bit tighter in one hand.

“Way to go jackass, scaring her further won’t help us a bit.” He snarled at Tim. “Everyone but father leave. The two of us might be able to calm her down. Have Alfred stand outside the room, he will be the one we call for if she transforms back.”

She relaxed somewhat as the three other boys left, but when she locked eyes with Bruce, she tensed up again. Bruce was unreadable, she knew from living in Gotham so far that it was because he didn’t like meta-humans. She understood in that moment, that’s what she was.

Damian eased his grip a little bit, not enough for her to get free. It was an attempt to establish trust she realized when she glanced at him. His green eyes were worried with a hint of anger, she wasn’t sure if it was directed at her or not though. He had shifted her into his arms, keeping a firm hold on her. She was still taut, barely eased and casting glances at Bruce before either of them caught onto her nervousness of the man. Damian followed her line of sight to his father and connected the dots from there, she was classified as a meta and she knew Bruce was Batman. She was scared of what was going to happen to her. His father nodded and left the room, there was no point in terrifying her further.

“Can you try and transform back, Marinette?” Damian asked her, his voice soft. She let out a cry that she tried to make sound like a no as much as possible, an odd attempt at communication. “I’m assuming that was a no, I want you to focus on being human, focus on yourself, push everything else out of your mind.”

He let her go, so she didn’t stray far from his side for fear that he might tackle her. She sat on top of the blanket and closed her eyes focusing like he suggested. It had taken a bit of time as she kept getting distracted while he watched her, she had to swat at him to get him to turn around so she could concentrate. After that it hadn’t taken long for her to shift back. She clutched the blanket to her chest before tapping Damian on the shoulder. He turned his head slightly and whipped it back just as fast.

“Couldn’t you have tried to focus on clothing?”

“Look it was hard enough to focus on being human with you staring at me, but every other time I changed back before I didn’t have any clothes. I don’t think it’s going to happen honestly. Besides I’m pretty sure I’m more embarrassed here.” She replied. She was blushing and he was too if the back of his neck and his ears were any indication, they were bright red.

“Somehow I doubt that.” He muttered.

“What is your dad going to do? I classify as a meta, and he hates them.” She asked, her voice meek. There was a knocking sound before Damian could respond, Alfred stepped into the room. She ducked behind Damian, the blanket covering her but embarrassment winning out.

“Forgive me for intruding, but here are some clothes for Miss Marinette to wear.” Alfred said; handing Marinette the clothes and leaving just as quickly as he entered.

She slipped the clothing on while still keeping the blanket on her, getting dressed underneath it. She shifted the blanket to her shoulders and tied the drawstring on the pants given, they were small but still a bit too big for her.

“I’m assuming it’s meeting time now?” She asked moving in front of Damian. His face was unreadable as he nodded in confirmation. She took a deep breath, gripping the blanket tighter for a small sense of security. He led her to what she presumed was the living room.

She had expected stares but theirs’s unnerved her, almost to the point where she shifted again. Damian’s father was standing behind his brothers. Jason stood between Dick and Tim. She started to hyperventilate, and Damian grabbed her, ushering her into an armchair, distracting her from her train of thought.

She looked at their faces trying to gauge their expressions. Bruce’s expression, from what she could actually read, was a mixture of shock and awe. His brothers were amused, Jason was muttering something she couldn’t make out but had resulted in him being elbowed by both Dick and Tim. He had fallen over with a pained expression and she had to muffle a laugh. Which caused him to look a little disgruntled on top of pained. Damian let out a laugh shocking his family, as they all turned to stare at him instead of her.

*~*~*~*

@chocolate1721 posted in the discord about cat Mari being cuddled by Damian and this transpired. Enjoy!

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #349

“we’ll meet again, when both our cars collide”

When was the last time you had a PopTart? It's been many, many months. Do you like hot chocolate? Well duh. Who made you laugh the hardest today? I haven't really laughed today. Who was the last person to promise you something, and what was it? Hmph. Would you ever jump into a fire to save your bestfriend? I know I would. Do you have a callus from writing too much? No, I only have calluses on my feet from when I used to walk for hours on end. They just never permanently went away, even with grooming. Who is someone you’ve made a bad first impression on? I dread to guess what the girl Jason dated after me was told about me. I shouldn't care at all, but I do. I have every reason to accurately be defined as "the crazy ex," and I fucking hate it. Who is your best guy friend? Girt, a friend from high school. Do you read cereal boxes while you’re eating? I did as a kid, but now I don't. I just kinda stand and eat. What’s the last thing you accidentally (or purposely) burnt? I kinda burnt the roof of my mouth on pizza the other night. Do you know anyone with a lip piercing? Me, haha. I know others, too. What did the last tattoo you saw, look like? I don't remember. Have you ever given birth? NO FUCKING THANK YOU. Do you enjoy making out? I mean if I'm in the mood to and I love you, yeah. Why exactly do you take surveys? "I genuinely like doing them and they’re great for venting and sorting out thoughts and whatnot. I can just ramble and get things off my chest." <<<< This right here covers it. As well, it's just a boredom killer. And I happen to be bored very, very often. Rockband or Gutair Hero? Both are great, why choose just one? What are you listening to right now? Halocene's cover of "Helena" by My Chemical Romance. It's beautiful. What kind of energy drinks do you drink, if any? None, because I just can't do energy drinks. They taste like pure poison to me. Have you ever been swimming in a river? No. Swimming in a river sounds pretty dangerous... Does your alarm clock wake you with music, or with an annoying buzz sound? Music. When you broke stuff in the house as a child, did you blame it on siblings? I'm hoping you don't mean breaking deliberately, 'cuz I wasn't that kind of kid. But anyway, I don't believe I did. Did you make it all the way through the Oregon Trail game? Yes. I was obSESSED with those games as a kid. Lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Which one are you more scared of? Tigers, probably. They're so stealthy and, while I may be entirely wrong, seem like the top candidate of the three to attack a human, be it for food or defense. And have you SEEN the muscles on a tiger? Christ. Describe the best use that you’ve found for duct tape: Uh, taping things lmao. Do you wrap gifts or use gift bags? I use gift bags, because I can't wrap for shit. What fast food place do you avoid at all costs? Arby's is really gross to me. Are you afraid of deep sea creatures? Just giant squid... *shudders* Have you ever agreed to purchase something on Ebay and got scammed somehow? No. I did, however, purchase something on deviantART and never got the product. It was going to be a present for Jason. In dA's defense though, I've bought like... two or three other things from there, and there were zero issues. It's really about the people you trust. If you get a call that says “Unknown”, do you answer it? Nnnnope. Do you have any bobble head figures? No. Have your parents ever left you somewhere without realizing it? I don't think so. Have you ever been in a tanning bed? No. Did your last kiss mean anything to you? Well yeah, I wouldn't have kissed her otherwise. Would you say that you have a nice smile? No; I've been self-conscious of it since I was a kid, mostly because one of my eyes looks more squinty than the other, but they both are to me. I've always said I look high when I smile lmao. Is there an ex you want to make up with? My mind immediately screams "Jason," but I know that's a horrendous idea. Our last talk ended peacefully and even with care and good wishes, and I need my fucking impenetrable head to accept that's where it needs to end. He does NOT need to re-enter my life. It would be so bad for me. Do you remember how you felt on 9/11? I have no memory of it, if I'm being honest. What outfit makes you feel the most attractive? None. Other than yourself, who knows you the best? Really? Whoever reads these lmao. What’s one complaint that you have about school? Common Core and how every student's school experience was not tailored towards their unique goals. Like they try to cram a shitload of identical and usually useless information into a kid's brain to make them a jack of all trades, you could say, but not enough information they need to properly pursue their career future. It causes such an unnecessary amount of frustration and stress. I have many, many complaints about the education system, but this one tops the list. What do you do while you’re on campus but not in class? Back in college, I would just do stuff on my laptop. Do you know anyone who has Autism/Asperger’s syndrome? Yes. Are you open to a same-sex relationship and why or why not? Well, considering I'm bisexual... Do you remember life without the internet? No. Have you ever found yourself to be ugly? I've gone my entire life thinking I'm ugly, if I'm being real. What is your state’s minimum wage? $7.25 a fucking hour. :'''''') Is there something you want to say to someone but can’t/won’t? There's a few people. What is your first memory of being in a hospital? Considering my mom worked at the local hospital when I was a kid, I remember being there quite, quite young, playing with my older sister in Mom's and her coworkers' room. I think Nicole was too young to really "play." Do you have any relatives with red hair? No. What is something good that has happened to you in the past week? I got my first Covid vaccine. My arm hurts like a motherfucker now, but to protect my mom, it's worth it. Please get vaccinated. How much was the rent/mortgage at the cheapest place you’ve ever lived? That's never been my business. Have you ever been to a gay pride parade? No, but I would go to a local one if I could actually walk five feet without being in serious pain and sweating like a pig. Do you still keep in touch with your very first best friend? We're friends on Facebook, but that's it. What was the topic of the last conversation you had with your dad? I can't remember, but it was recent, because we all met at Ashley's house for Nicole's birthday celebration. How often did you visit your grandparents when you were growing up? Pretty much never, given they all lived no less than like, 10 hours (via car) from where we lived. My immediate family are the only people in NC. When two family members are fighting, what do you usually do? Stay out of it, but admittedly try to listen just to know what's going on. Do you like the smell of men’s cologne? Yeah. What’s your all time FAVORITE freezer food? Do you eat that a lot? I survive off of microwaveable freezer food, so this is very hard... uhhhhh... perhaps this Banquet bowl meal that's mac 'n cheese with spicy chicken. It's absolutely delicious, like you'd never guess that sucker was just popped in the microwave. I'd say I eat it a moderate amount; it's a reliable option if Mom's not cooking and I'm really hungry, because it's super filling. Do you like documentaries? Have you ever watched one and find it boring? I enjoy them, particularly when they're about animals. Were you ever a fan of macaroni & cheese? Do you like Kraft dinner? Ha, speak of mac 'n cheese. I love it, and Kraft makes it fine. Do you burn incense? Not as much as I used to. I love the smell and just general vibe, though. What would you consider an unacceptable first date? Going to a bar or something. Have you ever been so sick you had to be taken to the hospital? In the head, anyway. Is there anything currently bothering you? Multiple things. Would you say that you’ve got something ‘special’ about you? No. Do you like things vampire-related? I don't really have an opinion on vampire stuff. Are you the kind of person who does not like talking about their past? I don't care. Have you ever been to a casino? No. What’s the last thing you wore a costume for besides Halloween related events? Back when I still took dance classes and we had the yearly recital. What does your father do for a living? He's a mailman. What’s the last app you downloaded on your phone? Haha, I re-downloaded this ollllldddd game I had before, Nyan Cat: Lost in Space (or something like that?) for my niece to play. She's hooked on it now. Are you in any discomfort right now? Yeah; as I mentioned, my arm really hurts. What do you know the most about? Of all things I know, almost certainly meerkats. Are you seeing anyone? No. Have you ever hooked back up with an ex, just for sex? Was it a mistake or no? No. Have you ever gotten in trouble for using a phone in class? No, because I didn't use my phone in class. Have you seen all the Shrek movies? No, which is a fucking crime. I need to see the last one. Have you ever finished a whole video game? Plenty plenty plenty. Do you know anyone with a pet snake? Yeah, myself included. If you had to live in an extreme environment — think Sahara, Antarctica, under the sea, on the Moon— where would you want to live? Why? Probably Antarctica. I'm sure it would be unpleasant, being that cold, but I feel there's more you can do about being cold than being in the scalding heat of, say, the Sahara. Living on the moon or in the deep ocean sounds super sucky. How was your day overall? It's been okay. Not as bored as usual, at least. How many people of the opposite sex do you fully trust? Like... zero. I want to say my dad, and I almost do, just... nightmares make that very, very difficult. Plus his past. What does your mom call you? Normally just "Britt." Write a sentence in another language: Oh god, my German is so rusty... uhhhh... Hallo, ich heiße Brittany, und ich bin 25 Jahre alt und wohne in North Carolina. I think I got the grammar right? Have you ever sent an X-Rated picture to someone? No. Even if I was comfortable with my body, I would be way too paranoid to at any point have a naked picture on my phone, even if I deleted it. Like, hello blackmail, but also, nothing you delete is ever really gone permanently. What big city do you live near? Raleigh is like an hour away. Do you like breaded chicken sandwiches? omg YES Is there a Sonic in your area? Yes, it's my favorite fast food joint. You have GOT to try the pretzel twists with cheese dip. Have you ever gone to a thrift store? Yeah, I love 'em. Do you think Johnny Depp is attractive? I do. Are you happy with the state you live in? No, not at all. I hate this place. Bunch of homophobic, racist rednecks. How many times have you seen the opposite sex naked? It's not like I counted every time I saw my ex naked over three and half years lmao. How many times have you seen the same sex naked? A few times. When days go by, do you cross them off on the calendar? I don't use a calendar. Are you currently counting down to something? If so, what? MY TATTOO APPOINTMENT!!!!! :''') I know I can't stop talking about it, but ugh I'm so excited. May 19th, c'mon already. Do you pay rent to your parents? No. Do you dye eggs for Easter? I used to as a kid. Not so much anymore. Are you in debt right now? For what? Oh god, I don't want to think of this. Would you ever work night crew? I really, really wouldn't want to. Humans are diurnal for a reason. Being awake in constant darkness would depress the fuck outta me, and it'd feel so lonely, with everyone I know asleep. Who was the last person that lied to you, or that you can recall lying to you? What did they lie about? How did you find out they were lying? I don't remember. Has anyone ever called you ugly, straight up, before? How did you react to this? No, not to my face. Who is the most stubborn person you know {excluding yourself}? MY MOTHER.

