#it’s doing that thing where I meat somebody and I start to like them but then I get worried bc what about the person I’ve likes for years

[ma1practice]

It’s time again for my brain to do that thing where it starts to collapse because it can’t sort out its feelingsss yaaaaaay!!!❤️

[skatingbi]

So hear me out on my headcanon guys:

Sanji with heterochromia (i cant spell that fuckin word man..) where one eye is blue and another is brown. He always hides the blue eye.

The first one to notice is Zoro, who is immediantly like "holy shit youre eyes are pretty" and sanji is like "what the FUCK"

Actually fuck it im gonna write about this nobody can stop me.

Sometimes, on lonley nights in the gallery, when Sanji is busy prepping, he looks in the reflection of his knife. Underneath the frizzy mess of a fringe that is part of his hair reveals the blue eye he struggles looking at. He stares, scrutinizing that light blue in the gleam of his knife gripped tightly in his hand. He looks away to force his attention back on prep work. His hands are always slightly unsteady after those moments. He always ends up with a cut on his hand one way or another on those nights.

When Sanji was a kid, his brothers would use his heterochromia as a weapon against him. He was the freak with two colored eyes. They would say his blue eye was creepy, too. Not only was he weak but also too different to be called their brother.

When you're a kid, you take these insults to heart. Eventually, when you're barely into adulthood, they'll still plague you. They become a part of you, just like how Zeff's teachings became a part of Sanji.

Judge looked at his eyes with disgust masked by indifference. It was another reason for Sanji to assume why he was the failure. The outcast. The runt of the litter.

His mother had blue eyes. She always claimed Sanji got his blue eye from her because her father had heterochromia, too. That was the only time little Sanji felt normal. When she died, Sanji started to grow out his hair to hide the only thing he had left of her: her eyes.

Now, Sanji still hides her eyes from view. Realistically, Sanji is fully aware that none of the crew would give a rats ass what he looked like. Regardless, old habits die hard. He feels safe under the mask he made for himself. As he goes about preparing lunch, perhaps grilled sea king again with how luffy is always eager to fight those things, he lets his mind wander to his eyes more. While hands expertly move through his knife like an extension of his body, he thinks about the mess of blond hair that's always in the way. He'd never admit it out loud, but his hair actually bothers him. Since it started growing out, it gets everywhere; his mouth, in his eyes, and tangled in the buttons of his shirt. Is sanji happy with his longer hair? Absolutely. It's a nusiance to leave it down constantly, though.

As he's thinking this, he's blowing the fringe of hair covering his face out of the way every so often so it stops tickling his nose. He continues to evenly slice through a portion of sea king meat until somebody, Nami he realizes immediantly, speaks up.

"Do you need a hair tie, sanji?" Nami asks sweetly. Her smile is radiant, as always, while she looks up from the map shes been studying. Sanji didnt even realize Nami came in and made the kitchen table into a study until now, but he doesnt dwell on it. Nami is welcome in his kitchen, after all.

"Oh no, thank you, Nami-swan! I think I just need a haircut soon," Sanji lies as he's moving through the kitchen. He gives Nami a quick smile before turning back to the meat on the cutting board and avoids Nami's gaze under the disguise of being busy. His lie wasn't as believable as he wanted it to be, especially when he's stumbling over his words while he is usually eloquent with them towards Nami and Robin.

"But until then, you should take one! I probably have hundreds lying around my room anyways," She says. It's a peace offering designed to be in Sanji's language of communication. It secretly says he's getting that hairtie whether he wants it or not, and Sanji is weak enough to accept the offering. He takes the hair tie with a grateful smile, wrapping it around his wrist and going back to his current task. Nami and Sanji work in comfortable silence after that, but the hair tie weighs on his wrist like a weighted bracelet.

A few days pass by. Through every single one, he stares at the hair tie in the morning. He really should tie his hair back. It reaches his shoulders for gods sake, and it keeps getting in his mouth - but that small part of him that clings onto grief like its all that he knows refuses to. He doesn't think he can bring himself to share the only part of himself that he truly loves deep down. What if the crew really thinks it's weird? What if his brothers are right?

These what if's roam in the back of his mind. They lurk just beneath the surface like an unknown predator hidden in murky water. He ignores it along with the anxiety that crawls up his throat every time he looks at his wrist.

Then, a week passes by. Now he's in his kitchen making a simple breakfast for his nakama. Franky, in particular, will enjoy this since his tastes lie within American style food most of the time. He focuses on seasoning the eggs, some of them cooked differently to cater to everyone's tastes. While he goes through the familiar and therapeutic motions of cooking, the door opens to reveal an annoying head of mossy hair and the steady noise of three swords bumping each other at the hip.

" Oi, go to sleep in your own bunk. I dont need you stinkin' up my kitchen while im trying to work." He utters without looking up from the stove.

"Why can't I just sleep here shit cook?" Zoro grunts. Sanji hears him shuffle around on the gallery's couch behind him. He's probably lying down, or maybe he'll sleep sitting up again, or maybe he'll watch Sanji cook. That's the most irritating one, which usually ends up with them fighting out on the deck one way or another.

"Because youre fuckin' annoying, get out."

"The hell I am, I'm taking a nap here."

"Oh my - You know what?" Sanji whips around to glare at Zoro, making sure the knife he was using is now in his hand to point at the source of his ire, "Fine, but if I hear a single snore out of you I'm kicking you into the ocean!" He threatens and turns around to finish up with breakfast. By now, all he has left is pancakes. The batter was prepped earlier, so now it's just focusing on pouring evenly. It's task that's menial but still important to him regardless.

His hair is covering his face too much. He tries to shake his head to flip it to the side. It falls back to where it was before he can pick the bowl of batter back up. He brushes it over his shoulder, and it simply flows back over it. He blows his hair out of the way, a classic move, but not even that works and he's slamming the bowl down on the counter before he can even stop himself and walks away from his work to grab the hairtie from around his wrist. In a few fluid motions, he ties his hair back haphazardly into a poor attempt at a low bun, but it's out of his face, and now he can focus.

He's too deep in concentration to even remember that he has heterochromia in the first place. Cooking lowers his guard unlike anything else in the world. The gallery acts like a safe space and cooking is his comfort. He still forgets, too, while calling for Zoro to get his lazy ass up to help since he's decided to loiter in his kitchen.

"Hey moss, if you're gonna laze around my kitchen, set the table for me." His request demand is met with a middle finger, which Sanji gladly returns as he walks over to the couch to kick Zoro on the stomach. The half asleep annoyance is now suddenly alert and glares at Sanji for a moment before it's quickly replaced with a look Sanji has yet to add to his mental notes he likes to call "Marimo Dictionary". Zoro's eyebrows are slightly raised, and his eyes glitter with something Sanji rarely sees. He's never been able to place a name on that look. Now he's confused. "What? Dont give me that youre tired crap youre not fuckin 10." He says.

Zoro is still looking at him, though, and now Sanji looks back with confusion because what the fuck is he-

Oh. His eyes.

Shit.

Sanji rips the hairtie out of his hair at light speed, probably pulling a few strands out by accident in the process but he could honestly care less when theres something more important. Like whatever the fuck just happened.

Before he can turn away and go set the table himself to distance himself from the marimo, Zoro's hand moves suddenly to grab his wrist, stopping him from running away.

"Wait, wait, hold on," Zoro pleads. And what the fuck. Zoro has never said anything like that and its fucking with Sanji's head because what the fuck. "You...uh." He continues in his signature graceless way. "Your eyes..." He pauses after that, sitting up and looking at Sanji, but not just looking, he's looking.

"Marimo," Sanji's own voice is riddled with anxiety with how shaky it is now. "Let me go dumbass," He demands but it could have been mistaken for him begging with how much he's struggling to keep himself together.

He's anticipating the worst. He knows what he's expecting. Sanji has experienced it countless times before, and he's aware he will again right now while a pancake is probably burning on the pan for all he knows.

It doesnt.

Zoro is looking at him still, maintaining eye contact but also darting between both eyes. He's looking at him like those golden eyes are looking into his soul and its too much.

It's too much because Zoro's response is uncharacteristically soft in so many ways. Zoro speaks to him like he's speaking with reverence, "Your eyes are beautiful."

Sanji shatters on the gallery floor there. His soul is bare for Zoro to see suddenly and that terrifies Sanji. Nobody has ever told him he's beautiful. Especially his eyes. He yanks his wrist from Zoro's grasp and speed walks to the stove to turn it off and remove the burnt pancake from the pan. He doesnt respond. He cant, not when his heart flutters when it should have been anchored down by rejection.

Then, Sanji walks up to Zoro, grabs onto both his shoulders, pushes him out the gallery door with surprisingly little resistance, and slams it shut. He leans against the door, sliding down until he's sitting on the floor with his head tucked between his knees. His face is burning and his face is probably red like a tomato right now. He stares at the ground with wide eyes and a weirdly giddy feeling in his chest and stomach nearly akin to happiness but also dangerously close to feeling freaked the hell out.

"What the fuck."

[morgluvsconnie]

BOUND, c.springer

chap.5 | drinking, mild sexual reference, basically just a build up for the next chapter! | chap.4

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

everyone yelled as mikasa took her hand from over your eyes. you smiled and put your hand on your heart. “yalllll, stoppp.” you bit your lip, looking at the decorations and bags of gifts.

“you finally growing up, that shit crazy.” eren wiped a fake tear and shook his head.

your eyes scanned the long table, which fit everyone in it. you were surprised that the rest of sasha’s friends came.

“my bitchhh!” sasha hopped up, hugging you and kissing your cheek. “you’re so pretty.” she poked your cheek, making you smile. you sat at the end of the table. “thank you, like, for real. is this a whole private room?” you looked around at the beautiful theme of the restaurant.

“my pockets hurt.” armin raised his eyebrow. you smiled and covered your face with your hands.

suddenly, a bunch of waiters came in, carrying a big, pretty cake, placing it in front of you. you clapped your hands out of excitement and stood up from your stool.

with your little birthday tiara on and your birthday ribbon, you clamped your hands together as everyone started to sing happy birthday to you, getting to the end where you could finally blow out your candles.

“now cut the cake.” connie smiled a little, passing you a knife.

you cut your cake, and everyone else a piece, sasha hopping back up to pass them out.

“i feel like a child again.” you smiled softly, sitting on your stool as the waiters placed the cake in the middle of the table.

“now she think she grown ‘cus she 102, okay.” eren slowly shook his head, being the first one halfway through his cake. you gave him a playful “shut up” look and started eating your cake.

“sasha slow down.” mikasa frowned. “anyway, y/nnn, what you wanna do today? everybody’s whole day is yours.” mikasa smiled at you. “nah, ‘cus i got some sneaky links i needa see.” ony said, raising his eyebrows, everybody giving him a death stare.

“chillll. i’m fuckin witchu. my day yours, best friend.” ony put his hands up in defense.

“ion really know, ion think about things like this when my birthday comes, only before it.” you laughed a little.

“so i’ll plan the whole day.” armin nodded.

“armin, if you plan the whole day, somebody gon end up dying.” eren mumbled, reaching in front of him to cut his self another piece of cake.

“ima plan it, that’s my friend.” ony waved eren and armin off.

“you just met y/n like two days ago.” connie scoffed at ony. ony frowned and squinted, lookingat connie. “and you met her like three days ago. that don’t make nothing better. now i said that’s my friend, ain’t that right y/n?” ony looked at you.

you laughed and nodded.

“y/n can plan the day, even if she don’t know what to do.” mikasa bucked at everybody.

“girl.” eren slowly shook his head, making everyone laugh.

“who’s a gentleman?” you looked up.

“me.” all the guys looked at you.

~

“man, ian even mean to say me, i was tryna say i needed some more meat.” ony groaned, carrying all the shopping bags for you. connie looked at ony. “we ain’t even have no damn meat.” connie said, also carrying bags.

“can y’all not complain for like… three seconds?” mikasa squinted at the boys behind the three of you. “it’s y/n’s birthday. everyone should be happy to give her what she wants.”

“i’m goin broke.” armin muttered, slowly shaking his head.

“when ain’t you broke?” eren looked at armin. “you bein funny?” armin raised his eyebrows. eren smacked his lips. “remember what happened last time we fought.”

“that was in sixth grade.”

“okay, everything goes in connie’s car because hes dropping it off later on tonight, and then we can split up and get ready to go out.” sasha said as you and mikasa both headed towards her car.

you and mikasa closed the doors, sasha starting her car, not even thinking to wait on them. “okay so we’re going to your house to get ready.” she pointed to you. mikasa sat in the back, stretched across the seat.

“whys it always my house?”

“because your house is like… the hangout spot.” mikasa laughed a little. “oh yeah, what’re you wearing tonight?” she leaned up to look at you.

“some revealing ass outfit sasha picked out, i don’t know.” you shrugged. “it’s literally cute, okay it shows a buncha ass, and? you have plenty to show off.” sasha waved you off.

“well what color is it?” mikasa asked, scrolling on her phone. sasha thought about it for a few seconds “white.”

mikasa nodded. “so me and sasha can wear white and black and you can wear white and pink ‘cus you’re the birthday girl.” mikasa poked your cheek, making you smile. “yeah, i’ll just wear pink heels, pink accessories, and my birthday ribbon, that’s everything pink. my nails are already done, toes…” as you were naming things you glanced back to see mikasa with her hand over her heart.

