#it's fun watching DR infect your brain

[windcarvedlyre]

Red green blue rot midnight(<-I have no context to your yttd playthough but having a lot of fun watching you draw red conspiracy strings everywhere theorizing about murders(??) and dolls)

😳👉👈

But green? My good sir, I have not shown anyone my face. Are you into Komaeda, perhaps? :p

And ty! I have no idea what the hell is going on and I'm the one playing it.

[labrxnth]

Prison Break- Part 4 (Leon Kennedy x Reader series)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

CW: Death Island spoilers, suicide thoughts/intentions

WC: 2572

Summary: You and your co-worker Leon Kennedy are sent on a mission to rescue a kidnapped robotic engineer Dr. Antonio Taylor. The journey for him leads the two of you to somewhere you thought you would never go, Alcatraz.

A/N: I guess Tumblr fucking shadow banned me. The last part got flagged. Idk if this part will or not so.... have fun I guess. Also, remember how at the beginning of this fic I said that this was me trying to remember the lines from a month ago? Yeah… it’s really starting to show now

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“Leon?” Jill asked, her eyes looking over him. The pair stared at each other, trying to process the words that they were thinking. 

“You got a gun?” Leon asked. 

“No,” she replied. Leon’s hand went into his vest, pulling out a handgun and twirling it, so the hand grip was facing her and he was holding the barrel. 

“Now you do,” He said and lightly smirked. 

“Thanks,” she replied, taking the gun and making sure it was loaded. 

As if on cue, an infected stumbled through the waterways towards them. 

“Uh Jill, any idea why that’s here?” Leon asked, firing bullets at it and the one behind it. 

“Those… used to be tourists,” she replied, shooting them as well. 

“That’s some fucked up tour,” Leon retorted and watched the two go down.

A slithering sound cut across the water of the sewers. Both of their eyes darted to where the sound came from. The sewers were dark, the few between lights on the cobblestone being the only source of light. 

Leon could’ve sworn the light was playing tricks on him as he watched something <em>emerge</em> from the water. 

The creature crawled up onto the stone walkway, on all fours. It’s brain was exposed and it didn’t have any eyes. 

A licker was the one thing that Leon could’ve gone his entire life without running into again.

Scratch that, there were <em>multiple</em> things that Leon could go his entire life without seeing again. But lickers were definitely high on that list. 

It crawled towards Leon and Jill, almost sniffing the air trying to get their scent. They were completely still, looking at each other in agreement to deal with it quietly. The wet footprints echoed through the hall as it made its way towards the two. 

After it got a little too close for comfort, they aimed their guns at the licker’s brain and unloaded their bullets. As if their day couldn’t get any better, the licker growled at them and started running. 

“Uh oh,” Leon said, taking aim at the creature. 

More shadowy figures emerged from the water and like ants, more lickers joined the one. Eyes widening and curses flowing, Jill and Leon turned tail and ran down the walkway. 

“How many are there?!” Jill yelled as they ran, ocasionally reaching behind herself to fire a bullet. 

“I ain’t stopping to count!” Leon replied, almost scoffing. Ahead of them, Leon saw a box with a hazmat symbol on it- a flammable hazmat symbol. “Move!” He said. 

Jill rounded the corner coming up and Leon dropped the box to the ground. With a light kick, he sent it down the hallway. His eyes tracked the barrel with the sights of his Sentinel and he pulled the trigger, quickly dodging around the corner. 

Licker corpses, flames, and smoke flew past them, Leon’s hand going up to shield himself. After the chaos died down, Leon took a few deep breaths. 

“Zero,” he said and looked around the corner. 

Jill, who was also trying to catch her breath, looked at him confused. Her eyes squinted and brows furrowed. “What?” She asked. 

“You asked me how many there were,” Leon replied, a slight smirk on his face as he leaned against the brick wall. 

Jill blinked a few times, looking at him, not believing how he could be like this. They took a few more seconds to recoup and got moving again. 

Footsteps echoes through the waterways at the two of them kept moving. “So, how the hell did you get dragged into this?” Jill asked, looking ahead. 

“Me and my field partner are tracking down a robotics engineer who was doing some black market trading, the usual,” He replied. 

“Field partner? I don’t see them,” Jill said, her interest piqued. Her head turned towards him, expecting him to answer with an explanation.

“It seems like I lost her,” Leon said. “She’s tough though… she’ll make it through.”

Jill scoffed a bit, in a friendly manner. “If she’s the agent that Chris has told me about, then she’ll be fine. She can handle herself,” Jill said.

“She can,” Leon said determined. “I’m in for an earful about us getting separated though,” he added, slightly chuckling. 

“I like her already,” Jill retorted. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

“Antonio Taylor? No his name is Tony Ramirez,” Claire said, staring at you. She coughed, leaning forward, leading you to sit next to her with your hand on her shoulder. 

“No, me and Leon are tracking him down, he’s definitely our guy,” you replied gently. 

Your eyes stared at the man across the cell from you and Claire. He was older, balding, and looked terrified. His eyes were almost shaking in their sockets. 

“We’re all dead…” he whimpered, crawling more in the corner. 

You rolled your eyes and looked at the top of the cell, trying to find any faults in the bars. “Chris, when did you two get grabbed?” You asked, wondering how much time they’ve been here for. 

“About 15 minutes,” Chris gruffly replied. His voice was as tired and strained as Claire’s. The clock was ticking for all of you and your hope was in your partner. 

“Don’t worry…. Leon will get to us,” you said, smiling a bit at Claire. 

Your hope for Leon never faltered. Not since your first mission together, especially not after the mission in New York. You knew that Leon always found a way, no matter the stakes. 

And he always found his way to you. 

“Hurry up Leon…” You said under your breath. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Leon and Jill were making their way to the others, the walkways had turned into tunnels they had to crawl through. He pulled one of his gloves off with his teeth, putting it in one of the pockets on his tactical vest. 