[professional-danish]

A Response to The Last of Us Part II Ending (Obvious Spoilers)

I’ve been seeing a lot of people who didn’t like the game say that they understand the ending perfectly, they already know revenge is bad, they didn’t need Naughty Dog to tell them this, etc etc but...for most of them, you’re still really not getting it.

This game is not about revenge at all, and it’s really not even about Abby, although she does teach us some important lessons. This game is still entirely about Joel and Ellie, and it is completely based on the premise of forgiveness. But not for Abby!! Ellie DOES NOT forgive Abby, and she never will. No one, in my opinion, would or even could forgive the brutal murder of their loved one, and it’s a haunting, human problem that plagues not only every protagonist of The Last of Us, but our own reality. There is something within our nature that simply cannot stomach it. We see it in the pain and anger of Joel when he loses Sarah, we see it in Abby when she loses her father, and we see it in Ellie, not only when she loses Joel, but when Joel reveals that he sacrificed the world at her expense. 

Let’s take a look at the ending again, specifically the final fight. I’ve seen so many people upset at the fact that it all seems to be for nothing, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. The ending of this story is everything, and for me, it’s what makes the game, and the entirety of what comes before it cannot be understood without the very last cutscene of Joel and Ellie’s final conversation. This is where all the anger, the bitterness, the brutality, and the pain stems from. 

“I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for that,” Ellie says, as Joel tells her he would pick to save her and doom the world again and again, no matter the circumstances, “but I would like to try.” 

Ellie never gets this chance to work through her issues with Joel, and that’s why his death festers within her so painfully. Abby takes that from her, and it is so grievous a crime that Ellie becomes fixed in place, incapable of moving on from it. She sees the loss all around her, a wound that demands to be healed and yet cannot be stitched by any tools she knows of or has, and so she is forced on this quest to heal herself by destroying the surface issue and refusing to acknowledge the root.  

She’s going to kill Abby, and that will take away the pain. 

Of course, we know this isn’t true, and Naughty Dog shows us this early on by thrusting us into Abby’s shoes. Murdering Joel has brought her no relief or satisfaction. The people she loves are further away from her than ever (and soon to be dead), and have been forced there as a consequence of her unshakeable need for revenge. And furthermore, she’s still living in the same hell, where she constantly returns via flashbacks to find her father dead on the floor of the hospital. Killing Joel has not eased that pain, nor healed her emotional wounds. The only thing that has changed is that Abby has no purpose any longer, and no attachments, much in the same way we find Joel in the first game. He’s just going through the motions, trying to survive, empty and in pain. Only when he finds Ellie does he begin to regain his humanity, and the same is said for Abby, who only begins to come back to life and heal from what happened when she meets and helps Lev and Yara. You see, the story of The Last of Us Part One is retold in this sequel, though through a much narrower platform, with Abby standing in for Joel, Yara for Tess, and Lev for Ellie. And at the very end, Ellie, and by extension the player, seems to recognize this. 

When we reach the final fight, both women have committed numerous atrocities, and both have lost parts of themselves and the most important people in their lives to their vengeance. When they meet on the water, Ellie is fully prepared to end Abby’s life, something that the player fully accepts, which is another interesting beat, because a lot of complaints about Abby killing Joel stem from the fact that Joel saves Abby’s life. Abby has now also overpowered and spared Ellie twice, and yet most players still can’t seem to see through the thick fog of anger that clouds around Abby and her actions. Again, Abby is not “one of us” the way Ellie and Joel are, so I do understand it, but I think the irony is worth mentioning. 

When it comes time for the final kill, Ellie can’t. Why? She’s got Abby under that water, and Lev is far too incapacitated to help. Everything she’s been heading towards, everything she needs to fix herself and what has happened is literally right between her hands (or what’s left of them). So why can’t she do it? Is she too weak? 

No. Joel comes flooding through in a brief, single second snap of the night of their last conversation, and in that moment, Ellie achieves catharsis. When the scene progresses forward, into that final conversation, we as the player finally understand. This hasn’t been about Ellie hating Abby. This hasn’t been about Abby at all. While Abby acts as the inciting incident, this game and journey has always been about Joel. 

Ellie, while loving him, hated him for his actions, his weakness, his selfishness. Joel strips not only a cure from the world, but Ellie from her sense of self. Ellie wanted to die in that hospital. No one can say different. She was prepared for her life, and for all of the people she had lost—Riley, Tess, Henry and Sam, Marlene⁠—to mean something. Ellie can’t bear the guilt that that meaning has been permanently stripped away because Joel can’t bear to be without her. When Joel takes that decision away from her, she loses her guiding light, and all sight of herself, and what is important. All around her people continue to suffer and die, and she knows deep down she could have prevented it, but Joel robbed her of that choice. 

She can’t stomach it. 

But she loves Joel, and while she hates what he did, she understands him, and understands, to some extent, his actions, much like we do as observers of both stories. She recognizes an inability to change the past, sees Joel for who he is, and asks to start over, to ease this pain she carries. 

In the moment she relives this scene, she knows what she has to do. It hasn’t been about Abby, not this entire time. It’s been about accepting what Joel did, and the consequences of his actions. It’s been about accepting his love for her, and that it drove him to do something horrible, and that she’s in danger of doing something horrible too, of repeating this unforgiving cycle all in the name of what is just, what is right, and what we are supposed to do for the people we love.

But this isn’t right.  

There’s no justice in killing this feeble, starved, broken woman in front of her. There’s no honor in leaving a young boy to die. Ellie refuses to become that catalyst, refuses to further an agenda of hate, fear, violence, and revenge. In that moment, she accepts Joel for who he was and what he did, and she forgives him. She lets Abby up, and she lets her and Lev go, and in the process, frees herself, and closes the wound that has been slowly killing her this entire game. 

So, was it all for nothing? Absolutely not. It’s a painful journey, and it’s an emotional one, but it’s one profoundly reflective of reality, and one that, despite the brutality, is about healing, forgiveness, and love.

In choosing to break the cycle of violence, the game actually ends on an incredible note of hope, at least in my opinion. In keeping Abby alive, she allows for her and Lev to go off and find the Fireflies, as opposed to murdering Abby and creating the potential for Lev to survive and try to enact revenge on Ellie. And while Ellie has been physically maimed by her journey (a direct metaphor for reaping what you sow), she has found herself again and she is at peace with Joel and his actions. Even more than that, she knows that he died knowing she loved him. When she returns to her empty farmhouse, there are certain indicators here that all is not lost. Clean sheets remain behind in case of her return, and Dina’s favorite album lies on top of her guitar, a reminder of their love, and in my mind, a symbol of forgiveness all in itself, and a call to come back home. In a game solely focused on forgiveness, I see no other alternative than Ellie finding her way back to Jackson, and to Dina and her potato, to finally live the life she’s been trying to get back to for so long, since the very day she was bitten. 

You can be angry that they killed Joel. You can be angry that you have to live within Abby’s perspective. You’re supposed to be, and I know that I was. But these are not reasons to call this a bad game, because it isn’t, and if you give it a chance, you can see what this game is trying to say to you through these decisions. It’s done something to me that I’ve never experienced through another piece of media EVER. It’s a dynamic, masterful story set within the very best performance a gaming system can currently offer. It’s painful, emotional, and so very human, and it is currently my all time favorite game, of which the characters and stories it contains will stay with me always. 

Endure and survive...love and forgive. 

[petri808]

A Little Help From Beyond

@krbkmonth2020 on Twitter. 

Kiribaku Ghost Prompt. Warning character death, misunderstandings, pining, happy ending I promise.

“Deku you fucking dumb son of a bastard!!!” Bakugou cradles the dying man tight to his chest with his head pressed against his face. His teeth gnashed and gritted, eyes squeezed tight against the truth that his childhood friend was bleeding out in his arms. Tears stream down his cheeks, a visible waterfall breaching his mask. “You’re not supposed to die!” They were Twin stars of the pro world! Rivals till the end who could push each other to achieve only greater and greater heights! “What the fuck am I supposed to do now!!”

“S—Sorry… Kacch—an…” Midoriya squeezes Bakugou’s hand with what little strength he has left. “You shine for us both now…”

The second Midoriya closes his eyes for the last time, a brilliant flash starting from his hand quickly envelops Bakugou’s. A surge of energy rips through the blonde’s body and he instantly knows exactly what just took place. “No! No, fucking no!” He shakes the limp body. “Fuck you! I don’t want this! Damn it!” He collapses on top of his friend, gripping to the torn green costume. “Damn it Deku! I-I don’t deserve this…”

Time dragged on from that moment for Bakugou like a movie that wouldn’t end. Day after day, week after week. Every night his dreams replaying the events that took his friend’s life and the guilt tore through his psyche, leaving him an empty shell. He didn’t even want to go to the funeral because that… that would have made this final, and he didn’t want to accept that Midoriya was gone. But his friends dragged him to it. You need the closure Katsuki. You need to process what happened, so it doesn’t destroy you. News flash, it already was.

So, he pushed everyone away after that. If anyone showed up at his apartment, he would rage at them through the door until they left. Any villain that crossed his path paid dearly regardless of their crime, because it was the only way he could release the building anger and pain. All his life, Midoriya was there and no matter how much the guy could get on his nerves, he’d never imagined a time he wouldn’t be around. And now, when they’d finally found their balance… he’s gone.  

After a month, the only person brave enough to keep trying was Kirishima. It was a choice to stay close because he could understand why the man felt broken. If he lost Bakugou he’d probably feel lost too.  

“Come on Katsuki, just open the door and let me in.”

“No. I told you I’m fucking fine and I don’t wanna talk to anybody!”

Kirishima rests his head against the door, uncaring if anyone passing through the apartment hallway found it odd. It killed him that this strong, proud man was slipping into a deep depression. He assumed one reason was a survivor’s guilt for living through a fight that cost Midoriya his life. But the other was more personal, and probably the biggest struggle of all to get past.

Throughout UA he’d watched the two men battle, heard the stories of their childhood, could see that despite the rough treatment, Bakugou cared deeply for his old friend, and he wondered if there was an unrequited aspect hidden beneath the surface. Did one or the other possibly…    

“You can’t lie to me, man. I know you’re not.”

“I said Fuck off shitty hair!!”

Inside the apartment, Kirishima can hear the music cranked up to tune him out. He sighs and closes his eyes, placing a hand against the smooth wooden surface of the door. “I can love you like Deku,” he whispers as the tears pool behind his eyelids, “if you just let me in too.”

All through high school and into their adult years, their friendship grew. Somehow, he’d wormed his way into the hot heads inner circle while everyone else were called extras. But there was always one other person that meant more to the blonde and that was Midoriya. Even dead he was still rival’s with the man.

He shakes his head. It didn’t matter now. There’s nothing he can do about Midoriya, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let Bakugou lose himself over it. It was devastating, he understood that, Deku was his friend too. But now it was important to take care of the living. Broken hearted and dejected, he walks away, swiping at the few tears that broke free. But he’ll be back tomorrow to try again.

Off to the side, watching this scene unfold, Midoriya floats out of the way as the sullen redhead walks past his conscious spirit. It’s been almost five weeks since he’d died, and it was frustrating being stuck watching the people he knew falling apart over it. Bakugou was the worst, but what he’d just heard Kirishima say blindsided him. To a living human, his words were spoken so quietly that even if they’d been standing next to the man, they wouldn’t have heard anything more than a mumble. But he did, loud and clear. Eijiro Kirishima was in love with Katsuki Bakugou!

“Wait, but does he think I had, or we were!” He’d grown up with Bakugou, but he wasn’t in love with the man!! Wow, he never thought anyone would make such a leap in terms of their friendship! But it was cute to know someone loves and cares for his friend. Midoriya shelves those thoughts away for now and disappears through the door to check on the blonde.  

What he finds is a darkened room with the blinds drawn and his old friend sitting on the couch with his head hung low. If he could produce tears, they would fill his eyes. It was a heartrending sight. He moves over and kneels in front of the blonde, reaching out to place his hand on the man’s knee. It goes through as it always does, so he retracts his clenched hand in anger, closes his eyes, and screams. “Argh!! This sucks!!”

All the sadness and frustration rages outward in a surge of energy from his unheard scream. If he’d been alive tenants two doors down would have heard it. When he opens his eyes, Bakugou is staring straight at him with a confused expression. Wait, what?! He waves his hand in front of the man but gets no reaction. Okay, no, he didn’t see him, so did he hear the scream? He tests this theory, screaming at the top of his lungs; still no reaction.

