#in my defense i got like 15 things instead of one or two!

[fireheartedpup]

I understand why stoners make weed their identity now.

Have you tried mushrooms? Would you like to try mushrooms? When will you try mushrooms?

Like, again, it's not a magic fix, but even just knowing that there's something that can make me feel better makes it easier to cope with things.

I got a bunch of different products at low prices, which is probably not actually the best way to do things, but I might have to eat my words a bit and I might become a bit annoying about this for a while.

I think the easiest thing would be to get the whole packs and mix it up with different blends, like I did the other day, because they all have slightly different effects and are not interchangeable.

I need to start keeping track of what works for me and what doesn't on paper.

^ this tastes weird because for some fucking reason they put apple cider vinegar in it. Still helped though. Kinda weird because it also has pu-erh, which has caffeine, and apple cider vinegar is fermented--so I thought it would keep me up, but there's a very slight intoxicating effect.

(I'm sensitive to these things.)

Also got a packet of sea moss.

No thank you. This tastes very strange.

(I'd rather have gotten something else, but the larger ones are like $30 and this was $1.)

There was also a single square of adaptogen dark chocolate.

Like this. Mine was a bit different.

I guess I should have waited to have it if I wanted to see how effective it is on its own, but I didn't want any more of the root beer and I didn't get anything else that wasn't caffeinated and it's past six.

That's the other thing. I didn't have a lot of trouble going to bed last night. I wanted to do it, so I did it. I got in bed before 1 am! That's monumentous for me.

Navigating this is a bit of a minefield for me, because I don't always want all the ingredients they put in... they also had them in supplement form, but it's like $20-30 per supplement. So I'm going to have to be careful with that.

I'm really glad I treated myself. The election results are SO MUCH EASIER to handle with this in my body. I'm almost chipper. I'm not getting things done automatically, but it's easier to do them.

I woke up to the return of the overwhelming dread, and I had my coffee and it was easier again. I think I might be able to manage things without medication if I can figure this out.

Me: I'll buy that mushroom coffee as a special treat. Idk if it'll help, but it's $1 so... too bad the entire packages are kind of expensive, it might take some time to see results.

*makes coffee the next morning*

*feels better almost immediately*

...FUCK.

[roguishcat]

Augustarion Day 7 – Underwear

Day 1 -🍓, Day 2 - 🌊, Day 4 - Mythologies, Day 6 - Cream, Day 14 - Protective, Day 15 - Shirt that goes hard

Pairing: female reader (You) x Astarion

Tags: fluff with a tiny bit of angst

Excerpt: “Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

Word count: 1.9k

A/N This was supposed to be smut, but ended up being feels.

Astarion was in an excellent mood. Everything was going according to plan as you bagged a win after win, defying all odds.

You managed to obtain the second Netherstone, proving yourself to be a strong leader and brilliant strategist, confidently leading them into battle against the cultists. You defeated Orin and rescued Lae’zel, although Astarion still couldn’t understand why the githyanki didn’t just kill the shapeshifter herself.

Honestly. For such a formidable warrior she was quite good at letting herself be the damsel in distress. Not that he would ever say that to her face. He quite liked his head to remain on his shoulders and was sure that a thoughtless comment like that would be all the reason she needed to reach for her sword.

Of course, his fantastic mood was not the result of rescuing the githyanki. Lae’zel was no fun, as she barely tolerated his antics even on a good day. No, what had Astarion excited was the delicious promise in your eyes when you brushed past him earlier.

The others decided to celebrate their victory with a drink or ten, but you pulled him aside and whispered that you were waiting for him upstairs, giving his biceps a squeeze before sauntering off. Seeing as it would be just the two of you not getting sloshed, Astarion had a strong inkling that he knew exactly how his evening would go. And he had a little something that he picked up at Facemaker’s Boutique that he couldn’t wait for you to try on!

When Astarion entered the shared room at Elfsong, he could see that you were already there and scantily clothed. So far, an excellent start! He smirked and closed the door behind him.

“Darling, you look ravishing. But why don’t you put this lovely set on instead, hm? The pearly beads on the front gave me all sorts of exquisite, wicked ideas," he dropped his voice and all but purred as his eyes travelled up the length of your legs.

“Astarion, my love,” you began in a deceptively light tone as he approached your bed, “Quite coincidentally, I was just going through the lovely collection of underwear which you have gifted me since we got to the city. And seeing as you embroidered every single thing with such meticulous care, I couldn’t help but admire the beautiful work that you did. Every piece of lingerie with my name, embroidered in elvish. How sweet.”

Astarion felt a chill run down his spine, the treacly sweetness of your voice making him want to run. You couldn’t have possibly found out, right?

“Except, Shadowheart was kind enough to translate for me. Most considerate of her, isn’t it? Making sure that I know exactly what is stitched across my butt.”

Astarion laughed nervously and backed away, feeling that there is very little he could say in his defense. Perhaps if he got away from you for a bit and gave you time to calm down, you would both laugh about it in a day or two. One could hope. Without breaking eye contact, he felt for the doorhandle, but it wouldn’t budge.

Shit. Arcane lock on the door. Apparently, he was in very hot water and this conversation was happening.

“Let’s have a look at what do we have here, hm?” you spoke with a smile, humming as you selected a delicate, pretty blue pair.

“Do sit,” you said in a tone that left no room for argument.

Astarion swallowed nervously and reluctantly did as he was told, sitting on the opposite side of the bed with a pout. He knew this whole relationship idea was bad news from the very beginning.

“Cheeky pup,” you read without looking at him.

“You have to admit, darling, it’s not that bad-”

“If you can read this, I’m going to kill you,” you went on, picking a silk pair next.

“Well, I suppose that it is open to interpretation.”

“If found, return to Astarion,” you snapped your head in his direction.

“Well,” he gave a nervous laugh, “you do have a tendency to get into scrapes. And this way you-”

“The one that got lucky,” you lifted your eyebrows.

Ah, yes. He didn’t have anything to say in his defense here.

“Sucked dry.”

Astarion did some mental gymnastics as he tried to come up for some justifiable excuse to his actions.

“It’s not going to spank itself.”

Your honor, he had nothing.

“Best meal,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, not sure which one of these you found the most ridiculous.

“And, of course, there is still the pair that I’m wearing now. Which, if I recall correctly, you said was your favourite,” you crossed your arms and gave him a hard look. Astarion tried to seem visibly chastened, like a man ready to repent. You didn’t fall for it. You saw the way his lips twitched as he tried to fight back a smile.

“Do you know how stupid I felt when Shadowheart asked me why I just took what you said at face value? I wouldn't mind it if it was us having an in-joke, although some of these are just terrible, but why did you lie? Was it to laugh at my expense?” You threw the scrap of fabric at his chest, Astarion catching it with a quick, smooth movement.

“No, nothing like that!” he assured you passionately, hating that he made you feel this way. “It’s more of a- I don’t know,” Astarion groaned and ran his hand through his curls, not really sure how to explain what he was thinking at the time. Perhaps he wasn’t really thinking at all.

“I suppose I’m still getting used to- to whatever this is,” he admitted with some reluctance, looking down at his lap. “To having someone to share my thoughts with. To not being punished for stepping out of line. This whole being myself thing… It’s new.”

Your eyes locked with his as he looked up at you. Astarion could be a very believable liar, but he did have his tells. Such as playing with his fingers when he got nervous, worried or a little too vulnerable.

In spite of still being annoyed, you hated seeing him looking this dejected.

“Oh hells, I can’t stay mad at you when you pull out those eyes,” you smacked his arm.

“I know, my sweet,” he took your hand into his, placing a kiss onto the underside of your wrist, his tongue darting out to give it a quick lick.  

“But this was so childish!” you tried to keep your voice steady as he kissed his way up your arm. That was cheating. He knew what made you weak at the knees a little too well and was not playing fair.

“I know, punish me as you see fit,” he pulled you closer until you all but fell into him. “I will accept my fate without a word of complaint.”

“Without complaint? Now that would be something to see,” you chortled, pushing him away as you sensed that he was about to pounce.

You were not really angry. Just exasperated and annoyed at having to constantly figure him out. But now that Astarion gave you an explanation, however limited and disjointed, you were not really sure what to do. Perhaps you could have a little fun, though.

You plucked ‘the lucky one’ pair off the bed and waved it in front of his face with a grin.

“Put these on?”

“My love, this is a punishment. Say it with more conviction, more authority,” he growled and gripped your thigh tightly.

“Now,” you commanded, eyes flashing, chin lifted defiantly.

“Of course, my lady. Right away,” he gave you a shallow bow, making quick work of his clothes and then shimmying out of his underwear. You looking away with a blush was met with a self-satisfied chuckle. Astarion still delighted in the fact that even after all the times you were intimate, he still had the ability to fluster you with little effort.

“And you have to spend the whole evening in these,” you reminded him as he put his clothes back on.

“Hardly a punishment for me. It is you who will have to spend the whole evening imagining me in these. Do try to keep your composure in public. Wouldn’t want to find myself thrown against the wall in an alley and ravished as your hunger trumps reason. Now, allow your humble servant to assist you with your wardrobe, my lady.”

He got your clothes out and lay them on the bed, coaxing you out of your bathrobe and taking his time in dressing you, fingers gliding against skin as he delighted in hearing your breath hitch whenever he touched a particularly sensitive spot.

“Dearest,” Astarion lifted your chin with his finger, “I hope you didn’t feel the need to strip for Shadowheart to translate what is written on the underwear you are currently wearing.”

“No, I just assumed it was something silly and juvenile. Why?”

“No, nothing,” he answered a little too quickly.

“Astarion, just tell me.”

He took his time folding up your bathrobe and putting it away, not looking at you. And it could be a trick of candlelight, but you could swear that the tips of his ears were tinged pink.

“Mrs. Ancunín,” he mumbled and cleared his throat.

You did not react immediately. And apparently you not saying anything was worse than you rejecting the idea outright.

“I suppose it’s just wishful thinking on my part,” he gave a small, humorless laugh. “We don’t know if we can survive whatever horrors await us in the near future. And I am not exactly the best choice, far from it. There is very little I can offer and-”

You put your fingers on his lips and pecked his cheek, making his eyes fall shut as he savored the feeling.

“I’d love that. Truly. But I think that you are right. The next few weeks are going to be a lot. And if you still feel like asking at some point in the future, though I will love you no matter what you decide, I'm open to having this conversation. ”

He kissed your hand and then pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, letting up a little when he realised that breathing was a necessity for you.

“Can’t believe that you sort of proposed to me with a message on my butt,” he heard you mumble and laughed.

“You knew what you were getting yourself into,” he retorted as he heard the door unlock behind him, the spell no longer in place.

“Yes. I guess poor judgement was a prerequisite for entering this relationship?”

“Quite.”

And so the evening went on delightfully, if not quite in the way Astarion expected. You smiled and laughed with your friends. Astarion cheated at cards and won a small fortune, grinning widely as he swept the gold off the table and pocketed it. Occasionally, you saw him hover close by as he tried to listen in on your conversations in a way that would seem inconspicuous if you didn’t constantly catch him staring. From time to time, he frowned and shifted.

“Comfy?” you grinned, catching on to what was happening.

“No, these are terrible! How do you bear it?” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Well, they are cute and I like them. And to be fair, they were not made for comfort.”

“Tomorrow we are getting you the ugliest and most comfortable pair of granny panties which I will rip off just as enthusiastically come nighttime as any lacy number.”

You snorted and almost chocked on your wine.

A/N I imagine Astarion reclaiming his autonomy and learning how to be in a relationship is quite a learning curve, seeing that during the 200 years in servitude anything and everything could result in him being punished. The 'If you're reading this, you managed to bed or behead me. Either way, you got lucky' embroidery on his underwear was such a cheeky way to rebel. Brave too, all things considered. I imagine that it would take a while for Astarion to not hide something from others because hiding has been almost instinctive to him for so long.

Sorry for the long author's note. Hope you enjoyed the story!

💖 Tag list 💖:

@ninty900, @ayselluna, @dajeong, @ravenswritingroom,

@misscrissfemmefatale,

@clazberryk, @anukulee,

@preciouslittlebhaalbae,

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[tip-top-cloud-surfer]

Never Have I Ever (Part 2) - Hangman

Pairing: Hangman / Civilian Contractor! Reader (Callsign: Dove)

Length: 3.1k

This work, all my works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only

Warnings: Female Reader with a Callsign, but no Physical Description or Name; Not Necessarily Healthy Decisions/Coping Mechanisms; Shy! Reader; Slow Burn; Coworkers to Friends to Lovers; Oblivious Idiots; Excessive Pining; Suggestive Humor

Summary: Hangman and Dove move into some more awkward topics as they continue Dove's challenge.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

Master List

# 13 - Ridden a Motorcycle

Stepping out of her apartment building, Dove paused when she saw Maverick waiting for her instead of Hangman in his truck. 

“Hey, Mav,” she greeted him, raising an eyebrow when he offered her a helmet. 

“Hangman looped me in about your challenge to yourself,” Maverick explained as Dove took the helmet. “And I thought I would offer some help.”

“Thanks, Mav.”

Dove put the helmet on and nervously climbed onto the back of the Kawasaki. Looking around, Dove turned back to Maverick. 

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel safe!” Dove yelped as Maverick drove down the road. 

~~~~~

“Why did you have Maverick drive me to Target?” Dove asked Hangman as they walked inside together. “I’m here at least once a week.” 

“We’re stocking up and looking for some inspiration,” Hangman explained, leading the way. 

“Why do I feel like I’m going to regret this trip?” Dove sighed, following behind him. 

They worked clockwise through the store. They spent some time in the food section, picking out a few items for inspiration before moving onto the beauty section. Dove was looking at the hair dye options when Jake dropped a box into the cart. Looking down, Dove raised an eyebrow.

“Are you trying to tell me something, Hangman?” 

“You can wax whatever body part you want. You haven’t ever waxed . . . something before, right?”

“No, I haven’t. And I’ll just leave it there,” Dove replied, turning back to the hair dye options. Picking up two bottles, she showed them to Jake. “Should I do blue or red?” 

“You’re going to dye your hair?” he asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“Just temporary. This stuff is spray-on and it washes off with a shower.” 

“Then red. The blue is too . . .” Jake trailed off, meeting Dove’s gaze. “I don’t want to be rude.” 

“I’ll just get red then,” Dove agreed, placing one bottle in the cart and the other back. 

~~~~~

# 14 - Bought a Pregnancy Test

Jake and Dove slowly walked down the ‘family planning’ aisle. Dove forced herself to stare straight ahead as she and Jake stood side by side in front of the shelves. She leaned forward, grabbing a random pregnancy test before tossing it into the cart. 

Jake didn’t comment on her choice.

~~~~~

# 15 - Bought Condoms

“What size should I buy?” Dove asked Jake.

“What are you talking about?” 

“The condoms.” 

Jake turned to Dove, who refused to meet his gaze. Clearing his throat, he rubbed his cheek, trying to find a way out of the awkward question. 

“Just buy whatever size you’ve bought before.”

“I’ve never bought them before, that’s why I suggested it,” Dove pointed out, causing Jake to clear his throat again.

“Well, just buy a size that one of your exes wore. Just to get it over with.” 

“I don’t remember what sizes they wore,” Dove lied, but not in the way that Jake assumed.   

“Really?”

“Why?” Dove replied defensively. 

“You have an almost perfect memory,” Jake stated calmly, causing Dove to grow sheepish. “How much was your bill at the Hard Deck yesterday?”

“It’s unimportant.” 

But $16.53 kept flashing in her mind. 

“Just pick one.” 

“I’m not going to just pick one. It’ll just go to waste.” 

“Alright, let’s not overcomplicate things,” Jake sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Glancing over at Dove, and causing her to turn away from him quickly, Jake leaned down, grabbed a box, and tossed it into the cart. “There. Done. Let’s move on.” 

“Gladly.” 

They got to the self-checkout area and they were about to start scanning when Dove let out a groan. 

“I forgot to get milk.” 

“I’ll go grab it,” Jake offered, stepping back. 

“Thanks.” 

“Well, you’re buying me condoms,” Jake mused, causing Dove’s cheeks to warm. “I think I can return the favor.” 

Dove nodded and swallowed thickly before going back to her scanning. She moved through the items before she picked up the box of condoms. She had told herself and Jake that she wouldn’t look, but her impulse control wasn’t what it once was these days. 

“That was a bad idea,” she cursed herself, scanning the box and tossing it into her shopping bag. “A dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb idea, Dove.” 

Jake eventually caught up with her and they walked out of the store together. Putting the bag into the back of Jake’s truck, Dove walked around and sat in the passenger seat. Jake placed the milk carton down beside the bag and quickly grabbed the box of condoms and shoved them into his pocket. 

“You just had to open your mouth in front of the condoms,” he scolded himself, closing the trunk. 

~~~~~

# 16 - Bought a Lottery Ticket

“Why are we stopping at a gas station?” Dove asked Jake as he held the door open for her. 