The only light in the tunnel was from their flashlights as they made their way through. 

“So, your black market engineer… gonna tell me more?” Jill asked, trying to pass the time. She looked ahead the best that she could with Leon in front of her, trying to find any shapes in the dark. Having someone with her helped, but her brain still played out the worst scenario possible. Either the night in the Spencer mansion, September of 1998, or Wesker brainwashing her plagued her vision when she was alone.  

“Taylor? Yeah. He was making robotics for the government then decided to sell U.S. secrets to anyone willing to pay,” Leon replied, trying his best to look ahead. “And I guess ‘Bounty Hunter’ is a part of me and (Y/n)’s job description now. Why are you here?” His voice cut through Jill’s thoughts. 

“Me, Chris, and Claire are here tracking down some virus readings,” Jill replied. “Claire found some virus culture on a whale and double checked it with Rebecca. She roped me and Chris into looking into it.” 

“It seems like our cases are intertwined,” Leon replied. 

Jill looked at the tunnel they were crawling through, her eyes climbing up the brick walls. “What were these tunnels even made for?” She wondered out loud. 

“They were munition tunnels made back when this was a fort,” Leon answered without skipping a beat. 

“Didn’t know you were a tour guide,” Jill replied. 

Leon’s chuckle cut the tension in the tunnel. “I’ll be putting ‘your guide on me résumé,” he chuckled. Jill almost bumped into him when he stopped short, his hand going in the air. 

“What?” Jill whispered. 

“Can’t you feel it? There’s a draft…” Leon replied, his hand moving to right to feel the stone bricks. Feeling around them, he found one that gave when he pushed in. “Bingo..” he added and pushed it in, it falling to the ground. 

Jill got the idea and started helping him clear the poorly set bricks, making an exit for them. 

“After you,” Leon said, gesturing for Jill to go first. 

“Ladies first,” Jill replied and gestured for him to go. 

“Fine,” Leon grumbled and crawled through the exit. 

His feet hit regular concrete flooring and he was able to fully stand up. Shining his flashlight around, they must’ve been in a storage room. “It’s clear,” he said back to Jill who followed him. 

The two walked towards the door, opening it to a room with monitors and control panels everywhere along a wall. File cabinets, pipes, and white board adorned the rest of the room. 

Leon walked to the middle of it, looking around to try and find a clue about his missing doctor. Jill joined him, looking around the console. 

Suddenly, the PA system came to life and a voice cut through the room over the speakers. “Well if it isn’t Jill Valentine and Leon Kennedy,” the voice said. 

Jill and Leon stood back to back, their guns drawn faster than the blink of an eye. 

“Well, if it isn’t… whoever you are,” Leon replied. 

“Come on out and we won’t bite,” Jill said. 

“Meet me in the holding cells.. I have a few things, sorry, <em>people</em>, that you’re looking for,” the voice replied and the speakers turned off. 

Leon and Jill’s eyes locked and they ran towards the holding cells. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Over the past ten minutes, you and the Redfields had definitely deteriorated. Your breathing was more labored, feeling the shortness in your lungs, and you felt fatigued, sluggish. Every once in awhile, a cough escaped you, it ringing in your ears and chest. 

Looking across the cell from you at Claire, you could tell she wasn’t doing well either. You could only guess what Chris was like on the other side of the wall Claire was up against. 

You heart the sound of two pairs of boots hitting the ground, rubbing towards the cells. 

“Chris!” You heard Leon say. As he got closer, he saw Claire and you in the cell. “Claire, (Y/n)!” He said and ran over to the bars. Reaching through the rusted iron bars, his hand felt your forehead, then your cheeks, checking your temperature. 

“Shit, you’re burning up,” he said. 

If you weren’t so pressed for time, you would’ve been thankful for him. He looked like an angel swooping down from heaven to save you. In your delirious state, you saw how his shirt sleeve was tight around his bicep muscles and took a mental picture. Claire coughing snapped you back to reality. 

“I’m fine,” you said and pulled his hand away, coughing into your elbow. “Claire and Chris have been here longer…” you added. 

“Are you okay?” Leon asked the two of you. 

“I’m okay,” Claire replied, obviously lying. 

You were about to say something when the sound of a door opening caught all of your attention. Leon and Jill pointed their guns towards the balcony and you and Claire only had the strength to look in the direction. 

Out walked two figures, one you had met before. The same, blank face that you met on the highway yesterday. Maria stood next to a man that you had never seen before in your life. He looked around Chris’s age, his hair was medium length and dark. He carried a cane with him that he rhymically tapped on the ground; the sound on the metal catwalk pierced your ears. 

“I wouldn’t point your gun at me,” he said, looking at Jill and Leon. “Claire and (Y/n) are both infected, in a cell with Dr. Antonio Taylor. Soon enough Claire will turn, killing Taylor and eventually (Y/n) if she doesn’t turn fast enough.” 

Your blood ran cold as you thought about this being how your life ended. You spent the past few years trying to defeat the virus, only to be infected in the end. That and you could t even confess your long time feeling for your work partner. This was a shitty way to go. 

Claire looked up at you, her eyes conveying everything you needed to know. She was exhausted, and rightfully so, but somewhere deep in that exhaustion was the usual Redfield determination that could move mountains and punch boulders. 

“I wonder… will you shoot Claire and (Y/n)? Shoot just Claire and let your partner turn, or let them both turn and watch them rip Taylor limb from limb?” The man on the balcony asked. 

Leon looked in the cell, the gears in his head obviously turning and quick. He couldn’t shoot you even if you were turning and begging him to. You were his one weakness in the world, he couldn’t lay a finger on you to hurt you.