Growing frustrated, Midoriya stands up and starts pacing back and forth in front of the couch. He puts his analytical mind to work, but he didn’t understand what just took place. “It was probably just a fluke. Kacchan looked up just to look up. Argh, this sucks!!” He kicks through the coffee table in a fit. “I don’t know anything about being a ghost!!”

“Deku?”

Midoriya whips his head back around to see Bakugou with his hands cradling the sides of his face, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

“Stupid, Deku’s dead dumbass, that couldn’t be his voice. Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m fucking losing my mind!”

“He heard me?!” Midoriya tries to reach out and grab the man’s shoulder, “Kacchan! I’m here!” But it slips through the man’s body. Pissed off, he swipes his hand at the man’s body over and over, desperately trying to make contact. “Fucking damn it! Just let me comfort him!” He screams at the air.

Bakugou flinches and gasps. He looks around, confused. The windows were closed, yet he swore it felt like a burst of wind just hit him. Okay, now he was getting creeped out. First, he thought he’d heard his dead friend and now a ghostly wind? He runs his hand over his face, “maybe its sleep deprivation,” he rationalizes to himself since he hasn’t had a good night sleep in over a month. He stands up and walks away towards his bedroom.

As he watches Bakugou leave the room, Midoriya stares down at his hands, wide-eyed. It was like his quirk! If he could learn to control this energy, that might be the key because each time his friend sensed something, it was when his energy surged. “Woo hoo!!” He pumps his fists in the air. Now he just needed to figure out what to do with this newly found power.

He follows Bakugou to the bedroom and sees the blonde writing in a notebook. When he’s finished, places it on a nightstand then goes to the bathroom. Midoriya funnels as much energy as he can into his hand and miraculously, he’s able to turn the pages. Awesome! He was getting a small handle on this ability.

It was a journal! He never knew the man kept a journal! But the more he read, the deeper his heart sunk. It was filled with regret and anger, of not treating him better when he was alive, not saving him in the end, of not realizing how important he really was. Bakugou felt he didn’t deserve to be given OFA… “Oh, Kacchan,”he looks over at the closed bathroom door. OFA had accepted him once before because he was worthy of it. But the worst part was, the man felt all alone. “But you’re not alone.”

When he hears the turn of the bathroom doorknob, Midoriya backs away so he doesn’t scare Bakugou with the page turning. The blonde skulks over to his bed and just drops onto it like a sack of potatoes, quickly turning off the lights and pulling the blanket over his head. He swore he heard soft sobbing sounds coming from the man. And that’s the last nail that shatters his heart. Bakugou wasn’t a crier.

He’d always looked up to the Bakugou as the strong one, able to deal with anything thrown at him. And while the death of a friend or even a parent is devastating, it frankly surprised Midoriya that it would become so all-consuming for him. ‘I never realized how much I’d really meant to him.’ But now he did, and he needed to make sure the blonde got through this.  

Midoriya leaves via the window and heads to Kirishima’s home. He needed to check on the man and wanted to make sure he wouldn’t give up on Bakugou either. But when he arrives, he’s was already asleep. So, he sits on the edge of the bed and practices affecting their corporeal world.

Using the same techniques, he’d used in life to gain control over the power of OFA, Midoriya channels energy into his hand and places it over Kirishima’s. The sleeping male gasps lightly but doesn’t wake up. That’s a start. He concentrates to keep the hold strong. “Kiri?” He asks quietly, “Can you hear me?”

“Izuku? Whoa, why are you here?!”

The man’s eyes stay closed, and he doesn’t appear to be awake. But clearly, he was hearing him and responding to it. Like sleep talking. Perfect, that works.  

“I wanted to check on you Kiri and tell you not to give up on Kacchan.”

He sees Kirishima’s brows furrow. “I’d never give up on him.”

“I’m glad to hear that. Tell me, do you love him Kiri?”

“Yes, but he loves you not me and you love him too. I can’t get in the way of that.”

“Kiri, Kacchan doesn’t love me like that and neither did I.”

“But he’s so upset over your death. He must love you.”

“Oh Kiri, he’s upset because of guilt. We grew up together, and it just hit him hard that for the first time in 20 years he must face this world without me around.”

“That’s true…”

“So now more than ever he needs you, Kiri. Kacchan needs someone to turn to who’ll never give up on him.”

“I can do that.”

“One last thing. It’s hard for Kacchan to talk about his feelings. The more you push, the more he’ll back away.”

There’s a long pause before the man responds. His brows furrow as if deep in thought, but Kirishima eventually lets out a long exhale. “Okay. You know him best, so I’ll do as you suggest.”

Midoriya places his free hand over his friend’s forehead. “You sleep now and thank you for taking care of him for me.”

“Goodbye Izuku.”

“Goodbye Eijiro.”

When Midoriya releases his hand, the man slips back into a more relaxed sleep. The harrowed look on his face replaced by a small smile, as if it had lifted a great weight from his shoulders. Kirishima wasn’t out of the woods yet regarding Bakugou, but at least now he could move forward without thinking he was interfering in something that never existed.

With one last look at the sleeping male, Midoriya hoped for the best and leaves to go back to Bakugou’s apartment. Of all the places he could have been pulled back to after he died, not his own apartment, his mother’s home, even the UA campus, it was here and he’s finally understanding why. There was still one last unfinished business to be tended to.  

And now that he knew he could reach the living in their sleep he could try to talk to his childhood friend… But as he sat on the edge of the blondes bed, watching the restless man, he debated whether he should. It would probably be best to let someone amongst the living help him because they would have to continue the work. Yet this was his old friend and he couldn’t stand by and just observe.

With a hand placed on Bakugou’s chest, he pushes his energy at the man. No talking, just emotions. In life he’d always been a positive person, and so he uses those same emotions to influence his friend now from the other side. Midoriya watches on tentatively, first seeing the man stiffen up, then his body slowly relax. It was working. A soft sigh escapes the sleeping male along with one tear. It wasn’t much and hopefully just the small sense of Midoriya’s presence would be enough to calm the blonde for the rest of his slumber.

He smiles and releases his hold on the man. “It’s gonna be okay Kacchan. I promise…”

The next morning, Bakugou awakens more rested than he’s had in weeks, which was odd since he swore, he’d felt like shit when he’d gone to bed. Come to think of it, the scant memories of his dream were of happier times instead of reliving his friend’s death, and it even felt as if Midoriya was there in the room with him. ‘No,’ he shakes his head, ‘it’s cause you were hallucinating last night, idiot.’

When he looks at the clock, he realizes he’d overslept, which was highly unusual for him. The time read 10 am, but because he’d drawn the blackout curtains, the sunlight never alerted him. Oh well, it was his day off, anyway.

A knock at his front door drags him out of bed. Really?! He growls as he stomps to the door. If it was Kirishima again here to beg him to talk, he swore to holy hell he would beat the fuck out of the man. He was tired of everyone trying to force him into talking!

“Katsuki? You up man?”

“What the fuck do you want now Eiji?!”

Kirishima takes a deep breath to calm his nerves. “I just want to apologize f-for pushing you too hard. I get it, okay, you’re not ready to talk yet but when you are, just know, I’ll always be here for you Katsuki.” He stops there, waiting to see if the man will respond, but after a couple minutes of dead silence, it’s clear there wouldn’t be any. He’s crestfallen. But at least the man wasn’t yelling at him which was a start. “Okay, I’ll be going now. See you around, man.”

On the other side of the door, Bakugou listened to the words coming from his friend. It was a complete turnaround from the night before and frankly surprised him a bit. No, he wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he pleased that Kirishima finally recognized it. Don’t get him wrong, he appreciated their concerns, he just wanted to deal with things on his terms.

And of all of their motley crew, Kirishima would have been the only one he would talk to when that time came. His feelings for the redhead were still a little confusing. Well, to be honest with himself, he wasn’t sure where his heart had been swinging before all of this had happened. But one thing was for certain, he could always rely on Kirishima.      

“Wait, Eiji…” He cracks the door open enough to see the man a few steps away but turned back to look at him. “If you agree not to talk about it, you can come in.”

The redhead smiles with relief and holds up a hand, “I won’t.” This was a step in the right direction, and he wasn’t about to ruin it. ‘Thank you Izuku.’ Whether the dream was wishful thinking or something else, he’s glad he’d had it.

Midoriya watches the apartment door close behind them. A tingling sensation washes over him and his body slowly disappears. He smiles, his job is done. Bakugou needs to let him go before his soul can be at peace and this is his confirmation that the man is on the road to recovery. One day he’ll see his friend again, but it was Kirishima’s turn now, and he knew the redhead wouldn’t let him down.

Over the next few days, Kirishima keeps to his promise never bringing up Midoriya’s death or even the man in general. He could tell Bakugou was still fighting with himself internally, but at least he wasn’t locking himself away alone in the apartment. After the workday was over, he dropped by, sometimes brining dinner with him, at other times Bakugou cooking. Oh, how he missed his best friends cooking! Just by looking at the blonde, you’d never think he’d be a whiz in the kitchen, but his meals were always perfectly prepared.

Things almost felt back to normal in these moments. Their conversations revolving around the usual. Dealing with villains, their families, and what their other friends were up to. Anything that could distract from sadder topics. Kirishima didn’t care how long it would take to get Bakugou through this event, but he was ready and willing to do whatever it takes.

He let Bakugou prompt or direct conversations most of the time. It was safer that way then to tread into a topic that might trigger a bad memory. But one of their favorite things to do was simply sit on the couch and quietly watch movies together. For as loud as the blonde could be, he wasn’t much of a talker anyways.

The night started off no differently than the last three before it. Kirishima arrived around 6 pm and Bakugou had cooked dinner. The blonde knew his friend was off the next day, so he decided it was time to get a few things off of his chest. He’d agonized over this for far too long and finally realized he’d never get over Midoriya’s death by holding everything in.

It had started the morning he’d woken up for the first time in a month without a nightmare. His brain told him he was imagining things, but his heart had felt Midoriya’s presence around the night before. A soothing presence and the unmistakable comfort only the childhood friend could provide. Maybe it was because of this turn around that he’d let Kirishima in that day, but whatever it was, it had been the start of his healing process.

“What should we watch tonight,” Kirishima asks with the remote poised in his hand. “Action, horror, or comedy?”

Without looking up from the floor, Bakugou reaches over and lowers the man’s hand slowly. “I rather just talk, if that’s okay?” Though he needed to address the main issue at some point, there was another reason he needed to get off his chest first.

Kirishima puts the remote down. “Of course. What do you want to talk about?” Expecting it to be about Midoriya, he made sure to give Bakugou his undivided attention.

“Did you notice anything different about my quirk today?” Since the day Midoriya died, he’d been careful not to reveal what had happened. But in his stress with the villain, his control had faltered.

“Not really, but I couldn’t watch you the entire time.”

Bakugou sighs, “you gotta promise me never to reveal what I’m about to tell you.” He turns and looks at the man. “No one can know I told you Eiji, absolutely no one.”

“Of course, you can trust me Katsuki.”

He looks away again. “Midoriya was actually born quirkless…”

It takes Bakugou approximately 30 minutes to explain the truth about Midoriya, All Might, and the quirk known as One For All. How he’d figured it out and that’s why they brought him into the fold. He brings up the fight with Shigaraki as an example of why it’s so important to keep it a secret. The power of the quirk was one thing, but it’s transferability was another reason. Bakugou explains what happened during the fight with Nine.

“It was the first time Midoriya shared OFA with me.”

“First time?”

Bakugou sighs. “Do you remember a bright flash of light at the time he died?”

“Yeah, but I just thought it was a reflection.”

The blonde shakes his head. “That was OFA transferring to me.” He holds his hands up and stares at them, concentrating to make a bit of electricity spark around them.

Kirishima’s eyes widen. That was not Bakugou’s sparks but looked like Midoriya’s lightning instead!

“I was so angry when it happened! How dare he just give this to me! I don’t deserve it. It should have stayed with him… he should be the one alive wielding this power…”

Despite his shock, Kirishima recovers quickly. “I’m sure he felt you deserved it, or he wouldn’t have given it to you.”

“Yeah… I know. All Might explained to me afterwards that OFA has to accept the person too. You can’t just,” he waves his hand gesturing in the air, “give it to anyone. I think… I was just angry because this is supposed to be Deku’s power, not mine. He deserved it, he earned it, a-and I never did.”

“I think you did.” Kirishima places a hand on his friends shoulder. “Midoriya thought you did, and that should be enough to believe in yourself man. He wouldn’t have given it to you if he thought you couldn’t handle it.”

“But what if I can’t do it justice? I’m not exactly the symbol of peace.”

That makes Kirishima chuckle. “I’m sorry for laughing cause you’re right about that, but it still doesn’t mean you don’t deserve it. Katsuki, you told me he looked up to you all his life as the epitome of a hero next to All Might. So, what if you’re not the bubbly, happy type. What’s important is that you still do what is right.”

“The public is devastated that their symbol is now gone, so am I supposed to take Deku’s place in that role? Gah!” He cradles his face in his hands. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to explain my new-found powers to the public. And if people notice the similarities with Deku, how do I explain it?! I’m so confused, I don’t know what to do. Maybe I should avoid using it…”

“Stop it!”

Kirishima forces Bakugou to look at him, and when he does, the blondes eyes widen at the boldness and fierce gaze staring back.