“Well, I assumed that you’ve never bought a lottery ticket before.”

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted quietly. 

Dove walked over to the clerk and bought a random lottery ticket. After grabbing it, Dove and Jake headed back out to the truck. 

“You think you’ll win anything?” Jake asked as he started the truck. 

“No. I'm not usually lucky,” she replied bluntly, tucking the ticket into her purse.

“You never know,” Jake returned, causing Dove to look over at him. “You could get lucky soon.” 

“Maybe,” Dove agreed quietly. 

~~~~~

# 17 - Tried Baby Food

“If anything, this should be the safest food you'll eat all day,” Jake stated, opening the jar of baby food. “And it’s apple flavored, so it should taste just like applesauce.” 

Dove pulled out a spoon and scooped out some baby food. Bringing it to her mouth, she tasted it tentatively for a moment before shrugging her shoulders and nodding.

“Yeah, just like applesauce. It’s weirdly smooth though.”

~~~~~

#18 - Waxed

“If this burns my skin, it’s on your head, Seresin,” Dove warned Jake, applying the wax to her thigh.

They were standing in her bathroom together and Dove had changed into a pair of gym shorts while Jake heated up the wax for her. Holding out her hand, Dove thanked Jake when he handed her the paper strip before placing the paper down on top of the wax. Turning back to him, she gripped the flap, took a breath, and yanked the strip. 

“Fuck!”

“What? What?” 

Dove hopped on one foot and eventually balanced herself on Jake as she looked down to see if her leg was actually on fire or not. Jake held her right hand as Dove poked at the now irritated skin. 

“You still have two legs,” Jake remind Dove, causing her to scoff.

“Why don’t you try some then if it’s not so bad?” 

~~~~~

# 19 - Waxed Someone Else

“Just put it on my leg,” Jake sighed, pulling up his shorts a little more. “Tit for tat.” 

Dove placed a heavy glob on his thigh and spread it around. Picking up another strip of paper, Dove pressed it down onto the wax before looking up at Jake. She grabbed the flap and offered him a smile. 

“You need a countdown, Lieutenant?” 

With how they were situated, Dove was sitting in between Jake’s legs as his leg was resting on the edge of the tub. And the way that she was smiling at him and the way that she let his rank slide off her tongue . . . he forced himself to look up at the ceiling.

“Just pull it.” 

~~~~~

# 20 - Left a Negative Review Online

“You know, I didn’t actually rip your leg off.” 

“Still, we have to warn people. Don’t need anyone else getting skinned alive,” Jake replied, accepting a bag of ice from Dove. “Grab your phone.”

“To take a picture of you being dramatic?”

“No, to write a bad review. That shit’s horrible!” 

“It was only seven dollars. What did you expect?”

“Just write a bad review,” Jake sighed, sitting up as he rested the bag of ice against his red skin. Looking up at Dove, who made no move to grab her phone, he tilted his chin up. “You’ve never written a bad review before have you?” 

“Of course, I have!” Dove protested, folding her arms over her chest. When Jake stared her down, Dove winced and turned away.

“Grab. Your. Phone.” 

Dove sat down beside Jake and pulled up the product that they bought. Glancing over at Jake, she turned back to her phone and typed out a review.

Wax was a bit difficult coming off.

“Even when you’re writing a bad review, you’re being nice,” Jake sighed, causing Dove to sour.

Wax felt like you were ripping your skin off. Leaves an angry red rash behind. And it reduced a big tough naval aviator to tears.

“I didn’t cry!” 

“I could see tears,” Dove replied, laughing as Jake tried to snatch her phone. 

Leaning away from him as he pressed up against her, she held her phone away from him. Managing to hit the post button before he could grab it, Dove turned to Jake, who was a lot closer to her than she was expecting. And Jake, in turn, seemed to realize how far he had leaned over, pretty much pressing Dove against the arm of her couch. 

“Well,” Jake stated awkwardly. He scooched over to the opposite end of the small couch and cleared his throat. “I have a couple more ideas.” 

“Alright,” Dove agreed quietly, slowly sinking back into his seat. 

~~~~~

# 21 - Watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians

“I can feel myself getting dumber,” Dove commented, frowning at the ridiculous scene. 

“You want to switch to something else?” 

“Wait, I want to see how Kim flips out first.”

“So, you like it?”

“You’re the one who had it under their recommendations,” Dove pointed out, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

~~~~~

# 22 - Watched a Horror Movie

“This is more like psychological horror than jump scare horror,” Jake replied as Dove hugged a throw pillow, staring at the screen. 

“That can be worse,” Dove stated quietly. 

“Phoenix liked it.” 

Dove groaned and held the pillow to her face. Jake reached for a handful of popcorn and leaned back in his seat. The movie progressed and Jake could feel Dove getting more and more on edge with the direction that the movie was taking. And when it got to the truly creepy scenes, she winced and hid her face in the pillow. 

“Well, you’re watching half of a horror movie,” Jake commented, earning an indignant look. Rolling her eyes, Dove turned back to the screen out of spite

“You’re such a—” 

The jump scare, of course, flashed onto the screen and Dove jumped a bit. She didn’t scream or anything excessive more than a gasp, but because she had been kneeling, she fell over and landed on his thighs. Jake winced and Dove quickly apologized.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jake assured her, wincing a bit as she slid off of him.

“Do you need more ice?” Dove asked, causing Jake to momentarily panic.

“For what?”

“Your wax burn?” Dove suggested, like it was obvious.

“Oh . . . no, I’m fine.”

~~~~~

# 23 - Pressed Every Button in an Elevator

The elevator bell dinged overhead and Dove grit her teeth together just a little bit more. The doors held open for a moment before closing again.

“If we ever make it to the bottom of the building, Hangman, you have a five second head start before I kill you,” Dove warned him.

“You’re not a very patient person.” 

“For murder, I am,” she replied, shooting him a look.

Jake offered her a smile that had earned him a lot of sharp remarks over the years, but with the way that Dove was glaring at him, the edges of his smile softened. She tried to look menacing, but she only managed to appear about as threatening as a kitten. 

“Where are we going anyways?” Dove sighed, turning back to the door. 

~~~~~

# 24 - Snuck In to See a Movie

“Jake,” Dove hissed to him as he led her in through the side entrance to the theater. “What are you doing? We’re too old for this shit.” 

“No one’s even going to be in here. Come on,” Jake insisted, grabbing her hand and tugging her into the theater closest to the door. “I mean, how many people are going to watch this movie? It’s been out for weeks.”

“I don’t know.” 

“In the middle of the day?”

“If we get kicked out and banned, it’s your fault,” Dove hissed as they took their seats. 

The movie started and after a while, Dove actually relaxed and started to watch it. They walked out together along with three other people and headed out to Jake’s truck.

“That wasn’t too bad for a free movie.” 

“No,” Dove agreed, hopping into his truck. “I mean, Jon Hamm makes every movie better.” 

“You like Jon Hamm?” Jake asked, climbing into the driver’s seat. “Really?”

“What?”

“Isn’t he a little old for you?”

“And a little too famous for me,” Dove scoffed, putting her seatbelt on. 

“Doesn’t he look too much like Cyclone for you?” Jake continued, starting up the truck. Turning quickly to Dove as realization struck him, he asked, “Is that why you’re so nice to Cyclone? Because he looks like Jon Hamm?”

“He’s our boss, of course, I’m nice to him,” Dove snapped, leaning back in her seat. “And besides, Cyclone doesn’t smile.”

“You like a guy who smiles?” 

“I like a guy who actually drives instead of holding me hostage in a parking lot.”

“Picky, picky,” Hangman joked before driving off.

~~~~~

# 25 - Taken a Coin from a Fountain

“Are you kidding me?” Dove hissed to Jake, who shrugged in response.

“Just do it.” 

“No!”

“Why not?”

“It’s wrong, Jake.” 

“What? It’s just a coin. Look, that dime’s barely even in the water. You can scoop it up easily,” Jake insisted, pointing at a coin. 

“Someone made a wish and put it in there. We can’t just take it.” 

“They won’t know.”

“But I’ll know,” Dove replied, causing Jake to groan. 

“Why does it matter so much to you?” 

“Because.” 

“Because why?”

“Well,” Dove sighed, looking away from Jake. “My parents divorced when I was a kid and they always met at the local mall when I would switch parents. And my dad always gave me a coin to make a wish while we waited for my mom and . . .” 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” Jake stated as Dove turned her back to him. “We don’t have to do it.”

“Even if I was just lying?” 

“Even if . . . you were lying about that?” Jake demanded, causing Dove to smile proudly. 

“Yeah. Well, my parents are divorced, but the rest of it was bullshit.” Nudging him on the arm, she laughed. “But I thought you of all people wouldn’t fall for the whole ‘divorced parents’ sob story.” Smiling to herself, she folded her arms over her chest. “Maybe I’m a better liar than I thought.” 

“So, you’re going to take a coin then?”

“No, it’s still wrong, Jake.” 

“Here, I’ll throw one in and you can pick that one. I don’t mind if you crush my dreams,” Jake offered jokingly, pulling out his wallet. He grabbed a penny and tossed it onto the edge of the pool. “There.”

Dove huffed and looked around before bending over and grabbing the penny quickly from the water. Turning back to Jake, she handed the penny back.

“What did you wish for?”

“That I don’t fall for your little stories again,” Jake muttered, causing Dove to grin. 

“We pulled the coin out, so your wish isn’t going to happen.”

Jake sighed and shook his head, earning a smile and giggle from Dove in return.

~~~~~

# 26 - Committed a Federal Crime

“Jake, this isn’t a crime.” 

“You’re taking my mail. It’s a federal crime, Dove.” 

“You handed me your mail key.” 

“Sneaking into the movie theater, taking a coin from a public fountain, and now you’re stealing mail? Where will it end?” Jake listed dramatically, causing Dove to shush him. 

“Here’s your mail. All two envelopes,” she replied, handing over the key and mail.

“You have to open it.” 

Dove huffed and rolled her eyes, opening one of the envelopes begrudgingly. Pulling out the paper inside, she turned to Jake.

“Did you want to upgrade your WiFi?” she asked sarcastically.

~~~~~

# 27 - Licked a Bar of Soap

“When I said that I could eat, I wasn’t referring to soap,” Dove replied, opening the box. 

“The rest of the squad is coming over soon. I told them to bring food.”

Dove stuck out her tongue and licked the bar of soap before wrinkling her nose and walking off to the bathroom to wash out her mouth. 

“You pick the dumbest ones,” she huffed.

~~~~~

# 28 - Had an Anchovy

“They’re not that bad,” Bob stated, ignoring the disgusted looks from the rest of the people in the room. “What? They’re not.”

“Let me just get this over with. If the taste doesn’t kill me, the smell will,” Dove sighed, grabbing an anchovy from the tin and shoving it into her mouth.

She wrinkled her nose in disgust but swallowed it like a champion and quickly reached for her drink. Sliding the tin over to Bob as she took a few gulps, Dove finished her drink and hiccuped. 