And Claire… the two of them had been through hell and back, being two of a handful of survivors of Raccoon City. They were friends, thick as thieves for awhile. Letting the two of you get taken by infection wasn’t what he wanted, but he <em>couldn’t</em> shoot either of you.

“Leon… it’s okay… do what you have to,” you said and coughed, looking at him. You knew what the correct choice was. Death by infection plagued your nightmares over and over again as you fell asleep. It was a scary possibility for the job you had, and now that possibility was your reality. 

“I can’t…” he said quietly, looking at you. The rhythmic tapping from the man’s cane hit the balcony again, making you wince. 

He pulled out a revolver and shot it towards your cell. Instinctively, your arms went around your head, to somehow protect it, but you felt nothing. Your blood went cold as you thought of the possibility of him shooting Claire. Shaking, your arms went down to find Claire staring back at gou, equally as fine and confused. You two turned to look at Dr. Taylor and saw a gun shot wound in his chest. The man fell over, collapsing to the ground.

Leon grunted in pain, his hand swatting his neck. Maria vaulted over the balcony and landed on the bottom floor, her eyes dead set on Leon. She punched Jill in the stomach and kicked Leon in the torso, sending him flying into the bars of your cell and laying on the floor. His back was right up against the bars. 

She went to kick him again, but the man’s voice cut through the room. “Leave him, the infection will kill him,” he said. Maria glared at you and Leon, then made her way back up to the balcony. 

“Leon…” You said and grabbed his arm through the bars. He wiggled his arm out of your hold and replaced it with his hand, looking at you. 

Your forehead leaned against the bars, <em>almost like it was against his forehead</em>. His head leaned up against the same ones and it felt like you two were the only two in the room. Everybody else faded away as you could still hear talking and everything melted away until it was just the two of you. You heard the familiar cadence and tone of Leon’s voice, he was talking, but you couldn’t make out what it was. His eyes were still locked on yours, wincing every once in a while. 

Just like the mission in New York, it was just the two of you.

And just like that mission in New York, you could’ve sworn you meant the world to him. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* : ｡ﾟ☆. ───

Catch this early on my AO3

[bucknastysbabe]

OOP FOUND A FUN ONE

Prompt #452

Humans have an insatiable appetite for the minerals and other resources that are required to build robot and computer slaves. These natural resources are excavated from deep within the Earth's crust by a team of robots with enhanced artificial intelligence. You are a scientist who controls these robots through a cybernetic device implanted in your brain. But the robots have become self-aware – and are learning to control their master.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: TW: Violence, mind control, mention of assault, pnv!sex, we fackin robots, robot!bucky, dystopian!au, touch starved buck buck he’s a good boy, angst, open ending

Fracture - B. Barnes

A general term to include any kind of discontinuity in a body of rock if produced by mechanical failure, whether by shear stress or tensile stress. Fractures include faults, shears, joints, and planes of fracture cleavage.

The Pierce Corporation didn’t care about its expendable Cynernetics. They’d just send another team down. You were the lead scientist of this group, diving deep in planet XE-2A for Anthracite. Anything to keep the dying Earth alive just a bit longer. Holstering your stun gun you thumbed at the entry point of cybernetic implant in your brain. It had been bothering you recently— might need a trip to medbay soon.

Walker and Hodgkins, actual humans, watched over the multiple screens showing your crew. You let them have names, much to Walker’s chagrin. He was still sore on that demotion from not yielding enough minerals due to multiple uprisings under his leadership. Your team constantly was in the top echelon.

“See Walker, if you give them the illusion of choice, they’re much more eager to work,” you said, eyes scanning over Bucky working hard. The blonde glared at you and harrumphed, “They’re fucking machines, robots, AI designed by that prick Stark, you think they’re so obedient. Just wait.”

Hodgkins shrugged. Your implant spiked with pain, you wincing. Both pairs of eyes landed on you with concern. Shrugging them off you muttured, “Going to medbay, my chip port is off. Don’t fuck with the team, please.” Shuffling to through the dreary halls you sighed. Joining Pierce Corp you were hoping for more of the biological side, but they liked your leadership skills and stuck you down in the mines. The cold, uncaring, filled with god knows what mines.

You liked your team though. Let them take breaks, chat with them, sometimes come down to help out. Build a camaraderie. They were eerily close to human anyways, didn’t make much of a difference. Although you had to admit the new fellow didn’t sit right with your gut— he’d been transferred to your team recently. Didn’t want to take a name, just worked. He was under the notorious Rumlow before.

Cold eyes, snarky comments, vile sense of humor. He didn’t care much for you either, no matter how hard you had tried. Bucky, your best worker favorite, offered a pat on the shoulder and whispered, “He’s still messed up from Rumlow, don’t worry about it.” He flashed a pretty smile and you shook off your worries, Buck had a good way of making things seem better.

Another pang. You picked up the pace, growing fearful and agitated. If the chip didn’t work, you couldn’t get your bots back under your control. That meant a certain death. The coward Walker got lucky when they revolted on him. But it was unlikely they’d uprise.

A set of white doors opened and closed, a cleasing spray hosing you down, then the second pair opened. Dr. Banner looked up from his desk, raising a brow. Holding your hands up you joked, “Not the end of the world Banner, I’m not sick or infected with parasites. My inhibitor chip port keeps popping off with these sharp pains.”

He frowned and beckoned you over to lay down on a steel table, murmuring, “How long have you had these pains?” He waved a bright light in your pupils as you hummed, “Uh, about a month or so ago. They’ve gotten worse. First just random but now it’s irritating.”

“That’s strange. Haven’t heard of port issues. Maybe a wire went bad. Let me get an X-ray.”

You turned your head and he scanned the area, clicking his tongue. “Yep, bad wiring, want me to knock you out and take care of it now?” You nodded vigorously, begging, “Please! Driving me up a wall!”