“you’re growing up so fast, it makes me sad.” she poked her bottom lip out. you laughed and shook your head. “it’s nothing for real. just one more year of bein sexy.” you flipped your hair in a playful way, making sasha and mikasa laugh.

the ride wasn’t long to get to your house. considering how long you were at the mall, it was already dimming outside when you made it home. and considering how long it was gonna take you to get ready, all three of you specifically, it was gonna be late by the time you went out.

“alright, come on.” sasha turned off her car, everyone getting out and going towards your house. you unlocked the door and let them in, everyone going upstairs.

“okay, so i’m gonna go through your clothes and my clothes.” mikasa said as she got in your room. since her and sasha weren’t even guests anymore, they already had a bunch of clothes at your house. and a bunch means a bunch.

“i’m gonna take a quick shower.” sasha got towels out of your bathroom closet. “with the door open.” she finished, turning on your shower.

you grabbed your jumpsuit and looked at it. “this looks really small.”

“it’s supposed to be, most likely. gotta hug that body.” mikasa said, sitting on your closet floor and going through the bag of things she had.

“this or this?” she held up two different white dresses. you pursed your lips together and hummed. “they’ll both look good so… it really don’t matter.” you raised your eyebrows with a shrug. mikasa rolled her eyes at your answer. “i’m asking you thoughhh.” she said, looking at the dresses.

“that one then.” you said, not even looking at the dresses. “perfect, i knew i should pick this one.” mikasa hopped up.

after a few minutes of mikasa retouching her makeup, she finally walked back over towards where her clothes were, you gluing your lashes back the way they were.

“yall done?” sasha yelled from the shower, cutting it off.

“girl we barely started.” you mumbled, taking off your dress and walking to your night stand to find your favorite perfume. “you’re literally naked.” sasha mumbled, putting a towel over herself. “i have a bra and panties on sasha, you’re naked.” you said, tossing your perfume on the bed and grabbing the jump suit.

“what if i wear a thong with this?” you held it up for a few seconds before sticking your legs through it and pulling it up.

mikasa put on her dress and looked in your body mirror. “lucky for whoever you lay tonight.” she said. you went in the bathroom where sasha was putting her body suit on, looking in the mirror.

“i hope nobody.” you said, turning around in the mirror. “this is cuteeee.” you smiled before sitting your leg on top of the toilet, tying the strings on the back.

sasha helped with the string on your back and nodded. “really cute.” she said, zipping up the front of her outfit, walking to your room to find her black heels.

“i have to curl my hair, hold up.” sasha said.

you and mikasa groaned. “were gonna be forever.” mikasa mumbled.

and yeah, you were forever. but the drive was only about five minutes from your house. everyone sprayed on more perfume before getting out of the car. “this things gonna give me a wedgie.” you mumbled, making sasha and mikasa chuckle. “you’ll be fine.” mikasa said, showing all three of your IDs and walking in the club.

you smiled as the atmosphere filled your eyes and ears.

“it’s my best friends birthday, you see this?” sasha said to a random guy, pointing at your pink ribbon.

mikasa led you and her through the crowd, finding the spot everyone would normally be. to your surprise, it was empty, only eren and armin rolling up blunts. “damn where everybody at?” mikasa frowned.

“ony talkin to some girl and connie prolly doin the same.” eren said, dabbing the blunt with his tongue while looking at mikasa. “i said where.” mikasa furrowed her eyebrows.

“armin, talk to her ‘cus if i do…” eren shook his head.

“they went over there last time i saw.” armin pointed to a direction, you looking that way. “i’ll find em.” sasha said, walking towards where armin was pointing. “i’m finna get a drink, i’ll be back.” you turned to walk towards the bar, standing instead of sitting in a stool like you’d normally do.

“can i get two shots?” you crossed your arms on the counter. “straight up?” the bartender laughed a little. “what shot?”

“your choice.” you mumbled.

“birthday girl.” you heard someone say from beside you. you glanced over, double taking as you saw connie. “connie, sasha’s lookin for you.” you smiled a little as your shots were brought to you.

connie grabbed one and drunk it, putting the cup down. you smacked your lips and squinted. “i was gon drink that, thank you.” you softly moved him away from you to take the second one.

“ion care. you look good tonight.” connie mumbled, scanning your body before looking away and drinkin from his cup. you looked at him and tilted your head. “really?”

“what i gotta lie for?”

you looked at him for a few seconds before scoffing and calling the bartender back over. “can i have four more? two for each.” you then looked at connie.

“sure. who’s paying?” the bartender leaned on the counter.

connie stared into your eyes for some seconds, his eyes flickering to your lips, just for a second as he reached in his pocket, pulling out some bills and passing them to the bartender.

you gave him a small smile.

“that’s one out of the three of yo presents, ight?” he rested his eyes on you. you raised your eyebrows. “what’s the other two?”

“still thinking.” he pursed his lips together and looked at the counter. “where ya boyfriend at?”

you frowned a little. “reiner?”

connie nodded, looking at the shots as the bartender sat them in front of you.

as you went to grab one, it tipped over on your hand. you groaned. “look what you made me do.” you muttered as you both grabbed a shot, taking them at the same time.

connie grabbed the last one, sipping half of it and then passing it to you. “i don’t drink after randoms.” you said, looking him up and down.

connie lazily blinked, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head back. “open yo mouth.”

as you mindlessly did as he said, he poured the rest of the shot in your mouth. “answer my question.” he put the glass back down as you swallowed. you rolled your eyes. “if your question made me waste my shot, what you think the answer is?” you narrowed your eyes.

“oh y’all ain’t together no more?”

“you know that. i told you that.”

“oh.” connie bit his lip and looked towards the crowd.

you didn’t know it, well, you felt it, you were starting to get drunk. and he was too, you could tell because that’s how he looked when he was high.

you didn’t even know you were staring, once again.

you also didn’t realize you hadn’t wiped that shot off your hand. you waved your hand, and grabbed a napkin, wiping everywhere it dripped.

when you were finished, connie grabbed your hand, looking at your nails. “cute.” he mumbled, rubbing your pink nails with his thumb.

you snatched your hand away with a soft laugh.

connie slightly frowned, grabbing your hand again.

you moved it away again, connie frowned even harder, grabbing your hand and forearm, looking at your wrist.

“the fuck?”

chap.6

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Revenge is a Dish Best Served Bloody

PART ONE: DOG MEAT

Also on AO3

Mini-series masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Bounty Hunter!Reader

WC: 2.3k words

Series Summary: Hunting down your father’s killer – a powerful raider by the name of Axl – you end up being saved from a bad situation by none other than a ghoul. After finding out you have goals in common, you form an uneasy alliance with him, but things get much, much more complicated than that.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, THIS FIC IS 18+, Dead dove: do not eat, canon typical violence, the ghoul being the ghoul, swearing, drug mentions/use (chems), enemies to lovers, eventual smut, blood/gore mentions, sorta dom/sub dynamics, some mentions of cannibalism, angst, some whump, aaaand for now that’s all i can think of but lmk if another tag is needed.

A/N: This is my very first time writing for Cooper Howard/The Ghoul, so I’m still trying to learn how he talks/carries himself. Excited to be writing this little mini series though! :) hope you like <3

———-

Blood flowed relentlessly toward your head, making the upside-down world blur into a vivid amalgamation of color. The raiders' laughter sounded more like the barking of jackals, coming from all around you, disorienting you further.

As you fought to stay conscious, your muscles strained against the ropes that held you up, the rough material biting into your skin. Your head was hovering just a few inches away from the surface of murky, radioactive water. You could feel more than see something lurking in its depths, hungry, waiting for the right time to strike.

And you? You were the bait to lure it out.

Where had it all gone wrong, exactly?

Well, perhaps it had started with you being so overly confident. Sure, you had learned more than a few dirty tricks in your years as a bounty hunter – having to keep yourself both fed and alive while you completed your actual mission – but that didn’t mean you could fight off a large group of brawny, ruthless raiders all by yourself.

At the very least, you’d managed to kill one of them and injure another with your crossbow before you were rewarded with a strike across your face. Bright white stars ignited in your vision as you were quickly subdued and strung upside down from the rusted arm of a broken crane.

The worst part was, you’d barely had time to ask any of the questions you’d wanted to ask. You supposed you’d never been a great interrogator, anyway, but that was something to concern yourself with another time; If there even was another time.

“Come on, where’s the fucking gulper? We don’t have all fucking day here,” one of the raiders, a big-headed bald man, gruffed.

Another one of them, scrawnier and rat-like, let out an amused grunt. “Heh, should’ve just chopped her up and sold her as dog meat.”

“Still time for that, if it doesn’t come,” the bald one said. “Think we should lower her more? If her head’s underwater, she’ll thrash around and maybe get the gulper's attention.”

At this, panic flared within you once more. You tried moving your wrists, legs kicking more and more urgently. The raiders laughed again at your rendition of the gallowdance. Your head felt like it was on fire, dangerously nearing an explosion.

Distantly, you heard the creak of metal as the rope that held you aloft was adjusted. Your body jerked as it began to descend, the crown of your head now submerged. Your mind raced as you tried to find ways to save yourself, but it was getting harder and harder to think. You wanted to scream, but you were only able to make a weak, gurgling sound.

There was a loud splash, entirely too close for comfort. Jeering from the raiders as they prepared for a gruesome show. You began to accept your fate, dismay over your failure to complete your life’s mission greater than your fear of death.

But suddenly, you heard various gunshots in rapid succession. It’s a fucking ghoul! somebody shouted frantically. The confused screams of the raiders followed along with some answering shots. The heavy thump of bodies collapsing, one by one.

It was silent for a moment, except for a breeze settling the dust and your heartbeat pounding in your head like a drum. Then there was the soft clink of spurs as someone approached you, an old pair of cowboy boots appearing in your vision.

You tried craning your neck to get a better view of your supposed savior. You could barely see his face, the sun haloing his head like a saint’s. But there are no angels in the wasteland, you thought deliriously, only roaming devils searching for carrion to pick on.

His voice was low and raspy, with a southern drawl that was almost soothing, in a strange way. “Well, well… Ain’tcha just the prettiest hunk of meat I ever did see?”

A shuddery gasp escaped your throat as you felt the rope loosen a little more, fully submerging your head. Your eyes rolled into the back of your skull as you were swallowed by darkness, immediately unconscious.

—-----------------------------------------

“See that there?” your father whispered, pointing up at a cluster of stars. “That’s the big dipper. And just below its tail is the little dipper. Do you see ‘em?”

You nodded, awed by the simple, ephemeral beauty of a still night sky. Your father’s soothing presence, his patient teachings, the world not so horrible when seen through his eyes.

“Like us,” you said with a smile. “Always together.”

His smile was sad then. You couldn’t remember it being that way, but memories tended to warp over time, didn’t they?

“Yes, sweetie. Always together,” he said, trying to sound as promising as possible. “But if we ever separated, for whatever reason, remember that you can look up at the sky at night, and you will always find us there.”

—------------------------------------------

You woke up sputtering, thinking you were still underwater. Your stomach lurched violently and your body twisted onto your hands and knees, retching. Spewing bile as yellow as the RadAway you found yourself hooked onto. Panting with both exertion and disorientation, searing pain lancing through your skull.

It was close to sunset, the sky beginning to burn orange and gold, the atmosphere cooler. You were still at the quarry where you’d first encountered the raiders, but you were a safe distance away from the water.

You could smell and hear a small campfire nearby. Felt a presence behind you, a heavy gaze fixed on you.

“You must be all kinds of stupid, huh? Chargin’ into that battlefield of your own makin’, not even a hint of backup around to help.” The ghoul shook his head with amusement. “Then again, you must’ve been lookin’ for a guaranteed death… So which is it, suicidal or stupid?”

You spat on the dirt and roughly wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, glaring at him. If you knew one thing, it was to avoid ghouls as best as you could. Coming across one from time to time was inevitable, but you’d never in your wildest dreams thought you’d be saved by one. Or that you would still be in one piece in his presence.

At least he wasn’t worse for wear, and nowhere near feral. He was missing his nose, as all ghouls did, and his skin was leathery and burnt. His features were skeletal, shadowed under the wide brim of his hat. Otherwise… he wasn’t unbearable to look at.

“No? Y’ain’t gonna tell me?” he said, the curiosity in your stare not unnoticed by him. His eyes roamed over you in return. “Gotta be honest, I was real tempted to take a bite earlier, but I never really took a liking to dog meat.”

He chuckled and your frown only deepened, hatred and rage alight in your eyes. You tried to scoot further away, but it was then you noticed a rope was tied around one of your ankles, the other end of it under the ghoul’s boot.

“What do you want with me, ghoul?” You croaked, your throat scratchy and raw from the stomach acid.

“Well, that ain’t very grateful of you, sweetheart. I saved your skin back there,” he clicked his tongue in disappointment, unholstering his pistol. “I could’ve been just as unmerciful as those raiders, if not more.”

You swallowed hard at the imagery, but you didn’t let your dread show. “And why weren’t you?”

He leaned forward, barrel lazily pointed at you. His eyes narrowed expectantly, and you realized he truly wanted to hear some gratitude from you before continuing.

Stubbornly, you clenched your jaw shut and continued to glare. He looked off into the horizon, noticing how quickly the light was waning.

“Think you’d fare any better when the fiends come out to play? Or some super mutant?” He mused, his tone bored. “I ain’t got a whole lot of time here.”