“Who cares what other people think! The man chose you Katsuki, you, because he felt you are worthy of it. Don’t let him down and hide, cause that’s not the kind of man we came to both love and admire!”

“What the fuck did you just say?!” Bakugou’s mind reels at the man’s words. “Deku didn’t love me, what the fuck are you talking about?!”

“Are you really that blind?! You were his closest friend and no matter how much you bullied him growing up, he never stopped caring about you.” Kirishima sighs. “I’m not talking about romantic love. Midoriya loved you like a brother.”

“And what about you? You said we.”

Oh crap, he forgot he’d made that slip up! Ugh, of course the blonde caught it. Kirishima’s face burns the color of his hair. “I-I mean you are my best friend, s-so I, you know, I care a lot about you too and that means something.”

Bakugou laughs. “You’re such a horrible liar Eijiro.” He then places his hand against the man’s face and smiles. “But while I’m not ready to go there just yet,” he swipes his thumb gently along the skin, “you are growing on me.”

[copperhawks]

The Don Monologue

I promised the Don Monologue from Discord and Dee saw the promise, so this is gonna have to go up now lol. It’s getting some edits though due to the recent chapter with Don’s POV.

It's interesting re-reading Don scenes now that I know so much more about him. He IS self-righteous and self-absorbed in some ways. Particularly with regards to the mages and to Sav and the ways their relationship (both romantic and not) affected Sav’s self worth. But, Sav also never expresses those feelings to Don (understandably so, in my opinion, given the imbalance of their positions, but Don is not a mind reader and has 4 years less life experience so he is not to BLAME for Sav not saying anything and if anything WERE going to change for the better to make them more equal, it had to start with Sav opening his mouth. I think it’s pretty clear from the past chapter that had Sav said something, Don would have changed his behavior to ensure Sav never felt that way again).

But he's also just... SO lonely and so traumatized and he's reacting to that in bad ways, yes, undeniably but he also has a way of reaching out to people and SEEING people he cares about in a way pretty much no one else can. We see this with Constant in particular, though we see it with Daine, as well in Don’s first scene in the fic back in Chapter 9.

He's reactive, very much so. He hates Numair ON SIGHT mostly because he thinks Numair is a prostitute Sav has brought home and he's instantly jealous. This mainly comes up in how he reacts to “blood” as Daine puts it. And up until the most recent chapter, it has been mostly aimed at people who hurt Sav (which goes back to the whole argument that if he knew HE’D been hurting Sav somehow, he’d have immediately worked to correct that). We see him within the fic try to immediately get Sav to murder an assassin in cold blood for him and we hear Daine talk about how Don ordered the immediate whipping of a servant who struck Sav. While I’m obviously on Don’s side in terms of not hitting children, a WHIPPING is a very over-the-top punishment for that particular crime. And this is a punishment that his mother, the current Queen, claims is actually soft for the crime. So, you know, that’s the environment he’s being raised in. Daine claims Don regretted this order later and the Queen refused to undo it, but we don’t really see the same reaction with the assassin, although Sav does refuse to actually murder her. Who knows how Don would have reacted had Sav actually followed through.

Most recently, we see him reacting to the death of one of the few friendly lords, Adel, and the threat of Constant’s death with Don practically going feral and trying to kill the new assassin himself. While this comes off as obviously very heroic in the context, it’s the... more heroic side of his reactive tendencies which we’ve seen in much more negative contexts. It’s one of Don’s flaws, indisputably, and something he has to work on. But it’s not something irredeemable and it’s not something that can’t be utilized in a good way. If Don can learn to get a handle on his immediate anger/rage, he could 100% hold it back for an appropriate moment with an appropriate reaction.

But he's a traumatized 22-year-old who's been handled responsibility of a kingdom even though NO ONE around him actually wants him to do any real ruling and is constantly trying to manipulate him. And it's also super clear that Don is afforded exactly zero respect from most people in his life and the few who used to respect him have almost all left (mainly Sav and Daine who are keeping him from Constant). His guards in the scene when Constant falls off the roof REALLY don't respond to his orders AT ALL. They aren't even really bothering to try to save Constant from the stormwings. When Don yells at them and orders them to try to go find help, they obey eventually, but it's explicitly stated that they move VERY slowly while doing so, forcing Don to decide to do it himself and he runs off.

Don makes decision with regards to mages and magic that has some consequences on poorer people and appears to be having even more ripple effect consequences on their harvests and general overall health of both people and livestock due to a lack of mages able to work legally. This is obviously a major problem, one that did not get thought through initially when the decision got made. But with the Queen having just been publicly murdered with magic after so many noble families had been massacred by mages themselves, something had to be done. Since finding the culprits doesn’t seem to have been do-able immediately, a different solution had to be found. Don does the bare minimum of what he thinks he can get away with, despite his trauma, despite his own fears, and even that is backfiring on him now. Because the people are hungry and scared and other countries are looking at Galla as easy prey for their own agendas. All of which has now put Don in-between a rock and a hard place because he’s fighting outside influences as well as revolution from his own people and he can’t please everyone, no matter what he does. He has to feed the people, but feeding the people means inviting slavery into Tortall or marrying the Mage King’s witchling daughter. Easing the restrictions on mages might help stave off starvation and plague, but it would piss off the nobility whose massacred families have yet to receive justice.

He's impulsive in the worst situations, for sure, but take him out of the political scene, put him somewhere that's just... quiet and simple, and he's FINE. He didn't ASK to be king, it's not like he ran for the job knowing he had zero experience and got it anyway, he got thrust into the position due to a combination of ableism and sheer bad luck. He's doing his best and his best just... isn't good enough, not with the situation he got thrown into.

I think for me, he's not always necessarily a LIKABLE character, but I feel for him and I love the journey I know he's on as a character. Like a lot of characters who have similar redemption arcs, it's hard to write them in their more unlikable stage and still have the reader root for them to get better. But I think Don’s starting to move away from that stage as we get to know him more and through different points of view, including his own. 

We have mostly seen Don through everyone else's eyes up until Chapter 31, his first POV chapter, so we've learned about him via Numair, via Daine, via Constant, via Sav. Sav is on very hostile terms with Don, Daine seems to be somewhat siding with Sav though she’s not quite as hostile, Constant seems generally unwilling to just take his siblings’ word for it that Don is “bad” and is only just starting to figure out some of the nuances to the situation, and Numair is... sort-of still forming an opinion. We know he was comparing Don to Ozorne in Chapter 25, but by Chapter 31 he seems more willing to believe Don is redeemable, that Don can be saved and isn’t completely lost like Ozorne. I’m the kind of person who will often follow along with the POV character’s opinions quite a bit, and in this fic, that’s mostly Numair. Numair seems to be softening on Don, seems to be willing to root for him a little at this point and that’s promising.

There's hints here and there to let the reader know that there's more to Don than there would appear and, while I don't think anyone without the author’s behind the scenes info would necessarily be ROOTING for him yet, they should certainly be questioning how much of what we're seeing is truly Don and how much is the person Don's been manipulated into. They should certainly be hoping to see more of him, the true him. Especially after the look into his mind we just got.

[recentanimenews]

Happy Birthday, Space Cowboy: A Shinichiro Watanabe Retrospective

  Today we wish a very happy birthday to the Cowboy Bebop director, the one and only Shinichiro Watanabe! Watanabe-san has been a powerhouse in the world of anime for well over two decades, working with acclaimed studios such as Sunrise Inc., Studio Nue, and BONES. His mastery at blending Western and Eastern elements has earned Watanabe a devoted fanbase in many different countries. One of the most consistent aspects of Watanabe's catalog is his skill at successfully amalgamating a variety of genres from sci-fi to Westerns to comedy and more.

In honor of Watanabe's birthday, I'll be exploring the artistic depth of three anime from his impressive oeuvre and celebrating the very special spark that can be found in all his works. Read on for more!

Terror in Resonance (2014)

Terror in Resonance seems critically underappreciated when compared to some of Watanabe's other directorial efforts. Though it lacks the robust character development and sense of immersion found in his other titles, the series still retains many of the qualities that make Watanabe such a globally respected anime auteur.

Terror in Resonance follows two high-school-aged terrorists named Twelve and Nine as they plot a series of bombings in order to reveal the injustices enacted against them — and many other children — during a secret government operation called the Athena Plan. Along the way, a lonely girl named Lisa finds herself enwrapped in the boys' mission, and experiences camaraderie for the first time due to their presence.

The show's basic premise alone reflects Watanabe's willingness to explore uncommon thematic spaces by featuring literal terrorists as two of the main characters. Common in his other works as well, Watanabe invites viewers to feel compassion for characters who inhabit the outermost margins of societal acceptability. The show doesn't endorse Twelve and Nine's actions, but it does position them as isolated characters with real human attributes, acting coherently in retaliation to the incorrigible exploitation they faced as children. Twelve and Nine also make extreme efforts to make sure no one is killed due to their bombings, which serves as an empathetic deviation from standard depictions of terrorists as one-sided, monstrous caricatures.

Ultimately, Terror in Resonance features many trademarks of Watanabe's unique touch: compassionate explorations of loneliness, a tragic narrative interspersed with brief moments of beauty, and yet another gorgeous soundtrack by Yoko Kanno (a frequent collaborator with Watanabe).

Macross Plus (1995)

Watanabe made his directorial debut as co-director for Macross Plus working alongside Shoji Kawamori (the creator of the original Macross). This four-part OVA is the best flying mech, artifcial-intelligence-pop-music-gone-horribly-wrong redo of Top Gun I've ever seen. I remember I first saw it on the Starz Channel back in 2002 or 2003. It was fun to revisit the US dub recently with the fresh realization that Bryan Cranston — aka Walter White, our favorite fictional suburban meth dealer — did the voice acting for the main character Isamu. Isamu is like a more womanizing Spike from Cowboy Bebop, mixed with the arrogance of Mugen from Samurai Champloo, and is an early example of a recurrent protagonist-archetype in Watanabe's titles. The playful comedic qualities Watanabe would become known for were already apparent in much of Macross Plus, such as the scene when Isamu and his rival Bowman bring up old adolescent/high-school gripes while they're both engaged in an airborne mech-duel to the death.

Once again, Yoko Kanno's absolutely incredible score must be mentioned. The soundtrack ranges from orchestral music perfect for dogfights to emotional ballads and '90s trance (there's also a really cool reference to the Aphex Twin album "Selected Ambient Works 85-92" on a bus sign in one scene). Watanabe's first directorial outing already grapples with a subject near and dear to his heart: music. The last episode features an intense sequence involving an AI popstar named Sharon Apple, who takes control of everyone viewing her concert via seductive musical mind control. This scene explores a what-if scenario: an imagined future where technology meshes with the power of music for nefarious — rather than healing — ends. Either way, since Watanabe is a self-proclaimed "music freak," it's fun to watch him implement a plot device about just how disruptively powerful music can be (his most recent anime Carole and Tuesday tackles AI and pop music with a more neutral lens, as an FYI). Macross Plus is not to be missed.

Cowboy Bebop (1998)

  I'll never forget what it was like to experience Cowboy Bebop for the very first time when it initially aired on Adult Swim in 2001. I must have been 12 or 13 at the time, and few pieces of media have made such a lasting impression on me. I was already extremely impressed even after seeing the first episode "Asteroid Blues," but it's the fifth episode entitled "Ballad of Fallen Angels" — where viewers are introduced for the first time to the central antagonist Vicious — that completely sold me on the series.

"Ballad of Fallen Angels" culminates in a climactic battle that takes place in a church, with the main character Spike duking it out against Vicious and his goons. The most memorable moment for me is the scene when Spike is thrown out of the top of the church by Vicious. Spike falls in slow-motion as viewers are treated to a montage of his tragic crime syndicate past and his relationship with his lost love Julia. It's such a stunning moment that perfectly echoes the old creative writing adage "show don't tell," since it subtly expresses so much about Spike's life without explicitly battering it over your head. The scene speaks volumes in just a few wordless seconds, with no sounds to be heard at all other than Yoko Kanno's gorgeous choir and piano-based track "Green Bird." I've drifted toward arthouse movies as I've grown older, and I truly think the aforementioned scene was my first time experiencing the ineffable artfulness that I find in the experimental films that move me most. It feels a little silly and overblown to say, but the sequence feels like it contains a large spectrum of life — love, hate, sadness, memories, dreams, etc.

Cowboy Bebop is a show that abounds with moments like this. There are so many moving scenes rich in an atmospheric tenderness that aches with longing, loneliness, and beauty. Intimate scenes where characters in interstellar ships stare quietly at a sea of stars. A view of someone smoking a cigarette alone in a dimly lit alleyway. Or something like the ending of "Waltz for Venus," when a music box-esque song plays while Spike gazes into the sky as spores that can blind drift downward like snow.

I could go on and on about the series — the masterful quality of Keiko Nobumoto's screenplay, the riveting action sequences and lovable characters, the expert blend of genres coupled with breathtaking animation and music, and how Spike's somewhat Buddhist philosophy (whatever happens, happens) influenced my own. Cowboy Bebop truly deserves all the praise and is undoubtedly one of the best animated works of all time.