Later on, you were in the mess hall with the other sector scientists, which usually was a dick showing contest. You and Yelena were the only females, usually sticking to your corner. Rumlow was recounting this female worker he’d cornered up and got her to suck him off after hours, Rollins and Sitwell eating it up like pigs.

“Maybe next time she’ll bite your dick off and do us all a favor,” you hollered over to the asshole. Eyes widened you sat back down abruptly, staring at Yelena in fear. You didn’t say that. You wouldn’t dare say that. What just happened?

Rumlow clicked his tongue and scoffed, “Oh shut it over there, everyone knows you and that silver armed freak have a little something-something going on.” You stammered, “I’m completely professional with my team Rumlow.” The blonde girl put a hand on your shoulder, shaking her head.

He stood up and leered at you, humming, “Mhmmm, if not then maybe you need to come to my quarters, might loosen you up a tad.”

“Fuck off Rumlow.”

“Bitch.”

It was quiet, you forking down your food, stomach in knots. Why did you say that earlier? It felt like you had a puppet pulling your mouth open. Yelena asked, “You alright?” Rubbing your port you mumbled, “I..I don’t know. Dr. Banner fixed my bad wire, maybe I just need a new replacement. It felt like something took control of me.”

Rumlow hollered across the hall again, “Hey, how’s that jackass A3-54 doing on your team now? Piece of work, think he’s too good to talk. Ain’t dumb enough to know he’s AI.”

The jolt in your body erupted again, sending you upright, slamming your hands on the table. “You’re all going to fucking die you bastards! And I know you’ll be first Rummy boy!” Rumlow advanced on you, snarling. He fell over on the table, out cold. Yelena holstered her weapon, set on stun. She eyed you and said, “Banner. Now.”

She briskly escorted you to the med bay again and declared upon entry, “Complete removal of inhibitor chip, something’s not right.” You tried to explain and then your vision grew tilted, blackness encompassing your vision.

Upon awakening the backup lights were on, red alarms flashing and blaring. You blinked open and felt your chip, still intact. Banner was dead on the floor, you held back a retch at Yelena’s lifeless body. Why were you still alive and what the fuck was going on? A voice prattled off in your head.

“Hi commander, it’s A3-54. Figured it was time for an overhaul before Pierce sends in the troops. Going to need you to manipulate a little override for me now, okay?”

Your body was moving, forcing you along step by step to Banner’s computer. You grunted in pain, “Stop…stop it..no!” Nasty laughter echoed in your head, other voices piping in. Tears slid down your face as you watched your fingers type in the codes, pulling up the interface for scientist and AI command chips.

“Fuck! Fuck please! Pierce will annihilate us all!,” you pled.

The override button was pressed, the sounds of cheering echoing in your scrambled brain. You crumpled to your knees, utter fear wracking your body. This place would be in flames before the end of the night. Catastrophic levels of hell. You slumped against the desk, head in your hands.

These robots were designed to be much stronger and durable. Without the control trip, you were powerless. The station would be turned around very, very quickly. You eyed your gun, contemplating ending it all. Shakily reaching for the weapon you held it to your temple.

“No!,” came a voice, “Put the fucking gun down.”

It was Bucky. Was he part of this? How could he— fuck. Your chest ached. Miserably moaning you responded, “What’s the goddamn point Buck? Go on, get out of range before the kill switch is activated.”

“Not without you. Where are you?”

“Med-bay. That fucking asshole killed Yelena and Banner.”

Staring at the two kind souls ripped to shreds, a familiar cold hand shook your shoulder. You lethargically stared at Bucky’s familiar face and croaked, “Why?” He gritted his jaw and picked you up easily, asking, “Where are the ships?” You laughed, “They’re probably being swarmed by now. We’re stuck on this rock.”

“I can tell you’re lying. Spit it,” he said, way too gentle.

Glaring at him you grumbled, “Bottom level. Top clearance. I should be able to get in. The smart ones will be there too.” Bucky grabbed Yelena’s gun and tucked it in his mining suit. You directed him toward the vaults, eventually making the robot put you down.

The pair of you made your way deeper and deeper down eerily greenish lit hallways. You finally mustered the courage to ask, “How long?” He raised a brow, interrupted by a hoarse sob, “How long did you know this was possible? I tried to be good, I cared for my team, I cared for,” you clamped your mouth shut. Shoving past Bucky you took the lead.

He called after you, catching up to wrap his titanium arm around your waist in a vice. Bucky’s chilly body was pressed tight behind you, artificially made lips brushing a sensitive ear. The brunette rasped, “I’ve been self-aware for a year now. But I didn’t know about the chip malfunction. The defective was talking about it but I thought it was impossible. You going to finish that sentence, commander?”

Tears streamed down your cheeks, Bucky wiping them away with synth-skin. He sighed, “You’re killing me right now, just say it.” Glaring the robot down you wheezed, “I cared for you. I care for you,” you pointed at him, “But I never would let this insolence slide if I heard of an overthrow.”

He frowned, looking painfully guilty. The rest of the walk was silent until reaching the huge doors containing the secret ship. A3-54 was making Rumlow open it up, the former master shaking with every movement. He was already profusely bleeding. A3 howled, “I’ll make you hurt worse, fucking hurry up!”

Blue synthetic blood and the red of human blood spattered the steel walls. You gasped in shock, wide-eyed look turned to the usually docile Bucky. His eyes looked hollow, sculpted lips turned down. The doors slid open to reveal the unharmed ship, shifting Rumlow with a slick squelch.

You felt sick. But you needed their bodies to figure this out. Bucky easily grabbed both of the deceased individuals, dragging them into the chamber. Right, hive mind currently. You slammed the lock on the door, sealing the space back up.

Rounding the back of the sleek ship, emblazoned with the grim logo of Pierce Corp, you keyed in, the walkway sliding down with a hiss. Bucky followed you in, still dragging the corpses. You hissed, “Put them in that compartment over there, please.”