“You can keep the rest, Bob.”

~~~~~

# 29 - Been Given Flowers

“Sorry, I’m late,” Rooster stated, sliding into Jake’s apartment. “Have we voted yet?”

“Not yet,” Phoenix stated, shaking her head. 

“Good.”

Rooster set the grocery bag down on the countertop and turned to Dove, who sighed when she saw the look in his eye. 

“Please don’t tell me that you brought more fish.”

“No, but have you ever been gifted flowers, Dove?”

“Not that I can think of, no. Why?”

Rooster pulled out a small bundle of yellow flowers wrapped in plastic and handed it to Dove. Her eyes widened and she took the small bouquet in her hand, staring down at it curiously. She sniffed the flowers before turning back to Rooster.

“Thanks.”

“Any time,” Rooster replied with a wink before moving to walk around the kitchen island. “Excuse me, Hangman.”

Rooster passed by Jake, completely ignoring his death stare, and grabbed a plate. Phoenix got everyone’s attention while Dove quietly placed the flowers down behind her. 

“Alright, where are we going to go for our team vacation? Vegas? Or the lakehouse that Bob found?”

“Vegas,” Rooster quickly voted. 

“Lakehouse,” Hangman immediately challenged. 

“Something tells me that I should crack open a beer,” Coyote sighed, walking to the fridge.

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

to ashes, conflicted

Clint Barton x F!Reader

To Ashes, Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Summary: your patience runs thin with clint and your latest mission comes with complications.

Warnings: angst, canon-typical violence

Word Count: 2,010

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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Days Since the Decimation: Three Years, Sixty-Three Days

“Hungry?” you asked without looking up from the fridge. You pulled a plastic bag of leftover takeout off the shelf, fishing out a plastic container of curry. When Clint didn’t reply, or even acknowledge you at all, you dropped it onto the kitchen counter with more force than was strictly necessary. The lid wasn’t completely in place, and sauce splattered the countertop. You cursed to yourself, irritated further. You spoke under your breath, reaching for a towel. “Or I could just go fuck myself, I guess.”

It was catty, you supposed, but Clint had been oscillating between his usual self and frustratingly cold and dismissive over the last two months, and it was driving you insane. One day he’d be fine – for Clint, anyway – and the next, you’d be on the business end of the silent treatment. The normal days had gotten fewer and far between since the anniversary, and what triggered the silence, you still had no idea, but it was very quickly beginning to grind on the very last of your nerves.

Tossing the container into the microwave, you hit a couple of buttons and leaned against the countertop as the turntable began to rotate. You let yourself stew as it warmed, arm folding across your chest as you watched the archer head for the shower. He continued to avoid eye contact as though you weren’t there at all, even as the microwave beeped to announce its completion.

You sighed irritably and leaned your elbows on the counter as you picked petulantly at the curry. When Clint finally reemerged, he was dressed in most of his mission gear, and you tossed your fork in the sink. He didn’t even glance up as it clattered against the metal.

“You ready?” he asked gruffly from the couch, tugging on one of his boots.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Are you talking to me?” It slipped out before you could stop it, annoyance dripping from every word.

Clint looked up; an eyebrow raised. “What’s the matter with you?”

You probably should have just shut up, should have just gotten changed and followed him out the door. But instead, you wiped your hands on a tea towel and tossed it on the counter in front of you. The words kept spewing out bitterly. “I just didn’t realize today was one of the days you actually speak to me like I’m a human being.”

“…What are you talking about?”

Shut up, Y/N.

“What am I—” you scoffed, shaking your head as you rounded the counter towards him. “Clint, this is the first time you’ve spoken to me in three days, and its to ask if I’m ready to go on a mission we haven’t even talked about.”

“We—”

“No, we haven’t!” you snapped, brandishing a finger at him as you closed the distance between you. “Honestly, most days you treat me like I’m furniture around here and I am fucking sick of it! You disappear for months; you come back and tell me you ‘need me’ and, fine, I roll with that, but then you act like I’m not even here—”

Clint’s tone turned a shade of defensive, his jaw tightening and releasing. “I’m not—”

You stabbed him in the chest with your finger. “You act like I’m not even here, and you know what, that would be fine too, except when you finally do talk to me, I actually believe for a moment that things could be going back to normal between the two of us.”

“Everything is—”

“No, it’s not!” you shouted, your face inches from his. “Clint, I get emotional whiplash every time you decide to talk to me!”

“Would you just let me—”

“And I sit here and I pretend everything is fine, and meanwhile you’re pretending I don’t exist and you’ve got me yelling like some kind of sitcom reject and if you could just man up and stop being such a—”

Your words caught in your throat as Clint’s hand suddenly closed around it. He pushed you back against the wall, his thumb pressed hard against the corner of your jaw. In your anger you hadn’t realized just how close you’d been to him, and now even that limited space was gone, Clint’s body so close that you could feel his chest brush against yours with each of his breaths.

His fingers were tight, unforgiving, against your throat. And still you felt a thrill shoot through you, and your lips parted without breath. Clint’s eyes were dark. Anger and something else that sent a shiver straight to the small of your back burned in his gaze.

Your fists clenched and unclenched by your sides; a shield could force him away from you, release you, and maybe you should have been scared of this side of Clint, but his eyes fell for a moment to your parted lips and you couldn’t move.

Do it.

Clint released you, stepping away as though he’d suddenly woken up. He cleared his throat and you inhaled, still leaning back against the wall. Your breath shook as you caught it, your palms pressed against the wall by your thighs. Clint ran a hand through his hair, turning his back to you, and you exhaled as that tightness that had bloomed in the pit of your belly began to ease.

“Get changed,” he said finally, and you swore his voice was unsteady. “We’ve… we’ve got a window closing. We’ll talk about this later.”

***

The ‘window’ had turned out to be a weapons deal in the middle of Holland Park – even three years after the Snap and with society beginning to rebuild its law enforcement within the populated areas, criminals seemed to have no problem with committing grand scale felonies in what were still considered major landmarks. Still, the park was very much deserted at this hour, and you found yourself using the silence around you to continue stewing over your… conversation with Clint as you made your way towards the Kyoto Gardens fountain.

You should have just ignored your feelings and followed after him obediently as usual. The helpful little sidekick just doing what she’s told. But no, you had to go postal on him, and now…

You sighed as you clambered up to the top of the fountain’s rock formation, carefully avoiding the water running between the stones. The foliage would mostly block you from view, and the darkness would do the rest. Clint would be nearby, waiting for his opportunity to strike.

Clint…

God, he was going to withdraw even more, wasn’t he? He was going to pretend everything was fine for a few days and then get even more monosyllabic. He might even disappear again.

You’d made a big show of telling him you didn’t care about him sleeping with you and taking off – you didn’t – and then you’d gone and acted like a frickin’ insane girlfriend.

Settling in a crouch on the outcrop, you continued to mull petulantly as you waited for the targets to show. It was almost an hour before anyone turned up, and an ache was starting to settle into both your head and your thighs. A furrow appeared between your brows as the man approaching the fountain arrived empty handed. You recognized his face – he was supposed to be doing the dealing here.

You reached up activate the comms device in your ear. “Hey, something’s off here, I—”

Your head jerked automatically as you heard a pebble skitter down the stones behind you. Hand flying automatically to your belt and you barely managed to roll out of the way as a baseball bat suddenly swung down toward you. Without your skull to stop it, it cracked against the stone you’d just been kneeling on.

Landing on your back on the uneven stones left you in just as bad a position and with a sharp pain in your shoulder, but going any further would have had you rolling right off the edge of the outcrop. The limited light now worked against you, and you stopped fumbling for your gun as the bat came arching down out of the darkness again.

You rocked back onto your shoulders and kicked upward with both feet. The grunt of your assailant told you you’d caught him in the stomach, and you scrambled back into a crouch long enough to pull the blade from the holster on your boot. The sound of voices below and the agonized cry of someone meeting Clint’s blade suggested the man on the ground’s back up had arrived at the same time as your attackers.

Straightening, you held the blade tightly in your fist. The metal shone as it briefly caught the light of the nearest lamppost.

“I told you the boss was on to something.” a gruff, eastern European voice said in the dark, and you raised the blade warningly. “There’s more than one Ronin.”

Oh, shit.

“Yeah, yeah.” came the cockney reply, the man still winded from his meeting with your boots. “Ronin’s got himself a girlfriend. Just get on with it.”

Oh, SHIT.

You swung wide with the knife as the first man approached, ducking under a swing from another baseball bat. The European caught you in the shoulder and you grunted, the blow hard enough that you dropped the knife. You heard it clatter against the rocks below. The cockney guy shoved past him and swung, and you dodged to the left, the move sloppy on uneven ground.

The urge to force them away with a shield was growing along with your nerves as they forced you back closer to the edge of the outcropping, and you swallowed it back. They were already far too informed, and you couldn’t risk them actually unpuzzling your identities. The cockney man rushed you, sensing your hesitation, and you dropped just as quickly. You used his momentum to throw him over your shoulder and send him crashing into the water below.

“Hülye kurva!” the European spat, and you stood quickly, slugging him in the jaw. He grunted, spat, and swung the bat again. You cursed as you moved too slow and the bat glanced off your side. Your fingers twitched in an automatic gesture; forcing the bat out of his hands would be so easy, but—

You jumped, grabbing hold of a tree branch above you. You swung forward, both feet meeting his chest. He fell and you landed in front of him, kicking the bat out of his hand. Removing your gun from its holster, you leveled it with his stomach, finger curling around the trigger.

And then your body suddenly seized as an excruciating pain exploded between your shoulders and set your whole body on fire. Fifty thousand volts coursed through you from the taser bolt in your back and you felt your limbs tense uncontrollably. Your eyes rolled back and you collapsed backward, off of the ledge. A sick, rushing sensation overcame you before you felt your back hit the water and the back of your head cracked against stone.

Then everything went black.

***

“Come on, Y/N. Come on, baby, breathe…”

An almost painful pressure on your chest forced you back into consciousness, the same feeling repeating four more times before you finally coughed the water from your lungs. You rolled onto your side and threw the rest of it up, your chest heaving and your hair dripping in your eyes as you tried to force them open again.

You’d been dragged from the water, a pool of it spreading from your clothes onto the stone beneath you. Your throat burned as you tried to gulp down air, and you coughed again. “Wh—?”

You felt yourself pulled upward, arms banding around your shoulders. Clint’s hand curled in your damp, tangled hair, your face tucked against the curve of his neck. “You gotta stop scaring me like this, Y/N.”

You coughed a laugh, wrapping an arm around his neck as tears burned your eyes. “I’m working on it.”

.

.

.

tags:@trekkingaroundasgard@lovely-dreamer19@wittyforachange@wefracturedmotivation@january-echoes@glossyloner@capitalnineteen@youclickedthislink@s0ftness@castieltrash1@drakelover78@queenoftheunderdark@lol-you-thought@akumune@xxboesefrauxx@enna-core@hearmyharmony@katsies@youralphawolf72@maenji@rhymesmenagerie@gwianasky@melaclintbartoncorner@loki-is-loved@whovianayesha@bradfordbantams@alice-the-nerd@fanofallthefics@ace-fandom-dumbass@kaelyn-lobrutto24@twsssmlmaa@earth-pig-fish@meeksmusic83@hallothankmas@justanothermagicalsara@janineb86@darsynia@rhymesmenagerie @thatwelshbi @lauraashley93

AN: this chapter was short and took far too long to write, but I promise the next one will come much quicker!

AN2: The language we're seeing here is Hungarian - and that's because I'm going to be using a particular fictional Marvel country in a few chapters and it's canonically right next to Hungary, so I figured there would/could be an overlap in the language. No spoilers though!

[harrystylesfan2686]

prompt 15 with my wife nesta ….

Jealousy

Pairing: Nesta x Reader

Summary: Jealousy, Jealousy

A/N: hehe, I had fun writing this. Hope you like it!!!

Dialogue Prompts Masterlist

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You wipe away your sweat as the sunlight burns down on you. Standing in the training grounds in Windhaven, you watch as Nesta trains with Emerie, demonstrating to the youngler valkeries of a new defense more.

You frown when Emerie's hand grips Neata's waist a tighter than necessary, jealousy coursing through your veins like fire. You don't usually get jealous over little things like this, but your hormones have been going crazy lately. Probably because your cycle is coming.

Your eyes burn holes behind Emerie's head, the scowl on your face now seeming permanent because Nesta looks at you, eyebrows crouching in confusion, but instead of coming to you and asking what's wrong, like she'd usually does, she just turns back to Emerie.

You like the girl, no doubt, have spent a lot of moments bonding with both of Nesta's friends. She's got a good personality but right now, seeing Nesta giving her all the attention even after seeing you look discomforted, you want to do nothing more but to beat her to the ground.

You scoff to yourself, not believing Nesta just chose her friend over her mate. Traitor. And then curse at yourself to let your hormones get the best of you. Letting you think such.

Yep, totally the hormones.

You suck in a breath when you see Emerie drap a hand over Nes' shoulders and them laughing over something one of the girls said.

Nope, fuck this. She's definitely doing it on purpose.

And you plan on making her feel just as you are now.

You walk up the females, stopping yourself from stepping in between them and pushing Emerie off of her. You clear your throat loudly when you reach them, gaining thier attention.

"Hello, Love. Everything aright?" Nesta asks you, clear concern written on her face but you flash your fakest smile at her, nod and step around her to Emerie. The frowns similar on thier face at your unusual dismissal to you mate.

You are usually the clingy one, not too much but you are always touching her in any way, like holding her hand, resting your palm on her thigh or playing with her hair when they're let down. You are always talking to her while she listens to your nonsense and following her around, except for when she asks to be alone.

So when you stretch you hand aross Emerie's shoulder, both of them look confused,"Hey Em! Training going good?" You beam up a bright smile at her and feel Nesta's eyes on you both in discomfort.

"Um, yes. Trainings good so far." Emerie glances between the two of you in suspicion.

"Oh. You've got dirt in your hair." Your eyes furrow at her black braid. Letting out a small confused sound, she reaches up to brush through her braid. "Oh, it must've been when Nesta pinned me down earlier." You freeze at her words.

She. Did. What.

Anger returns to your body as you try to breath through it. You clear you throat, regaining some composure and lift your hand, "Here, let me do it for you." You brush out the pieces of sand stuck in, and make sure to take a few extra second threading your fingers through her hair, feeling Nesta's anger starting to raise through your bond.

Feeling petty, you get on one knee before Emerie,"You've got some on your legs as well, just a second." You brush out the mud through her clothes, trying to hide your smirk on your lips and Nesta's anger raises with each flick of your wrist.

"Thank you, Y/N." Emerie smiles thighly at you. You hear Cassian clear his throat behind you following with, "Nesta, you look a bit flushed. Are you jealous?" You look at him to see him smirking at her. Nesta's glare enough for him to shut his lips and hold up his hands in surrender.

"Y/N. A word." Nesta's voice filled with fury, her eyes pinned on you. You look back at her to see her eyes swirling with anger and jealousy.

Good. Let her feel what you feel.

"Oh Nes. You do look red, are you sure you're alright, my love?" Batting your eyelashes at her, she grits her teeth. The obvious sarcasm in your words making everyone swith eyes between the two of you, wondering whatever happened between the happy couple.

From the conner of your eye, you see Emerie slowing trying to sneak off and turn to her,"Em, where are you going? We just started to talk." You grip her hand in yours and she freezes in place, nervously looking at the two of you and Nesta grunts at your clasped hand. Emerie gulps, you almost feel bad for the poor girl, having being caught between you and Nes.

"No way. You are actually jealous." Cassian busts out laughing.

"I am not." Nesta snaps at him but takes your handing, griping it tight enough to drag you to her before you could protest.

"What are you doing?" She asks when you are enough that your chests touch, speaking lowly even though she knows everybody has fea hearing. At her furious face, everybody goes back to whatever they were doing, leaving the two of you to talk alone.

"I'm not doing anything." You fake innocence.

"Don't act as if you don't know what you're doing. Touching and hugging Emerie like that all while disregarding me aside." She almost growls in anger, her lips pulled in a snarl, remembering the moments again.

"You're the one to talk." You drop you innocent act and scoff.

"What?"

"You're the one whose clinging to her side all day, not coming to me once. Even after you saw I was frowning, you didn't care about me and went back to talking to her. You havnt given me attention all day." You huff, and cross you arms over you chest, looking down your nose at her and she raises an eyebrow.

"Well, my love, if you wanted attention, you should've told me." She runs her fingers through your arms, the hair on your skin raising in anticipation. The anger slowly dissolving to hunger under her lustfull eyes.

"Say you're sorry." You narrow your eyes at her.

"I'm sorry, my love." Her arms wrap around your waist and you let her.

"Say you love me." She smirks.

"I love you so much." Her fingers rubbing circles on your back as a way of comforting you.

"Kiss." You demand and tilt your chin to her lips and she laughs before her lips close in on yours in a passionate kiss. Her tounge twisting against yours as you rest your hands rest on her neck and move your head, deepening the kiss.

You pull back after a minute and she whispers,"Want to get out of here? I want to show you just how much I love you." And your lips finally curl up into a smile as you nod, feeling your core pulse with the thought of what comes next.

Safe to say, you trying to make her jealous, most definitely worked.

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[fuck-customers]

hey gang! me again (from /post/741038774641983488, bitching about the two coworkers and the filthy deli slicer), and i guess we couldn’t go three days/two shifts without more bullshit from J1! as i write this it’s currently the morning after the shift described below. thankfully, i have the day off today, due to a prior appointment, so i might be able to wind down again before going in again tomorrow afternoon.

so before Chef C left on the hell shift prior, he asked me to be there at noon, when the first folks are showing up for their prep. good thing, too, because shortly after i arrive, before i even clock in, the head line cook (M) that showed up the same time i did informs me that he’s just gotten a text from C saying that both the sous chef S and the pantry cook J1 have called out for the day, leaving me as (currently) the only person available with any experience on pantry.

before i switched mostly to dish, this was fine, because i could rest assured that the old pantry lead (name irrelevant; no longer works there) would have as much as possible done and prepped for the next shift, even with the one day off we had between. the only time she wouldn’t is if the store was going to be closed for 3-4+ days straight and we needed to be concerned about spoilage. thus i would be left with minimal prep actually needed to be done and could just focus on the essentials.

considering this prior prep cook is the one who trained me and J1, it’d be safe to assume that she’d follow the same practices, right? well, clearly, that’s giving her too much credit, because again, i never got trained to any degree on how to make the vast majority of what gets “cooked” for pantry, and apparently she’s incapable of planning ahead even if for no other reason than to simply make her own job easier.

to make matters worse, we had just gotten a shipment, so the walk-in was packed full without any room to get around; i’d have put it away myself, but i don’t know where the vast majority of the shit goes, and i don’t want to fuck up the already tenuous inventory log situation that C constantly grouses about. i’m resultantly unable to get counts for anything we already have, so for the time being i focus on what i am able to easily access to get done, which is mostly plating desserts.

after a couple hours, a temp (E) comes in to help. there is a language barrier and she has never worked pantry before, only line, so i have to train her (through translation apps and my own rudimentary kitchen spanish) while also trying to figure out what the hell i’m doing myself. chef doesn’t get around to teaching me how to make two of the items we need until about half an hour before service starts, meaning i once again did not get a break and had to rush through making them myself, while i also try to get E set up with making sure everything she could put together was ready for service.

as you can probably imagine, this doesn’t go particularly well! E does great with the actual prep stuff, with dressing the cold cured meat dish and this that and the other, but as soon as we get to service it becomes an absolute shitshow. apparently nobody taught E on line that you need to send dishes out in the order the tickets come in, so we’re 15 tickets deep with more printing, and she’s ignoring things i specifically showed her how to make while we were slow to, instead, pull from the end of the queue to make salads that i keep having to drop what i’m doing to coach her on how to make correctly when they have a special request applied.

ultimately this results in me getting scolded by the GM/service lead to send tickets out in order, to which i just respond that “i’m trying,” and M comes to my defense when i can’t hear it to point out that i really wasn’t set up for success today, and folks kind of back off. thankfully we only end up with one extra dish (to my knowledge? something was said about extra carrot cakes but they were never brought back) and it’s just like. a half salad that E didn’t prep right so we couldn’t send it out.

insult to injury is that there were actually others present who had worked pantry before. one of the expo cooks (D) actually comes back to help J1 all the time, but because of S being absent he had to focus on expo—and he ended up leaving before dinner service without raising a finger or even pausing to ask to make sure i was going to be okay with just me and the temp. D’s got a problem habit of leaving without doing everything that needs done, anyway, which ended up resulting in J2 getting forced into overtime to pick up his and J1’s slack on that front, which is why he wasn’t there for this shift. probably ultimately for the better but i really would have appreciated the extra pair of hands.

due to the string of buffoonery that resulted in us missing no less than 3 kitchen staff and damn near everyone who knew how to do anything of substance on pantry, i wasn’t really given an opportunity to call for help. thankfully M had my back and nobody seems to have any hard feelings now that it was made clear to them that i wasn’t given room to do anything but struggle, and the GM and service staff took it pretty well when i apologized for how much of a shitshow pantry became, but i really should not have been left drowning like that in the first place.

Posted by admin Rodney.

[ysabelmystic]

Top 10 things you got away with as a kid?

Thank you anon for giving me the opportunity to soapbox about the stupid and borderline psychopathic shit I did as a child. I don't know that this'll be a "Top" ten, but it will be the first ten things that come to mind.

Number 1: Attempted Murder (in self defense)

Some of y'all already know this story because it is in fact one of the most surreal things that's ever happened to me and it lives rent free in my head.

I spent my sophomore year of high school in Florida. My neighborhood didn't have blocks. We had ponds, and the houses were built around these ponds. The ponds were also full of alligators. This is important.

Every day after school, my friend and I would stand and talk at the bus stop before walking home to one of our houses. Because we both had overprotective parents, this and going to the park was about the only real freedom we had. So when a black car with a random guy sitting in it started parking across from the bus stop followed us if we started walking, we didn't tell anyone. Instead, we would just wait and talk until the guy got bored and bailed. This continued for about a month until one day, I had to make a to-scale model of St Basil's Cathedral for a school project. That thing was fuckin' heavy, so we were so focused on getting to my friend's place that we forgot that we were being stalked.

About ten minutes after we got to my friend's place, we were getting settled in, eating snacks and setting up the xbox, when his dogs went fucking ballistic. We looked out the window to see a strange man at the door and the black car parked in the driveway. He saw us and then walked around to the garage where we'd let ourselves in but hadn't locked it. So we ran to the garage and locked the side door just in time before they guy grabbed the knob and started trying to get in. When he couldn't, he went to the car entry and started beating at the metal door.

This would be the point when most people would call the police. But again, we had very overprotective parents. If we called the cops and they caught the guy, we'd never be let out of their sight again. If we called the cops and the guy got away, we'd get told off for being overdramatic and wasting the cops' time, and we'd still lose roaming privileges. Instead, over the course of about thirty seconds, we hatched a plan.