After the day you had, you didn’t really want to take those chances.

The words crawled up your throat like a second wave of acid, scalding your tongue as you uttered them. “Thank you… for saving me.”

“Now there’s a well mannered girl. Knew you had it in ya,” he said with a roguish grin. “Y’know that means you owe me one, don’tcha?”

You dipped your chin in confirmation, hating that you couldn’t argue with him on that one. Not many — if anyone at all — were spared the wasteland, so this was not something to be taken lightly. Especially not while already being tied to him, with virtually zero chances of escaping alive.

“But I ain’t gonna cash in that favor now, so don’t worry your pretty lil head ‘bout it,” he continued, but you didn’t feel at all eased by that statement. “I do wanna know somethin’ though… just what on earth possessed you to follow those men?”

You blinked at him in both surprise and confusion. How did he know that?

“See, I’d been trailing that group of shitheads for a few days. Was after that big headed fella, the leader, Tiberius,” He waved his gun around dismissively, like that part of the story was irrelevant. “But then, I noticed they had another shadow behind them — A quiet lil mousey jus’ like yourself.”

You shrugged one shoulder, unsure of how much truth you should actually give him. “I was looking for some information.”

“What’s that?” He spoke up, cupping his hand over his ear. “What you mumblin’ for? C’mere so I can hear you better.”

With that, he stood up, yanking the rope with more force than was necessary. Your back hit the ground, dust and rocks scraping your skin as you were pulled towards his feet. Trying to stop yourself with your hands only ripped up your palms, so you went slack on the last tug towards him.

He tilted his head to one side as he observed you, a flash of teeth that showed his continued amusement.

“Much better. Now what was that you were sayin’, darlin’?”

You bared your teeth in return, internally fuming. “I said I was looking for some goddamn information.”

He gave you a mocking pout. “Aw, sweetheart… fella wasn’t as forthcomin’ as ya thought, was he?”

“Fuck you,” you spat before you could stop yourself.

“There’ll be time enough for that,” he chuckled, settling his boot on your hipbone. “But first, what kind of information were you tryin’a get?”

“Why do you care? The fuck’s it to you?”

The barrel of his gun was pointed at you once more in warning, right between your eyes. His boot pressed down on your hip until you squeaked, knowing it would bruise.

“His brother… Axl,” you panted, gripping his boot in a futile attempt to get it off you. “I need to - I need to find him.”

He let out a long, low whistle. “Axl, huh? Now I know you really got a death wish, and you’re just stupid to boot.”

“You wouldn’t get it, ghoul,” you said through gritted teeth. “I don’t expect you to know anything about losing someone you love.”

He tensed then, hand trembling for just the briefest second. His features hardened, chapped lips thinning into a flat, angry line.

He lifted his boot only to land a harsh kick to your ribs, knocking the breath out of your lungs. Again, you felt like hurling, coughing violently instead.

“Oh, I know a whole lot more than you think, smoothie,” he said, going silent for a moment as he seemed to think. “Why you lookin’ for Axl? I can jus’ take care of you right ‘ere if you want to die so badly.”

“I’m going to kill him, with my own fucking hands,” you growled, too spent to beat around the bush any longer. “He-he killed my father last year.”

The briefest moment of stunned silence before the ghoul burst out laughing.

“Ain’t that somethin’. You? Takin’ out the big bad raider all by yourself? Now I’ve heard it all,” he shook his head once again. “You’re a spunky little gal, I’ll give ya that much.”

“It’s the law of the wasteland,” you said. “He owes me.”

He crouched next to you, his interest fully piqued. One side of his mouth was pulled up in a sly grin, his gaze held by yours.

“Tell ya what, I myself got some business to attend to with our dear friend Axl, and I just so happen to know where the fucker likes to hide out,” he said, enjoying the sparkle igniting in your eye — that thirst for revenge, for blood.

“Please,” was the only thing you could say, breathless, gripping his tattered coat. “I’ll do anything.”

“Anything, huh?” His tongue ran over his teeth pensively. “Well, seeing as you owe me a favor, I was just gonna take you along with me. Easier that way for you to repay me.”

You propped yourself up on your elbows, not wanting to stay on the ground. Your heads were much closer, but you tried your hardest not to let it get to you.

“What business do you have with him?” You asked warily.

“That ain’t none of your concern, darlin’,” he said, removing the rope from around your ankle to bind your wrists together. “Trust me or not, y’ain’t got no choice but to come with me. Now get up, gotta find ourselves a place to hole up in for the night.”

Painstakingly, you stood up, grunting with both pain and the exhaustion that suddenly crashed into you. As soon as you were on your feet, he tugged you forward, not waiting a moment longer before starting to walk.

“If things go tits up, well… Least I got myself a little snack for the road,” he said over his shoulder with a wink.

“I thought you said you didn’t eat dog meat.”

“Heh, well, you’re starting to prove to be a little more useful than that. But we’ll see about the taste.”

——

[lesbianlepidoptera]

Like I’m. SO unbelievably mad about Zoochosis it’s not even funny. Parasites and diseases have been a special interest of mine since I was a kid and the trailers were so promising.

Also they showed their hand with Doc too fucking early, but that can be attributed to “you needed more than one day” in this game. The twist of him being an evil bastard would’ve worked better if you didn’t immediately show him pulling out the main characters call to a suicide hotline OR him killing the main character for taking too long to sign an NDA. The rush to get to the meat of it ruins any anticipation or tension for the ultimate reveal.

Multiple days would also give you a chance to get attached to the animals, as just naming them doesn’t really do much, yeah they have cutesy names but they don’t have PERSONALITY. Make one of them approach the player for pets, thus making it easier to do check ups on them. Make one of them run from the player forcing you to utilize your tranqs or even have treats to bribe them, giving more reasons to having those tools in the first place. Having them transform on a set timer immediately also kind of sucks because BOTH playthroughs I watched didn’t use the UV light at all, which having multiple days would fix because the transformations would take longer.

They also fucked up with the “human meat” thing. Yeah ohhhh so scary they’re eating people 🙄🙄🙄 it’s been done to actual death at this point and I feel it’d be much more horrifying to use the carcasses of the infected animals creating a never ending cycle if they aren’t truly cured. Feeding infected carcasses to other animals is LITERALLY how mad cow disease started!!!!

It could’ve been a critique on the greed found in some Zoos as well as fake animal rescues, where they claim to help animals but only do it for profit, but instead we got a boring story about some evil guy who???? Feeds a monster for an undisclosed reason the devs probably didn’t fully consider.

“The parasites didn’t attack you because you were infected uwu” LAME!! BORING!!! I don’t care that they didn’t insta kill you but they should at least MAUL you a little!!! Change how the player got the parasite from doc giving it to you to you eating infected food!! Maybe doc even purposefully infected the food!! The game also explained there were some variants of the parasites that would attack and kill any competition! They could still keep their “parasites don’t attack and kill you” thing but limit it! Maybe only the tutorial one doesn’t kill you but the others are the more aggressive kind due to evolution!!

There are so many better ways the parasites could’ve been handled but it feels like the devs truly had no love towards the subject matter? Maybe they did at some point but too many people got involved and the love and care was lost in translation.

It’s just so disappointing as somebody who actually enjoys reading and learning about parasites, fictional or otherwise. We got no real story, lore, or information about them. Would a sequel fix it? Maybe! Only if they cut half the team out of the writing room and focused on actually caring a little about story and lore beyond “discount colonel sanders wants to feed alien mommy”

ALSO HOW CAN YOU HAVE A GAME CALLED ZOOCHOSIS WITHOUT ACTUALLY SHOWING THE ANIMALS SUFFERING FROM ZOOCHOSIS

[luveline]

For your kisses before dinner au, can I request a late night moment, not nsfw or anything just what their evenings are like? ty🧡

ty for ur request!! kisses before dinner ♡ pregnant!reader

You and Steve lie shoulder to shoulder in the dark. 

"You think they're sleeping?" you whisper. 

"I have no clue." 

You're both too terrified to move. Any noise at all risks waking up the girls. If you can avoid waking them up, there's a possibility that you and Steve might get some time alone. 

You have as many little ones as you do because you love them, everything about them, at all times of day. And sure, they exhaust you, but you wouldn't have had them if you couldn't handle it. If you couldn't manage the bad with the good.

You want to curl into a ball on top of him but the distension of your stomach makes it difficult. Baby bumps are made for homing and protection, they aren't super super fragile, but you've always been cautious and that isn't gonna change anytime soon. 

"I miss being able to lie on top of you," you confess. 

"You still could. Back to my chest," he offers. 

"Not the same." 

"If you loved me, you'd use me like a mattress topper." 

You fit together well when you're on top. Cheek to cheek, legs between his legs. Sometimes you hook a thigh up over one of his hips. It can't be comfortable for him and he's never complained, not once in all the years you've loved him. 

It's super Steve of him. He whines about all the wrong things. 

Case in point. "Are you gonna lie on me or am I dragging you?" 

"Can you? I'm too heavy." 

Steve scoffs. No matter what weight you are, pregnant or not, he insists that you're never 'too' anything. "Would you quit it?" 

"I don't want to lie on you like that. I miss being able to-" You shrug, tracing the barely illuminate line of his nose with loving eyes. "To cuddle like we're the same person." 

It's corny. Steve knows exactly what you mean. 

"We are the same person," he insists. He starts trying to turn your names into one, creating a hodgepodge of poorly strung syllables.

He has the unique ability to make you laugh at just about anything. He can get you giggling in the delivery room if he tries hard enough. 

You shift your arm where it's sandwiched so close to his and go searching for his outermost wrist, pulling it to your face for lazy kisses. His palm resting at your lips, you close your eyes and picture the face he's making. He's definitely turned his head to yours, giving you that "you're so crazy" expression he does, like he's startled you'd dote on him. 

"Wanna make out?" he asks. 

You're about to say yes when footsteps sound.

Steve eases up onto his elbow to kiss you sweetly, too quickly, before he takes the end of the blankets into his hand and pulls them over your heads. 

You know exactly who it is from the footsteps alone. Avery pushes open the door, and she sounds almost shy as she whispers, "Are you still awake?" 

"We're sleeping," Steve says back. You laugh as quietly as you're able to, tummy trembling under his hand with the motion. 

"I want to talk to you." 

That's not so funny. Steve moves the blankets back down. "About what, Avey-bear?" 

She's hard to make out in the dark, not with the light from the hallway at her back. You can see her hair, it's bed head frizz, and the ruffles of her nightie at her knees. 

"About anything." 

You snort. All your worry turns to amusement, and affection, and you make space between you and Steve immediately. You move too fast. 

"Be careful," Steve says to you softly, prompted by your little breathless sigh. Lately, your back has felt super sore, like somebody's taken to it with a meat tenderiser. 

"Come and sit with us," you tell Avery. 

She races around to your side and waits for you to pick her up. You would, of course, and you'd hug her to death as soon as she was in your arms, but you'd really hurt yourself somehow and you don't want to make it worse. 

"Come round to my side," Steve says. 

You smile at her unimpressed expression, "I can't move too much. Baby's kicking my spine." 

She gawps at you, tiny white teeth shining like pearls. "She's what?" 

It's important to note that you don't know the baby's gender. Avery says 'she' because her dad does. That, and it must make sense to her — Avery has felt the little kicking feet of two sisters before. It's sad, and silly, but for a split second you feel sorry that the only people who'd ever felt her kick were you and Steve. It had been one of the best (and then quickly one of the most agitating) feelings in the world. 

Avery, big sister extraordinaire, and biggest, bestest eldest daughter they ever made, climbs up onto the bed by herself and positions her face carefully over the hill of your baby bump. "You have to be nice," she whisper passionately, "you're hurting mom." 

You stroke her forehead. "Baby can't help it. She's growing." 

"You said 'she,'" Steve coos. 

"It's easier." You're not sure at all what the baby is. You have no premonitions. No inkling of one guess or another. 

"She," Steve says, "really can't help it Avery, but you're a good girl for trying to protect mom." 

"Thank you," you say, cupping her cheek. 

"You're welcome," she says. 

You're the kind of mom that some little kids can't abide — all you want, all the time, are hugs. You steal them at breakfast and lunch and dinner, in the car, in the garden, in the supermarket. You love to move in behind them and cuddle their unsuspecting shoulders. Lucky for you, they've all grown to return the same affection. Avery, amazingly careful of your stomach, crawls the rest of the way up the bed to the pillows and lays down curled toward you, pulling your arm to her chest for a hug. 

Steve moves onto his side and sidles up behind her. He moves his arm over your two bodies, his hand over your shoulder, his eyes glued to your face. 

"We've done this before," he murmurs. 

You and Steve and Avery and an unnamed baby. 

"Do you think your sisters are sleeping?" you ask. 

"Mm, Beth is snoring again," she complains. 

"Dove isn't this quiet when she's awake," Steve says. 

"Guess it's just you with us tonight, beautiful," you say, pulling the covers over Avery's shoulder. Swimming in bed sheets, she beams at you, really smiles, and her face seems like it's nearly too small to hold a happy that big. 

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask. 

"Everything." 

Steve closes his eyes and pushes his face into the back of her head. You wrap your arm over Avery to bracelet his arm with your fingers. If you're clinging too tight, he doesn't complain. 