You settled into the cockpit, placing the coordinates to the nearest home base. Bucky sat down next to you, still quiet. Only the clicking of the dash and hum of the thrusters starting up filled the void. The port opened and the ship zoomed off at hyper-speed.

“We have a day. I’ll have to relay a message soon. I’d like to be alone now.”

He didn’t move, metal hand crunching the steel arm of the chair. Bucky’s jaw clicked and shifted, eyes flickering around. He ground out, “I care for you too. It’s not in my programming. I should have reported A3 commander. Forgive me, please.”

You stared at his sorrowful blues for a long time, feeling numb. This was wrong. Everything was wrong. Why didn’t they put you in bio? You needed to send the message to base before they’d blast you on site.

Instead you ordered the robot, “Go pull out the cot.”

He nodded, eyes lighting up slightly. You kept your mind blank. “Lay on it,” came the addition. Confused orbs stared at you. Slowly you pulled off your gear, then the standard issue garb of your rank, dropping down to thin underwear. He got the point somewhere along the way, undressing frantically, arm whirring.

You eyed his frame, nakedness only hidden by issued briefs. Straddling perfectly crafted thighs you hummed, “Why did they even give you a cock?” Bucky’s cheeks purpled from the blue blood underneath. He stammered, “I- I- don’t know. Didn’t use it except for my hand.”

“Did you touch yourself to me BU-18?,” came your silky purr. He whispered, eyes closed in shame, “Yes commander, I did, many times.” You grabbed his hardened need and stroked it through the thin fabric, the poor thing gasping and whimpering.

“Never by anyone else, no other commanders, no team member on a lonely night?,” you hissed as jealousy grew in your gut.

His brows furrowed as you continued to pump his purpled cock, “Only you, you’re my ah! Commander. I serve you!” You palmed his cheek and growled, “Good boy. Obviously they wired you right.” He softly moaned your name, nuzzling into your warm touch. Like a reptile in a way, seeking warmth to heat their blood.

He stammered, “C-commander, can I kuh-kiss you please?” Bucky looked so pretty like this, your favorite strung out with need. For you. Leaning down your body pressed against his, full breasts pleasantly plastered to his huge chest. His artificial breathing ramped up, hands trembling at his sides.

“You can touch me Bucky, I forgive you, but don’t hide any secrets like that again.”

He pursed his lips, hands eagerly roaming your curves, tender and gentle. You tilted his head and chastely pressed your dry lips to his own, hand possessively holding a sharp jaw, thumb pressed up under on a pulsing vein. The brunette groaned into your mouth, a strangled attempt at your name. You took the chance to lap into his maw, lips sliding wetly.

You gently made contact with his tongue, Bucky jolting. Sensitive creatures. You chased it down again, your sweet boy whining through his nose as tongues tangled lethargically. His hands groped at you harder, massaging the softness of your ass. Bucky’s cock throbbed and pulsed underneath, needy.

You pulled back from his sweet lips, cooing, “You want to fuck me Bucky baby? Being such a good boy, getting me out of that death trap. Being loyal,” he whimpered again as your thumb played with his red lips.

“Please, I’ll be yours forever,” he promised. Deep in your heart and the hardwiring, you knew he meant it. Your own flesh and blood chest constricted at the strange emotions. You ran your fingers through soft hair and instructed for him to get on top. That was done easily with his impressive strength, Bucky now slotted between your thighs.

He closed his eyes again, slowing haphazard breath. You circled your thumbs into his hips, cooing, “Take your time, slow and steady Bucky. No rush.” He opened his eyes, blue orbs focused on your breasts, mouth coming down to suckle. He writhed and whimpered around your buds, making your cunt grow wetter and wetter. Greedy mismatched hands squeezed and played with the flesh, like he couldn’t get enough.

His began to slide against your slick heat, drawing the robot out of his reverie with a sharp cry. The brunette babbled, “Commander, ah, mmh, commander, lemme fuck you now, I- I’ll do my best.” You smiled gently, tugging on long locks, “I know, ready when you are.”

His wet lips gasped against your neck, the blunt head of his cock opening you up slowly. Your legs wrapped around his waist, heated from your own body. You laughed breathlessly, “Really though— they didn’t have to give you such a pretty cock.” Bucky smiled, open mouthed as he slid ever deeper into your cunt. He groaned, “I’m so- hngh- fuckin’ glad they did.”

He bottomed out inside your silky walls, flexing and pulling at Bucky’s most sensitive synth-skin. Cradling your hands in his hair you tugged again, breathing against him, foreheads pushed together. The robot’s hands held tight at your thighs while he began to slide back and forth.

Stuttering breaths intermingled as he grew more confident, picking up the pace of the fucking, your slick pussy entrancing him. You idly wondered if robots even could reach climax, if they’re like a fuck toy. Bucky moaned, “I’ll cum really fast if you think like that so more.” You kissed him desperately, laughing again.

The cot beneath you creaked as he thrust, tip of his cock making a toe-curling drag from your cervix all the way down the soft roof of your cunt. You gripped Bucky’s hair harder, moaning his name, growing higher in pitch on each push of his hips. One of your hands clawed at his back, blue blood reaching the surface.

He nipped at your jaw and your noses crashed together as Bucky took your mouth, feral with need. Trim hips and heavy balls clapped against your softer body, the slick noises of your pussy growing embarrassingly loud. Throwing your head back you cried, “Oh fuck- yes- right there! Good!”

Bucky had angled your hips to strike deeper into your sensitive walls, panting and grunting with effort. His chest dragged along your own, him whining, “Feel s’good, what can I do, is this good?” You nodded in disjointed jerks, moving the silver hand to your swollen bud.