So here's to you Shinichiro Watanabe. I hope you have a birthday as stunning and cool as the anime you've graced the world with.

What else do you love by Shinichiro Watanabe, and why? Sounds off in the comments below!

    Do you love anime? Do you love writing? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[verai-marcel]

Chase Me Down (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+, DubCon)

Just posting some of my older fics to tumblr. This is the Captured Hearts series, part 2 of 4.

Summary: You hadn't seen him in weeks, and then he shows up while you're in the middle of a hunt. How will you deal with Arthur’s forceful entry back into your life?

Author's Notes: I wasn't intending to write another one in this series… But since I am, let me establish a few world building things. This is a world where Chapter 2 in the game just started, and it's staying there, as if you went on a bunch of side missions and are not advancing any story missions. So no spoilers beyond that because it isn't happening. Blackwater happened in the past, and that's all. No other crimes occurred, no other plot lines to get in the way. And now, on to the smut! 

Tags: LH Arthur, DubCon, smut, rough sex, D/s undertones, Female!Reader

Word Count: 4772

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

You've had a really good run lately. It has been a month since you failed to capture Arthur Morgan, and your “encounter” with him has become just a memory. At least, that's what you tell yourself when you're not furiously touching yourself after dreaming of his strong hands around your neck and pulling your hair. Part of you thinks you've lost your mind. Another part of you wants to go find him and beg to be taken again. 

You shake that all out of your head. You get your rifle ready as you reach the edge of the cliff, far above the gang camp. If you could bring in the leader and two of his cronies, you could make enough money to rest for a month. You had been tracking this whole gang for a while now, and bringing in a few of the men here and there, dead, of course. They weren't much trouble, and you eventually managed to bring one in alive too. But you finally got a good lead three days ago, and tonight you tracked a few of the loud idiots back to their base camp. 

You'd have to be fast if you were to take out the top three men in the gang. There were at least seven men below. You wondered if you were a fast enough sniper to get them all in one go. 

You decided to wait until night and take them out quietly once most of them slept. It'd be a long night, but it beat getting all of them running towards you at once. And you had learned your lesson about being impatient with Arthur.

Thinking of him made you shudder. The feeling you had was complicated; it was both longing and apprehension wrapped up into a solid lump in your chest. 

You took a deep breath and focused on the work at hand. 

As night fell and men started to go to sleep, you waited until all but one was tucked into their bedrolls. You waited another half an hour to make sure at least some of them were passed out. 

Then you started shooting. The first headshot was for the man on watch. The next three were for the men sleeping nearby. 

By now, the three remaining men had woken up and were hiding behind crates and began firing in your general direction. You quickly scuttled to another part of the cliff, closer to the men but circling around them, to fire once more. Another headshot. Two left. 

You heard a rustling behind you. Not this time, you thought, as you pulled out your revolver and scampered around the cliff to some tree cover. A bullet hit the tree next to you, and you looked through the trees behind you and saw a few men coming your way with lanterns, making them easy to spot. 

One hand slinging your rifle back over your shoulder, you shot at the men with your revolver, hitting one and making two of them dodge back into the forest. Then you ran. You needed better cover. 

Bullets began flying again, and you cursed your luck. Of course some of the other gang members would come from a different direction and get behind you. You couldn't kill all of them, but you knew you got the three men you needed. Now you just had to get out and wait, and maybe you could collect their bodies later.

You found a nice thicket to hide around, and decided to try something. Finding a rock, you waited for them to get closer. As two of them approached, you threw the rock far away from you, but out of their sight. Foolishly, they followed the sound, and you quickly shot both of them in the head. 

As you came out and around to confirm the kills, you heard the other man, the one you had shot earlier, come bursting through, his gun pointed at your head. You could see down the barrel of his gun and thought this would be a shit way to die. You tensed to dodge and shoot. 

And then blood exploded from his head and he fell over before you could move. 

You quickly tried to dive back into the thicket, but a shot was fired at your feet. You stopped moving forward, dropped your gun, and slowly raised your hands as you looked up from your crouched position.

A familiar face appeared from behind the trees, and you felt both relief and trepidation. But mostly you felt surprised at seeing him here, and it probably showed on your face.

“Hey sweetheart,” Arthur said as one corner of his mouth twitched in amusement at seeing your reaction to him. 

“Did you have to shoot at me?” you asked, somewhat annoyed, as you picked up your gun and started walking to the dead men to loot them.

“Well, had to be sure you wouldn’t shoot me first,” he said in a light tone. “By the way, I took out the rest of them bastards at that camp.”

You just glared at him and walked away. You had this. You fucking had this bounty. And now you might have to share.

“You’re supposed to say thank you at times like this,” he said sarcastically. 

“Thanks,” you responded curtly. 

He looted the body that he had killed, and followed you as you made your way back to the camp. The walk was made in silence, with Arthur following you a few steps behind like a dog, or perhaps more like a stalker, and it was making you nervous. He was obviously playing with you, and you didn’t really like that at the moment. Also reminded you that he was an outlaw with no loyalty to you. 

When you got back to the camp, you whistled for your horse while you grabbed the head of the gang and dragged his body to a big rock. It was a gristly business, but after the last hunter had lied about killing this guy, the sheriff in the town you took this job from had wanted physical evidence of his death.

Arthur just watched, amused, as you led your horse to the rock and started hauling the body up and onto his back. It took you some time, but you finally did it. When you looked back over at the other two bodies, you realized that in the time it had taken you to move one body, Arthur had moved the other two to his horse, and was mostly done with his cigarette.

“Son of a bitch,” you mumbled. Then you called out to him, “I guess you’ll be wanting partial credit for this?”

“Half.”

“Fuck you.”

He walked closer until the two of you were standing toe to toe. He was taller than you, but that didn’t scare you. What did frighten you was the intense look in his eyes as he stared at you for just a few moments too long. 

“Careful what you say, missy,” he finally uttered in a low tone.

Your brain decided at that moment to remind you of the last time you met, and you felt your cheeks heat up. It was the middle of the night, but in the moonlight, you felt like he could see everything. 

You quickly turned around and got on your horse. It wasn’t like you could really fight him and take his horse with the bounties from him. You knew a losing battle when you saw one. Sighing heavily, you started riding back to town, knowing that it would take you at least the rest of the night and part of the morning to get back. You could get a hotel room and sleep for a day afterwards.

Arthur followed, and you weren’t sure what to expect. You mostly felt annoyed that your reward money was being split.

***

You rode through the night and into the early hours of the morning. Despite the situation, you enjoyed the sunrise, though you were tired and your nerves were frayed because of Arthur’s complete silence along the way. It was eerie.

But during the ride, you had thought about what just happened. He did save you. You hated to be in debt to someone. You also hated it when you got help you didn’t need. Made you feel weak.

You looked over your shoulder to peer at him. He was still following you quietly, and he was looking around, clearly keeping an eye out around you. 

When the two of you got to town, it was almost business as usual, except for the Sheriff looking at Arthur suspiciously. You had done quite a few jobs in this town, and he had never seen you work with a partner. 

“Thought you worked alone, O'Malley,” the sheriff finally said after he had confirmed the identities of the three bodies and handed a stack of bills to you. 

“Ran into him on the way, thought it might be faster with two,” you said, affecting a deeper voice; you, at least hopefully, sounded like a boy on the cusp of becoming a man. Arthur was giving you a pointed look, glancing at the money in your hands. You counted out half and passed the bills to him begrudgingly. 

“Alright then. Well, come on by next week, see if we got any more trouble. Wish you'd take my offer of deputizing you. You're young but capable,” he said, clapping you on the shoulder. You noticed Arthur eyeing the man’s hand on you.

You shook your head at the Sheriff’s offer. “No thanks, but appreciate the compliment,” you replied as you ducked away from him and walked out the door. Arthur just tipped his hat to the sheriff and followed you out. 

“O'Malley, huh? That ain't your real name,” Arthur said after the two of you were back on your horses and riding to the other side of town, via a back road.

“Of course not. It's just the name I give out as a bounty hunter,” you said as you took your hat off that was concealing your longer hair, and shed your bulky jacket so you actually looked like a woman with your tighter fitting union shirt.

“Hmmmm. So you that O'Malley Kid that I hear about sometimes? Young guy that only brings in dead bounties?”

“I brought in one man alive!” you retort, but the jocular grin on Arthur's face makes you laugh. You were somewhat aware of your reputation, but to know that he had heard of it too was a bit embarrassing. 

You had reached the hotel, and wanted to just sleep. You looked back at Arthur, who was just watching you with that intense stare again. But you were so tired. 

“I'm just gonna get some rest. Maybe see ya some other time,” you said almost too quickly as you slid off your horse, hitched him, and started fast walking up the stairs. 

Arthur, of course, followed suit, and was right behind you when you missed a step and almost ate it at the front door. An arm quickly wrapped around your waist, and he pulled you close to his chest. 

“Seem a bit tired, sweetheart.” 

“Don't call me that.”

“You gonna give me a name, then?” 

Not answering him, you shrugged out his hold and surprisingly, he let you go. You could feel him next to you though, and you had an inkling as to why he was sticking around.

“I’d like a room, please,” you said to the clerk at the front desk. The clerk glanced at Arthur, who said nothing.

“Alright,” he said after a moment before handing you a key. “Upstairs, second door on the right.” You gave him a dollar and made your way upstairs. Arthur was following you quietly, and you really didn’t want to make a scene, but the second you got to the door, you whirled around.

“I need some alone time.” And you slammed the door shut in his face.

***

Arthur stood there, a bit stunned, but once he recovered, he just chuckled to himself quietly and sauntered back downstairs.

The clerk raised an eyebrow at him.

“Lady thinks I smell. Could I get a bath?”

The clerk just laughed, and got another worker to prepare it for him.

***

As soon as you locked the door, you practically leapt onto the bed and sighed in comfort. You were exhausted and just wanted to sleep, but you were also nervous because you had also slammed the door on the most dangerous man you had ever met. Would he break in and then, potentially, break you?

You were mad at yourself for being a little bit excited by the idea. This man really was dangerous. Dangerous to your mental stability, that is. You tossed and turned on the bed for a few minutes, and then realized you had to run. There was no way you’d be able to enjoy this nice room while knowing that HE was nearby.

You opened the door and went downstairs. Walking past the clerk who was reading a paper, you asked if he had seen Arthur.

“Oh, he went to take a bath, just for you,” he said with a wink.

Plastering a fake smile on your face, you said, “Oh, that’s good. I’m just going to step out for a few minutes, please let him know I’ll be back shortly.”

“Sure thing miss,” he said, already going back to his paper.

You got on your horse and fled like the wind.

***

After riding all day, you finally felt like you could breathe again. You knew part of you had been really happy to see him, but it was also the part of you that just wanted to bend over and let him have his way with you. You were an independent woman, dammit! 

You chose to bounty hunt because it was what your father did, and it was how he met your mother in a small town out in the middle of the plains. Even though you didn’t see him much back then, every time he came back, he had new toys for you and stories to tell you about the crazy things he had seen. It was too bad your mother came down with an illness seven years ago and died while he was out on a week-long job. You didn’t know what to do; you remember seeing your mother’s dead body in bed, and shutting the door to her room and just surviving on canned food until your father came back. Once he did, he mourned & buried her in a day, and then he packed your bags, got you a horse, and you two never went back to that house. You learned everything from him, how to snipe, how to survive in the wilderness, and how to dress and act like a man so that no one would take advantage of you.

You had learned so much. You should have been better. So you regretted your actions when a job went bad a few years ago. You should have been patient. You should have breathed out when taking that shot. Then your old man wouldn’t have had to go in. He wouldn’t have had to die in that gun fight.

You shook your head of the past. You had been making your own way for years now. You missed both your parents, but like your old man had said the day he buried your mother: “You must move forward and face the future. If you stand still and look behind you all the time, life will pass you by and you’ll be left for dead.”

I must move forward, you thought to yourself again, and took your horse off the path to find a spot in the wilderness to tent up for the night. You felt safe out here, where there were few travelers and there were enough rabbits that you could easily hunt one for supper. A stream nearby made a calming sound as you set up camp and relaxed. After a satisfying rabbit stew, you killed the fire and crawled into your tent to sleep soundly.

***

You woke up to a hand around your mouth. Panic set in. How did your horse not whinny at strangers approaching? Was he okay? You swear, if anyone hurt Ol’ Trigger, you were going to be real pissed. You latched onto that angry feeling to give you courage.

That is, until you heard a voice like butter in your ear.

“Cute, trying to run like that, sweetheart.”

You relaxed, but tensed up again immediately. How did he find you so quickly? You swear you took several back roads and went in and out of streams to lose a trail. And why didn’t Trigger neigh or something?

“I went after you as soon as that clerk said you had stepped out for a little while. I knew it was a lie,” he said, a bit angrily. He slowly let go of your mouth.

“Is my horse okay?” you immediately asked.

“He’s fine. Led me right to you, in fact.”

You were shocked. Trigger wouldn’t betray you.

“I copied your whistle.”

You sighed. You hadn’t thought of that. Then you tried to sit up, but he pushed you back down with his other hand.

“Stay.”