[cultofdixon]

That growling wasn’t a walker

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • You can handle just one walker…or a few…or really, yeah. Daryl is in for a surprise • SFW/Smol ANGST • TW: Minor Injuries / Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“It’s getting late, should set up camp somewhere”

“Go ahead and set it up” Y/N handed Daryl the few squirrels and one rabbit she caught, earning a confused look from the man. “Heard some walkers. Gonna take them out before setting up our trigger lines”

“Smart…just be safe okay?” Daryl reminds his partner always as she gave him a smile bringing herself close enough for him to meet half way for their lips to touch. “Don’t make me have to come after yea” a hint of a smirk peaked out when Y/N playfully smacked him in the chest before heading toward the low growling she heard.

Y/N went a bit further than she expected from where she was with Daryl. The sound grew louder so she half expected to deal with at least a handful of walkers. Nothing she can’t handle. She was starting to hear a different tone with the growling that it started to come off as animalistic.

“Hm…” Y/N kept her gun holstered and readied her hunting axe when it came to the bigger animals.

And boy. Wait til Daryl heard about this

She’s been gone a minute Daryl thought as he finished the fire and half the trigger lines, keeping the direction she went off to open so she wouldn’t trip and hurt herself. It’s happened. He’s learned his lesson.

Footsteps started to come clear and they were heavier than normal if they were Y/N’s. He knows it’s wrong but to be safe he readied his crossbow and soon enough her silhouette came clear. Daryl instantly glued his gaze to the amount of blood on her and tried not to think too hard about it.

“Rough kill?”

“Something like that—-Hey Daryl, have you ever like eaten a grizzly bear?”

That made him look up at her confused stopping himself from making a makeshift grill.

“Nah, be crazy to hunt a bear”

Y/N crouched down a bit to his level as Daryl got a clearer look at the blood on her noticing it was fresh and part of his mind went to she got hurt.

“Would you…say they’re edible though? Never heard somebody eat a bear”

“Anythin’ is edible if you’re hungry—-You gotta sit down let me look—-“

“Cool. I got bear for dinner” She patted her legs as she rose from the crouched position taking a few steps back before dragging a dead bear into view. “Son of a bitch put up a fight”

The man was speechless watching her drag this grizzly bear next to him and immediately sat on the other side taking out her knife about to start skinny when he stopped her.

“Sweets, we gotta get you cleaned up and make sure you ain’t too badly injured”

“I’m not. Just a few scratches and probably a gnarly bruise on my side from getting almost knocked off my feet but I’m good” Y/N plopped herself down and started to get to work, and Daryl helped her knowing if he quickened the process he can access her injuries.

It took a few hours and a bit of convincing, but here they were. Sitting next to one another enjoying some of the bear meat while the rest was wrapped up and hung up to avoid losing the hunt to what was hunted. Daryl finished wrapping Y/N’s arm in the last of the bandage he carried letting her finally have a full grasp on some of the bear meat.

“You’re crazy you know that”

“I’m hangry, let me enjoy this”

The archer rolled his eyes watching her eat and occasionally adjust the bear pelt laid on her shoulders. It was still unsettling that his partner took on a bear, not surprising because she can definitely handle shit but how she didn’t get help or even wanted it.

“Just wait til Michonne hears about this”

“She’s gonna be so proud” Y/N laughs a little to herself knowing damn well Michonne is gonna accuse Daryl of not keeping a close eye on his partner. Because she has a tendency of doing radical things.

Once they packed up and headed back home, Michonne wasn’t the only one to greet them back as she was accompanied by Carol and Aaron who both noticed the bandages and bear pelt on Y/N.

“Daryl, what happened?”

“We brought back a lot of game” Daryl states dropping the bag by Aaron’s feet as he immediately looked inside with a confused look.

“Uh. That’s a lot of meat”

“Captain Obvious over here” Y/N laughs, shrugging the bear pelt off and handing it to Michonne as she kept her attention on her injuries. “Hey, it lost the fight”

“You two hunted a bear?? You know how dangerous—-“

“Ha!” Y/N cut Carol off immediately. “We…”

Then all three of them looked at Daryl with a hint of anger and worry but the second emotion was more directed toward Y/N.

“She hunted a bear”

“All by herself”

“When she could’ve just left it alone” Michonne finishes only to roll her eyes to Daryl’s shrug of a response.

“She didn’t die”

“SHE STILL GOT HURT!” Aaron pointed out the obvious one more time as Y/N sighs patting Daryl on the shoulder.

“They are ungrateful to my hard work” and with that she made her way back to their place. Knowing damn well Daryl was going to get chewed out by the three and she wasn’t going to stay there for that.

[percy-puppy]

Pairing: Obsessed!Stalker!Ghostface x Reader

Summary: Nobody asked him to, yet Ghostface becomes the God of revenge for you, bringing down everyone who has ever wronged you.

CW: 18+ Content | MDNI | Murder, Gore, Fake Friends, Cheating, Sexual Harassment, Mentions of Knifeplay, Male Masturbation, Reader gets called girl (1) time.

A/N: @mothymunson proofread as always & was the one I just spammed with the idea out of the blue, so… thanks, bestie! 💘

Your friends are getting killed one by one.

It starts with your boyfriend—Leading to you finding out he had an affair with your best friend the whole time.

Your other so-called friends? The whole group knew. “It just wasn't our thing to tell, you know…?” - “What can you do? They just fell in love.” The worst thing? You didn't expect your friends to react any differently.

They always were some fucked up blend of bullying snakes mixed with confidantes, but you kept them close as they are all the friendship you know.

Even if your boyfriend is dead, the betrayal sits deep inside your bones. There is no justice in any of this. Especially with your best friend now getting all the attention as she is “broken-hearted” about losing “her” man.

You're so upset and all alone. Where are your friends? Why aren't they consoling you?

Ghostface.

He sees it all. Has seen it for a while.

He saw your best friend with your boyfriend on his way home… well, to your home.

He heard your friends all laugh behind your back, mock you, talk shit, and make plans that actively excluded you.

He just wants you happy. You deserve it, but your friends are like an infection you don't know how to get rid of and go no contact.

So he does what he can do best.

He removes the diseased meat before it can spread.

Piece by piece.

One by one.

They need to suffer for all the times they made you cry, for all the times they made you think you're unlovable.

And you deserve some peace of mind to close the chapter of this rotten relationship you had—So it starts with a heart in a box at your doorstep.

It's in the cutest box, wrapped like a present. It's your boyfriend’s.

He promised it to you, after all. And since he didn't keep his promises, Ghostface ensures you at least get what you’re owed.

Then they find your best friend with her hands cut off and stuffed down her throat.

She's choking on the fact that she touched what was yours. Somebody say again that Ghostface doesn't have an excellent sense of humor.

But since you're his special girl, he doesn't even stop there. He takes care of you and all those pesky little problems in your life.

And it's brutal.

Bloody.

None of them had a quick death, and fairly, they deserve it.

That college teacher who had it out for you ever since you reported him for his inappropriate comments?

“Somebody” tied him to the back of his car and went on a little road trip with him hauled after.

Shame.

What a shame.

You hate to admit it, but you're glad they're gone. Yes, you're scared you're next cause you don't know that Ghostface does it all for you, but for the first time, you feel free.

If the killer keeps going like this, soon nothing and no one is left from your old life. Maybe, if you make it out alive, you can actually start a new life somewhere new.

And all the while you're going through a moral crisis and worry for your safety, Ghostface has the time of his life.

Killing was never more fulfilling.

He is technically changing the world.

Your world.

Making your life better and easier.

Your fights are his now. Your grudges are his.

Even if you buried the hatchet, he digs it back up.

Funnily enough? When police question you… When Gale Weathers pops up and starts snooping and asking if you know something, anything, you conveniently forget to mention how, weeks ago, all of your old diaries vanished from the attic.

You also forget about the late-night calls with the freak on the other side, breathing heavily, slick sounds hinting at him jerking off as he love-bombs you.

You think you lost the fear of Ghostface. He is like a phantom out to watch over you—Almost like a guardian angel.

Maybe he will turn up at your house at some point. Perhaps he will bring the knife and hold it to your throat while he does all the dirty things he promises you over the phone.

Speaking of… it rings again.

“Hello, little bunny. What's your favorite scary movie?”

[soleminisanction]

So. What actually happened between Secret and Spoiler?

The meat of this story goes down in Young Justice (1998) #30.

Taking place sometime shortly after the YJ crew returns from their adventures in space with Doiby Dickles, the story proper opens with a scene of Steph trying to follow Tim home to find out his identity and getting caught to establish that tension in their current dynamic for anyone who wasn't also reading Robin at the time.

As a refresher, when they decided to date (which was a couple of publishing years back at this point, during the events leading up to No Man's Land) Tim had tried to talk Steph out of it because he couldn't tell her his secret identity and he didn't think that was fair. Steph had responded with, quote, "I don't care about any of that, Robin. I just want to be with you." But she'd recently decided she wasn't happy with that arrangement after all and had been sneaking around trying to learn his identity behind his back.

This issue is very cathartic to me because it's one of the only times she's called out for violating her boyfriend's privacy, which starts here:

Couple of things to make note of here: Greta's not attacking Steph. We'd previously seen what it looks like when she uses her billowing clouds of angry smoke to attack (against Harm and the Pointmen, for example), and that's not what's happening here, she's just really pissed off. Steph is the one who escalates the whole thing to violence with that kick.

And while there is an element of jealousy here -- Secret did follow Robin home to get a look at his girlfriend -- the thing that's set her off isn't seeing Steph with Robin, it's learning of and seeing her self-centered justifications for her plans to continue trying to violate his boundaries. Which, it should also be noted, is something that Secret could do much more easily, but chooses not to. So it probably just pisses her off even more to learn that her crush is dating someone who'd disrespect him like that.

So they take it outside.

Where Greta, despite her anger, is almost certainly holding back because... yeah, let's face it, Steph doesn't actually stand a chance in this match-up. She has no powers, she hasn't even trained with Cass at this point; I don't know where she got that grenade but she's otherwise working with like a red belt in strip mall aikido and a bunch of gear she probably bought out of the back of a magazine. Secret is a sentient hellportal, a conduit between the realms of the living and the dead. She's pissed off, but she's still mostly focused on calling Steph out with her words rather than physically harming her.

Which Steph responds to with, again, a grenade and... this:

Why yes, that sword does come out of nowhere for a single panel and then vanishes into the ether, never to be explained or mentioned again. I find that hilarious. I suspect the script just said "Spoiler cuts the power lines" and left Todd Nauck to figure out how that worked.

But uh, speaking of how that worked -- in Greta's defense for how she'll behave later on in this post, Steph just clearly tried to kill her first. Like. I assume that any grenade a Bat is carrying around isn't so high-powered that it's actually going to hurt somebody if thrown at them directly so for all my joking I'll give her a pass for that, but the power lines?

Steph, of course, has no way of knowing that electricity is Greta's weakness, let alone that it's a trauma trigger for her. But she also has no way of knowing that Greta isn't an average metahuman teenager who would just, y'know, die from being hit with several hundred to several thousand volts of electricity. Which is part of a trend in Steph's characterization -- she's always had a tendency to make rash, dangerous decisions like this and only consider the ramifications after the consequences smack her in the face.

And once again, this is Steph's escalation; Greta only lets loose after Steph tries to low-key murder her. But I did say in my previous post that she was explicitly trying not to kill Steph here, right? That's because she's not:

"Oh," she says, directly to Steph's face. "I'm not going to kill you, but you're going to wish I had!"

The issue ends with Tim giving the girls a lecture about trust that... honestly, doesn't actually make much sense, but it's only there to set up the bullshit Bruce would soon pull in Robin to wrap up the whole Steph-and-Tim's-secret-identity subplot.

Instead, I'll just take this moment to point out that these two pages are the only part that anyone besides Steph and Greta themselves actually saw: Steph, overpowered and running like bugger all while a furious Greta hunted her down. Tim and Red Tornado don't have any other context for this encounter, and anyone else hearing about it would have even less.

We should also probably address the question of whether Greta was actually trying to hurt Steph here and: no, I don't think she was. Not physically, anyway. I think when she tells Reddy that she "just wanted to scare" Steph, she was telling the truth. Which, mind you, means she was going to dump her into a terrifying hell dimension and give her a repeated taste of her own mortality. But it wouldn't have hurt her; it didn't hurt the gang when they teleported through it in issue 19. And, frankly, between this issue and the shit Steph pulls over the course of the Robin issues around this subplot... I think she deserved it.

I never said I wasn't a hater.

Now, to be fair, Steph has no way to know this. She doesn't know Greta, and she doesn't have a reason to think kindly of her. And like I mentioned, it's an important part of Greta's storyarc that her powers and her connection to death makes her friends suspicious of her, and that suspicion sadly drives her to Darksied.

Which is why I'm inclined to think that their next encounters, brief as they are, are deliberately framed. First in issue 50:

And then in issue 54, during the storyline where Secret has allied herself with Darksied:

This leads into Greta basically eating Steph for reasons that don't actually have to do with their conflict -- she's already eaten the D.E.O., ie, the people who held her prisoner, and would continue to eat, it's implied, everyone on Earth except the members of Young Justice, saving them for last as we come to climax of the story. That probably counts as "trying to kill Steph" so technically speaking Greta has tried to kill Steph once, it just wasn't the time everybody thinks about or in a jealous rage. It wasn't personal at all, she was just part of a checklist.