My friend’s dad kept his hunting gear in the garage. I knew how to use a bow and arrow at the time, and my friend knew how to swing a hatchet. We decided against using guns since neither of us felt like we could safely use them. Most people were at work, so it was unlikely that anyone would hear any screaming that was to ensue. The plan was to go outside and confront the man. If worst came to worst, we would simply yeet his body into the lake and let the gators take care of him.

We went back out the front door with our weapons and began loudly threatening the man. Not in a normal, “get off my property or I’ll shoot” way. We went into Joker Mode. We were 15, full of rage, severely sleep deprived, high on adrenaline, and in need of therapy. Plus, we thought that this would be the most effective way to scare him off. Luckily, it worked. We saw him rounding the corner of the house and chased him to his car. He sped off, and we never saw him again.

Number 2: Public Nuisance #1

Same year, same state, same friend. It was summer and we were bored as all get-out- bored enough to let my brother and his friend hang out with us. There was a Walgreens across the street from the neighborhood but it was kinda off on some side street so we were technically allowed to ride our bikes there. For whatever reason, on that day’s trip, we decided that this would be the day that we finally drank a Monster. And what the heck, what if we drank two Monsters. And when we got to the park with our bounty of caffeinated beverages, we thought, yknow, wouldn’t it be funny to see who could drink them the fastest. What could go wrong?

What went wrong was that you now had a small pack of children endowed with the energy of The Gods. And what else do you do with this energy but use the woods to play the most chaotic game of tag while playing LMFAO songs and occasionally scaring the shit out of unsuspecting trail walkers. Like yeah this was obnoxious and cringe, but none of us had ever had caffeine before and we now had consumed upwards of 400mg of the stuff. There were no brain cells. Only tachycardia and 2015 YouTube culture. We had become menaces.

This inevitably ended with all of us throwing up, and as the caffeine wore off, we decided to bike home. We started down the main path out of the woods, but at the clearing was a pair of cop cars and two officers walking into the woods. So we had to quickly hide in the bushes and sneak off-trail to the other side of the park. Why do I think they were for us? They were talking about a group of teenagers causing a “disturbance”. But we made it home without getting caught and played Minecraft for the rest of the day. We never did anything like that again, and every day I thank God that TikTok wasn’t a Thing yet.

Number 3: Public Nuisance #2

There were two things my middle school me despised about the girls’ locker room. 1) Everyone was constantly showing off their expensive bras and comparing cup sizes, and it rubbed me the wrong way (the “why” would be discovered later). 2) The perfume. Everyone makes fun of middle school boys and their Axe Body Spray, but the girls at this rich kid school had everything from Bath & Bodyworks to beauty boutique shit. It was beyond overwhelming. I was also deep in my “not like other girls” era and was full of unspecified rage. So, to cope, I started catching grasshoppers during PE. I wouldn’t just release them in the locker rooms. I would look for unlocked lockers or clothes that people had left out in the open, and hide the grasshoppers in their belongings. Just to inflict maximum chaos.

The PE teachers made a big show of looking for the prankster, but I was never caught.

Number 4: Destruction of Property #1

My fifth grade teacher, on God, is one of the shittiest people on this planet. He radiated Ted Bundy vibes. He was a total cunt. We all hated this bitch, and I was pretty much at war with him (he stole my books and destroyed one of my notebooks). This is the most monetary destruction that I caused in one go.

He had a water fountain on his desk, right behind his computer. For whatever reason, he had his computer cord wrapped around the fountain, so it wasn’t laying on the floor. It was basically a tripwire. Feeling silly, I tripped the wire. Fountain hit the floor and shattered. Papers went everywhere. The computer fell. My teacher had to dive into the puddle of water to save his laptop, but it must’ve still been damaged since he had to replace it a week later. And of course, he couldn’t do anything. I was very apologetic about it. It was an accident. I’d tripped. Everyone had seen me trip. It wasn’t the first time I’d tripped on something before. And it was only a matter of time before someone tripped on that cord anyways.

Number 5: Destruction of Property #2

The second worst teacher I’ve ever had was my 8th grade science teacher. He was also a total cunt, not for stealing my shit and destroying my work, but for making jokes about me cutting myself and encouraging the class to bully me. Yay! Just like my fifth grade teacher, he was a cunt with poor organization skills. He had a habit of not grading anyone’s papers until the end of the quarter. He would put each assignment in a stack and set the stack in an empty place on his desk. If he ran out of room, that stack would go on another stack, and so on and so forth. Basically, he had lots and lots of loose stacks of paper on his desk. I don’t remember why he was holding me after class, but I do remember that I was very displeased to be there. Instead of staying in my seat, I decided to take his chair. Y’know. To assert dominance. I fell back into the office chair and started spinning in it. I guess I must’ve hit it at just the right angle because something in the inner stand broke, and it sank to the lowest level. My arm hit a paper stack, which hit another paper stack, which hit another paper stack, and soon, there were papers all over the floor.

Dude didn’t even say anything. He turned red. Not wanting to stick around for the impending explosion, I just left lmao.

Number 6: Trespassing and Evasion

This is probably the most dramatic, disproportionate thing on this list. My first high school and middle school were connected, so overall, the campus was the size of a small college. It would take you at least 20 minutes to walk from one end to the other.

I was about to transfer schools, and to do this, I needed to deliver a folder of paperwork to the front office. Of course, my ADHD ass waited until the last possible day to deliver it. And I thought, “yeah I’ll just deliver this to the office during lunch”. The easiest way to do that was to go through the center doors of the main building and walk to the opposite side of the hall. 5 minute trip. Easy peasy.

Unfortunately, for some reason, someone decided to turn the student teachers into a security team. I got to the doors and was greeted with a very angry woman who was very much against the idea of me walking ten feet across the indoor hallway to the opposite side. I tried to explain my issue, but she wasn’t having it.

I didn’t want to deliver it after school since it meant I probably wouldn’t get a seat on the bus (seriously, it was packed enough that some people would have to sit on the floor, and to exit on the first couple stops, you had to climb out the window). I couldn’t very well walk around the outside of the building for two reasons. 1) This school ran like Mean Girls. The end of the building was popular kids territory, and God help you if you weren’t a popular kid in that area. I wasn’t just unpopular. I was poor. I was a wanted man. I had literal death threats over my head. And even if I made it past them, there was still a 50/50 chance of being caught by a rent-a-cop for being in the parking lot.

Luckily for me (and my friend who was with me for moral support), one of the upstairs side doors had a broken lock or something. It had caution tape all around it to deter people, but caution tape is easily surpassed and removable. Once inside, we just had to make it down the stairs and out to the office courtyard. Someone must’ve heard us though, because one of the student teachers started calling out, asking who’s there and all that jazz. He ran toward the main staircase. Other teachers showed up. We literally had to hide behind the decorative pillars while this became a fucking manhunt. It was like a scene out of a Nickelodeon program. When their backs were turned, we were able to sneak down another staircase and directly into the office. I delivered my papers, and all was well except we now had to make it back in while about 15 paranoid adults on a power trip were walking up and down the halls. Thankfully, my geography teacher’s room was nearby and he was chill so he let us stay in his classroom until lunch was over.

Number 7: Slander

In 4th grade, I framed a classmate as a “nose-picker” by saving water bottle label glue in my desk for 6 months and putting all the dirty goo-balls in his desk on desk cleanout day. All it took was one, “Ew! Look at Roger’s boogers!” and the rest is history.

He bullied my friend though, so he deserved it.

Number 8: Assault and Battery

In 9th grade, one of my classmates was excessively handsy and wouldn’t take no for an answer. Teachers wouldn’t do anything about him, so I took matters into my own hands, or rather, his hands. When he wasn’t paying attention, I slammed a pencil into his hand. It didn’t go all the way through, but it was standing on its own after I let go.

The crazy thing is that my teacher literally saw it and told the kid that he, “had it coming”, which is just another reason that that school was absolutely insane.

Number 9: Illegal Distillation

I once made wine in my backpack on accident. Old grapes met old crackers, and I ignored this until the bag they were in burst. I have no idea how no one stopped me.

Number 10: Theft and Framing (my mom’s contribution)

This is pretty benign, but my mom still brings it up.

My grandparents had a timeshare in Hawaii, and every now and then, they would allow us to go in their stead. One of 8-year-old me’s favorite things about this hotel was the birds, especially the geese. Because of the time difference between Hawaii and California, my brother and I also consistently woke up at 4 in the morning, so we had about 2 to 3 hours of “feed the birds” time before my parents woke up. Usually, we would use the rice Krispies, but we ran out. And the geese were still hungry. The wouldn’t eat the lucky charms, so that left my mom’s Very Expensive You-Can-Only-Buy-This-In-Hawaii-7-Dollars-in-2007-Money hemp and seed cereal. And birds like seeds, and in all fairness, I had no idea it was expensive, so logically we would give the birds this cereal. A whole box of this cereal.

So my mom wakes up to see her cereal lining the balcony and an empty box in the recycling bin. She went into Murder Mother Rage Mode, and like any self-preserving older sibling, I blamed my brother. I guess I was “old enough to know better”, so it worked. She brought it up every year or so as something terrible my brother did until a few years ago when I confessed to my crimes.

[thecreaturecodex]

Anaxim

Image © Wizards of the Coast, by Wayne Reynolds

[Commissioned by @justicegundam82​​. The anaxim was one of the abominations in the D&D 3.0 Epic Level Handbook, and even in its initial appearance seemed like a strange fit. It doesn’t have an epic level CR, at CR 20, and it is the only non-evil abomination. 4e tried to reinvent them by moving them to the Forgotten Realms, and conflating them with a 2e monster family from Dragon Magazine, the sheen. Like most decisions involving the Realms in the 4e era, I hate this and am ignoring it.

My inspiration for the flavor text is as much from conversations with my followers as from any official source. Their first canon backstory is that they are the abandoned creations of a forge god who tried and failed to make an ultimate weapon. The commissioner suggested, in light of this and to give the anaxim something to do other than fight, that they be interested in “fixing” themselves. A conversation with @strawberry-crocodile​​ about one of her upcoming commissions got me thinking about how Pathfinder RPG treats Law vs. Chaos as the big reality-defining conflict as opposed to Good vs. Evil (more traditional fantasy settings) or Evil vs. Evil (the Blood War). And, because of where I am in my life, there’s definitely an element of queer symbolism in this entry as well. Feel free to play that up, or play that down, depending on how you want to use the anaxim in your game.]

Anaxim CR 17 N Outsider (extraplanar) This mechanical thing is approximately human shaped, but nearly twice as broad. Its body seems to be made entirely of weapons—it has spinning blades mounted on its back, multiple hooks and cleavers growing along its arms, and a face like a knight’s helmet.

In the war between the inevitables and proteans, there are casualties. Most of these are outright fatalities, but in some cases, an inevitable becomes irreversibly changed by the forces of chaos. When this happens, the inevitable transforms into an anaxim. No two anaxim look identical, but all resemble loosely humanoid metal figures covered in weapons. The primary goal of most anaxim is perfection: making themselves whole and complete in a way that is unique to each individual. Many anaxim would also like to figure out a way to reliably replicate, one that didn’t rely on freak chance and outside intervention. A few anaxim are instead filled with self-loathing and seek to lash out at the forces that made them—these are the most dangerous.

A single anaxim is the equivalent of an entire mortal army, and they are able to go toe-to-toe with all but the most powerful proteans or inevitables alike. As anaxims value their own lives very highly, they usually start a combat cautiously, from a distance or with hit and run attacks. The spinning blades that grow between their shoulders are, when spun fast enough, able to act as a wing, granting the creature remarkable maneuverability for its weight. In addition to their impressive physical weaponry, an anaxim can use a number of spells for defense, and a powerful blast of sonic energy for offense.

Anaxims are insane by the standards of the inevitables, which means that they are capable of respecting and understanding multiple viewpoints. Some maintain a balanced approach to achieving their goals, while others veer wildly between chaotic and lawful behavior. On some occasions anaxim will gather together into groups if their views of perfection overlap. If they do not, such groups rapidly fall apart due to infighting, with anaxim attempting to take control of their peers or simply blast them to pieces with their sonic cones.

Anaxim       CR 17 XP 104,200 N Medium outsider (chaotic, extraplanar, lawful) Init +7; Senses darkvision 60 ft., Perception +26, true seeing Defense AC 33, touch 18, flat-footed 25 (+7 Dex, +1 dodge, +15 natural) hp 270 (20d10+140 plus 20); fast healing 10 Fort +13, Ref +19, Will +17 DR 15/(adamantine and lawful) or (adamantine and chaotic); Immune construct traits; Resist cold 20, electricity 20, fire 20; SR 28 (35 vs. divinations) Defensive Abilities constructed Offense Speed 30 ft., fly 100 ft. (perfect) Melee 2 blade arms +31 (2d6+11/19-20), spinning blades +31 (4d6+11/19-20x3) Ranged 6 spikes +27 (1d8+11) Special Attacks control construct, rend (2 blade arms, 2d6+16), sonic cone Spell-like Abilities CL 20th, concentration +25 Constant—nondetection (self only), true seeing At will— chain lightning (DC 21), displacement, greater dispel magic 3/day—ethereal jaunt, quickened greater dispel magic, improved invisibility 1/day—summon (1 iron golem, 100%, 9th level) Statistics Str 33, Dex 25, Con 25, Int 20, Wis 20, Cha 20 Base Atk +20; CMB +31 (+35 sunder); CMD 49 (51 vs. sunder) Feats Cleave, Craft Construct (B), Deadly Aim, Dodge, Flyby Attack, Great Cleave, Greater Sunder, Improved Critical (spinning blades), Improved Sunder, Power Attack, Quicken SLA (greater dispel magic) Skills Acrobatics +28, Craft (clockwork) +24, Fly +24, Knowledge (arcana, dungeoneering) +21, Knowledge (engineering, planes) +24, Perception +26, Sense Motive +26, Stealth +28, Spellcraft +21 (+25 crafting constructs), Survival +26, Use Magic Device +26; Racial Modifiers +4 Spellcraft when crafting constructs Languages Celestial, Common, Modron, Protean, Utopian SQ armament, construct maker Ecology Environment any land or underground (Axis) Organization solitary, binary pair or squad (3-6 plus 0-12 miscellaneous constructs) Treasure standard Special Abilities Armament (Ex) An anaxim’s natural weapons overcome damage reduction as lawful, chaotic and magic weapons. Its blade arms are primary natural weapons that deal slashing and piercing damage, and threaten a critical hit on a roll of 19-20. Its spinning blades are a primary natural weapon that deals slashing damage, and deals x3 damage on a successful critical hit. Control Construct (Su) Three times per day as a standard action, an anaxim can attempt to take over a construct within 60 feet. The construct can attempt a DC 25 Will save; if it fails, it is totally under the control of the anaxim for 24 hours. Creatures with the constructed defensive ability, such as inevitables, modrons and other anaxim, are susceptible to this effect as well. The save DC is Charisma based. Constructed (Ex) Although anaxim are living outsiders, their bodies are constructed of physical components, and in many ways they function as constructs. For the purposes of effects targeting creatures by type (such as a ranger's favored enemy and bane weapons), anaxim count as both outsiders and constructs. They are immune to death effects, disease, mind-affecting effects, necromancy effects, paralysis, poison, sleep, stun, and any effect that requires a Fortitude save (unless the effect also works on objects, or is harmless). Anaxim are not subject to nonlethal damage, ability damage, ability drain, fatigue, exhaustion, or energy drain. They are not at risk of death from massive damage. They have bonus hit points as constructs of their size. Anaxim do not need to breathe. Construct Maker (Ex) An anaxim has Craft Construct as a bonus feat. It gains a +4 racial bonus on all Spellcraft checks used in the manufacture of a construct. Sonic Cone (Su) Once every 1d4 rounds as a standard action, an anaxim can create a 60 foot cone of deadly sonic energy. All creatures in the area take 20d6 points of sonic damage and are staggered for 1 round. A successful DC 25 Reflex save halves the damage and negates the staggered condition. The save DC is Charisma based. Spikes (Ex) As a standard action, an anaxim can fire up to six spikes. Each spike is treated as a ranged weapon with a range increment of 100 feet. Each spike deals 1d8 damage plus the anaxim’s Strength modifier. An anaxim never runs out of spikes.

[stormikins]

7 snippets, 7 mutuals

I was tagged by @omniblades-and-stars you can find her post here

—

sour apple baby me1: Feros, Ash POV - I enjoy this dialogue exchange very much

“You two go to the utility building,” Alenko orders her and Liara. “If we can get power turned back on, maybe we can come up with some defenses.” “Will the geth not simply hack those?” Liara asks. Garrus snorts. “Have you seen this colony? Whatever they got won’t be sophisticated enough to hack.” “Whether their defenses are good or not, doesn’t matter,” Alenko cuts in. “Power is what the people need.” “Amen to that.” Williams hefts her rifle and nods, trying not to laugh, “why we got democracy.” Alenko sighs at her, but she can see the crinkle of his eyes in a smile. “Go.” Liara starts for the door, and she walks backwards. “You know, LT, splitting up in a horror vid never goes well.” “It’s a good thing we’re not in a horror vid then.” “Coulda fooled me.” “Go,” he says while chuckling. She gives a two-finger salute and then swivels on her heel.

the rest is under the cut!

—

sour apple baby interim between 1&2: Kaidan POV - this is rough just fyi

Noveria. Practically Illium but nestled in what’s now Alliance space. It makes sense that they would find Cerberus here. Noveria doesn’t look any different to Kaidan; mountain peaks in the distance, snow everywhere, winds that threaten to knock him on his ass. Their approach is like Peak-15’s: dodge turret fire and go through the front door. They crouch behind the fighter jet that’s on the landing pad, the turret firing on them. Coats cloaks though, moving right to survey while Riley starts her hack of the turrets. “Seems like they’re willing to let the turrets do the work,” Coats comments through the comm. “Or they don’t want to be in this cold. Fucking hell,” Fredricks grumbles next to him. He even adds in a shiver for emphasis. “Why’d we have to come in the middle of a blizzard?” “Riley?” Kaidan asks instead. It’s like the wind swirls up ghosts of snow. Garrus asked the same thing. “These things are old Alliance. Just another minute.” The turrets stop a minute later. “We wanna draw ‘em out or go in headfirst?” Kaidan asks. Fredricks hefts his rifle and Kaidan knows he’s smiling behind his helmet. “I say we kick down the front door.” “And walk into an ambush?” Riley retorts. “Let’s draw them out.” “The more we kill out here, the less we have to fight inside," Kaidan agrees. “But inside is warm,” Fredricks responds to him. “Do you always complain this much?” Riley asks. “Only when my balls are about to freeze off.”

—

sour apple baby me2: Minuteman Station, Shep POV - tfw you wake up and your body literally looks like its been through hell

The scars continue across her body in the same way like on her arms and legs. Across her left collarbone, top of her left thigh, her right ribs and the back of her right shoulder. But there’s one stretching almost from left armpit to hip. It’s wider than the others, definitely longer. She’s got a Grand Canyon from hell carved into her body. The glow of it seems to pulsate with her heartbeat. 

—

sour apple baby me3: down time Nihlus POV - some nice intimacy between

Kal places his hand under Nihlus’ chin, his throat, keeping him there as he moves the brush. Kal starts around his eyes, sweeping around them and then up in bold strokes. He’s never done this before— either of them. Kal marking a turian, and Nihlus letting anyone but family or an artist do it. He tightens his hands on Kal’s thighs. It doesn’t seem like Kal hasn’t, not with how sure Kal’s movements are. He’s humming as well, and Nihlus has to tap down his own responsive noise to that. He doesn’t want to distract the man after all. A lone finger under his chin as he drags the brush down it in the three stripes.

—

The Kal Project take 2: Kal POV

During Kal’s break, he finds Shepard at the galaxy map. While he wasn’t intentionally seeking her out, it is nice to have run into her. The map is transformed to a hologram of a planet, most likely the one they’re orbiting, and her hands are outstretched, manipulating two circular holograms in front of her. There’s a graph to the side, fluctuating with its spikes. He leans against her desk on the left, crossing his arms as he watches her. She’s utterly focused on her work, with that familiar scowl pinching her brow. His eyes trace the scar on her cheek, and then the line of her jaw to follow down her neck. He can feel himself blush as he follows it all the way down her biceps and forearms to her hands once more. Ancestors, she’s beautiful. “Something interesting, Kal?” Her head is turned toward him now, when he snaps his head up to meet her eyes. He gives a little shake to his head. “Just you.” She scoffs, looking forward again, but she doesn’t quite smother her grin. After a moment of staring at the hologram, she looks to him once more and juts her head. “Well, come on.” He lets out a little “yay,” as he eagerly straightens and ascends the steps to stand next to her.

—

Untitled Joker/James: Joker POV

Joker always thought Ashley was exaggerating about getting trapped in awkward elevator rides but here he is. Joker stands like a normal person in it, in the middle, simply watching the numbers tick down. James on the other hand, leans against the wall with his hands in his pockets. Staring at him. On principle, Joker doesn’t stare at the way his Henley stretches across his chest. It’s like every shirt the man owns is a size too small.

—

Untitled mistletoe Garrus/Mshep: Garrus POV

Christmas tradition. Everything the past two weeks have been about Christmas traditions according to Joker. Burnt cookies stinking up the battery from how bad Jack made them. Multicolored lights everywhere Jacob could put them and, in some places, where he shouldn’t. Glitter… everywhere. Mistletoe. The little sprigs of plants seem to be everywhere on the ship, no doubt curtesy of Kasumi. Joker and Miranda got caught under one and after a simple kiss, both looked away with bashful eyes. Zaeed had managed to catch Samara and after him blustering for about a minute she had kissed his cheek. He stood there bright red while she continued with her day. Kasumi has yet to get Jacob under one. Shepard got caught. With Jack. And when the two realized, they stared at each other for a mere second before colliding together in a comically exaggerated kiss. They broke away laughing, Jack’s lipstick smeared over both of their mouths. After that, Garrus decided mistletoe wasn’t fun anymore.

No pressure tagging: @jtownnn @xoshepard @nowandthane @swaps55 @cr-noble-writes @commander-krios @spacebunshep and if anyone else wants to do this tag me!

[autiezo]

The idea of Emo Teen Jean Vicquemare lives rent-free in my head

[It comes from @slonechnik 's DE AU where Harry's still a gym teacher and Kim has to go undercover as one of Harry's new students, for an RCM case. JV's 15, so Kim's 24 and Harry's 25]

It's so fucking funny picturing Jean V. trying to talk to Undercover Cop Kim. I'm gonna strive to make JV such a cringy loser. BTW, I think emo kids are cool, but not Jean lmao.

Anyways, here's a list of JV emo teen headcanons (below the cut):

- Nicknames himself “The Dark Mare”, based on his surname Vicquemare (reference to in-game Narrator's incorrect pronunciation of his French surname)

- No one used to respect Jean or call him by his preferred ‘title’, calling him “Jelly Boy” instead. That is, until the Hex incident happened. Jean finds that any student using his actual name, ‘Jean’, is disrespectful; unless he gives them exclusive permission, then that means he really likes that person. He also loathes being called by his initials and all of Harry's nicknames for him (e.g. Mean Vicky, J.V., Emo emo emo, King Void.)

- If Jean is late for gym class, Harry will jokingly and loudly mimick an alarm that goes, "Emo emo emo" to announce the teen's arrival. Jean a.k.a The Dark Mare obviously hates this. In Harry's defense, HDB does this specific alarm thing for all the regular latecomers. Every student has their unique, mocking call.

- JV hates Harry with a burning passion, despite the man genuinely wanting to support him. JV also does everything to weasel out of group sports.

- When he was 13, he used to get bullied and shoved in lockers a lot. So he has learnt how to pick locks from the inside and outside.

- He has also stabbed his bullies with a sharpened metal fork before, to the point where he made them bleed. Thrice. Harry helped him to prevent JV from getting expelled. Jean did bite his bullies several times, and has bitten Harry before. Harry laughed it off and said, “Son, you can bite me anytime if it helps you relieve stress. You have my permission, I don’t mind”. Which appalled Jean, so he doesn’t bite Harry anymore.

- This is the Hex incident. One day, Cuno's uncle (Kubo) stole Jean's diary and tried to read it out loud to everyone, but J.V. used big words Kubo doesn’t understand, so only part of JV’s secrets got out. J.V. got mocked severely, and Kubo + his gang of idiots ripped JV’s diary into several pieces. Jean yelled that he’d curse them all.