“I’m not a dog to command-”

He immediately put a hand over your mouth again. You were about to bite him and retort, but you saw that he wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was looking outside the tent.

You listened intently. You heard bushes moving and the sound of your horse stamping his foot and whining softly. 

Arthur turned to you with a look that said stay here, and he pulled out his revolver and quietly crawled outside. You stayed put for all of three seconds before grabbing your revolver and following him. 

Once out of your tent, you immediately saw an agitated Trigger. Quickly going to him, you patted his neck to calm him, but you weren't prepared for the gunshots nearby. Trigger reared up and nearly landed on you as you jumped back. You grabbed at his reins and calmed him once more. 

You were feeding him an apple when Arthur came back, a wolf corpse tied up on his horse. He got off and walked towards you, grabbed you by the wrist, and pulled you towards your tent. 

You tugged and dug your feet into the ground, but he was too damn strong. He had almost gotten you to the tent; then he grabbed your hair and forced you onto your knees in front of him. 

“Unbutton my pants, sweetheart.”

You blinked and looked up at him. He kept watching you silently. After a few moments you reached up and did as he commanded. His tone of voice did not brook argument. That, and you felt heat curl below your belly and knew you would do whatever he asked. That voice did a number on your senses, and your sense. 

“Take out my cock.” 

You reached into his pants and pulled him out, your hand gentle on his skin. He hissed with pleasure and wrapped his hand around yours, guiding you on stroking him. With his other hand, he cupped your chin.

“Open your mouth,” he rumbled. 

Your eyebrows furrowed. 

Arthur let go of your hand and pinched your nose, forcing you to open your mouth to breathe. When you did, he forced his cock into your mouth. 

“Just lick and suck on it,” he coaxed, letting go of your nose and caressing your cheek gently with the back of his fingers. 

You started to move your lips and tongue around the head, looking up at him and watching for his reaction to everything you tried. Tonguing a line from the base of him to the tip made his eyes roll up, which made you unreasonably happy. 

Then he suddenly grabbed your hair at the back of your head and thrust deep into your mouth. Your eyes started to tear up, and he pulled back, only to thrust in again, but shallower this time. He did this slowly at first, but then he was going at a steady rhythm, taking your mouth. 

Your mind fell into pace with his movement, and you grew wet from him ravaging you like this. You didn't know how much you had missed the feeling of him fisting your hair like this. 

He pulled you away from him after who knows how long. Then he started taking off his jacket and shirt. You just stayed still, transfixed. I should run, you thought to yourself. 

But then he threw you into the tent and onto the bed roll. Landing on your back, you got up on your elbows to see him crawling towards you, and you couldn't help but think again of the wolf coming to eat his prey. You quivered, knowing that there was no escape, but you didn't know if you really wanted to escape now. 

“Take your clothes off.” 

You started to take off your pants. 

“Slowly,” he added. 

Under his gaze, you did as he said, each piece of clothing sliding off your skin slowly as you trembled. He was watching you so closely, and it was bringing heat to your cheeks as you finally took off your drawers and chemise. 

You sat on your bed roll, naked, and covered your breasts out of habit. 

He crawled closer to you and wrapped his hand around your throat, pushing you down onto your back. You struggled a bit before letting him. Then he put a hand on each of your knees and started to spread your legs apart. You strained your muscles to keep yourself together. 

“Keep fighting me,” he snarled. “It'll make breaking you all the sweeter.”

Like some twisted reverse psychology, you instantly relaxed your legs and let him spread you out. He chuckled darkly before dipping his head down to your stomach and kissing your scar. Then he moved lower, kissing a path to your clit. He licked around it, torturing you with almost-but-not-quite touches, sticking his tongue into your wet channel and making you squirm. Your hands reached for him and you ran your hands through his soft hair. 

Then he started sucking and licking your clit with no mercy. You gasped and writhed, your body coming apart under him as he brought you to climax with just his mouth. As you lay there, breathing heavily, he lifted his head, wiped his mouth, and pounced on you, his cock sliding up and down your folds, but not penetrating you. 

Grabbing your wrists, he positioned them on either side of your head. He lifted himself up so his cock was nudging your entrance. 

“Surrender to me.”

Your heart beat wildly at his command. You couldn't look away if you tried as he took you, agonizingly slow. Your hips bucked, and he froze. 

“Don't you dare move,” he growled. You gulped and nodded. 

He hummed approvingly and kept pushing into you. Once he was all the way in, he crushed you under his weight, making it hard to breathe. He stayed still for a moment, just feeling your heart beating loud in the night. 

Then he took you with abandon, his grip on your wrists tightening as his thrusts became faster, harder. He came with a harsh groan, and finally let go of your wrists. He rolled off you and bundled you up in his arms, pulling you close. Your cheek was against his chest and you could hear his heartbeat calming down. 

But much to your annoyance, you wanted to come again, and you started to reach down to take care of things, but then you felt embarrassed about even thinking of touching yourself while he was right there. 

As if he was reading your mind, Arthur reached between the two of you and stroked you, exactly the way you wanted. You looked up to see him watching you intently. 

“I wouldn't leave you wantin’, sweetheart.”

Trapped in his gaze, he brought you to the edge, slowed down, and did it again, driving you crazy. You grabbed his arm and dug your fingernails in. 

“Damn you,” you cursed as he teased you some more. 

“Beg me.” 

“Never.” You started to reach down to finish yourself, but he grabbed your wrist and twisted you around so your back, and your arm, was against his chest. It hurt a little. 

“Now now, you should know better,” he whispered. “Just give in, it’ll be better for both of us.”

You reached for yourself with your other arm, but he just grabbed it too, pulled your arms back and held your wrists together behind your back with one hand. You pulled and twisted, and in retaliation he wrapped his legs around you to keep you still, and snaked his free arm down to touch you again.

You’re not sure how long it was, of him teasing you, edging you, driving you mad with the desire to come. You hated to admit that he was wearing you down, and you were close to just begging for it.

“Just one little word, and I’ll give you what you need,” he said low in your ear.

You finally whispered, “Please…”

He changed his pace immediately, his stroking became exactly what you needed to push you over the edge and you came in his arms, crying with pleasure and relief, the release almost too much for your poor tired body.

Arthur let go of your wrists and let you stretch your muscles before wrapping his body around yours and petting you gently until you fell asleep.

***

You woke up deliciously refreshed. You’re not sure how long you slept, but the sun was high in the sky now. You rolled over, and found that Arthur was gone. The relief at being alone again, and the shame of succumbing to him once more flooded through you. Along with that tempest of emotions, so too did you have the feeling of a string wrapping around your heart.

You quietly got up and threw some clothes on before crawling out of your tent.

To your surprise, he was still here, patting Ol’ Trigger nearby and feeding him a carrot. It ticked you off, just a little, to see him so friendly with YOUR horse. As you got closer, you could hear Arthur mumbling something to him.

“Now you take care of your lady, you hear. She’s precious, don’t let her get hurt.”

Your heart melted.

He turned to you and smiled, and it was warm like the sun. Goddammit, why was he like this only after fucking you mindless?

“How you doin’?”

“Doin’ alright.”

“Just alright?”

“I’m doin’ GREAT. Is that what you wanted to hear?” you responded, a bit annoyed now.

“I just want your truth,” he said calmly.

His answer threw you for a second. Then you laughed. “My truth,” you said after a while, “is that I feel good. Thanks.”

Arthur just nodded, gave Ol’ Trigger one last pat, and started walking towards you. “Guess I’d better be goin’. I’m sure you have other bounties to hunt.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Now that he was leaving, you felt torn. You loved your independence. But you also loved what he did to you, though you would never admit that to his face lest he have even more power over you. You watched as he walked up to you. He cupped your cheek and stroked your skin with his thumb. Then he leaned in and kissed you on the forehead.

“See ya later, sweetheart.” He took a few steps back, his eyes on you one last time, before he turned around, got on his horse, and rode away without looking back.

Once he was out of sight, you immediately fell to your knees and hugged yourself. 

After a few deep breaths, you regained your composure and broke camp. Packing your stuff onto Ol’ Trigger, you noticed your saddle bag had been opened. You looked and saw a wad of bills and a piece of paper.

Counting the bills first, you noted that it was half of the amount you had given Arthur yesterday. Then you read the paper.

“Thanks for the fun night, my sweet.”

You were caught between being pissed and being amused. Maybe he was paying you like a whore. Maybe he felt bad about barging in on your hunt.

Maybe it was both. 

You shoved the money and the letter back in your saddle bag and got onto your horse.

“Son of a bitch!” you yelled as you rode west. 

--------

End Notes: I’ve got two more fics in this series on the way, so keep an eye out. Thank you for reading!

[chicgeekgirl89]

Mali-Booty Call

A/N: This is very bad and I regret nothing and huge shoutout to @chrisodonline who provided what is probably the best title for a fic in the history of ever. Now read on for some post “Born to Run” bone jumping hilarity.

Deeks was right. It was going to be a problem. She’d mocked him and refused to agree with his declarations because that was their MO: he said something, she refuted it. It was adorable. A fun quirk of their relationship. Except right now, it was not so fun and she REALLY didn’t want to admit it.

She’d made it twenty-four hours. The first day back had been fine. They’d had a big case, Nell was missing, it was all a good distraction. But today things were a little slower. And Deeks was leaning over a table in ops, his cute, little butt just staring right at her face. A cute little butt that had spent a lot of time next to hers for the past few days. Their time in Malibu had been…great. There had been a lot of naked and then a lot of snacks and then a lot more naked and she couldn’t remember a better weekend in recent history.

All those memories flooded through her, sending a tingling feeling straight to her toes as Deeks shifted his weight, his butt moving back and forth in a sassy little wiggle.

Damn her husband and his well toned ass.

“Somebody has to go to the boat shed for interviews,” Callen said.

“Deeks and I will do it!” Kensi said quickly, trying to keep her voice level.

“Sam and I can—“

“Nope, we’ve got it,” she told him. “You guys stay here and keep digging into the wife’s background.”

They only made it downstairs before Kensi couldn’t stand it anymore. She grabbed Deeks’ s hand and pulled him into the burn room. “Kens, what the--?”

Her lips found his at the same time her fingers grabbed the hem of his shirt. He responded back immediately, his body pressing against hers, despite his obvious confusion. “Wait,” he gasped, “I thought you said—“

“Sometimes I’m wrong,” she said breathlessly. “Now shut up and take off your pants.”

They were halfway to his ankles, his hands tangled in her hair when the door opened. Kensi yelled and Deeks swore and Eric looked like he might throw up. “Oh, sorry!” he said. “I thought you were—never mind. Carry on!”

“What’s going on in there?” Nell’s voice was muffled by the closed door.

“Nothing! Just some…newlywed love,” Eric said.

“Are they doing it in there?”

“I don’t want to talk about it! Why does this keep happening to me?!”

Kensi squeezed her eyes shut. “Okay, it’s fine. It’s fine,” she said, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

“Uh, babe, as much as I love the illicit burn room sex, that was a little bit of a mood killer,” Deeks said.

She let her head fall against his chest. “Damn it!”

He kissed her hair and then began pulling up his pants. He grinned at her wickedly. “I’d say I was right about you wanting to jump my bones, but I won’t.”

“If you ever want it to happen again, you definitely won’t,” she growled.

They stepped into the interrogation room and Deeks settled next to her at the table. “So Frank,” Deeks said loudly. “Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank, Frank. What have you gotten yourself into?”

They’d just really started in on the guy when Kensi felt Deeks’ hand on her knee. He squeezed it gently and she had to work to keep a straight face above the table. “Tell me again why you were on State Street at four am?” Deeks asked.

His hand slid a little higher up her thigh and Kensi bit her tongue. Who was jumping whose bones now?

He leaned back and slowly continued his journey north, obviously waiting for her to flinch. But two could play at that game. Kensi kept her face stony and boldly put her own hand directly on his thigh. “You know we can see you,” Sam’s voice said dryly in both of their ears.

Both of them snatched their hands back. Kensi wanted to scream in frustration. Damn Deeks and his suggestions! It was his fault she was sitting here all  hot and bothered. And now they’d been caught out by a second member of the team. This was getting old fast.

She was incredibly put out by the time they finished the interview and even more so by the fact that for all his talk, Deeks seemed totally fine. He walked out of the room and chatted to the rest of the team in Ops via video feed as if he hadn’t just played a game of chicken with her in front of a suspect, although the rest of the team had some pretty serious smirk going on, clearly pleased at having something to hold over their heads.

“You all right there baby?” Deeks asked as they got into the car.

“Yep. Great. Perfect,” Kensi said stiffly as she pulled onto the road.

“You sure? Because you look a little…off.”

“I’m fine!” she snapped.

“Ooookay. That wedded bliss thing didn’t last long.”

“Well that’s all your fault buddy!” she said as she took a sharp right turn.

“My fault!”

“Yes! You were all ‘don’t jump my bones at work’ which hadn’t even crossed my mind until you said it and now I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“So that whole time just now sitting in interrogation…”

“You mean while you were practically sticking your hand up my metaphorical skirt? I was thinking about you naked. Yes. Are you happy? You win. I want to jump your bones right now.”