The important bit I wanted to focus on was Steph and Tim's descriptions of their past encounter, and the fact that Greta calls it an exaggeration. With that context, I'm inclined to think that "almost killed me in a jealous rage" is the way that Steph framed their story to other people, not necessarily because she was trying to manipulate anybody, but because that's how she, Stephanie, internalized and interpreted the event.

Because Steph, demonstrably, doesn't think she was doing anything wrong. If she wants something, like her boyfriend's secret identity, or whatever, she will come up with excuses and justifications why she should get to have it ("He's testing me! He wants me to figure it out!" etc.) and no one can change her mind. So it's inconceivable to her that this person who clearly has a crush on her boyfriend would actually be mad at her for the reason they say they're mad at her; clearly, to her, Secret was jealous, and therefore Secret must have been the aggressor. Plus, she was big and scary and Steph (to be fair) had no way of knowing that Greta was mostly just having trouble keeping her emotions under control.

And because nobody else saw what went down between them, people were more inclined to believe Steph's story over Greta's, partially because Greta was clearly the overpowering victor when Red Tornado and Robin arrived on the scene, and partially because Greta's powers mean people, even her friends, tend to be suspicious of her, which is a key point in her personal, rather tragic storyarc.

---

So, to summarize, because I know this has gotten rambly: Greta followed Steph home to investigate her and was angered by her violating Robin's privacy. Steph escalated their dispute into violence, and then further into attacks that could be perceived as lethal until she bit off more than she could chew. Robin and Red Tornado, arriving at the tail end of the fight, only saw the much more powerful Secret overwhelming normal human Spoiler and were therefore more inclined to believe Steph's version of the story which, naturally, framed her as the victim and Greta as the aggressor, when it was in actuality a more even fight fueled by anger rather than jealousy.

[brothermoth]

Some of y'all are grown ass fucking adults who didn't pay attention in English class and make it OUR problem now. No, somebody is not a bad person for liking a villain character. Human morality is not black and white like that, and all you are doing is stripping writers of our chance to make you think for once in your goddamn life. Antagonists play a role more than antagonizing. They're meant to tell you something about yourself, about the world, about relationships.

Just because I think a character is interesting will never ever mean I condone or agree with the things they do. It's fiction, in real life I would despise them, but because they're not real I can toy with them in Google docs like a little puppet. This is not the 1600s anymore where you're terrified to make one wrong move lest you be sent straight to hell do not pass go do not collect 200 dollars.

If you're going to be an avid consumer of media, at least learn how to analyze it. Don't be reactionary xitter users, please?

--this is about red dead redemption I'm sorry--

BUT Micah is a bad person. We all agree. We shan't defend the things he does or believes because despite being unfortunately average opinions of the time, his actions do little but hurt the people around him.

YET he's just some guy, at the end of the day. He's a reflection of Arthur, of who he could potentially have been if his father hadn't been hanged and had kept him around. Arthur has the same potential to be Micah as Micah has to be Arthur. Hell, his brother left and started a family, he could've done so as well. The game is about choice. It's about actively choosing to do the right thing, even if the right thing is a bit questionable sometimes. You cannot in good faith aim your staunch moral opinions toward this game. You miss so much nuance and important conversation that the writers wanted you to have. Arthur isn't some golden retriever good boy, he's done terrible things and acknowledges that. He beat a man with a terminal illness to death over like thirty bucks, and he thought nothing of it until he got sick himself. Arthur had his chances to leave too, but he dug his heels in the same as Micah did, he refused to take that opportunity and resigned himself to being a violent arm of the gang.

Kill the puritan worms in your brains guys. Please. Use the thinking meat, that's what it's there for.

[snailmail444]

Hiiii (big fan) could I pretty please make a Sam x Sebby x Farmer request? Like both boys have a crush on the farmer and ask her to choose and she says both? Thank you so much

Both (Sam/seb/f player)

18+ 🌱 MDNI 🌱 NSFW

I’m SO sorry this one took so long nonnie please forgive me I love you so much 😭😭😭 it got lost in the shuffle but I would never leave you hanging!! I hope you enjoy this that took way way wayyyy too long (like seven months to get to RIP). NSFW under the cut!

“Both.”

You watch the boys blanch. Sam hadn’t been subtle with his “hypothetical,” that’s for damn sure, but it’s still a surprise to see them both respond so viscerally.

“B-but we,” Sam stammers, blinking rapidly as though he can’t process, “it wasn’t—we were just—“

“Just?” You arch a brow, cross your legs and lean forward. Sebastian’s cheap futon squeaks with each shift of your weight. “Just what? You asked which of you I would want, and I said both. Did I not answer the question?”

“It was more of an—“

“—either or,” Sebastian finishes what Sam started, and you pout at him. His eyes are dark and unreadable when you do.

“But I don’t want either or. I said I want both. Or are you saying I shouldn’t get to have that? If you’re saying that in this hypothetical scenario I can’t be lavished by two hot guys instead of one? Hardly seems fair.”

They exchange a glance, Sebastian uncertain and Sam at a loss. You have them where you want them now. “Unless, of course,” your voice is smooth and silky, low, “it wasn’t a hypothetical at all.”

You watch a flush burn down Sam’s cheeks and the sops of Sebastian’s ears. Caught.

“I’m not blind,” you continue, leaning forward to trace a finger up Sam’s thigh, “I’ve seen the way both of you look at me. And the way you look at each other. Don’t tell me the thought never crossed your mind.”

You stop just shy of the rapidly hardening bulge in Sam’s sweats, splay out your palm and grip the meat of his thigh. He visibly swallows, and when he doesn’t respond you look over at Sebastian.

“Well? Am I wrong?”

His throat bobs, and just when you think they’ve both gone mute, he says, “you aren’t wrong. Of course you aren’t.”

You’re not sure how it all happens. One minute your mouth is dry, and you’re looking between them and trying to decide which one of you is going to make a move. The next you’re all moving, your mouth on Sam’s and Sebastian’s on your neck, tangled up in knots and trying to find use of your uncoordinated limbs.

You all strip like there’s no time. Like any moment the delicate thing between you might shatter and you all will come to your senses. You’ll stop and realize that it’s messy, and you don’t know what it means, and this is all too forward.

Except it’s not. Tension between everyone has been a living thing. Palpable and begging for someone to do something about it for weeks now. If anything, you aren’t moving fast enough. Heady drags of kisses shared between you and Sam, you and Sebastian, Sebastian and Sam—the first taste made you realize you’d been starving, you all had, and now you’re devouring each other with the fear that somebody might take it away.

It’s not easy for you to take your clothes off like this. Everybody’s impatient and too selfish to stop even just a second. It’s a haze of hands and skin and clothes, and by the time you’re finally able to feel the delicious skin-to-skin contact you’re splayed out on your back and your cunt is soaked and throbbing.

“Please,” you squirm. Wonder what happened to the control, when you lost it and who found it. You’re almost embarrassed to be this way—a squirming mess begging to be fucked by whoever can get to you the fastest. But what are you supposed to do? Stop?

It’s odd—the little differences you realize. Sam’s hands are everywhere, like they can’t find a spot they like the best, whereas for Sebastian it’s his mouth. Sliding down your chest and your stomach, both of them. Sam’s fingers inside of you, Sebastian’s mouth on your clit, and you arching your back and trying not to be too fucking loud because you don’t want anybody to hear this. To find you all desperate and squirming against each other while they both work to make you come like it’s their only desire on this earth.

“Shit,” you can’t help it, high pitched and whiny because they’re too good at this. It’s like they’re one person, the way they work in tandem to bring you crashing into an orgasm before you even realize you’re close to coming. You writhe against Sebastian’s tongue, Sam’s palm, and they don’t stop until you’re whimpering and thrashing because it’s too good.

“You taste fucking perfect,” Sebastian uses the back of his hand to swipe some of your slick off of his cheek. His eyes are swallowed by the pupils as he stares down at your heaving chest.

“Let me taste,” Sam breathes, grips Sebastian’s shoulders and wends his tongue into his mouth. He moans, low and filthy and it’s enough to key you back up.

You try to fill the space, desperately twisting your fingers, and unwittingly whine because it’s not enough.

Sam and Sebastian break their kiss, connected by spit and your arousal, and look at each other like they’re silently working something out. It makes you shiver, your fingers curl against yourself and your hips buck with anticipation.

And it’s worth it. Because they’re guiding you onto all fours, Sam posting himself against your cunt and Sebastian near your mouth.

“Is this okay,” Sam asks, lathing his tongue along your shoulder blades and wrapping his arms around your middle. As if it ever wouldn’t be.

You nod and Sebastian catches your chin, tilts your head so you’re meeting his eyes. “You sure?”

In lieu of a response you grind your ass backwards, feel Sam’s cock butterfly your cunt as you loll your tongue out for Sebastian. You’ve never been more sure that you want anything.

Sam moves first. Desperate and jerky and shoving his tip in with a strained, “sorry, shit—didn’t mean to—“

As you moan Sebastian’s cock slides past your lips, smooth and slow and controlled, and they stop altogether once they’re both fully inside of you.

Spit slicks down your chin as you look up at Sebastian. You feel depraved. Fuller than you have any right to ever feel. You want them to use you, to force your body back and forth on their cocks like a limp sex toy until they’ve had their fill.

Maybe it’s the look in your eye, or the way your cunt flutters around Sam’s cock, or the way you hum around Sebastian’s, but regardless they get the message and begin to move in a clumsy rhythm.

It takes a minute for them to get the hang of it. For them to fall into a smooth pattern that has everyone falling to pieces. You’re gagging on Sebastian and constricting around Sam in tandem, and you think that if you die like this it would be okay because Sebastian’s pulling your hair and Sam’s smacking your ass and your garbled moans sound as pathetic as they are guttural.

It’s Sam first. Bucking and stuttering against your cunt as he desperately rubs your clit in a last ditch effort to get you to finish before him when comes.

And then it’s Sebastian, tugging your hair to hold you still and warning you before he’s finishing down your throat. Praise spills over his lips as he groans, telling you how good your mouth feels and how perfect you’re taking it all for him.

Some combination of it all snaps you over the edge too. Tears running down your cheeks and stars flashing in your vision, sensation scraping over every nerve of your body as wave after wave of pleasure has its way with you.

You don’t know how long you all lay in a panting, sweaty heap— for air and trying to slow the beating of your hearts—when you finally speak.

“Both,” you say, and Sebastian chuckles as he pets the sticky hair away from your face. Sam burrows against you, pulling you back like a stuffed animal to hold, and preens against your shoulder.

“Both,” they say in unison, and you can feel the relief in the air. After you get some sleep, you’ll figure out what that means, anyway.

[penheadie]

Can we get some Skippingstone headcanons?

Oh boy where to begin I may not be as confident about these ones like I am with the past ones so there's your warning there are skippingstone shippers before me that are better than me. 

For modern AU. Whenever fall rolls around Skipp always drags Stone to go shopping for fall decorations at a thrift store or arts and crafts store (by the time that they are done shopping the car will be overflowed with a sea of pumpkins on the drive back home) 

Whenever fall rolls around in Ramshackle however Skipp and Stone will always share a scarf together as they walk down by the lake at the park despite the weird and odd stares they get from the rich people even though it's public property.

Skipp and Stone do in fact go down to the lake and skip stones together. Sometimes they write their names on the stones before they throw them into the lake. There's no significance to it, maybe it's just something for them to leave behind when they eventually do pass so people know that they were there together.

Skipp and Stone still very much miss the time that the trio spent together taking care of Maggot. So instead they go around the streets adopting stray dogs and cats trying to take them in and take care of them. 

Skipp makes flower crowns for Stone.

Skipp is panromantic and Stone is demisexual.

Stone is very aware of the fact he is considered quite the looker in Ramshackle as oftentimes he will face unwanted attention from people on the streets, being able to tell people's intentions with him as people only ever see him as just a body instead of actually a person (Because yes guys can face harassment too it's a people problem) which lead him to have even more fear and anxiety towards dating people because he's scared that people are only ever concerned with getting in his pants and sexualizing him. He sometimes vents to Skipp about his frustration that people only ever see him as just a piece of meat, only for Skipp to reassure him that he doesn't look at him that way. It's one of the things that drew Stone closer to him.

Stone sometimes has doubts about his identity and he sometimes worries that Skipp may want more from him, Skipp always reassures him that they don't need to do anything physically intimate in order for him to feel loved and valued. Reassuring him that it's okay to just want to hug, kiss or hold hands with somebody and that he should never do anything that makes him uncomfortable. Love without intimacy exists for them and their love language is always spending quality time together and doing wholesome couple things together. Their relationship is very much founded on music and the power of listening to what the other has to say with how important words can be, being sweet and sentimental towards each other. 

Whenever Stone is being sweet and sentimental Skipp makes it sure to give him as much time as possible to get all of his words and feelings out as he know that he struggles a lot with opening up about his emotions. He always reassures him that it's okay to keep going and that he loves hearing what he has to say.

Skipp absolutely loves to listen to Stone whenever he rants about his problems even though he's probably heard them a thousand times it means that Stone is opening up to him and it's an opportunity that he never lets go to waste he always wants to be his shoulder to cry on and an ear to listen to it's part of their big dynamic that goes beyond just shipping.

Whenever Stone is sad and going through a tough time Skipp will usually help explain things by singing songs and love ballads just for him. 

Whenever Skipp and Stone are alone together Pebble definitely harasses them with the gay gay homosexual gay.