The next day, Kubo got into a car accident, which resulted in him never being able to play football again. Someone’s parents divorced. The gang proceeded to lose at football against the girls' team three times in a row. They begged Harry to talk to J.V. so he did. After much of Harry’s pestering, J.V. reveals that his curses didn’t actually work since curses are specific and they didn’t do what Jean commanded. Jean refused to tell Harry his secrets and said he just wanted everyone to leave him alone. And so, a deal was struck, and everyone stopped being mean to Jean, but people avoided him a ton. Rumours did spread, so many students really did believe that if they upset Jean, they’d be cursed.

- Jean actually has great parents and an ideal emotional support system outside of school lmao. Loser.

- Does actually get decent grades in school. He advanced two years in education

- makes his own emo music and song lyrics. Gave up on his music dreams after studying Literature and Music in community college, when he realised that being an outsider musician won't support himself financially. At age 21, he became a cop and joined the RCM at the same time as Harry (HAHAHAAHAHA)

- Has a lil gay baby crush on Kim but would never admit it to himself. He's also terrible at hiding it. Kim is the only ‘student’ he'd allow to call him by his real name.

- Secretly loves disco music but pretends to hate it. Will subconsciously bob his head up and down to disco music slightly if it plays for long enough.

- Has two pet cats he adores and drops the emo/cool guy facade for. JV pretends and boasts to everyone that he actually wants a pet snake instead, but he's a fuxking LIAR

- Has a chronic need and desire to seem 'cool' whenever people are around(except his family)

[asinglesock]

I just got out of seeing a community theater musical and hugged some people I haven't seen for a while and heard kind words from a former professor of mine so I'm still kind of having an emotional rush from all that and it's making my brain go fast for the first time in a while

so

(cw vague description of irl murder & child death, religious trauma, apocalypse anxiety, martyrdom complex, dubious late-night exegesis)

I'm realizing that the pastor of the church my family attends is obsessed with eschatology in a way that's even more than the standard Oneness Pentecostal stance (itself really obsessed with eschatology). Wednesday night I overheard him talking before church and I realized that 1) he has been watching conspiracy theorists on Youtube and 2) some of this fixation really started to surface after his daughter and two grandchildren were mysteriously found dead 11 years ago.

(I also realized recently that my Sunday school teacher and her kids moving out of state and being murdered when I was 13 might not have been great for my emotional health. I need to revisit this.)

But after we found out it was like the only way we could cope was to be even more fervent than before. He invited an evangelist (who everyone addressed as "prophet") to preach a series of revival services. I remember that Prophet M was always talking about money. After a week of services, he gave each of the musicians $20. I'd just started doing church music (again, I was 13) and I couldn't believe he'd just give away that much money. But that week was the first time that a preacher calling for people to give sacrificially made me more doubtful instead of more enthusiastic. I started to hear the salesman tone in his voice. He took a lot more money away with him.

Tangent: I've been interested lately in how Paul talks about money. People are always quoting 2 Cor on how God loves a cheerful giver as a prooftext on the importance of giving money to the church, but it affects how I understand the tone of that when I think about the historical context. Paul is encouraging the Corinthians to give money toward the collection, but in 1 Corinthians he's very defensive of himself, saying that he never took money from them (see 1 Cor 9:15). This saying is part of the persuasive rhetoric Paul is using precisely because his Corinthian audience is not guaranteed to be made up of cheerful givers. I don't necessarily think Paul was exploitative irt money but it does change the feeling for me.

But I was talking about eschatology. Pastor usually talks about the End Times as a terrible and frightening thing. I used to find the End Times terrifying myself (I watched Left Behind when I was like 6 :/). But as I got older and started unpacking it, I realized that scriptures on Jesus's return and the resurrection at the last day and the New Jerusalem are full of hope. Even though there is definitely eschatological terror in the New Testament, a lot of it is pointed toward empire and oppressors. I couldn't understand why preaching at our church was always so frightened when preachers talked about the possibility of martyrdom--weren't we supposed to accept it because we had hope?

Then post-advent of covid Pastor's preaching has only gotten more and more paranoid. It built on what it always was--if mask mandates weren't the Mark of the Beast, they were preparation to make people compliant; restrictions on public gatherings were Satan warring against the saints; and every earthquake was a sign of the end of the world. The response to any natural disaster or war in other parts of the world was a kind of closing off, saying that this world will pass away but we're not of this world. We shouldn't care too much about the things of this world--but the "things of this world" even counted people's lives!

In retrospect, it's clearer now that Pastor saw his daughter and grandchildren's deaths as martyrdoms. There was speculation that his daughter was responsible because of post-partum depression (obviously it can do weird stuff like that and we wouldn't blame her if that were the case), but Pastor always believed that there was some evil reason--some cult or demonic influence or something like that. And in that light it makes sense why he'd anticipate the End Times as something grim and terrifying.

He's already experiencing the suffering of the End Times. There are cults of ritual murderers out running amok. Government officials conceal the truth. Why should he trust them? Pastor has a high school education and low technology literacy--he's the target audience for a conspiracy.

I don't know how this information is helpful, but it feels like unravelling a knot in my brain.

Anyway this is already long and rambly but I realized that their deaths affected how I dress. When I was 11-13 I wore really loud colors and tried to style my hair in complicated ways, with hair ornaments that were the only jewelry we were allowed to have. I was wearing a very bright blue dress with a very bright pink jacket the night the church learned about their deaths. It felt like I'd done something offensive, being there and wearing such bright clothes. I felt a sense of shame every time I wore either of those garments afterward--but I didn't realize it and I kept them for a long time. This developed my undestanding of modesty as not calling attention to self by dress. Since then I usually feel uncomfortable in loud colors or elaborate hairstyles--ironically, this made my personal style less obviously Pentecostal.

[buckyscrystalqueen]

Winter Wolf: Part 16

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, fluff, angst

Word Count: 5,180

A/N: Finally got the muse to finish this story! YAY!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10 / Part 11 / Part 12 / Part 13 / Part 14 / Part 15

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Defense would like to call it’s first witness- Tony Stark.” Mike said first thing in the morning on day three, after spending the first two completely annihilating every witness the prosecution had in only a matter of minutes each. The jury all exchanged glances since you were on trial for killing Howard and Maria, and they were a little confused as to why Tony would be the one defending you. You did everything you could to control your smile as the bailiff brought in a TV from the back, because you knew if Tony had anything to do with that, the courtroom was in for a wild ride.

“Mr. Stark.” Mike said as he picked up his massive brief case and set it on the table.

“Mr. Young.”

“I’m just going to jump right in here and address the elephant in the room. You are here as a witness on behalf of my client, correct?”

“That is correct.” Tony said with a nod as he leaned back in his chair and got comfortable.

“But... my client is being charged with the murder of your parents, Howard and Maria.”

“Yea. The Wolf definitely did it.”

“And you know that for a fact?” Mike asked, making the smile fall slightly from your face.

“Oh, absolutely, I have proof.” Tony confirmed as he sat up and tapped his glasses.

“Defense exhibit 9.” Mike said as Tony commandeered the court’s TV. You looked down at your hands and took a deep breath because you didn’t want to watch the video, but you looked up when the ‘Good Night Moon’ song started playing instead.

“Wait, that’s the wrong one.” He said with a glance over at you since his mistake was intentional. “Technology can be so tricky. Here it is.” He sat back in his spot and looked directly at you with a reassuring smile as the security video from the night of December 16th, 1991. You knew no one else in the room could hear it but you, but you teared up gratefully as the very, very subtle melody of Ana’s song played underneath the video for you, and you alone. As the jury gasped and cringed away, Tony simply kept your eyes on his for your own sanity, and slowly nodded his head, telling you that everything was going to be OK.

“Now that must have been excruciating to watch the first time.” Mike asked when the video went black, and Tony nodded as he looked over at him. “What was your reaction to it?”

“I’m not proud of it today, but I punched her. Then I kicked her out of my house and I may have even mentally plotted her demise for a minute.”

“But then you brought her home.” Mike said as he pulled a massive file of of his bag and set it on the table. “In fact, you even sought out, and purchased her late husband’s plantation and are currently financing the reconstruction and refurbishment of said property, isn’t that right? Defense 10.” Mike said as he passed out copies of Green Pebble Hill’s current deed, and receipts for the money Tony had put into so far.

“It’s a beautiful plantation, and the house will be even more so.”

“But that doesn’t make sense. Why would you do something so generous for someone that murdered your parents?”

“Because I did my research.” Tony said simply which made Mike turn around with an award winning smile that made you realize that this moment was the one he had been waiting for for weeks.

“Defense exhibits eleven through four hundred and sixteen.” He said as he pulled out an actually bound book with tabs sticking out of the side. “I only have one physical copy, Your Honor, but I do have a quick notes type slide show available for the jury.”

“I’ll allow it.” She said as she took the book, while Everett simply sat back in his chair, completely defeated, despite not even being close to the end of the trial.

“Now Mr. Stark...” Mike said as he put his hard drive into the TV and grabbed the remote off the stand. “Where did you start this research and why?”

“I started it to find answers.” Tony stated as he rocked himself back and forth in the chair. “And I started with the HYDRA files Natasha Romanoff leaked in 2014.”

“And what did you find?”

“I found the mother load.” Tony said as Mike pulled up the first page. “I found HYDRA’s notes dating all the way back to 1931 regarding ‘Project X’ and subsequently, the ‘Winter Wolf’.”

“And what is that, exactly?”

“It was an experiment meant for finding one specific mutant to turn them in to an assassin for HYDRA’s use.”

“Can you tell us more?”

“Oh, can I ever.” Tony said as he sat up like an excited kid on Christmas. “‘Project X’ required a mutant with any type of powers that was capable of withstanding having the metal, adamantium bonded to their skeleton.”

“And with all your research on those notes, what kind of mutant where they needing specifically?” Mike asked as he flipped to the next slide and slowly walked back over to the table so that the jury would be forced to see your reaction to this line of questioning.

“They needed someone that is incapable of dying that can also self heal.”

“And why’s that?” Mike asked, setting Tony up for the land slide.

“Because adamantium must be kept at 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit to stay in a liquid form so that it can be sent through dozens of tiny needles straight into the mutant’s body into their bones. Brutal stuff.” The room gasped as the heat from that day radiated throughout your body for a brief moment. 

“What did you find next?”

“Well once they found that mutant, they had to figure out what she was capable of before she could be converted. Can she regenerate limbs? Which she obviously can’t.” He said as he gestured to you while Mike flipped his slide. “How quickly can she self heal from gun shots, stab wounds, deep lacerations, and such. Is she able to fight, and if not, can it be taught. And was it even possible to brainwash someone that could self heal at all? Within a few months, they found out the answers to all of those questions. And it wasn’t just HYDRA running these tests... it started with members of the United States government.” Tony went on for over an hour explaining every single thing he found in English in your file that detailed what you had gone through in the decades that HYDRA held you captive. And once he had finished, and without having to even ask when he was done, you knew exactly who Mike was calling to the stand next.

“Now, Ms. Romanoff.” Mike said once your ex was sworn in. “You not only did research with Mr. Stark to differentiate Dr. Barnes from the Winter Wolf, but you also knew her personally in multiple capacities, isn’t that right?”

“That is correct.” Not said as she forced herself to keep her eyes on your lawyer so she wouldn’t cross anymore lines with you even though you were looking down at the table.

“Can you tell the court of your personal encounters with Dr. Barnes?”

“She was brought into the Red Room where I was trained to be an assassin to assist in combat skills... and she was also my lover.” You both looked up at each other at the same time, as a murmur raced through the jurors box, which Mike completely ignored.

“And I know it will be hard... but can you tell the court what consequences being her lover lead to?” Simultaneously, you both turned away from the other and you quickly started screaming ‘Good Night, Moon’ in your head while Natasha described in detail your relationship in Russia. You were eternally grateful that even the Wolf blocked out the details of the hours of torture she had to sit through as a consequence, but it still didn’t stop your mind from reliving them all over again all the same.

“I’m deeply sorry that you both had to go through that.” Mike breathed as he slowly walked over to the table and purposely bumped it the way Tony had previously instructed to jar you from your thoughts before the Wolf took control. He glanced down at you to make sure you were OK for a moment, before looking back up at Nat to continue. “So let’s move on to the research. As we learned from Mr. Stark, half of it was in Russian, and since you speak the language fluently, you were the one that translated. What did you learn?”

“The major thing I found was the detailed plans of every single hit the Winter Wolf had, down to the most minute detail that the agents of HYRDA had prepared so their assassin could complete her missions properly.“ Mike nodded his head as he hit ‘play’ on the remote so that all of those documents would flip through in the background.

“So as far as you saw, not a single one of these assassinations were chosen, thought out, or prepared by Dr. Barnes or the Winter Wolf herself?”

“Not a single one.”

“And you have gotten to know Dr. Barnes personally, not just when she was out of cryogenic sleep, training you in the Red Room, but after the fact when she moved into the Stark tower in 2016. In your honest opinion, do you believe that the woman in this room, the woman far away from HYDRA’s control, the wife, and mother we see before us is capable of committing these murders if it hadn’t been for HYDRA’s control?” Natasha shook her head and looked over at you with barely a hint of tears in her eyes, but also a tight lipped smile that spoke volumes.

“No. (Y/N) is one of the kindest, most gentle people I know. She wouldn’t hurt a fly. Especially after everything she has gone though in her lifetime.”

“Thank you, Ms. Romanoff. That is all I have.” She nodded her head and kept eye contact for a minute longer, before forcing her self to look at Everett as he got up in a vain attempt to destroy her character before lunch.

——

The next three days were much of the same for you- sheer torture. You were forced to listen to Steve go on and on about the woman he knew before and after HYDRA’s kidnapping. You had to sit through Bruce’s explanation of living with “the other guy” and his struggles and triumphs. You had to listen to Bucky and Wanda both gush about what an amazing woman, wife, and mother you had become… but it didn’t stop your mind from wandering to all the torment you were going to have to relive once it was your turn to take the stand. 

The weekend was rough, seeing you jump at the littlest things. The only thing keeping you calm was Ana, who was officially able to talk your ear off with her collection of a few dozen words- ‘Ana' being her favorite. Everything was ‘Ana ball’, ‘Ana toy’, or ‘Ana mama’, which made you smile more than you believed possible. But Monday still drew nearer and your fate was believed to be set in stone no matter how much you wanted to believe otherwise. 

“You need to go to Wakanda.” You told Bucky on a regular basis over the course of the two day weekend, but he stubbornly refused to listen to you.

“You are going to be cleared of all charges, don’t worry.” He’d say as he’d chase after your daughter around the suite. 

“You still need to go to Wakanda.”

——

“The defense calls Dr. (Y/N) Barnes.” You couldn’t stop yourself from fiddling with the material of your dress as you were sworn in and seated in the stand, but you looked up at the crowd of Avengers that were able to sit and support you since they all had testified on your behalf already. You knew, once again, that no one could hear it, but the sound of ‘Good Night, Moon’ was unmistakable to you. Like a dog whistle to a dog. Tony met your eyes and nodded as he let it play on repeat, while Mike leaned against the table in front of you, settling in for a long day.

“Good morning, Dr. Barnes.”

“Good morning.”

“Shall we just jump right in?” You nodded and whispered yes as years of abuse slammed into the forefront of your mind, even making the Wolf cringe in response. “Let’s start with an easy one. Did the Wolf kill all the people you are being charged with?”

“Yes.” You whispered, before clearing your throat, nodding, and repeating yourself loud enough for the room to hear. “Yes, she did.”

“And were you forced to be the Wolf by HYDRA?”

“Yes, I was.”

“Is she here today?” He asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“She is.”

“And can we meet her?” You startled the slightest bit as the Wolf laughed in your mind, and you admittedly shook your head.

“No. No one will meet her ever again.”

“Very good.” He said as he stood up straight and turned the TV in the room back on, so that the jury could see the documents about the Winter Wolf once more. “Now, Dr. Barnes. Let’s get into the harder stuff.” With a heavy sigh, you nodded your head and folded your hands in your lap, painfully gripping your fingers together so tight they might have broke, if that were at all possible. “How did you find yourself under HYDRA’s rule?” You cringed at the memory of Little Stevie and your discussion and looked up at the man in question.

“Why not put someone on the front line that can’t die, right, Stevie?” You asked, which made him nod his head and smile softly at you. With another sigh, you ran your fingers through your hair and started talking. 

Once the floodgates opened, it was impossible for you to stop them. You spilled every single thing HYDRA did to you, and the Wolf even helped supply things that you didn’t even remember before that moment. It was almost like she was working with you to fight against HYDRA’s rule over the pair of you. Mike asked carefully placed questions, guiding you through your life story, but for the most part, he let you describe years of torture, killings, and abuse you faced at the hands of monsters. You could see the stunned faces of the jury out of the corner of your eye, but you stayed focused straight a head, on the cellphone in Tony’s lap, that was playing ‘Good Night, Moon’ over, and over, and over again. It was your life line to sanity, because the memories that were pouring out of your mouth were threatening to drag you under and let the Wolf out at any moment. 

“Let’s take a break for lunch.” The judge said after you had given explicit details of killing your sixth target. 

“You doing OK?” Bucky asked as you sat back down at the defense table, but you shook your head and looked directly at Tony.

“Don’t stop playing that song.”

“Never.” He replied as he turned the song up a click so you could hear it over the rumble of voices in the court room. With a nod and a sigh of relief, you closed your eyes and sat back in your chair, just listening and quieting the voices in your head. 

——

Three days. It took three days to officially document the 97 kills the Winter Wolf was responsible for. Your tears for their deaths had long since dried up and you were emotionally numb. The only thread of your sanity you held onto was because of Ana’s song that Tony hadn’t stopped playing for you for a moment in those three days. But your life was about to get so much worse.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Barnes.” Everett Ross said in a smarmy tone as he moved to stand in between you and your view of the Avengers. 

“Mr. Ross.” You replied shortly with a nod. 

“So over the past three days, you admitted to killing 97 people in your existence on this Earth.”

“Forced.” You responded, which made him bristle.

“You killed 97 people, didn’t you, Dr. Barnes?” He repeated with a glance at the jury.

“I was forced to kill 97 people, yes.” You said simply, trying to get under his skin the way he was. 

“How can we know for sure that you were forced to do so?” You wanted to stay quiet so bad, but after he repeated the question, you let your proverbial claws fly.

“Sir, I was beaten, cut, tortured, burned, shot, electrocuted, and abused at the hands of monsters far greater than you for decades. I assure you, I was forced.”

“And how do we know that you won’t and haven’t killed since the supposed last kill you did quote “for HYDRA”?”

“Because I am not that person anymore.”

“And how do we know that?!” He demanded loudly. Anger boiled in your veins but before you could react, Bucky said ‘Anastasia’ under his breath just loud enough that you could hear him. You met his eyes for only a moment as Ross shifted his weight on his feet, and you took a deep breath to respond. 

“Sir, I have been alive for almost two hundred years. I celebrated my one hundredth and seventy seventh birthday this year. I am an Avenger, a wife, and a mother. I am not a killer. I have nightmares…”

“Objection, answer the question.” Ross tried to interrupt, but you simply continued.

“…of those people I was forced to kill almost nightly. I wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes screaming…”

“Objection, answer the quest…”

“I am answering your question!” You screamed as you stood up from the chair and glared at him. “You are the one not listening. I am not a killer. I made an oath to do no harm when I became a doctor in the early 1900’s. I made an unofficial oath to protect the people of this world from all enemies, foreign and domestic when I became an Avenger. If I really wanted to kill someone, I wouldn’t have done those things. I would have used the skills HYDRA beat into me to avoid detection like I did when I was under HYDRA’s thumb and kept on killing after HYDRA’s fall. I was a ghost, Mr. Ross. I am CHOOSING to not live that life anymore. And at this point in my existence, it is my choice to make.” Ross looked a little too stunned for words and you could see the jury shaking beside you as you sat back down in your chair. You went to adjust your shirt for something to do with your hands, but finally noticed that your claws had come out in your anger. You retracted them quickly and flushed hard as a smile stretched across Everett’s face.

“No further questions.” He said, cryptically as he walked over and took a seat. You groaned to yourself and covered your face with your hands for a moment before getting up to go back to the defense table.

“It’s alright.” Mike said softly as he reached out to take your hand to give it a gentle squeeze, but you quickly pulled away from him to cover your red face again. The judge called for a recess until the next day for closing arguments, and you shook your head as tears welled in your eyes.

“They have to convict me now.” You breathed as you stood up to go back to your jail cell hotel room for the night.

“Not a chance in hell.” Mike stated, overconfidently, which only made you shake your head as you took Bucky’s hand.

“You need to go to Wakanda, now.” You tried again, but your husband shook his head.

“We aren’t there yet.” He claimed, but you and the Wolf did not agree one bit.

——

“How long does this usually take?” Steve asked as you sat in the court room on day 5 of jury deliberations.

“It can take anywhere from a few minutes, to as long as they need.” Mike said to you as he looked up from his phone to the group of you that were sitting around, waiting for the jury to come back with a verdict. “Days, weeks… eventually, if they can’t come to an agreement it may go to a mistrial.”

“Goddamn it…” You groaned as you sat back in your chair and covered your face with your hands. “Never should have gotten that angry.”

“You’re going to be alright, doll.” Bucky tried as he reached over the partition and squeezed your shoulder as the bailiff finally said the jury was ready. Your stomach dropped and you sat up in your chair as the judge told the bailiff to bring the jury in. Every moment felt like an eternity, but before you knew it, you were standing beside Mike as the jury foreman opened the paper in his hand.

“On the charges of murder of the first degree of Howard Stark, how do you find?”

“We, the jury, find the defendant… not guilty.” The air rushed out of your lungs and you instantly collapsed back in your seat as the judge called out the next murder case you were being charged with.

“Not guilty”

“Not guilty”

“Not guilty”

“Not guilty”

Over and over again, the jury called out a “not guilty” verdict and you couldn’t believe your ears. Tears poured down your face and relief filled your soul to the brim as your whole world rightened once again. When the last “not guilty” verdict was read, you turned in your spot and wrapped your husband in your arms and cried into his shoulder as he simply rubbed your back and whispered sweet reassurances in your ear. You didn’t hear the rest of anything that was said, other than that the case against you was dismissed. The second the gavel dropped, you were over the partition and practically dragging Bucky out of the room.

“Easy, doll.” Bucky laughed as he pulled back on your hand so you would slow down. You shook your head but paused just long enough to get your ankle monitor off. 

“I need my daughter, and I need to get the hell out of here.”

“We’re going.” He promised as you adjusted your pants leg. “We can go anywhere you want to go, I promise.”

“I just want to go home.” You breathed with tears in your eyes as you stopped to search his face.

“Then home it is.”