He was grinning from ear to ear and she refused to look at him. “I had no idea you were in such dire straits.”

“This is not funny! I’m mad at you.”

“Pull over.”

“What?”

“Pull. The car. Over.”

She put on her blinker and pulled into an empty lot behind a large warehouse. “What?” she huffed once they were in park.“The backseat is wide open.”

“The backseat is wide open.”

She stared at him. “What?”

“You want to jump my bones on the clock? Now’s your chance.”

“What if someone sees us?”

“It’s getting dark.” He looked outside the window. “Nobody’s around. No chance of a teammate interrupting our fun.”

“You’re joking.”

“I never joke about car sex.” He thought for a second. “Okay, not true. But right now I have never been more serious about it.” She continued to stare at him and he shrugged. “I mean if you’d rather not—“

She grabbed his face and kissed him hard. It took a good bit of maneuvering to get into the back seat and both received an elbow or knee to the stomach at one point or another but finally Kensi was on top of him, pulling at his shirt for the second time that day. “Ouch,” she said as he shifted and accidentally kicked her.

 “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Okay. That’s better.”

Kensi was halfway out of her own shirt when there was a tap on the car window. “Holy--! Ow!” She hit her head on the ceiling.

“Detective Deeks? Agent Deeks?”

Deeks looked up at her. “Is that Hetty?”

 “I hate to interrupt but we have work to do.”

“What the hell is she doing here?” Kensi hissed, fumbling to re-button her blouse. “We’re in a freaking parking lot in the middle of downtown LA!”

“She’s always had some kind of timing,” Deeks said as she slid off his lap and allowed him to reach for the door handle.

Sure enough their recently returned boss was standing outside, her arms crossed in clear impatience. “I hate to interrupt your honeymoon phase, but we do have a case, do we not?”

“Hetty,” Deeks said. “Fancy meeting you here. We didn’t realize you were involved in this case.”

“Well I am still the Operations Manager of special projects. It’s my job to be involved. Now perhaps the two of you would like to follow me to your destination? We wouldn’t want you getting…lost again.” She gave them a look and turned away, clearly expecting them to follow.

After several very long hours at the crime scene during which Hetty disappeared almost immediately, Kensi and Deeks headed back to the mission only to find it deserted. “Well I’m glad we wasted all that time coming back here to report to…no one,” Kensi said grouchily.

They’d both been in a pretty foul mood since Hetty’s interruption, but Kensi was clearly taking it worse than her husband. Deeks shook his head. “What a crack team we have around here. Can’t solve the crime of the day but their timing and involvement in our sex life can’t be topped.”

“And apparently neither can we,” Kensi grumbled.

Deeks raised his eyebrows. “Did you just make a sex joke?”

She ignored him. “Let’s just go home.”

“Aw, it’ll be okay.” Deeks slung an arm around her shoulders as they walked toward the door. “I bet your husband will be up for trying to ‘top’ that second night in Malibu.”

“And now you’re the one making sex jokes.”

“I can’t help it. My wife is so hot and I haven’t had sex with her in like twelve whole hours.” He pinned her up against the wall of the hallway. “I’ve been wanting to jump her bones all day.”

His lips found hers in a teasing kiss that quickly turned into more. She pulled away and grabbed his hand, leading him into the locker room. Once inside she jumped, wrapping her legs around his waist, her mouth finding his once more. “Making this a literal bone jumping I see,” he teased as they broke apart so she could pull his shirt over his head.

“Well if we’re going to do it we should do it right,” she said with a grin.

“I like the way you think Kensi Deeks.”

She paused and a huge smile crossed her face. “I love hearing you say that.”

“I love saying it.”

“And I would love it if the two of you could keep your newlywedded bliss to the confines of your own home,” Callen said as he stepped out from behind a locker, shouldering his gym bag as he went. “Or at least clear the room before you start.”

“Oh come on!” Deeks cried.

“Don’t act like this is my fault. You’re the ones choosing to go at it like rabbits all over the mission.” Callen shouldered his gym bag. “You should have just taken the whole week off.”

“Yeah we’ll consider that for next time,” Kensi said through gritted teeth.

“Carry on!” Callen called over his shoulder as he walked out the door.

Kensi had let go and was now standing on the floor, her back pressed against the wall. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s just go pick up a pizza and call it a day.”

“Whoa, hey, we’re all alone in here right now. You’re just going to give up?”

“Are you telling me Eric’s a mood killer, but Callen’s not?”

He shrugged. “Make of that what you will. So? Ready to get down to business?”

“No.” She shook her head and walked toward the door. “Having sex at work has kind of lost its appeal.”

Deeks let the matter drop and they headed for home, stopping only to pick up pizza on the way. Once there Kensi mumbled something about wanting a shower before stomping into their bedroom and closing the door behind her. She let the frustrations of the day slide off her as she stood under the water. She half expected Deeks to make an appearance, but he was apparently enjoying the pizza too much to join her.

She was still a little moody as she wrapped a towel around herself and wandered into the bedroom. Her phone rang almost immediately. She frowned at the caller ID. “Deeks?” she asked as she picked up. “Why are you calling me from the living room?”

“Hey,” he said, his voice low. “What are you wearing?”

“Um… a towel,” she said.

“Ooh, that’s hot.”

 “Deeks, what are you doing?”

“Well since we didn’t get to bang it out at work, I thought I would try something else.”

“Which is?”

“A booty call.” He paused and she could tell he’d just thought of something he found hilarious. “A Mali-booty call. Crap! That’s what we should have called our weekend in Malibu!”

“Babe, if you’re trying to do something here, it’s not working.”

 “Oh, right. Okay.” He cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

“Oh really?” She sat down on the bed, shaking her head at the smile on her face. He was so dumb and she loved it. “What specifically?”

“About how hot it was when you showed up at our wedding in only half your dress. And about where that dress ended up later that night.”

“Mmhmmm.” She leaned back against the pillows. “It was a pretty good night.”

“It was indeed. And the weekend after was pretty good too. All that time in the hot tub…the shower…that one night on the beach…”

“That night could definitely count as a Mali-booty call.”

“Listen, I know it’s late but…is it all right if I come over?”

“I don’t know. What do you plan to do when you get here?”

His answer had her reaching for the door handle and pulling him into the bedroom as fast as she could. It turned out a late night booty call was even more fun than burn room sex.

[buzzdixonwriter]

America: Not The New Jerusalem, Merely Another Rome

”When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things.” -- Paul the Apostle (1 Corinthians 13:11 KJV)

”And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” -- Jesus Christ of Nazareth (John 8:34 KJV)

Ronald Reagan, tending the garden of thorns Dick Nixon had sown, referred to America as “a city on a hill”, thus appropriating Jesus’ words via John Winthrop through John F. Kennedy.

It’s interesting to chart the progression.  Let’s do so in reverse.

Reagan: ”I've spoken of the shining city all my political life, but I don't know if I ever quite communicated what I saw when I said it. But in my mind it was a tall, proud city built on rocks stronger than oceans, wind-swept, God-blessed, and teeming with people of all kinds living in harmony and peace; a city with free ports that hummed with commerce and creativity. And if there had to be city walls, the walls had doors and the doors were open to anyone with the will and the heart to get here. That's how I saw it, and see it still.”

Kennedy: ”I have been guided by the standard John Winthrop set before…’We must always consider…that we shall be as a city upon a hill—the eyes of all people are upon us’. Today the eyes of all people are truly upon us—and our governments, in every branch, at every level, national, state and local, must be as a city upon a hill—constructed and inhabited by men aware of their great trust and their great responsibilities…History will not judge our endeavors—and a government cannot be selected—merely on the basis of color or creed or even party affiliation. Neither will competence and loyalty and stature, while essential to the utmost, suffice in times such as these. For of those to whom much is given, much is required…”

Winthrop: ”Now the only way to…provide for our posterity is to follow the counsel of Micah, to do justly, to love mercy, to walk humbly with our God, for this end, we must be knit together in this work as one man, we must entertain each other in brotherly affection, we must be willing to abridge ourselves of our superfluities, for the supply of others’ necessities, we must uphold a familiar commerce together in all meekness, gentleness, patience and liberality, we must delight in each other, make others’ conditions our own, rejoice together, mourn together, labor, and suffer together, always having before our eyes our commission and community in the work, our community as members of the same body, so shall we keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace… for we must consider that we shall be as a City upon a Hill, the eyes of all people are upon us; so that if we shall deal falsely with our God in this work we have undertaken and so cause Him to withdraw His present help from us, we shall be made a story and a byword through the world, we shall open the mouths of enemies to speak…curses upon us till we be consumed out of the good land whether we are going”

Jesus: ”Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid.” (Matthew 5:14 KJV) 

Go back and read Reagan’s statement.

While I’ve trimmed Kennedy and Winthrop’s quotes and edited the latter for clarity (God bless Noah Webster for standardized spelling!), there’s a striking difference between what they saw as a city on a hill and what Reagan saw.

Reagan operates under the presumption that of course we’re the best, of course everyone else will look up to us, of course we are the New Jerusalem referenced in the Bible.

We are God’s anointed, His new chosen people.  America is God’s Promised Land, a nation to which all other nations can merely hope to aspire to be.

Our shitte truly stinketh notte.

Reality?   We have fucked up and we have fucked up badly.

Compare Reagan’s self-congratulatory, ignorant nostalgia with the dire warnings of Kenney and Winthrop.

Yes, there is great promise.

Yes, there is great potential.

Yes, we are a city on a hill.

But Kennedy and Winthrop both cautioned that history and the world would not be kind if we failed to live up to our own grandiose promises.

 (And, yeah, there’s irony in that, considering how both failed to make good on those promises, ///but at least they knew the danger was there///.)

Look at Matthew 5:13, the verse immediately preceding Jesus’ original “city on a hill” reference: ”Ye are the salt of the earth: but if the salt have lost his savour, wherewith shall it be salted? it is thenceforth good for nothing, but to be cast out, and to be trodden under foot of men.”

America is no New Jerusalem, no Holy Israel of the New World, no Promised Land.

Rather, we are the New Rome, an empire built on greed and ruthlessness and blood and genocide.

And slavery.  Let us never omit that original sin, or its bastard step-sibling, white supremacy.

As long as the history of this nation was written by the Parson Weems of the world, be they well meaning hagiographers or unprincipled propagandists, it was the history of white Christianist* men of property succeeding because God and / or providence had deemed them the masters of the universe, the unquestioned rulers of the earth.

(Oh, there might be a mean one once in a while, maybe an occasional bad one, but it was a white man with money’s world, and if non-whites and non-males wanted to enjoy even the slightest taste, the first thing they had to doo was make sure white Christianist male supremacy reigned supreme.)

Our nation has been at war virtually its entire existence.

It has slaughter and subjugated literally millions of people around the world.

Don’t give me that bullshit about the American Revolution being a good and just war -- Canada stayed under British rule and did just fine, thank you, and although they have their own problems, a far less bloody history than the United States.**

Don’t give me that bullshit about the Civil War being a good and just war -- there shouldn’t have been any need for a civil war if the first shipload of African slaves to arrive in North America had simply been seized and freed.

Don’t give me that bullshit on World War Two being a good and just war -- if Hitler hadn’t declared war on us, we would have never gotten involved in Europe.***

America has waged incessant war against other nations and native peoples in order to make a few wealthy people even wealthier.

Can we justify the War of 1812?  No.

Can we Justify the Mexican War?  No.

Can we justify the Spanish-American War or the too numerous to recount Latin American bush wars?  No.

Can we justify the Philippines, or Korea, or Vietnam?

Don’t even pretend we can justify what we’ve done in the Middle East.

And as terrible as those are, those are the crimes we’ve committed against others.

Look at how terribly we treat one another.

After centuries of enslavement, African-Americans then needed to endure the humiliation of segregation.

Hispanic Americans who can trace their ancestry in this land much further back than any Anglo found themselves aliens in their own country.

Women and non-Christians and anybody outside of toxic white male heterosexual norms declared unfit and excluded from the public sphere.

And we allowed the tiny greedy few at the very top to rob us and pick our pockets and let our families and children suffer because they promised us if we did so, they’d let us feel that we were the best simply because we were white Christianist males.

We are long overdue for our moment of clarity, our agonizing reappraisal, out “come to Jesus” moment when we recognize our sins and shortcomings.

We gotta stop eating our own bullshit and recognize ourselves for the villains we are.

Only by identify the source of the contagion and draining the virulent infection can we hope to cure it.

”Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. When he speaketh a lie, he speaketh of his own: for he is a liar, and the father of it.

”And because I tell you the truth, ye believe me not.” -- Jesus Christ of Nazareth (John 8:44-45 KJV) 

 © Buzz Dixon

 *  “Christianist” is a term coined by the political commentator Andrew Sullivan to refer to those people who are culturally Christian, who may even think of themselves as Christian, but in reality are as far from the teachings of Christ as is possible and just use their so-called Christian identity as an excuse to do whatever the fuck they feel like doing because “God loves us and forgives us and wants us to be in charge”.