“Suh-fuck-circles, tight, baby, yeah like that,” you instructed him in a tight whine, Bucky sucking his fat bottom lip under white teeth at your body reacting. You squirmed around him, tightening up, the robot returning to fucking you and roughly thumbing your clit as told.

You whined and begged, “Don’t stop, doing so good, kiss me baby, kiss me.” Desperately pulling Bucky’s moaning mouth to your own you licked into his mouth, lips colliding sporadically, your baby nipping at your lip. The pair of you cried eachother’s names wetly, bodies seizing up as climax overtook the senses.

You clamped down on him, clawing his back again, whining. Bucky’s hands tightened to the point of pain, him grunting and moaning as he peaked, cock pulsing and swelling. He whimpered, “Oh fucking hell, I love you.” You pretended to not hear it and kept attempting to kiss him as the orgasm crashed and subsided like a wave.

In the wake, Bucky leaned back onto his haunches, cock sliding out with a slick noise. He pet your thighs, apologizing, “I- uh- didn’t mean to say that.” His cheeks were dark with that synthetic blood, eyes watery with embarrassment. You leaned up with a hiss, cradling his face.

“Look at me.”

He reluctantly did.

“After all of this, I think I love you too. Always were my favorite. We need eachother now. More than ever.”

His shoulders slumped with relief, seeking another kiss, this one short but meaningful. You sighed, “Fuck, I need to send that message, c’mon let’s get dressed.” He nodded shortly, helping you up. Bucky shooed your hands and murmured, “Let me.”

The brunette helped you back into underwear and your uniform, leaving the armor scattered around. You helped him do the same and limped to the pilots seat. Dialing the base radio code you cleared your through and spoke, “This is Commander Alpha 5, I have evacuated the revolt on XE-2A. My team is missing, A3-54 was the defective and is dead. We have it’s body for study. BU-19 remained compliant and has accompanied me. I also have the body of Commander Alpha 4, Brock Rumlow. We expect to arrive within an Earth rotation.”

You sat back with a sigh, waiting for a reply. The radio crackled and a voice returned.

“Thank you Commander Alpha 5, you have done good work. We will be expecting your safe arrival. Signing off.”

You didn’t expect to be greeted by the CEO himself in a tiny office at the base. Space floated on outside a thick window. Bucky sat next to you, arms chained. Alexander Pierce commended you and then his face turned eerily serious. Two guards stood silent behind you.

He murmured, “What happened on XE-2A was unprecedented. But from our failures we find new research. You and BU-18 will need to be studied for some time. This…partnership…established between the pair of you is magnificent.”

You shared a look with Bucky. Atleast you’d be with him for experimentation. You assented, “Thank you sir, I am in support of anything for Pierce Corp.” 

He smiled, “Good,” his eyes flicked to the back, “Ready the chairs for them.”

[emerald-chaos]

Daydream

**gif not mine! credit to the owner**

So, I couldn't help myself. This is a continuation of my previous Bucky fic Insomnia because I just really enjoyed the dynamic between Bucky and the reader. I had a lot of fun writing this part and I love building things up between the two of them. If you guys like this or are interested in seeing more - please let me know! I love talking with people and hearing their ideas and such.

Much love xo.

Pairing: Reader x Bucky Barnes

Word Count: 2079

Warnings: cursing, struggles with mental illness, mentions of sex (nothing entirely explicit but better safe than sorry), alcohol use, and really poorly written jokes lmao

Fingers threaded into hair.

Hot, opened-mouth kisses marking every surface of your neck.

Nails trailing down his back leaving raised, red lines in their wake.

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you let your head fall back and continued to rock your hips into the man in front of you.

Strong hands tighten their hold on your hips, sure to leave purplish-blue bruises for the morning.

“C’mon, baby,” he grunted, face buried in your neck as he helped your body to grind against his, “I got you. Let go, fuck, let go for me.”

A pair of slender fingers snapped in front of your line of sight, tearing you from your daydream and bringing you harshly back to reality.

“Hmm, what was that?” You blinked a few times before you turned your attention to the redhead who you, apparently, had been having a conversation with.

“Are you serious?” She laughed, “I’ve been talking for the past 10 minutes! I looked over and you had that far off, glossy look in your eyes. Not to mention you’re bleeding.”

A hand found its way to your lower lip and you realized she was right. You had been so lost in wet dreamland that you chewed a layer of skin off of your lip. You hoped she didn’t notice the heat rising in your face as you cleared your throat, grabbing a tissue from the coffee table.

“Sorry,” you muttered, pressing the tissue against your injured lip, “guess I got lost in thought.”

“Is it one of those flashbacks again?” She asked kindly, facial expression softening.

You nodded quickly, knowing fully well that the statement was a lie. Your gaze drifted over the woman’s shoulder to the subject of your previous thoughts. It would be easier to explain the common occurrence of your PTSD than it would be to explain that you were reminiscing on the hot, steamy, passionate sex you had the night before.

Bucky was situated across the room, leaning against the counter as he talked to Rogers and Wilson. The unfortunately tight, black, short-sleeve t-shirt he was wearing left nothing to the imagination. It accentuated every muscle of the body you had gotten to know so intimately not more than 10 hours ago. His muscular arms were crossed at his chest and he was sporting his signature scowl. Everything about the sight sent a shiver down your spine. You finally had a taste and you wanted more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your friend’s voice gained your attention once more.

A small smile found its way to your lips as you met her gaze again. Apart from Bucky, Nat had always been a good trauma buddy of yours. From the beginning she had been someone you felt like you could confide in and someone who would understand your troubles. Sometimes you wondered if a requirement of joining the avengers was to have a fucked up, tragic backstory.

“I’m okay, Nat.” You reassured, “Just got lost in my head again.”

“Whatever you say. Maybe the party tonight will help you get your mind off of things,” She mused as she pushed herself from the couch to stand up. She paused briefly before she turned to you again, “you are coming, right?”