~~~~~~~~~ 

Once you were home safe in Stark Tower, you couldn’t get the man’s face out of your head that pointed a gun at your daughter. So you did what any rational person would have done- you hunted him down. 

Brett Miller was a single man, living in Maryland outside of DC with no family, no pets, no friends or even close neighbors- nothing that would lead you to believe that anyone would come looking for the Winter Wolf if you went through with what you wanted to. Bucky saw the feral look in your eyes when you were doing your research and surprisingly didn’t say anything to try to stop you. But someone did have something to say.

“The fuck are you doing here, Natasha?” You asked under your breath as you hid in the bushes behind Miller’s house at three in the morning.

“You’re not going in alone.” She whispered as she slid between two trees, dressed in her Black Widow outfit.

“Fuck off.” You grumbled as you stood up and silently crept toward the back door with a small duffle bag of things you would need on your shoulder. Your full Winter Wolf get up felt like a second skin and you let her take over your mind for a moment, but Natasha grabbed your arm and pulled you back into the shadows.

“Let me help you.” She hissed, as you yanked your arm free of her grip.

“Go to hell.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I’m helping whether you like it or not.” She breathed as she walked past you to disable Miller’s security alarm and cameras. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes and follow her. After a few moments she nodded her head and gestured you forward.

“I don’t need fucking back up.” You tried as you walked over and unlocked the back door, but your temporary partner simply shushed you. With another eye roll, you silently snuck into the house and headed upstairs where Miller was sleeping. He was only in a pair of boxers, sleeping spread eagle in the middle of his bed, and you quickly moved over and started tying him to the bed. Nat saw what you were doing and helped, making sure Brett didn’t escape once he woke up. His eyes bulged when you slapped him awake, and he instantly scrambled to get away when he saw you looming over his bed. 

“You fucked up, Brett.” You said evenly through the mask that hid the lower part of your face. “You pointed a gun at my child. And no one points a gun at my child and lives to tell the tale.”

“P-p-please…” His words stopped abruptly when you pulled the knife strapped to your thigh out of the holster and held it up to his throat.

“P-p-p… man up. You know what you did.” You went to drag the blade across his throat to start his torture, but the Wolf froze just long enough for your senses to be slammed with the ‘Good Night, Moon’ song. You whipped around and looked at Natasha, who looked unapologetic as she held her phone up with the song playing softly.

“You don’t have to do this.” She said softly as she searched what she could see of your eyes through the goggles you had on. “Ana wouldn’t want this.”

“Take her name out of your fucking mouth.” You hissed back as you looked back down at your mark, who was looking between the pair of you with wide eyes.

“Don’t do this, (Y/N).” With a loud growl, you pulled the gun from your hip and pointed it at her, but that was the wrong move to make. In the split second you turned away, Natasha put a bullet in Brett Miller’s forehead for you. You froze and looked at her in complete shock, but she simply shrugged. “You are not the Winter Wolf any more. You are a mother, and a wife. You don’t need the blood on your hands or the nightmares of a kill anymore than you already have.”

“You had no right.”

“I know.” She said with a nod as she started untying Brett’s body from the bed. “But you deserve a life of happiness. Not one of violence. Go home to your family, (Y/N). I’ve got it from here.”