Stone and Skipp do NOT leave Vinnie behind. They make sure to never leave Vinnie behind or make her feel like she's being forgotten. Ever since they started dating it changed their dynamic so they always make sure to reassure Vinnie and keep her included in their activities. Reassuring her that she is just as important.

Even though Stone and Skipp are no way fit to be parents it's one of their dreams to adopt a child off of the streets so they can try and continue the legacy of their small family. They really want to give a child that was orphaned the same opportunity to find a happy family that they did. So when they do eventually adopt a child together it is a little girl that conveniently looks like a mix of both of them. 

[danieyells]

How Much Is An SSR Worth?

Summary: Ren gets Taiga's help. SFW.

----

The Sinostra students looked up at the approaching stranger. Their looks were clearly unfriendly, untrustworthy, and some of them even reached in their blazers as if for weapons(were they allowed to walk around campus armed!?) Ren froze and grit his teeth, looking at the little group of gangsters and at the blood red mop of hair of their leader who didn't even turn around to acknowledge him. He was starting to regret thinking this could work--there was no way this was worth it.

Before he could start to back away, the Captain of the Sinsotra house tipped his head further back, directing a pair of bright yellow eyes at him from where they'd been staring emptily into the ceiling. Ren froze. The slow blink he received reminded him of a cat video he'd seen online, albeit significantly less cute and even less likely to be a sign of affection.

". . .who're you?"

Ren briefly felt like he'd been transported into a mafia movie. It was the gravel in his voice, or maybe the cold look in his eyes.

He floundered for a bit, trying to come up with a way to bring up why he came over that didn't sound ludicrous to a normie. Just looking at this guy, he wouldn't know a thing about what he was talking about or needed--but he knew he might be his only hope right now. Maybe Taiga caught on to that hopelessness, or maybe he was amused by the fumbling, because his dull expression became a curious and interested one.

"Oh. Ain't you one of Harry's kids?" Harry? Did Haru know this guy!? Somehow that made it worse. Taiga spun around in his seat to look at Ren properly, his excited expression showing off his shark-like teeth. Those might be cool, if not for that he followed this question up with, "you here to bring me my lunch?"

"Your lunch?"

"Yeah. One of my guys promised me he'd get me something to eat." Taiga gave a sideways nod to the Sinostra students who were sitting with him. "And Harry's place is full of all that fresh meat, ain't it? You ain't here to deliver anything for me?"

"Fresh--" He wanted to eat the anomalies? Was anybody in this place normal? "N-no, I'm not here to bring you anything!"

"Oh." Taiga deflated and pouted. "So, who the fuck are you then? You got a debt to pay? Lulu doesn't like me doing business outside the casino without him around, but I can still handle that."

This was definitely starting to feel like Ren was in over his head.

"I just. I heard some things."

"Oooh." Taiga, once again, thinks he's got it and smiles. "You need a loan? You want some illicit goods? You want somebody to turn up in Tokyo Bay?"

"What!? No!! Are you seriously saying all that shit in broad daylight!?"

"Maybe I'm not serious about it at all!" Taiga laughed, seeming amused by Ren's increasing discomfort.

"I don't need things from Sinostra! I heard some things about you! I need something from you!"

Taiga was quiet for a moment, head tilted and eyes wide like he wasn't expecting personal business. Then he pouted again, looking off to the side. "Is Lulu trying to. . .nah, he wouldn't do that. Not without tellin' me. . .selling someone's organs would be a lot more lucrative than whoring me out anyway." He muttered to himself for a moment, while Ren fished his phone out of his pocket and thrust it towards him.

He immediately jumped back as the Sinostra students drew weapons to point at him. Taiga held up a hand to stop them from gunning someone down in the cafeteria and stared dully into the screen.

". . .the fuck is this?"

"I don't have a lot of resources and I don't have a lot of time--and I heard your luck is incredible, and I just need you to press this button here."

Ren pointed at a confirmation button on the screen, careful not to tap it. Taiga stared at it as if it weren't two sentences worth of text and it was taking a long time to read.

He reached forward and tapped the screen, then snatched Ren's wrist when he tried to pull away and protest being taken out of it. A few colorful characters appeared from behind the darkened screen of the confirmation popup. The link advertising rates immediately caught Taiga's eye, and he tapped at the screen, scrolling through the numbers with increasing interest.

The rates for the most artful of characters were insanely low, and a quick tap of the gems in the top of the screen said they cost a pretty penny. He idly committed the prices and numbers to memory(where they were lost as soon as he moved away from the screen) to calculate the value of.

"What're you doing!? I just--you just have to do the pull! You don't need to look at anything else!"

"This is gambling!" Taiga said cheerfully. "Some real shit odds at that! What, you're going for that one? It looks kinda like you, kid!"

He pointed at a character near the top of the rate screen. "No, I pulled that one already, somehow. . .it's the topmost one I'm after. Everybody says it's completely overpowered and all of the new meta's based on this unit, not to mention the art--"

Taiga nodded along, the gacha having had drawn some of his interest as a gambler. Way less fun than a game with anything of interest on the line, but it still seemed interesting. Not the characters or units or anything of that sort, but the act of pulling for things of value. . .he supposed it was named after gachapon machines. But the virtual nature of it meant less limited potential. . .so the artificial scarcity was formed by limited time features like this.

Quite the business tactic. Romeo might like it.

"So you just need me to press this button here, yeah?" Taiga navigated back to the gacha as though he'd been playing the game since release. He was almost invested now. "And you want me to get you this thing or whatever."

"Yes!! If you can!!" Taiga sneered and popped open the confirmation menu.

"Kid, I don't lose bets--"

Once again guns were pointed at Ren as he grabbed Taiga's finger before he could do the pull. Not appreciating the contact, Taiga smacked his hand away, and he winced at the feeling of his rings colliding with his palm.

"You--" he swallowed, trying to ignore the threats. The look on Taiga's face almost made him want to call it quits again. This was already way more effort than it was worth. . .to a normal person, anyway, but this pull could be the true beginning or the end of his playing this game. "You need to hold down on the screen, after you press the button. It doesn't seem like it does anything, but I swear I've gotten better pulls that way--"

"I don't need your superstitions, brat."

With that, Taiga tapped the button without even looking at the screen, glaring uncomfortably into Ren's face. At first, he was frozen, before the audio cue prompted him to spin the phone screen to face himself. "Wait, you did a single pull!? You were supposed to do a ten, the rate is higher that way!"

"Don't need it."

"But if I don't get it that's a waste of my--!!!"

Ren's jaw dropped as the screen flashed a multitude of colors. The gacha music faded out, and a new track began to play, a popular voice actress' recorded line playing accompanying the subtitled dialogue being spelt out across the screen. His eyes went wide as the SSR's unique animation played, and he watched on as his desperately desired pull came through on a single, effortless shot from a stranger.

"Holy shit you got it." Taiga grinned, looking over Ren's shoulder at the new unit, completely unaware of what it meant. At most, the art was kind of nice. Ren looked like he was holding in tears--or maybe a scream. "You actually. . .in a single pull!?"

"Gyahahaha! Told you I don't lose, kid!" He threw an overly friendly arm around Ren's shoulders. Ren looked at Taiga like he was a hero. Of course he did, until Taiga said, "hey. . .you ever heard the expression 'there's no such thing as a free lunch?'"

For a moment, Ren remembered all of the things Taiga mentioned before. Debts. Deaths. Illicit substances. His face fell, and Taiga gave him a squeeze and a friendly shake and a smile that was more sinister than sincere. For a moment, Ren wondered if he'd gotten himself into something he couldn't get out of. Did this single gacha pull just pull him into a life of crime? Was he about to be some sort of drug runner for the local organized crime house? Did he need to kill somebody? Could he kill somebody?

". . .What do I owe you?" It was just a gacha pull! Why did he go to the guys who look like the mob for a gacha pull!? What a stupid idea, just because he overheard that the captain of Sinostra had some unbelievable luck. The triumphant music playing from his phone and the animated character on the screen offered him no comfort and Taiga bore his sharp teeth in a grin.

"I'm glad you asked! Lulu throws a little bitchfit whenever I do somebody a favor without a price, even if it's a personal favor and not a Sinostra one." He leaned his cheek against Ren, tapping painted nails against his chest. "And I'd guess you'd ordinarily need to do a lot more than just one pull to get what you wanted, yeah? Maybe ten, maybe even a hundred?"

Ren nodded stiffly. The rates for this game were abysmal. But it was addictive.

"So the value. . .it's way more than just one, isn't it." He couldn't remember the numbers he'd seen earlier exactly, but he could do some calculations in his head. If he bothered to. But he knew enough people with gambling addictions to know how Ren's mind worked. This service was nigh invaluable to him. "And I saved you money. That's practically worth interest."

"W-wait a second!" Ren pulled away--or, perhaps Taiga let Ren pull away. "This didn't cost you anything but a few seconds, maybe a couple minutes! The gems you spent on the pull, they weren't even 1,000 yen in total! I could pay you that out of pocket and--"

"Y'know what? You're right. It didn't cost me a thing, what'm I even saying!" He laughed and smiled in a friendly way. Ren didn't trust the sudden change in attitude in the slightest. He'd let his guard down. But it couldn't stay down. "Hell, it was even kinda fun. All the flashy lights and pretty sounds--and you got your little drawing out of it, right? Not to mention, you're one of Harry's kids, aren't'cha!"

"Eugh. I am not his. . . ." Ren stopped himself, then grit his teeth. This could save him. Haru could be of use for once. "Y-yeah, I uh. . .he's a great. . .father. . .? Anyway, if you had fun and I got what I wanted, then we're even, right?"

"Sure, sure!" Taiga clapped Ren on the shoulder. "Hey, you got more of those things you want? It was pretty fun, I wouldn't mind helping you out again if you ever want more!"

This appealed too heavily to Ren's sensitivities for him to stay on guard like he wanted. ". . .really? If you don't get results, I'm not asking you again."

"Yeah, really! I'm waiting on my lunch anyway, what else've you got?"

". . .and I don't have to pay?"

"Nah, no cash. No crazy favors. Don't even worry about it."

That specific wording should have tipped him off that he wasn't entirely off scott free, but the idea of more free SSRs in his account catalogue enticed him too much. Taiga looked at his phone screen and tapped through to the gacha again.

". . .well. . .the unit gets stronger if you manage to pull it a second time--or, up to five times. So we could try pulling for it again. And there's another unit I wanted to get--oh, and in a different game--"

Taiga went along with Ren's increasing excitement, tapping away at the screen. Ten-pulls glimmered with high rarity units and supports even as games were switched. A few times Ren even asked Taiga to perform actions in the game for him, cheering quietly when he got him through difficult story missions that had been keeping him stuck in place for weeks.

All the while, Taiga insisted there was no charge.

But he didn't say anything about no debt.

And he may have said that Ren didn't have to pay, but that didn't mean he wouldn't extract value from him in other ways. In a few weeks Ren would be staring into the pen for some anomalous animal, wondering how he would get it all the way to Sinsotra without arousing suspicion, and trying not to think of the way he saw Taiga eat raw meat and bone that day, complaining to the student who'd brought it for him that it wasn't fresh enough but it'd do.

He refused to blame himself for all of this though. It's not his fault the guy with improbable luck was a mafia boss. It's not his fault the mafia boss was an underhanded carnivore. And it sure as hell wasn't his fault he was assigned to the house full of animals!

And it wasn't his fault that the gacha rates were so low he went this route either. It's capitalism's fault! It's the fault of companies preying on gambling addictions! He's not to blame for this! He refused to be!

[suzukiblu]

Heyyyyy, who wants the expanded excerpt of that one WIP of mine with transfemme!Kon, two glorious and terrible Amazons, and familial soulmates that's behind this here read-more?? (( tw: internalized misgendering, unintentional misgendering ))

Kon just saved Lex Luthor's life, so that's kind of weird and unfortunate. Like, he's perfectly aware that Kal would've wanted him to do that and would've done it himself if he hadn't been too busy bashing on the robot minions of the latest morally dubious AI to need dropkicked out of Metropolis, but also now the whole stupid world is gonna know he's the kind of dumbass who wastes time saving Lex Luthor. 

Specifically, wastes time saving Lex Luthor in the middle of a situation that has at least an eighty-five percent chance of being Lex Luthor's own goddamn fault, just to really rub it in.  

Look, somebody had to have programmed that morally dubious AI. 

Kon can't even enjoy the fact that Luthor's currently knocked out on the ground and both of the dude's super-hot and allegedly Amazonian bodyguards are on top of him. And considering that the one's all buttoned up in a sexy chauffeur uniform with semi-sheer stockings and the other's wearing a black minidress and strappy gold stilettos under a trenchcoat, and that they're both at least six feet tall and built like, again, actual Amazons, that is a lot to not be enjoying. 

. . . although actually, he can't help but notice, they're weirdly not his type despite the fact that they're both absolutely gorgeous and also the fact that he pretty much just described the stars of at least the last three pornos he watched. 

Very weird, Kon thinks, then attempts to get out from underneath said porn star bodyguards. The chauffeur-looking one–Mercy, he thinks her name is–cuffs him upside the head, then pulls out a gun that he cannot even imagine where she was hiding and takes aim at the nearest robot. 

"Quit wriggling, brat, you'll throw off my aim," she orders, and then starts firing. 

"Aren't you supposed to be a fucking Amazon?" Kon demands incredulously. Since when the fuck do Amazons use guns? Since when is that a thing? 