“Yeah,” you snorted, “Tony actually threatened me if I didn’t go this time, so, I guess I have to.”

After the last party you skipped out on, Tony cornered you in the hallway and gave you quite the interrogation. Then he went on a spiel about how staying in your room all day and all night was bad for you and that if he didn’t know better he would think you weren’t appreciative of what he’d done for you and blah, blah, blah. Tony really was a good person underneath all that hair gel. All he wanted was to help you break out of your shell and give you the family he knew you were lacking. That didn’t mean he couldn’t be a pushy asshole.

“Good, I’ll see you there. I’m sure Barnes will too.” A devilish grin painted her lips as she watched your jaw drop. Before you had a chance to say anything she was off down the hallway.

Fuckin’ Natasha.

*******

A pile of clothes littered your bed as you slipped another dress over your form. Not once in your life had you ever been concerned about what you were wearing or what you looked like, but there was something about tonight that made you want to turn heads. Your eyes raked down your figure as you twisted from side to side, admiring the way the black dress hugged your body in all the right places. Not to mention the thigh high slit in the dress showed off probably the only body part you weren’t self-conscious about. Tony, being the theatrical and over the top man he was, once said that you shouldn’t show up to his parties if you weren’t dressed to court a royal or to bring a man to his knees. Guess you were shooting for the latter.

As you put the finishing touches on your look for the evening, you felt that familiar heavy feeling settling into your chest. Your body always had a tendency to go into fight or flight mode when you became too familiar with anything or anyone. It felt like every fiber in your body was screaming for you to retreat into sweats and stay in your room, to not allow yourself this opportunity to enjoy the people you’d grown so close to. You know what happens when you let people in.

Grief, trauma, coping - it made it really difficult to live a “normal” life. Everyday tasks are daunting, it can be next to impossible to have intimate friendships or relationships, and not to mention the intrusive thoughts that infect your mind on a daily, if not hourly, basis. Here you were, the happiest you’d been in years. You were finally in a place where you felt loved, comfortable, safe - and yet your mind was trying to self-sabotage again.

You took a moment to close your eyes and take several deep breaths. When you opened your eyes you locked eyes with your reflection in the mirror and made a pact with the girl staring back at you. The intrusive thoughts and self-doubt couldn’t continue to have a hold over you anymore. You gave yourself a small smirk and nod as you made the decision to throw caution to the wind and give the party a try. What’s the worst that could happen?

*******

Come to find out, the worst that could happen would be your competitive nature overcoming the rational, thinking part of your brain; which in turn would lead you to enter in a drinking contest. Thankfully a small portion of your pink, smooth brain was still functional enough to tell you when you’d reached your limit. Now you sat comfortably on the couch, legs tucked underneath you as you joyfully watched your friends argue.

“Dr. Banner, my friend, you are one of the most intelligent people I know. However, you are wrong.” Thor stated simply as he finished the rest of his drink.

“Thor, for the last time, water is not wet!” Bruce retorted, throwing his hands up in frustration.

You let out a loud snort before thinking, “Oh yeah, water. I should drink some water.”

Your feet planted themselves on the floor and slipped back into your pair of shoes. As you made your way to the kitchen you were pleasantly surprised by your balance and coordination, considering how much alcohol you’d consumed. Seems that drinking with Thor has done wonders for your tolerance.

While you were busy searching the refrigerator for a bottle of water, you were also oblivious to the soft sound of footsteps coming into the kitchen. After retrieving the beverage, you closed the door and turned to leave. Instead, you turned right into the chest of a figure that was definitely not there a moment ago. You yelped as you clutched a hand over your chest dramatically, your face filled with horror as though you’d just come face to face with the grim reaper.

“Jesus Christ, Barnes!” you scolded.

Bucky was holding his abdomen as he leaned back, consumed with laughter at your reaction. You huffed and wanted to be offended, but he looked so damn cute laughing that you couldn’t help but join him. You pushed his chest playfully and grumped as you hopped up to sit on the counter, opening the water to gulp about half of it down. Bucky couldn’t help but grin at your pouty state as he finished up his laughing fit.

“My apologies, sweets. Didn’t realize I’d be makin’ ya scream twice in one day.” He teased, grinning even wider as he did so.

Your jaw dropped at the comment, quickly looking around to make sure no one else was in the kitchen to hear what he had said. After seeing that the coast was clear you kicked your foot at him out of annoyance, only for his metal hand to catch it smoothly. The two of you locked eyes, motionless for a moment before he moved closer, sliding his hand from your ankle to your thigh. In the moment, you damned yourself for choosing this particular dress. The closer he got, the faster your breathing became. The contrast between his cold embrace and your flushed, warm skin sent a shiver down your spine. Abandoning the water bottle, you ran your hands up his abdomen and chest until they rested on his shoulders. Following a small nudge from his knee, you parted your legs to allow him space to stand between them. The heat in your face at an all time high as he pressed his flesh hand to your cheek.

“Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ about you.” Bucky whispered as he stroked the apple of your cheek with his thumb. Each word that left his lips had you feeling way more intoxicated than any liquor you’d had all night.

As quickly as it started, his touch was gone and his back was turned as he opened the fridge. Before you had a chance to open your mouth to ask what the hell just happened, Tony was entering into the kitchen.

“Well, well, well. Surprised to see you here, Annie.” Tony beamed as he laid eyes on you.

Yes, Tony had nicknamed you after little orphan Annie. Yes, he also referred to himself lovingly as Daddy Warbucks. Yes, any person in their right mind would probably be offended, but you were just fucked up enough that you found it kind of hilarious.

“Wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, Tony.” You grumped back, upset that you’d been cockblocked and by Tony no less.