“Natasha…”

“I said go.” She repeated, which made you sigh and concede. You put your weapons away and packed the rope back up as she headed down stairs and severed the gas line behind the stove. The pair of you slipped out of the house and ran to your respective cars as the house blew up behind you. Your mind raced all the way back to the Tower, and you ignored the dozen calls you got from your temporary partner on the way. It wasn’t until you were home again, did you speak to anyone.

“How’d it go?” Bucky asked quietly as he sat on the bed, watching TV and just waiting for you to come home.

“Natasha killed him.”

“Say what now?” He asked as he looked over at you with his eyebrows raised. “Natasha went with you?”

“Natasha followed me to Miller’s.” You sighed as you started stripping out of your gear. “She took the kill shot when I hesitated.”

“Oh, baby…”

“I was gunna do it, you know.” You snapped angrily. “It was my kill to take.”

“And she didn’t want the blood on your hands.” Natasha said as she walked into your room, completely uninvited. You scowled as she stopped just in the door way and crossed her arms over her chest. “You can hate me all you want, my star, but I will always, always protect you. I will always love you and nothing you say or do will make me stop. But we both know that had you go through with that as Dr. (Y/N) Barnes and not the Winter Wolf, you never would have forgiven yourself for it. You never would have been able to look Ana in the face again without feeling guilty. I didn’t want that for you. So I took the shot. And I’d do it all over again to protect you. You are not the Winter Wolf anymore.” With a small nod, she turned on her heel and went to leave the room, but you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“Thank you.” She paused and looked back over her shoulder at you with a small nod.

“You’re welcome.” With one more glance at Bucky, she turned back around and headed back to her room to go to bed after a long couple days of driving. You groaned loudly and went to run your fingers through your hair, but it was still braided down your back.

“Get it off.” You huffed as you looked down at your outfit and felt your stomach turn. “Bucky help me…”

“OK, OK.” He said as he leapt to his feet and helped you get your old uniform off. When you were standing in just your underwear, you burst into tears and collapsed into his arms.

“I couldn’t do it.” You sobbed as you let him lead you over to the bed. “I froze. I couldn’t do it.”

“It’s OK, doll. It’s all over. It’s OK.” He kept whispering the same sweet nothings over and over as you cried, until there wasn’t anymore tears to shed.

“She was right.” You whispered as you hid your face against his throat. “I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.”

“I know.” He agreed as he ran his fingers up and down your bare back. “And that’s OK.” It took a moment or two for those words to really sink in before you sat up and looked at him with red, puffy eyes.

“I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.” You repeated with a small smile and a shake of your head. “I’m just (Y/N). I’m a mother, a wife, and a good person. I’m not the Winter Wolf anymore.” He smiled and cupped your jaw in his hand with a nod of agreement. 

“No, baby girl. You’re the love of my life. You are definitely not the Winter Wolf anymore.”

The End.

[soylent-crocodile]

Red Bulborb (Monster)

(Copyright Nintendo, Artist Unknown)

(I don't know why the Pikmin wiki's version of this art has a flourescent blue background, but I am not an image editor nor could I find better version of this art, so that's what we're using.

I'll be posting Pikmin homebrew for the next two weeks! My history with Pikmin is a funny one- I have been fascinated by its fanciful creatures since one of my classmates brought in the Prima guide to Pikmin 1 in middle school, but I didn't much play the games until the first two were rereleased on Switch this summer. I did rent the original back when that was a thing, and I own Pikmin 3 for the Wii U, but I got particular far in neither. Instead, I watched Chuggaaconroy's Let's Plays, in fact finding him through an attempt to watch, rather than play, Pikmin.

Now, though, I've finished Pikmin 1 twice and started- and paused- Pikmin 2. I adore the setting and its creatures more than ever, and this blog here is how I express that love. So here's bulborbs!)

Bulborbs are strange nocturnal omnivores, neither insect nor mammal, who dwell in forests. Most bulborb are about the size of a songbird, stalking the undergrowth for insects and roots to devour, but a few grow much bigger.

The giant bulborb is a species the size of a turkey, and is farmed in some places. Its rump and snout are both very meaty, with the rump in particular being a rich combination of fat and muscle that is described as having a sweet, flavor closest to pork. Rare and dangerous, however, is the maneater bulborb, an aberrantly huge creature named for its ability to devour travelers and hunters whole.

There are many varieties of bulborb. The orange bulborb is a more dangerous and particularly alert species that can be represented by giving it the Advanced simple template and an additional +2 to Wisdom. The whiptongue bulborb is known for its anteater-like tongue it uses to collect large masses of insects, and can be represented by replacing the bulborb's bite attack with a tongue attack that has grab. In the giant bulborb, this attack has a 10ft reach and deals 1d3 damage, and in the maneater bulborb, this attack has a 30ft reach and deals 1d6 damage.

Giant Red Bulborb can be taken as a familiar.

Red Bulborb Companion

Starting Statistics: AC: +4 Size: Medium Speed: 30ft Attack: Bite (1d6 plus Grab) Ability Scores: Str:17 Dex:12 Con:14 Int:1 Wis:15 Cha:6 Special Qualities: Swallow Whole (1d6 Acid)  7th Level Advancement:AC: +4 Size: Large Speed: 40ft Attack: Bite (1d8 plus Grab) Ability Scores: Str:+4 Dex:-4 Con:+4 Special Qualities: Swallow Whole (2d6 Acid)

Red Bulborb, Giant

This bright red, turkey sized animal waddles around on two tiny legs, giant stalked eyes watching for food. Misc- CR½ TN Small Animal HD1 Init:+2 Senses: Perception:+4 Low-Light Vision Stats- Str:13(+1) Dex:14(+2) Con:12(+1) Int:1(+0) Wis:10(+0) Cha:6(-2) BAB:+0 Space:2.5ft Reach:0ft Defense- HP:6(1d8+1) AC:13 (+2 Dex, +1 Size) Fort:+3 Ref:+4 Will:+0 CMD:12 (-2 vs Trip) Weakness: Vulnerable to Fire  Offense- Bite +2(1d4+1) CMB:+0 Speed:20ft Feats- Iron Will Skills- Perception +4 Ecology-Environment- Forests (Temperate) Languages- None Organization- Solitary Treasure- None

Red Bulborb, Maneater

This massive creature is apparently all head and ravenous maw, with only stalk eyes, two avian legs, and a bright red rear to contrast its large mouth. Misc- CR4 TN Large Animal HD6 Init:-1 Senses: Perception: +11, Low-Light Vision Stats- Str:21(+5) Dex:8(-1) Con:18(+4) Int:1(+0) Wis:15(+2) Cha:6(-2) BAB:+4 Space:10ft Reach:5ft Defense- HP:51(6d8+24) AC:16 (-1 Dex, -1 Size, +8 Natural) Fort:+9 Ref:+6 Will:+4 CMD:19 (-2 vs Trip) Weakness: Vulnerable to Fire  Offense- Bite +8(1d8+5 plus grab) CMB:+10 (+2 to Grapple) Speed:40ft Special Attacks: Swallow Whole (4d6 Acid, AC14, 13HP) Feats- Lightning Reflexes, Skill Focus (Perception), Power Attack (-2/+4) Skills- Sleath +5, Perception +11 Ecology-Environment- Forests (Temperate) Languages- None Organization- Solitary, Huddle (1 Maneater Bulborb, 1-3 Giant Bulborb) Treasure- None

[laventadorn]

rough draft of two nje ch 15 scenes

so rough you could exfoliate with them! feel them strip the dead cells right off and leave your skin glowing and healthy*

*results not guaranteed

i've had an ass-kicking cold for the past four days; as in, it's kicking my ass. while i wait to breathe normally again, have some... more draco pov? idk why it's so easy and fun to write him -- maybe because i'm not emotionally invested in him and he's kind of a wet rag.

Harriet leaned over the bar, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“You did not tell me,” she said in a low voice, “that it was this many people.”

“Well, I – didn’t know they were going to be this. Numerous,” Hermione said (squeakily). 

“They must’ve told their friends,” Ron muttered. “I swear we were just talking to prefects in our year–”

Asteria patted Harriet on the back. Her hand might’ve been shaking a little (or a lot). Harriet didn’t blame her one bit – instead of a few prefects, all the Gryffindors in their year had turned up – Dean, Seamus, Neville, Lavender, Parvati and her sister Padma with her; Ginny and the other girls on the Gryffindor Quidditch team; Fred and George; that Luna girl from the train; a handful of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws from their year who Harriet only knew in the most general way from sitting classes with them for five years; and, most surprisingly, Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang. At the sight of this many people trooping in to discuss her teaching them defense spells, Harriet had considered faking poisoning to get out of it – surely in the Hog’s Head it would be believable that she could’ve accidentally picked something up, even if it was just a long-term growth on her butterbeer bottle. 

In the end, the most she’d done was woodenly excuse herself and hunker down at the corner of the bar. Hermione, Ron, and Asteria, who’d been sitting in increasingly loud silence as the number of attendees grew, had scurried after her.

“Should we make a break for it?” Ron asked in a low voice. “I see a door behind the bar there. Probably leads to the yard.”

Harriet took off her glasses to scrub her hands over her face. Then she hooked the ends back over her ears with a sigh. “No . . . we’re already here. Anyway I’ve made more of a prat of myself in front of a bigger number of people.”

“You won’t make a. Prat of yourself,” said Hermione firmly. Asteria nodded vigorously, though she looked about to faint.

The barman gave a soft snort, like he didn’t agree. He seemed sort of familiar, but Harriet couldn’t place him. He was rubbing a dirty glass with an even dirtier rag, and she got the sense the only reason he hadn’t told them to bugger off was a disinclination for speaking to customers. 

“How can you say that, after knowing me all these years?” said Harriet to Hermione; she patted Asteria on the arm. “I make a prat of myself hourly. All right, let’s get this over with.”

Fred and George were handing out dusty bottles of butterbeer to the five-times-larger-than-Harriet-would’ve-preferred group that had overtaken a couple of tables to one side of the taproom. As she approached, all eyes pinned on her, and she almost made a break for the back door after all. She realized it was one thing to make a prat of herself spontaneously and quite another to get up in front of a bunch of people prepared to make a prat of herself. 

“Er,” she said. 

#

Draco breathed the open air in Hogsmeade. The best thing about it was that it was currently Pansy-free. 

Actually, he’d been having some good Pansy-free time lately. She was so fired up with this Inquisitors business, she’d stopped resembling a human-shaped growth on his arm. Prefects had to follow certain guidelines, but Umbridge’s Inquisitors had more leeway to properly abuse power. Draco hadn’t really known Pansy would have the initiative, but she’d proven quite good at conjuring up random infractions to inflict on people; other Houses were leaking points in small but significant totals. He was sort of impressed, but if she wasn’t careful, she was going to wind up with a head full of leeks when somebody snapped and hexed her. 

He’d also seen her scheming a lot with Daphne, probably to get back at Potter. He’d heard Tracey warning Daphne off – “You don’t want Potter as an enemy, don’t you remember?” – but he hadn’t said anything to Pansy. Aside from the fact that she wouldn’t listen, it wasn’t his business to make her smart about it. Besides, if she was busy crafting Potter voodoo dolls in dark corners, she wasn’t clinging on to him. 

Yes, he had a lot of time to himself lately. It was . . . rather quiet. 

Really, he wasn’t sure he liked it. His mind tended to go places that were dark and full of shadows. 

And yet talking to people was so much work these days. They hadn’t been – where he’d been.

(Wasn’t it pathetic? He was fine now. Why should he still struggle to fall asleep in the dark because it was dark?)

He was drifting down a side street when he saw something peculiar: Asteria and Potter meeting up with – Granger and the Weasel. 

He edged behind a street lamp, but he was far enough away that they didn’t spot him. But he couldn’t be too careful: Gryffindors might be oblivious as a fence-post, but Asteria had been better taught in Slytherin. And he’d noticed her tall form and fair hair. 

Asteria was hanging back a little behind Potter, who seemed to be making introductions, if the way Granger was smiling and Weasley giving a cringingly awkward wave was any indication. Asteria sort of twitched at them. Well, she could be cringingly awkward too, even if she was enormously good-looking and of much better breeding than the Weasel.  

They didn’t linger long after these first hellos, but headed off down the street. Potter still kept herself between Asteria and the others, as if providing a shield. 

Still edged behind the street-lamp, Draco reached up and touched the brooch he always wore on his lapel since his mother had given it to him - a Black family heirloom that activated a concealment spell with the right trigger. A quick check in a dusty shop window showed a nondescript wizard, not suspiciously plain, but unremarkable, standing in his place. 

Off he went after them. They stopped one street over and, after a brief pause in which Potter traded looks with her cronies, headed into a dingy building that Draco recognized from his third year, but had never ventured near since. 

The Hog’s Head? 

He almost turned to make a very dignified exit in a very opposite direction . . . but he reminded himself that the barman wouldn’t recognize him like this; his mother did not pass on useless trinkets. And besides, if Potter and cronies were about to get tossed out on their ears, he wanted to see.

The bar was the same as he remembered: filthy, low-class, poorly lit. The same candles stuck to the dirt-encrusted tables in their own wax; the same bay windows that probably hadn’t been cleaned since the goblin rebellion of 1612; the same floor you couldn’t see for all the grime and sawdust. The same bartender. . . 

You are not Draco Malfoy; you are a gormless nobody named Deacon Pines. 

He took a seat at the bar. The barman glanced at him with a sardonic gleam in his eye.

“Firewhiskey sour,” said Draco, with an accent that made him sound like Potter. 

The barman stared at him a moment longer with a gimlet eye, but made the drink and shoved it over. Draco held a single sip in his mouth, trying not to cringe. How his father could drink these. . .

Potter was sitting in a corner, easily visible from his seat at the bar, talking in low tones with Granger and the Weasel. Asteria sat at her side, content to be ignored, but looking round the room. He had actually never had call to observe her this closely or at leisure: she almost always faded from notice, and she seldom spent time in places around loads of other people. But shielded from notice beside Potter, she didn’t seem as jittery as usual. 

Then her eyes widened. Draco couldn’t help looking over his shoulder, and almost spat out his mouthful of whiskey.

A whole troop of people were marching across the threshold. The barman even dropped his scowl of suspicion to gape at the amount of Hogwarts students now cluttering up his taproom. Draco hunkered down at his spot at the bar – he wasn’t Asteria, shaken up by somebody looking in his mere direction, but he didn’t fancy being noticed by this crowd of Slytherin-haters when he was alone and unallied.

He glanced up; Potter had come to the other end of the bar, and was leaning over it like she wanted to brain herself on the edge. Asteria was patting her on the back. Granger and Weasley seemed to be attempting some pep talk. 

Draco suddenly had a vision of himself having a minor wig-out in the corner, and Crabbe and Goyle trying to offer advice while Pansy rubbed his shoulders. He almost swallowed a burning mouthful of his rancid drink. As if Crabbe and Goyle would care enough to think of something to say – or be able to, even if they did. As if Pansy would be able to get over herself long enough to be soothing. 

He couldn’t hear the conversation, but after a moment Potter straightened up, face resigned, and turned back to the slack-brained crowd. What was she nervous about? 

“Er,” she said eloquently. 

All right, so maybe she was nervous because she had the public speaking skills of a puffskein. 

She darted a look at Granger, who moved up next to her. 

“Thank you for. Coming,” said Granger in that stop-start way she had these days. “Well, we – put together this meeting for – people with concerns and – questions about. . . some recent things.” She swallowed; Potter, arms folded, shifted her stance a bit so that her shoulder was touching Granger’s. Granger’s chin came up a little. 

“And because we need to learn Defense and certainly there’s no – proper teacher this year – ”

“Hear, hear!” said one of the heinous Weasley twins. A titter went through the group. 

“I take it you’re worried about passing your O.W.L.s too?” asked one of the Ravenclaw swots. Behind Granger and Potter, Weasley rolled his eyes. Draco would never agree with the Weasel, who was barely literate, but Merlin’s beard, did Ravenclaws ever shut up about grades?

Granger was answering that question when a blond Hufflepuff from their Quidditch team – Zanius or something – interrupted her with a nasally voice:

“I have a question.”

Potter raised her eyebrows at his tone, but said, “Yeah?”

“Why’d you bring her here?” He pointed behind her – at Asteria, who went bright red. “Everyone’s seen you palling around with a Slytherin, but to just waltz in here together – how do you know she’s not a spy for that Umbridge?”

Asteria shrunk in on herself. Weasley scowled at that wart Zanius, but everyone else held their breath, as if waiting to see how Potter would handle this. They’d surely been wondering the same thing.

“Asteria is my friend,” said Potter coldly, but the look in her eye blazed, even in the smoke-stained light. “If you don’t trust your friends, that’s not my problem – nor is who I choose to be friends with any of your business. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

Asteria looked up at her, and if those weren’t stars in her eyes, Draco wasn’t a Malfoy. Zanius’ mouth hung open a little, before he turned a dull read.

“It was just a question,” he muttered. 