**  The taxation in “no taxation without representation” referred to England trying to get the colonies to take at least partial responsibility for triggering the bloody Seven Years War (in the U.S., the French & Indian War) that virtually drained England’s treasury and wrecked a couple of European empires in the process.  One may argue the crown made a fatal misstep in not allowing token colonial participation in parliament, but you can’t say they were unfair in wanting the colonials to help pay for a war ///we started/// in direct violation of international treaties.

***  Not only were many prominent Americans against getting involved in European affairs, but a large number were pro-Nazi to boot, and they went to ground only when Hitler made it impossible to defend him any longer. And while we’re at it, let’s dispel with the myth that Hitler and the Axis would have won if the U.S. hadn’t stepped into the fray; Hitler lost WWII on June 22, 1941 when he invaded Russia. Contrary to the popular culture of the US and western Europe, it was Russia that took on the brunt of the German war machine, and Russia that painstakingly ground them down at great cost. To put it simply, Russia would have still beaten Germany without the help of the Allies; the Allies might not have beaten Germany without the help of the Russians.  And while Japan was reeling from saturation bombings and the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Russia declaring war on them was the moment they realized there was no hope left.

[drkoestersmithrpg]

What To Expect When You’re Expecting (To Be Rawdogged by Tony Stark)

Chapter 1 

It took a year to work up the nerve to proposition Tony.

Not to say that they CRUSH went on for a year – oh no – the crush had been MUCH longer than that – for FAR longer than Peter was even legal.  But Peter was legal, now, and little did Iron Man  know, Spiderman had spent the year <i>preparing</i> to for the moment he hit up Tony Stark.

He lay out all his plans carefully in his mind.  He executed them with precision.  He lost his V-card.  He got laid. He got instructed, by instructors both erudite and dubious, in the oral arts.

But more than anything, he read a LOT of A03.

He read x y z just go on and on and on..

He did NOT head for the Tony Stark RP fic (although there was much – so, so much) but how could he NOT, in the middle of an epic [insert name here] ball massaging fic, peep into what A03 THOUGHT Tony Stark would be like in bed??

After all, that was ALL Peter Parker thought about.

He didn’t stay there long (after all MOST of A03 seemed to think Tony Stark liked Cap – in THAT way) because it all seemed so ridiculous.  Even the occasional pieces that caught his eye that paired Tony with Spiderman (who, for reasons Peter never understood, EVERYONE believed was a stark-white blonde.)

But mostly, Peter went on A03 to ask questions.

Not on A03, of course, but on Tumblr, the A03 gossip site.  All under the guise of being a writer, of course (his user name was notAblonde24) he asked questions.

He asked lots, and lots of questions.

“How should my character ask this other character he if likes him THAT way?”  “What arguments could a younger character make if an older character argued  age difference”  and “How should my younger character indicate to his older lover that is he is not a virgin but STILL has a case of the nerves?”

But, more important, more than any other question:  “What do guys say to each other?  (In bed?)”

The answers ranged from the plausible to the patently ridiculous.  

Did any of those A03 answers do him ANY good in the end?  Peter would never tell – but after a year of entertaining answers (both the ones he read and the ones he heard in his head) he had probably used none of them.

He never verbally propositioned Tony.  He just waited until they were alone (NOT easy, it took weeks) and waited until Tony dropped one of his inappropriate innuendos (that took less than a minute) and simply grabbed him by the face and kissed him.

(And used his superior strength to push Tony up against the way and have his way for a few minutes – if he was going to get rejected he was going to find out a few things for himself first.  That possibility, the possibility of forcing himself on Tony, that idea he DID get from A03. VERY few of those fix remembered that Spiderman was naturally stronger than most of the Avengers- but those fics that did???  Oh my.)

But Tony didn’t reject him. Other than one snarky comment (“How long have you been saving that?”  “Since the day you stopped calling me “Underoos”)  Tony seemed enthusiastic, until, of course, they were interrupted.  

But thanks to texting,  crowds didn’t bother them.  Even in a room full of X Y and Z Peter and Tony, via phone, made plans for their first assignation.

Peter honestly didn’t have any plans after that  (Peter was honestly just hoping Tony would take him seriously enough for a hookup, he never dreamed Tony would take him seriously enough for anything else.)

And yet here they were.

Wherever “here” was.

This was the problem with Superheroes Dating, Peter found.  In-between his insane college-AND-work schedule and Tony’s insane Tony-Is-Insane schedule, they had exactly two date nights a week, and only one of those was what Tony called “Ironclad” (meaning he would let NO Stark-related business intrude upon it, a promise which he, touchingly, kept.)

Even though those “date nights” consisted entirely of Netflix-And-Chill (which meant in between sex they would lounge on the couch, Peter doing homework on his laptop while Tony rubbed his feet and watched Netflix) they were times that Peter craved and treasured.

But crime, sadly, knew nothing about Datenight.

It was several months into the relationship, whatever it was, that Peter began to get frustrated.

The sex was epic, no doubt. (Peter even employed a few tidbits he picked up on A03 – after an intense online discussion with a popular A03 writer [and ACTUAL gay man, a decided minority] Peter had learned to describe the relaxing  and tightening of specific muscles.  With very little practice on Tony, Peter had learned to milk his cock.  The look on Tony’s face, to say the least, was very rewarding. He also enjoyed the practice he read about involving looking over his shoulder and looking Tony in the eye.  But as for the pillow talk he had so meticulously researched, he sued none of it.  He could never work up the nerve.) 

But after the sex the REGULAR talk was ONLY about homework or the lameness of whatever show was on Netflix.  

And on their very few ventures outside Stark Tower the conversation was nill.  Outside the safety of the Tower walls Tony was like a comedian on a stage – all jokes and lewd remarks.  After months of dating, Peter was beginning to marvel out how very little talking they actually managed to do.

Not that Tony behaved that way in bed – Peter had nixed that on their very first night together.  Now Tony was very quiet in bed – almost too quiet – except for compliments.  

Peter was a little disappointed – he did want SOME talking in bed, maybe some of the lovely things he had read online.

But not tonight- tonight Peter was just royally pissed.

Datenight was absolutely shot – the Avengers were assembled in DC and taking on a villain who was threatening major buildings – and Peter was invited and missing it all because he was making up a chemistry final.  

And why was he making up a chemistry final??  Because when he was supposed to be taking his chemistry final he had been chasing a local car thief around Brooklyn.

Now here he was, trudging back to his dorm room on datenight – ALONE -  all because Tony insisted that “School comes first” because of a test he only missed because he was busy being the Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman.

“DAMN that Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman, GODdamn that Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman, goddamn that Friendly Neighborhood Spiderman to fucking hell,” Peter swore under his breath (see, he COULD curse.  And if he COULD curse, then he COULD talk dirty.  As long as there were never any other people around.)  

Back in his dormroom was no better – his roommate was bitching about something entirely trivial while Peter swore inwardly over and over and over, watching the time pass on the clock and reviewing it all in his head – he COULD have been in DC by now if he had left THEN, but he WASN’T in DC and it was Too Late Now.  He COULD have been getting GREAT After-The-Battle sex from Iron Man but NO he was stuck in his dormroom with his now-snoring roommate and he was horny and frustrated and PISSED.

Which is why he dove into his bottom bunk, pulled up the covers, opened up his laptop and dove into A03 for the first time in ages.

He went straight for the Tony Stark porn – why not???  X and Y and hell even twincest whatthehellever.  He plunged into tags he did even know the meaning too – which is how he wound up in a unlikely-but-very-hot ABO fic (he never did figure out what an ABO was but he figured it was an AU of SOME sort.)  He was three chapters into a carefully detailed threeway when Tony turned to Cap (who was a coffee shop owner of some sort?) and asked to be penetrated.  “Please,” fic-Tony was panting.  “I’ve wanted it for so long, but I didn’t know how to ask….”

“Oh please,” Peter moaned out loud.  “As if Tony wouldn’t be willing to joke about…”

Peter shut the laptop with a snap, his eyes opened wide.

 Then he sat up so hard he smashed his head against the top bunk (his snoring roommate never noticed.)

He poured himself out of his lower bunk and sat on the floor in complete darkness, dumbfounded.  And when he caught his breath a flood of information filled his brain like a tsunami.  

The dirty jokes – AH GOD the dirty jokes.  Loud and often and embarrassing.  Starting the day Peter had casually announced he had celebrated his birthday in Boys Town and had made a few new ‘friends’ at such-and-such a bar (part of his long, involved secret plan to let Tony know he was available.)

They were bad jokes, and they were politically incorrect jokes.  And didn’t they – now that Peter thought about it – suggest something he hadn’t considered before?

“Maybe he needs a good ass-ramming from a twink,” Tony had joked about YET ANOTHER villain (Tony’s CONSTANT referral to defeating badguys as ass-rammings was getting old and tired and yet it continued through constant complaints.)  “I don’t think you know what a twink is, Tony,” Peter had countered at the time, but now the statement just made his eyes wider.

And there had been MANY jokes to that effect – more than Peter could count (he had learned to ignore them.)  

And then – ah god and then – the night of their first time (or was it the next?) that Tony had pushed him up against a counter and stroked his erection through his pants, panting in his ear, “And how many of those science nerds and techno geniuses have had the thrill of this parting their ass?  I want names and places and positions.”

“You’re all talk, Stark,” was Peter’s counter.  He was proud of it at time.  

And then…..”QUIT riding my ass, Fury, that’s PETER’S job!”  to a computer screen after it became common knowledge that they had hooked up.  “Deranged fantasy, probably due multiple head injuries” was Peter’s parry.  

(But that was them, wasn’t it?  It was ALL banter and snark, all counter and parry.  They had NEVER talked about what the other one wanted in bed, not once.  Not beyond “are you ready” before and “Are you ok?” after.)

And then, OH GOD, and then…

That night, it had been THAT NIGHT that Tony had joked about their sex life in front of Fury that Peter confronted him.  

“I’ve learned to ignore all the lewdness and the one-liners and single-entendres

Double-entendre

And stupidity – but that means I’m ignoring 75% of what comes out of your mouth Tony!  Do you know how lonely that makes me??”

He regretted the words as soon as he had said them – their Netflix-and-Chill night was supposed to begin the moment the conference call with Fury had ended – and Peter had no reason to believe that an argument before hand would nix the whole evening.

He didn’t know if they would have sex after they argued – they had never argued before.  Arguing involved communication, and communication was not something they did.

But Tony said nothing in reply, only stared at him intensely.  “What do you want from me, kid?” he said finally, and he sounded as if the wind had been punched out of him.

“I just want a little honesty for goddsakes, I just want a little…”

But Tony was pealing off his vest and throwing it at Peter.

“I didn’t mean,” Peter started, but his voice died in his throat when Tony actually <i>took off his shirt<i>,  which he NEVER did in a lit room, and threw THAT at Peter too.

Peter stood dumbfounded for a moment as Tony stood, barechested, in front of him, his chest heaving, his face confrontational.  For a split second Peter took it all in – THE SCARS HERE – when Tony started undoing his belt and Peter was following suit.

They had taken each other in for a moment before coming together in the middle, Tony grabbing Peter’s face hard.  He brought their forehead together and he said, oh god how had Peter forgotten it?

“I’m going to take you into that bedroom, and I am going to slick up that beautiful cock, and I am going to ask you to do obscene things to my body.”

Peter-in-the-dormroom groaned and sank his head down into his hands at just how ignorant Peter-In-Stark-Tower had been.  (But he had been so PROUD of himself!  He hadn’t countered, he hadn’t parried, he had simply forced Tony’s hands off his head, taken the man’s hand in his and, with what he hoped was his best pair of bedroom eyes, led the man boldly into the next room.

It was a good move. He was proud of that move. Dammit, why was it that everything he was proud of had been wrong?

“OhgodTonyI’msorry” Peter-in-the-dormroom was moaning into his hands now.  Tony had promised to do anything in bed Peter asked (in a rare moment of communication with words – “I’ll do anything you want, anything baby, just ask,” he had whispered and Peter HAD asked.  Without words.  Peter was BAD at words in bed – but fortunately everything he wanted could be described with his hands and his body) and instead of reciprocating Peter had just been clueless. When Tony had asked…

Peter’s head snapped up.

Tony never asked.    

“I am going to ask you to do obscene things to my body,” he had whispered…wait…had he said ‘asked’ or ‘demand?’  But it didn’t matter, because when they got to bed Tony hadn’t asked for anything.

It had been a beautiful night – Peter blushed to remember it – Tony had made him scream that night – but now Peter-in-the-dormroom could only remember the words that had been whispered before.

“Oh Tony, you didn’t ask, why didn’t you ask – wait a minute….”

 -the text exchange!!! HE STILL HAS IT!!!

Laptop and blanket and all were unceremoniously dumped as Peter dove for his backpack to scramble for his phone.  It was there, that text exchange (the truth is he saved ALL their exchanges.)  It was right there.  In black and white.  Less than a month ago.

 -Miss you

-When do I get to see you

-I’m going to break into your dorm room grease up Little-Peter and take your V-card

-I lost my V-card before I kissed you.  You’ve got nothing Stark

-There are different kinds of V-cards, kid.

-Someday I’m going to get EVERY ONE of yours.

 Peter put the phone down and stared, dumbfounded, at the clock.  He watched it count the hours down until dawn.  There would be no sleep tonight.  There might be no more sleep forever.