"I am also not too stupid to see the benefits of high-velocity rounds," Mercy replies dryly without missing a shot. Every robot she hits immediately explodes. There is literally no reason a normal handgun should be causing that reaction, so Kon's just gonna assume that's not actually a normal handgun. 

"Always with the high-velocity rounds," the other bodyguard–Hope, Kon's pretty sure?–snorts as she strips off her trenchcoat and reveals a truly improbable amount of absolutely flawless muscle packed into that skintight minidress that Kon, again, finds bizarrely just . . . not hot, somehow? And neither is Mercy's narrow-eyed look of concentration or the fact that they're both still on top of him. 

Maybe he's coming down with something. 

Admittedly, he's pretty sure they're only on top of him to keep him pinned down to be a useful meat-shield for their currently unconscious boss's much less invulnerable body, but Kon has found people who were repeatedly bashing him in the face with an I-beam or just straight-up about to murder him hot, so . . . yeah, definitely coming down with something. There's really no other explanation. 

"Hmmm," Mercy says, eyeing the swarming robots that are very aggressively beelining for their position. Like, these robots are way too interested in their position for this whole stupid situation to not in some way be Luthor's fault, in Kon's opinion. "We need to clear some space." 

"Then you should've packed a bigger gun," Hope says dubiously, dropping her trenchcoat on Kon's head. 

"Fuck's sake," Kon mutters, then flattens his hands against the pavement, grabs every robot he can reach at once with his TTK, and rips them all to pieces in one burst. 

It's not easy, but he at least nails a pretty respectable amount of them, so he's got that much. And also, like, about a hundred-yard radius without anything that's trying to murder them in it. So that's nice. 

". . . huh," Hope says, tilting her head. 

"You're welcome," Kon snipes. "Can I get up now?" 

"No," Hope says as a fresh wave of robots rushes them. "Do it again." 

"Whatever," Kon mutters, but he does. He's got better shit to do right now than argue with alleged Amazons of unexplained origins. Taking out as many damn robots as possible, specifically. 

"That's convenient," Hope observes, inexplicably dropping a hand onto the back of Kon's neck and squeezing . . . approvingly, actually? "Good job, kid." 

And that, bafflingly, still doesn't do anything to his dick. 

Okay, so he's probably actively dying of radiation poisoning from, like, some kind of new stealth kryptonite that Luthor has in his pocket or whatever. Luthor would absolutely be the asshole to have stealth kryptonite in his pocket right now, ungrateful prick that he is. 

Kon really doesn't have time to be worrying about that right now, though, so he just grabs another group of robots with his TTK and does what comes naturally as Mercy keeps firing at the ones in the air overhead and Hope keeps her hand on the back of his neck. It . . . still isn't doing anything to him? 

Except it sort of is, just . . . not in a way that makes sense. 

Kon really doesn't have time for this. 

Mercy reloads her handgun. Hope squeezes the back of Kon's neck again. Rubs the pad of her thumb across his pulse, the gesture more absentminded than anything else. 

Kon feels weird. 

Then he rips apart every single fucking robot left on the ground. 

Which is . . . a lot of robots. 

Like. Way, way more robots than he actually should've been able to get a grip on. Or even reach. 

"Uh," Kon says, blinking stupidly. 

"Damn convenient," Hope says, then gives his neck a neat little pat of appreciation before dropping her hand away. Kon does not examine the part of himself that misses it, mostly because said part has literally nothing to do with his libido and he just can't make that fact make sense. "Mr. Luthor? You with us?" 

"Not at the moment, no," Luthor mutters from the pavement, pushing himself up carefully and dusting his suit off with a mildly annoyed expression, like they're not currently in the middle of a half-destroyed city block while innumerable robot minions and Kal and Kara are all throwing down in the sky overhead. "Hn. Is there a reason the two of you are perched on one of Superman's pet teenagers? The more annoying one, even?" 

"Convenient bullet-catcher," Mercy replies dismissively, shooting down a couple more of the aerial robots. 

"Also surprisingly obedient," Hope muses. 

"Asshole, I literally just saved your life and fucked up half an army of shitty robots to keep it saved, and as for you two, I did your fucking jobs for you, and all three of you are all gonna be shitheads to me about it?" Kon demands in exasperation. "Seriously?" 

"Seems like a reasonable source of entertainment for the afternoon," Luthor says, idly watching Mercy shoot down a few more of the airborne robots. "Given that Superman's being inconsiderately dull and not getting himself punched nearly hard enough." 

"Let me the fuck up already," Kon says flatly. 

"Oh, that hit was a slight improvement," Luthor says musingly as he gets to his own feet and finishes dusting himself off, clearly far more interested in watching Kal get knocked around by the aerial robots than anything else. Kon flips him off on principle. Mercy pistol-whips him for it. It doesn't really hurt, which bemuses him enough to lay off the rude hand gestures. She's an Amazon, probably. Almost definitely. Either way, she definitely could've made that actually hurt. 

So that's weird. 

Actually a lot of weird has been happening in this whole stupid interaction, really, which is what Kon gets for saving fucking Lex Luthor's life. 

Something explodes really loudly in the distance, which is probably the command center that Steel was supposed to be dealing with because all the remaining robots jerk violently and then drop out of the sky like rocks all at once and crash into the ground. Which��thank fuck. 

"Hm," Mercy says, holstering her gun as she glances around the smashed-up street and finally gets off Kon. "We might actually make your three o'clock, Mr. Luthor." 

"Unfortunate, given that I'm fairly certain my three o'clock is good ol' Brucie Wayne," Luthor says dryly. Hope gets up too and, absolutely inexplicably, offers Kon a hand up. He's so fucking bemused that he actually takes it, and she pulls him to his feet. "That man is absolutely unbearable." 

"Mmm, I don't know, Hope and I usually find Mr. Wayne good for a bit of afternoon delight," Mercy drawls, sounding amused. 

"Ew," Kon mutters reflexively as he lets go of Hope's hand and makes a face. Then he wonders what the fuck kind of kryptonite that stealth kryptonite is, because picturing two dangerous and gorgeous Amazons making a sandwich out of a slutty Gothamite playboy shouldn't be making him say "ew". Like, that is very literally the last thing that should ever be making him say "ew". Ever. 

Seriously, what the fuck. 

Luthor looks back over at them. 

And then he frowns. 

"Hope," he says. "Mercy." 

"Yes, sir?" Hope asks. 

"What the hell are those?" Luthor says. 

Hope and Mercy frown too. Then they look at each other. Look each other over. And . . . pause. 

"Oh," Hope says. 

"What the fuck," Mercy says. 

Kon has no idea what they're all frowning about, but whatever. An annoyed supervillain and his annoyed bodyguards are not his also-annoyed problem, at least not as long as they're not actively trying to murder Kal or blow up Metropolis or whatever. He's just gonna go make sure everybody he actually gives a shit about is okay, and then get back to–

Hope and Mercy's frowns deepen, and then they both flick their eyes towards him. 

"Bullshit," Mercy says, her eyes narrowing. 

"What, do you think it was one of the drones?" Hope asks dubiously, raising an eyebrow. 

"He's a damn man," Mercy says accusingly. "Worse, a damn boy!" 

"Excuse you?" Kon says, bristling reflexively. He's technically eighteen, okay? Or at least the rough equivalent of eighteen, whatever. 

"I will say, not quite what I pictured for either of your types," Luthor says, looking Kon over with an unimpressed expression. 

Oh, gross. 

"Annnnnd I'm out," Kon says firmly as he lifts off the ground, because Lex Luthor just checked him out and he needs to go gag now. And like, scrub the entire memory from his brain. 

Hope grabs his shoulder and shoves him back down onto his feet. 

"You're our soulmate, kid," she says matter-of-factly. Kon . . . blinks. 

"The fuck?" he says, and Hope points down at herself. He looks. There's a soulmark wrapped halfway around her right thigh, which is . . . weird, actually, because he doesn't remember her having a soulmark there earlier, especially not such a big and flashy one, and . . . 

What the fuck, Kon thinks. He looks over at Mercy and sees the exact same soulmark showing through her stockings in the exact same place on her own thigh. He doesn't remember seeing it there before either. 

It's . . . well, it's a soulmark, he guesses. It's gold–like, several different shades of gold, but all of them metallic and gleaming. He can see the shine of the mark even through Mercy's stockings. It looks like a mosaic of a stylized sun, all intricate rays and bright circles and interlocking shapes, and it takes up a hell of a lot of real estate, going all the way from just above their knees to who knows how high up under their skirts. It's . . . well, it's pretty. 

Actually, it's beautiful, and Kon kind of wants to touch it. To touch both of them, more specifically, ideally at the same time. 

And still not in the pervy way. 

So that's a bad sign, definitely. 

"Take your pants off," Mercy orders impatiently. 

"How about 'hell no'?" Kon says, because yeah he has literally no sense of shame or self-consciousness but Luthor was just eyeballing him like a weirdo and he very much does still want to go make sure nobody he gives a shit about got fucked up by a morally dubious robot or anything. And like–okay, fine, apparently he has soulmates and apparently those soulmates are both drop-dead gorgeous Amazons, but like . . . he doesn't actually give a fuck right now, and also they both work for Lex Luthor, so that kinda doesn't bode well for any kind of long-term relationship or whatever anyway? Like, this is very much about to be another Knockout scenario. Knockout in stereo, even. 

Ugh.

"I said take your pants off," Mercy repeats in annoyance. 

"Again, hell no," Kon tells her. 

Mercy grabs for his belts. Kon dodges her. 

"Hey!" he says. Mercy glowers at him. Hope folds her arms. 

"It's obviously him, Mercy," she says with a sigh. "We haven't touched anyone else but each other and Lex in at least an hour, and any of us would've triggered a mark long before now." 

"He's a child," Mercy bites off. 

"I'm eighteen, kind of!" Kon protests indignantly. If he had to forcibly lose sixteen-odd years of his natural lifespan, at least people could fucking acknowledge him as a fucking adult. Like, is that too much to ask?

"You're two," Luthor says dryly. "'Kind of'." 

"Oh, fuck you," Kon snaps, scowling at him and also not sure how he feels about the fact that the fucking weirdo actually knows how old he is. Like, why the fuck does he know that? 

"A literal child," Mercy says witheringly. "A literal child is our literal soulmate. In a V-shaped triad, of all things!" 

Honestly, if somebody'd told Kon half an hour ago that he had two soulmates and said soulmates were a pair of smoking hot older women dressed like professional escorts who could both kick his ass due to being unconfirmed Amazons, and he was the focal point of their V-shaped triad? He would have very literally needed to go have a lie-down until he recovered enough to get some bloodflow back to his brain. And it would've had to be a very, very long lie-down. 

Right now, though, it's just like . . . a thing, he guesses. A very weird thing that makes absolutely no sense whatsoever, as far as he's concerned. 

"Well, he'll mature," Hope says resignedly. "Theoretically." 

"Oh, that's a turn-on," Mercy snorts. 

"Look, whatever, I'm not into you two either but I'm not being a prick about it, am I?" Kon says in exasperation, folding his arms. 

The other three all pause. Then they all turn their heads to look at him. 

"You're not?" Luthor says, sounding mystified. "What, neither of them?" 

"Not that it's any of your damn business, but no," Kon says, wondering what his life has come to that he's actually answering the asshole supervillain right now. 

". . . you know, you could just come out to Superman, it's not actually necessary to so aggressively pretend to be straight," Luthor says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Kon, again, wonders how and why this weirdo knows anything about him, much less enough to have an opinion about his sexual orientation and the way he expresses it. "I mean, you'll have to put up with him 'validating your identity' every five minutes, I'm sure, but he isn't going to disown you or whatever nonsense you're expecting." 

"I'm bi, asshole, and I am out to Superman," Kon says in exasperation. Who, admittedly, did kind of spend a couple months validating his identity every five minutes after he came out to him, but that's neither here nor there. "It's possible to just not be into someone." 

"But you're not into either of them," Luthor says, eyes narrowing in consideration. "And they're your soulmates." 

". . . oh gods," Mercy says in horrified realization, putting her hands over her face and staring at Kon through her splayed fingers. "Hope. Hope, are we fucking parents?!" 

". . . huh," Hope says, tilting her head. 

Kon blinks at both of them. Then stares at both of them. 

"Are you high?" he says incredulously. "There is literally no damn way!" 

"Really? Because it'd be one thing if you weren't sexually attractive to either of them yet," Luthor says, still eyeing him assessingly. "You're barely past jailbait, physiologically speaking, and that's frankly being generous. But neither of them is sexually attractive to you?" 

"It's possible to just not be into someone!" Kon protests again. "That doesn't mean they're my moms, for fuck's sake! It could just be, I don't know, platonic or something! Or a sibling bond!" 

Not that those options aren't just as weird and doomed as a romantic bond would be, obviously, but at least they'd make more sense than a parental one would. 

"Amazons only get sister bonds, brat," Mercy says dubiously, which Kon guesses makes sense but also makes him feel a little–never mind. Never mind how it makes him feel. 

He doesn't like how it makes him feel, though. For reasons that he's just . . . not ever gonna examine. 

Ever. 

"Yeah, well, last I heard nobody ever proved you two were real Amazons anyway," he snaps back defensively, clenching his fists at his sides. 

"It's adorable that you think we care what anyone else thinks," Mercy snorts, rolling her eyes. 