“Right,” said Potter, with sarcasm so good a Slytherin wouldn’t have been ashamed to use it. “Glad to answer it for you.

“So,” she continued into the weighted silence. Her nerves appeared to have been tempered in the fire of Gryffindor righteousness; she no longer looked like she wanted to leap over the tables and run out the door. “If anyone has any real questions – ones about blokes called Voldemort, or anything you actually came here for – now’s the time.”

The Weasley twins traded raised eyebrows. Several people looked impressed, a couple like it was their turn to want to scurry out the door. Draco certainly wouldn’t want Potter looking at him with that eye – it reminded him more than a little of the barkeep’s when he’d nabbed a third-year Draco asking for firewhiskey, or McGonagall’s when she found Crabbe doing unspeakable things to a mouse in class. 

“Is You-Know-Who the one who hurt Hermione Granger?” asked a sweet, soft voice – Draco thought her name was Loony Lovegood. Pansy made fun of her sometimes. Pansy said she was a nutter; Draco thought dotty. Her earrings looked like orange radishes, making her an even worse dresser than Potter.

Potter looked at Loony in silence for a moment, that militant light dimmed. Granger put her hand on Potter’s arm. 

“Yes,” she said simply. “Harriet saved my life.”

Murmurs shifted through the crowd like wind through the treetops. Draco looked down into his disgusting drink. 

What would that be like… murmured a voice in his mind. 

What, being captured by the Dark Lord? Granger’s a Mudblood, and she was only taken because she’s Potter’s best friend, so she made the best bait. Your family is loyal. . . you’ll be safe.

But Potter had gone to rescue her – somehow . . . and had gotten her out. 

What would it be like. . . to have a friend like that?

[danganronpadedication]

DAY 15: DANGANTOBER

Day 15: Discussing Ryota Mitarai (substitute for Royalty AU)

SORRY FOR THE LATE POST, HAD TO RETYPE THE WHOLE THING 'CAUSE TUMBLR DIDN'T SAVE MY PROGRESS LAST NIGHT, I'M GOING TO CRASH OUT-

Goodness, where do I start? I have very mixed feelings about Ryota, so I deeply apologize if this post comes across as me hating on him. I do like him, I think he's a very interesting character that has so much room to be explored by us fans. I also think that his character comes across as one of the weaker ones of the series, but with a few tweaks, he'd be amazing. For a character only introduced in the anime, there's much to discuss.

His relationship with Ultimate Imposter (who will be referred to as Touya with they/them pronouns for the rest of this post) and Mikan is very heartwarming, he's quite relatable as someone who spends most of my time online, and he has so many connections to so many interesting plot threads that I wish got more attention. For those of you unfamiliar with who Ryota Mitarai is since you haven't watched the anime, here's a brief explanation. Growing up, Ryota was someone who longed for escapism. He was bullied by his classmates, and he found solace in anime. He believes that the animation medium 'saved him', and he wants to create anime that would do the same for other people. He is scouted by Hope's Peak Academy, and becomes the Ultimate Animator.

He is placed in class 77-B (the SDR2 cast). He regularly skipped class, choosing instead to work on his anime in his dorm room. One night, he went out in the hallway, and collapsed from starvation. Touya heard the commotion, and went outside of their dorm room to get Ryota back to his. The two of them work out a deal. Touya would assume Ryota's identity and attend classes in his place, so Ryota could stay in and work. In return, Touya would regularly check in on him, make sure he was eating, sleeping, and generally healthy. This system went on for a year or so, with Touya bringing Ryota food and checking up on him all the time.

At the start of the second school year, Ryota became even more involved in his work, and collapsed again. Touya went to go get Mikan so she could help, and she finally got to meet the real Ryota. She told him to start going for checkups at the school hospital. It was at one of these checkups that he had a "despairfully fateful encounter."

Original Uploader: Celestia's Berg on YouTube

In defense of anime, he brings Junko and Mukuro over to his dorm to show them his unfinished work. They are moved to tears by it, and when Junko asks why his work had such an effect on them, he reveals that he puts subliminal messaging into his work in order to get the desired emotional response. He equates it to brainwashing, giving Junko billions of evil ideas.

Ryota leaves a note for Touya in his room, and then moved into Junko's secret lair so he could work for them in peace and relative comfort. Touya grew concerned about Ryota's whereabouts, and Mikan went to go try and find him. She was promptly kidnapped by Mukuro, and brought to the lair to be later brainwashed. Junko and Mukuro then went to go start the student council killing game without his knowledge. After a while of working for Junko and Mukuro, he started to grow a bit uneasy about them.

Eventually, he finds the video clips from the student council killing game, and he is immediately disgusted by this information. Junko decides to blackmail him, saying if he runs away, she'd conduct another killing game with his classmates. Ryota gets the chance to escape when Chiaki, Nagito and Chisa come across the lair.

Ryota is eventually found by Junko and a group of reserve course students, with Junko saying she wants to thank him for the new brainwashing technology. He says his work was supposed to inspire hope, not create despair. He is allowed to run away, since Junko knows the memory of him running away from her will haunt him. He survives the Tragedy alone, hiding in abandoned buildings until eventually being found by the Future Foundation.

He is hired by Future Foundation, and rises through the ranks, becoming the head of branch 10, based around education and culture. He attends Makoto's trial hearing, and ends up in the Future Foundation killing game. He mainly sticks in Kyoko's group, and when she passes away, he goes with Makoto's group. At the end of the game, Ryota gets a message from Tengan, who was the mastermind, saying he entrusts the world's hope to him.

Tengan's plan was to create this entire killing game to bait Ryota into unleashing his new Hope Video on the world. It's meant to do the same thing as the despair videos, except instead of overwriting everything with despair, it's hope. Makoto and Aoi point out that it'd be no different than what Junko did, no matter what, it's still brainwashing. He manages to brainwash a lot of Future Foundation agents, including Aoi temporarily. He resolves to broadcast the video to the entire world and spread hope that way.

The video begins to broadcast, but right in the nick of time, the rehabilitated Remnants of Despair arrive, and convince Ryota to stop the video. He believes he is guilty for a lot of what happened in the Tragedy, but they manage to comfort him by saying that they'll atone for what they all did, together. He cries, and gets reunited with Touya.

"A brief explanation", and then I proceed to write paragraphs. I am the Ultimate Yapper.

Let's discuss all the things I like about Ryota. First of all, he's an utter cutie pie in the anthology manga he's in.

Secondly, I love what he does to flesh out Mikan and Touya, but ESPECIALLY Touya. I firmly believe that without Ryota, we wouldn't have really any information on them as a person. Their friendship is one that I think is so sweet and heartwarming. Touya doesn't discourage his interests, and still looks out for his well-being.

Besides, I can't deny that this picture depicts my two moods when I'm working on my computer all day.

Introducing Mikan into the mix is also great. Their little trio is so sweet, with Touya and Mikan being a very good support system to Ryota. I wish we got more content of those three together. One of these moments that does come to mind, is in the anthology manga. There's a story in there where Mikan and Touya are trying to make Ryota a nice soup, but because Mikan's clumsy, the soup gets ruined. He still likes it anyways, up until he learns about the mess up.

Get yourself a set of friends who will not shame you for your interests, but instead make sure you are happy and healthy. The wellness checks, the regular deliveries of food, you can tell just how big of a heart these two have, and Ryota is the lucky and grateful recipient.

Another positive for Ryota as a character, is how they explore his guilt over his role in the Tragedy. While Danganronpa doesn't focus on it much in other cases, it doesn't shy away from realistic depictions of trauma responses. Ryota is no exception to this.

A large part of Ryota's character is his guilt over helping Junko. Without his knowledge, she uses his work to brainwash Mikan, Chisa, Tengan, the Remnants of Despair, the reserve course students, etc. Then, his work comes back in the Future Foundation killing game, resulting in the deaths of his colleagues. With each incident that he can connect back to his work, his guilt grows.

Guilt can blind a person to reason. This is seen with Ryota when Makoto and Aoi try to tell him that the hope video will just do the same thing the despair videos did. Brainwashing isn't morally correct, obviously. But because of his guilt, this is the only way to fix things in Ryota's mind. To him, this video will reverse everything his original videos did, and make everyone happier for it.

Danganronpa has a bad habit of making its characters seem larger than life. They are all resilient, they can all bounce back from traumatic events, even if they are silently living with the consequences. You tend to forget that these characters are in their late teens, and twenties. As someone in that age range, I don't think I'd be as resilient as majority of the cast.

Ryota isn't a character that will bravely rush into a warzone, or give a passionate speech to inspire everyone. He is visibly suffering from this trauma, and the most he can do is support from the sides. He is realistic in his depiction of guilt. He unknowingly gave Junko the tools she needed to enact her plan, and now has to live with the results of that. It's not his fault, he didn't rub his hands together like an evil mastermind and regret it later, he was taken advantage of.

On the other hand, it's no secret how I feel about brainwashing in Danganronpa. It's icky, it's despicable, and the moral ramifications of it call into question the morality of anyone who uses it. Unfortunately, all of Ryota's screentime links back to brainwashing in some way, shape, or form. That's his purpose for existing as a character. To explain how Junko was able to brainwash and manipulate everyone, from the Remnants to the reserve course.

It'd be more forgivable if Junko somehow tricked him into applying his skills towards that, without him knowing that he was working towards brainwashing all along, but that's not the case. Before he begins working for Junko and Mukuro, he uses subliminal messaging in his work, and equates it to brainwashing, before skirting around the morality of that action. He was already doing it before her. Honestly, the anime shows a lot of ultimates using underhanded methods to make people respond positively to their work. Makes me wonder if they're worthy of being called ultimates without those methods.

Ryota also has the energy of a character who was written to fill gaps in the plot. He's supposed to be a classmate to the SDR2 cast, and yet there isn't a single mention of him beforehand. I know he wasn't an ultimate, and probably didn't know about what was happening on Jabberwock Island, so there was no need to talk about him. But he still feels like he came out of nowhere. In the anime, we get to briefly hear about how AI Chiaki came to be, and she says that the Future Foundation tried to find someone they were all connected to for the simulation. She expressly states that they found no one else that would garner the same results as Chiaki.

Even if they were outnumbered, how come Mikan and Touya's memories didn't yield any data of Ryota? Especially Touya, since they were close friends, closer than any of them were to anyone else. Even just a throwaway line would've worked, saying Chiaki was the one that would get the most results, or during the game itself, in one of Makoto's emails. Any line would've worked, and Ryota would feel like less of an afterthought.

You didn't even really need him to explain Junko having brainwashing technology. In Danganronpa Zero, you meet Junko's childhood best friend, Yasuke Matsuda, the Ultimate Neurologist. Someone who studies the BRAIN. He's already the reasoning behind why Junko has the ability to alter people's memories. Why couldn't we also tack brainwashing onto him?

Finally, and this could just be me, but Tengan's plan to bait Ryota makes no sense. The entire Future Foundation killing game was meant to get Ryota to broadcast the Hope Video, but the video Tengan sends Ryota as an explanation also says Ryota didn't need to attend. It says the plan would've worked, even if Ryota didn't attend the hearing. After all, I think only twelve showed up for the hearing, and there's at least 14 branches of Future Foundation, so its not like he was required to come. What's the point of mentioning that?

I think a lot of the issues surrounding Ryota's character could be solved with a simple rewrite. So, here is how I'd rewrite Ryota Mitarai. Everything with Junko would be the same, he'd work for her and give her the means to make a brainwashing video. But once he manages to make it into the thick of the Tragedy, that's when it starts.

After getting picked up by Future Foundation and joining, Ryota would have to attend meetings about what was happening in the world. This means he was seeing a lot of news about the Remnants, and his already existing guilt would begin to grow. He didn't know the people who became the Remnants, but when Touya brought him food, they would always tells stories about them. Besides, he'd see what his friends Touya and Mikan had become, all because of his work.

As each day goes by, this feeling of guilt would get worse and worse. Everyday, he has to hear Munakata and the others call the Remnants 'monsters', and he knows they are. But he can't process how Touya and Mikan and their friends could possibly have fallen from who they were before into this. He knows his work is responsible for it, and he wants to change things.

Somehow, he'd find out about Makoto's growing sympathies for the Remnants. Maybe his technological prowess leads to him seeing the emails between Makoto and Munakata, maybe he put two and two together when he heard about Makoto rescuing a group of Hope's Peak alumni. I said earlier that Ryota would be really good working from the sidelines, and that's what he does.

He'd hide any helicopter flight records to Jabberwock Island, he'd send covert supply ships out with food and medicine. He'd even aid with avatar reconstruction, using his very few memories of the class and his many memories with Touya to create a basis for the Neo World Program. That's why he would attend the hearing for Makoto as well, he was also working with him. It'd highlight the pre-existing divide in the Future Foundation anyways.

This would also make his reunion with Touya in the final episode more heartfelt. After all these years of guilt, all these months of work, he finally gets to see his friend as themself again.

Imagine how awful Ryota would feel. Touya did a lot for him, making sure he was healthy and eating well, and the last thing Ryota had done for them was leave a vague note before leaving to work on the brainwashing video for Junko.

Finally, after a long time of trying to atone for what he did, and working towards getting the Remnants stable again, he gets to enjoy the fruits of his labor.

And it's cathartic.

Ryota was a big inspiration for my Danganronpa OC, Shin Ikari. I'm just going to talk about the similarities between Ryota and Ikari, since I plan on giving him his own post in November. First of all, both are ultimates with unhealthy habits. As the Ultimate Theorist, Ikari tends to stay up for days on end, doing research and descending down mental rabbit holes. After a few days, when his friends find him in his dorm room, he looks like this, conspiracy corkboard and everything.

Ikari also feels partially responsible for the Tragedy, since his research on talent and the human mind was used without his knowledge for the Kamukura Project. He survived the Tragedy, and eventually went to work for the Future Foundation. While his talents are more suited for management, his guilt drives him to be trained as a field agent instead. He has a deep connection to the Remnants, having known them before Junko got to them. I honestly can't wait to yap all about him.

Aside from the points I made earlier, I think Ryota is a very interesting character. With some rewrites, he becomes a very compelling and realistic character, dealing with the effects of guilt over his actions, and growing to appreciate the friends who stuck by him all this time. Now, a Ryota pic for the road?

-Mod Tsumugi

[marley-manson]

finally dragged myself through MASH Olympics and man lol. like 80% of it is fine typical stuff, but then 15% is annoying fat jokes, homophobic jokes, and weird character choices and 5% is pretty great gags (mainly just Hawkeye's version of calisthenics, a few cute details here and there like Klinger's recurring athletic outfit, and Margaret's whole attitude lol)

there are also a surprising number of fans I've noticed who take Hawkeye's line about having two varsity letters and a sports scholarship seriously even though to me it feels like a clear joke - Hawkeye one-upping BJ with nonsense, finishing with the joke about getting paid to not sleep with the coach's daughter as the funny admission that he's making shit up, because BJ just made a disparaging joke about his sports knowledge. basically the exact same joke as Requiem For a Lightweight's "I was on the boxing team in high school but I threw my shoulder out. I'm in pain most of the time." "You really got a bad shoulder?" "The result of being spineless ;)" except that it adds a competitive vibe instead of being about not being sporty.

which is one of those odd chracter choices because Hawkeye vocally dgaf about sports in every other episode where it's a topic lol. it's funny because this ep is very clear about Hawkeye being anything but a jock, but then has him get defensive about it in a way that feels ooc to me because he's always been pretty loud and proud about hating sports and general physical activity

and speaking of competitveness, I gotta wonder... like there's a line about Hawkeye being too competitive in The Most Unforgettable Characters, when he and BJ have their fight, and that always struck me as wrong because when had he ever been overly competitive before that ep, aside from competing with Trap for nurses which BJ wouldn't have experience with anyway? This episode feels like it's providing an example for that statement and making it fit Hawkeye's character in retrospect. I don't think that's the intent lol, it's just because these things stick out in my brain so I tie them together. I just think this episode wallows in machismo a bit which feels wrong for Hawkeye, and that one line from an episode a season earlier could be used to justify it.

like to be fair to this episode they are competing for days off so it makes sense for Hawkeye to try during the competition. It even kinda makes sense for Hawkeye to one-up BJ in the varsity letters exchange because BJ was just making fun of him. But it def doesn't make sense to me that Donald's bragging would make Hawkeye's brain shut down and let him on BJ's team to prove he's better at sports than him when he very obviously is not lol and it almost loses him the reward. It felt very half-assed convenience at the expense of character to make the "plot" happen.

what else... Donald was played by a new guy and I can only tell the difference between him and the first guy because this guy speaks like a cartoon 50s meathead. not a negative really, he's funny. mixed feelings on Hawkeye calling him Gorgeous George because it's annoyingly homophobic in a certain way most of Hawkeye's gay jokes aren't, but it suits my headcanon of Hawkeye thinking he's hot and being mad about it lol.

anyway yeah, not an awful episode compared to the average tv show, but it's pretty subpar for Mash. I mostly like the next episode though iirc.