Kon very literally cannot imagine just not caring what anyone else thinks to that degree. Like–not ever. 

Must be nice, though.

[talesfrommedinastation]

My redneck neighbor Doug on 'Tribe'

When not turning his home into a giant light hazard for Jesus's Birthday or getting into yelling fights in the alley with Bobby Lee (another redneck neighbor who is a DIE HARD 'Bama fan) about SEC football, Doug's been randomly texting me things about the Jedi.

I'll update y'all on that soon enough. (Plo Koon = Sexy Shrimp Daddy?!)

Meanwhile, here is his review of his favorite episode of Season 2 of The Bad Batch...TRIBE, or as Doug calls it 'Chewbacca Junior and the Weed Business'.

Yes, a random fetch quest one in which Clone Force 99 helps out a random Wookiee kid. His favorite. Don't ask.

Need a Doug refresher? Check it out under Doug Talks Star Wars here.

TW: Doug Doug's as is his Doug-like wont. Hold onto your butts. A little calmer since Daddy Warcrimes is MIA in this one.

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

So we got Daddy Rambo and the gang making counterfeit licenses for underage drinkers or whatever. You gotta do what you gotta do, I guess, and Daddy Rambo will do a lot of things, but obtaining gainful employment ain’t one of them. 

Ryan-from-Accounting is smug as hell about his counterfeiting operation. You’re so smart, Ryan-from-Accounting, why don’t you go to law school and start practicing corporate licensing? At least you can get equity there, ya dingaling.

And Little Orphan Blondie runs away because she’s embarrassed to be seen around them. I get it, kid.

Woah, it’s Chewbacca Junior! Are the lizard and robot people trying to sell him to the circus or something? Oh, he’s a Jedi?! When did this happen, this is awesome! I loved Chewbacca! I love Wookiees! AWESOME!!!

And Little Orphan Blondie is protecting him, go Little Orphan Blondie, go! 

I hope they adopt Chewbacca Junior and get him a collar and a nice bed on the floor of the HMS Search Warrant. They need a pet. Little Orphan Blondie can brush him and put bows in his hair! Do you think he uses a litter box?

They’re taking him home, and look! Little Orphan Blondie is giving him her Lunchables. I’m proud of the Dad Batch, they’re teaching Little Orphan Blondie good morals. Oh, poor wee Chewbacca Junior, he has no family and when he talks it sounds like Jimmers when he’s treed a squirrel*.

But Ryan-from-Accounting can understand him! Ya know, I wonder if his helmet can translate Bitch and that’s how Ryan-from-Accounting talks to his Bitch Wife Laura. 

It would be awesome if they adopt Chewbacca Junior and he attacks people with his lightsaber. He’s like a pet version of an MR-15! Imagine the DAMAGE his furry ass would do on the battlefield! 

Ooh, they made it to Wookieeland! Ya know, it always reminded me of where Jenny and I used to camp in northern California. I wonder if there’s a brewery nearby? I bet Toaster Strudel needs to throw back, that man needs a beer and a restraining order from Daddy Rambo. 

Oh SHIT, looks like the bugs from Klendathu made their way down to Wookieeland. Somebody call the Starship Troopers! Oh, wait, they can talk to those things like Dougie Houser did? Woah. Neat. 

Looks like the Empire found the Wookiee weed farm and torched it. Poor Wookiees, they’re just trying to make an honest living growing herb. Leave ‘em alone!

Which planet makes meth, my money’s on Tatooine, it looks like New Mexico and that place is meth Disneyland, there was a whole TV show about it. 

(Above is...Tatooine?! - Dr Meat Muffin)

Oh man it’s Houma-BBQ-Bitch’s shitty brothers and they’re burning the whole weed operation to the ground. Guess they work for the DEA.

Kick their asses, Wookiees! Now they want Chewbacca Junior, but the Dad Batch is saying FUCK YOU! 

Go Dad Batch go! Fire ‘em up! Destroy the tanks! GO JULIO GO! It’s like Apocalypse Now with Bigfoot!

More Wookiees! And they’re riding giant monkey-cats! AWESOME. Man, I feel stoned just watching this episode. Why can't I stop giggling.

Granny Wookiee says come on in and have some weed! Oh, shit, are they doing ayahuasca? Toaster Strudel ain’t having it, but Julio’s down. Julio’s down for anything, he’s probably gonna stick around, use his pipe laying skills, and get some free ganga out of the deal. Man, we all need a Julio in our life. Love him. 

Oh, poor Chewbacca Junior can’t find a home. Come on, Granny Wookiee, just let him crash with you guys! He can clip weed on the side, he’s got that lightsaber, let ‘em have it. But first, let’s talk to the trees! Did they take mushrooms before this scene, Jesus Christ this really does take place in Humboldt County, doesn’t it.

Ah, nevermind, the gators that run the DEA are here. With Stormtroopers. Oh shit, are the gators wearing Wookiee pelts while fighting Wookiees? That’s some Silence of the Lambs shit right there.

Welp, time for fire fights, Smokey the Bear does not approve of this episode, especially as one of the lizard men chases Chewbacca Junior and Little Orphan Blondie into the woods with a flamethrower. 

Oh shit, there are the bugs! Shit, am I actually cheering on the bugs from Starship Troopers? What is going on here, I’m so confused. Whelp, they’re eating Houma-BBQ-Bitch’s brother, good for them.

Back to Granny Wookiee’s Pot Palace, where Toaster Strudel and Julio throw back her questionable moonshine and smile at each other. If they end up with Wookiee girlfriends, it will be weird, but I will be happy for them. 

And Little Orphan Blondie and Chewbacca Junior are talking to the trees, again. Just watching this episode makes me wanna go back to Electric Forest. Except I don’t think Oceana County has wookiees, but it does have crazy people in the woods I guess. 

*=Jimmers is Doug’s extremely handsome poodle mix dog. His full name is Jimmers Jimothy Jimerson III and they found him as a stray when he was eating trash behind a bowling alley in Nacogdoches. 

Where my Doug fans at? @amalthiaph @eyecandyeoz @merkitty49 @sued134 are the biggest, but let me know if ya wanna be tagged in the next installment!

[xxshadowcasterxx]

THE MAGNUS PROTOCOL 10 SPOILERS, ANALYSIS, and THEORIES.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygod

First off, we start with that interview about Bonzo, the clown suit turned murder machine

Then we have Colin (who is ALIVE) hacking into the OIAR Computers and Celia drinking the SUS coffee

Then we get into the meat and potatoes of the episode

1. Gwen does a run to the house of Nigel, the guy who made Bonzo. He gets a letter FOR Bonzo, supposedly with an address that targets somebody for Bonzo to kill. (Interview mentioned 3 new murders, which Nigel denies any involvement with.)

2. ALICE AND SAM AT THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE RUINS

Sam finds a box with a key (we don't know what for yet.) He and Alice walk around and we get some very interesting details about the Institute ruins

-Worm tracks recognized by Alice (Jane Prentiss/Corruption was definately here.)

-Hole opens up underneath the ruins (Leading into tunnels?)

-Alice finds something labeled Archi (Presumably originally having read Archives or Archivist).

OTHER IMPORTANT DETAILS

*WE HEAR THE CLICK OF A TAPE RECORDER*

One of the devices used to listen in on Sam and Alice is A Tape Recorder, presumably the SAME tape recorder that once was used by Jon, as it was found in the Archi Room

Another detailis that Sam is looking for something specific, but he isn't quite sure what it is. He has fragmented memories of his time at the Institute, and one of the things he wonders about specifically is *why he wasn't chosen for something.*

We also hear someone BREATHING as Alice and Sam leave the Institute, breathing that sounds suspiciously familiar...

THEORIES

-Sam is a FAILED AVATAR

It has been speculated that in this universe The Magnus Institute was trying to CREATE Avatars of this world's version of the Fears, evidence for this being shown by the reports mentioning them taking in "Subjects" and "Strange Artifacts"

In Episode 10, Sam mentions that They, presumably The Magnus Institute, didn't choose him for Something. I believe that this "Something" is the ability to become an Avatar. Something about Sam made him ineligible, unable to be an Avatar. I believe this will be explored later.

-The OIAR is The Magnus Institute

I believe that the OIAR is a recreation of the Magnus Institute, run by the same people with similar goals in mind. There are parallels between the two businesses that seem significant to say the least.

WHAT IS THE STORY/WHERE IS IT GOING?

The Two collect and organize Statements or Records of Supernatural incidents. What's especially interesting is that in The Magnus Archives, Gertrude mentions that organizing the Statements only helps the Institute work faster. It was their GOAL to organize Statments, and that is what the OIAR is doing.

This leads me to also believe that Lena is or was one of the most important people at The Institute, either working as an Archivist herself or perhaps even being Head of the Institute, similar to Elias in TMA

I believe that I have pieced together an Idea of what the Story of TMAGP is and where it is headed, given the evidence we have so far.

IMPORTANT EVENTS

-The Magnus Institute begins to collect "Gifted Kids" in order to experiment on them and try to create Avatars

-Nigel Dickerson airs on Channel 6 with his show "Nigel's SOS"

-Introduction of Mr. Bonzo

-Bonzoland (Never Finished)

-Murders by Bonzo

-The Magnus Institute Burns (Cover Up)

WHAT HAPPENED?

The Magnus Institute began a program for "Gifted Children." We know of two people who were involved in this program: Sam and Gerry Keay. The two of them (separately) leave the Institute, both of which being "Ineligible" for whatever experiments the Institute was preforming.

These experiments and/or attempts at creating new Avatars of the Fears left both Gerry and Sam with large gaps in their memory.

Gerry: "Yeah, I barely remember any of it."

Gerry: "Oh yeah, but I was pretty young. I remember filling in a bunch of forms and questionnaires, then some old men asking me questions about what books I liked to read, who did I look up to, that kind of thing. And then I left."

Sam: "I have… I have memories of weird stuff I saw here, but no context. I want to know what was happening, why they chose us… why they didn’t choose me. Maybe find the bit where everything started to go wrong.

But… it’s too late. And now… I’m the only one left who cares."

Sam: "I was on one of their gifted kids programs and – um – I got hold of a list of a few of the other kids, and thought it might be nice if we could get in contact, swap stories and that…"

These experiments were done so that possible candidates for New Avatars could be chosen. Both Gerry and Sam were rejected.

It is also revealed that The Magnus Institute burned down sometime after these experiments were stopped or shut down after discovery.

I believe that The Magnus Institute fire, which occurred in 1999, was done by the higher-ups of TMI in order to cover up whatever experiments they were doing.

At first, this might seem incredibly contrary to the known behavior of the Institute, which was built for the very purpose of Storing and Organizing Knowledge for the Eye. Wouldn't burning it and destroying all of the Statements stored there hurt the Eye?

It would. Except, the Statements weren't destroyed. They were moved.

This leads into my belief that the OIAR is the Magnus Institute, simply disguised as a new Business. It was created with the intention of moving the Statements and both organizing them and preserving them through the use of the Computers. This would prevent them from the risk of being destroyed by something like Fire, which was established to be a way to hurt the Eye in TMA.

However, there is still one thing preventing the OIAR from fully covering their tracks. And that is the Failed Avatars.

I think that the OIAR, specifically Lena, is killing the old Avatar experiments in order to prevent anyone from knowing about the Institute's actions in the first place. And she's using Bonzo to do it.

In episode 10, we see Gwen Bouchard, who has been newly appointed by Lena as some kind of "Inside Man," making a delivery to none other than Nigel Dickerson, the creator (and possible host) of Bonzo.

Bonzo the Clown is a living creature, one mentioned to "hate being stared at." This aligns him with the Stranger, who is directly opposed to the Ceaseless Watcher.

He is given an Address by Gwen, which supposedly leads to some kind of target for Bonzo to kill.

I believe this target will be one of the Failed Avatars, possibly even Gerard Keay himself, as well as Gertrude Robinson. They would be killed by the OIAR to prevent any leaks of information.

Another lose thread in the OIAR's plan is Colin, who seems to have discovered something about the Magnus Institute and is well aware of the OIAR's habit of "Silencing" those with information.

This is what leads him to spiral and believe that any device near him is "Watching" him. He's correct in this assumption, of course, but wrong about Who it is that's Watching. He believes it to be the OIAR, but in reality I have come to the conclusion that it's one of two possibilities.

One: The Eye, or more specifically, Jonathan Sims, Former Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

A very popular theory where everyone's favorite wet cat, Jonathan "I know what a meme is" Sims, has been trapped inside of the OIAR's computer system.

Evidence to support this is the use of his voice in the reading of Important Documents, named "Chester" by Alice.

This theory suggests that after the events of The Magnus Archives, Jon's death successfully caused the Fears to travel to another universe. Since he was so tightly connected with the Eye at that time, being "The Pupil" of it, he was also supposedly transported into the world of TMAGP.

If this were the case, then it begs the question as to why Jon and the Eye would be trapped in the Computers specifically. Not just computers, seemingly every electronic device, as we see the "Listeners" also use phones and even televisions to Watch/Listen into conversations.

Two: The Web, or Us, The Audience

It was established clearly in TMA that the characters were being recorded/listened to by Tape recorders controlled by Annebelle Cane, and subsequently the Web. As Audience members, we are also apart of the Web when we listen in to these conversations through these devices. It's possible that this is the same case in The Magnus Protocol.

These are all the theories I have and am able to support with evidence. If you have any input, responses, etc, let me know!