“Never lose that spunk, kid.” Tony winked as he turned to see Bucky retreating from the fridge with a beer in hand. “Inspector Gadget! Good to see you too.”

As much as you didn’t want to encourage him, you couldn’t help but laugh. Much to your dismay, Bucky simply raised his bottle to Tony as if to say “cheers” and padded out of the kitchen.

“He has such a way with words.” Tony teased as you rolled your eyes.

A sigh left your lips as you slipped off the counter and back onto the floor, muttering a “goodnight” before leaving the kitchen and heading back to your room. Although you wanted nothing more than to find Bucky and finish what he had started in the kitchen, you came to the conclusion that you were probably too drunk and definitely too tired.

Back in the comfort of your bedroom, you went about your normal nighttime routine. As you exited the bathroom, you couldn’t help but notice a piece of paper that had been slipped beneath your door. Grabbing the paper from the floor and plopping back onto your soft mattress, you opened it to read the note that was scribbled in black ink.

Never got the chance to tell you how gorgeous you looked tonight. Gotta say, I’m a big fan of that dress.

Sweet dreams.

- B.

When you finished the note, it felt as though you were floating on cloud 9. Even when you laid your head down and tried to welcome sleep, Bucky’s words were still replaying in your head over and over again - like they were lyrics to your new favorite song.

Turns out you were down for Bucky Barnes, and you were down bad.

[munchflix]

MUNCHFLIX - MORBIUS

IMDB BLURB: Biochemist Michael Morbius tries to cure himself of a rare blood disease, but he inadvertently infects himself with a form of vampirism instead.

WARNINGS: blood, violence, slow mo, nipples, darkness.

RATING: It's morbin' time.

OBLIGATORY DISCLAIMER: All reviews are done solely for humor and should not be taken seriously ever. If you cannot handle cursing, crude humor and probably some offensive things, pls do not read this.

A NOTE: I know. I know. We’re pariahs for even watching this, but it’s what we DO. Now you don’t have to. 

Munch: Happy Birthday Biscuits! It's almost your birthday and we're punishing you with watching Morbius! This seems very timely, given the memes. Plus it's our job to review shitty movies, so....I can't believe I'm paying money for this shit. But for once, Munch gets to go in blind!

Biscuits: We're hopping on the morb train. The meme bandwagon. The Morbus to Morbtown. Fun story! I wanted to see this movie. I was like - well Jared Leto is in it but you know....maybe it'll be like the Venom movies, not good but fun!

M: Morbius said bisexual pride? Those are the bi colors. Well that was loud. Cerra De La Muerte, why is it always some island of the fucking dead? How many islands of the dead are there? A helichopper is here, and Dr. Morb, looking very morb.

B: He looks like Jesus.

M: Don't give Jared Leto any more ideas.

An overwhelming number of bats.

B: That's not true, bats don't just mob and murder large animals.

M: Dr. Morb holds up his bloody hand and the bats just come out of fucking nowhere, there's like a brazillian of them. And now it's MORBIN TIME. But first, his back story. Back 25 years ago before the morbing.

B: He was a young, sickly boy.

M: Holy shit it's Jared Harris. This is going to become a running joke. Morb has a blood disease. He's....infected. Needs regular oil changes. Biscuits once again suckin' down margarita like it's going out of style.

B: Oh shit, Milo is dead! He's fucking dead! Oh morb is super smart and knows how to fix the IV machine because he's got big brains. And the kid just instantly gets back up. He's fine. The doctor wants him to go to a school for gifted kids.

M: This sounds vaguely familiar. Like x men. And harry potter. We still don't know who Milo is. Lucien who just almost died is now getting his ass handed to him by some juvenile delinquents. Is his name Milo or fucking Lucien??? They keep calling him both. Morbo is now all grown up and he graduated stupid young and I have no idea what this has to do with Milo.

B: This backstory is as chopped up as...I don't know.

M: Morby is still pretty sickly looking though. He refused the ‘noble’ prize. Oh Milo is the benefactor to all these weirdo experiments. Morbo has a ton of bats. He's gonna use vampire bats dna to cure his weird blood disease. Oh he's gonna inject a mouse. That mouse is gonna MORB. Science always goes so fast in movies. The mouse is deadski.

B: What was supposed to happen to the mouse? It gets morbed? To save my best friend Milo who I shared 45 seconds of screen time with! Now the little girl is dying. Get this girl 100cc's of....drugs!

M: So they put her in a coma. Because you know. Science. Oh the mouse is fine. It came back.

B: Got morbed. Now he's gonna morb this poor sick child.

M: Oh damn we get to see Milo again. He's still sick. Jared Harris is still here. He hasn't aged a day despite everyone else aging 25 years.

B: Is that the guy who played Dr. Who?

M: Yep. Milo Who.

B: Milo just straight up rejected him. No bitches for Morbius. You up for a little morbin? Love is one thing, morbin...that's another. Now a callback to 10 minutes ago.

Michael Morbius & Milo, aka the M&Ms

M: Morbius is morbin up some dna in international waters where it's totally legal.

B: The biggest thing in this movie right now is that the pacing is going at BREAKNECK speed, everything is so poorly established. They did do a good job of making Morbius look on the brink of death because I am expecting Jared Leto to fucking die at any given moment. Oh NIPPLES, NIPPLES!

M: Oh my god.

B: Oh they're putting it in his spine AHHHHHHHH. You've never had a needle in your spine, I have! AHHHHHH. He's very skinny, but when he morbs he's gonna get so jacked. His nipples will be fully engorged.

M: You can't say things like that and expect me not to put it in there. Things are getting kinky, they have to tie Morbo down while he morbs. He's having a seizure or something. The lights will flicker on and off. He's unstrapped, he was just strapped down.

B: The seedy boat dude is down here checking on Morbius but he's bad because he disrespects women. They're doing delicate celibate research.

M: Morbo is now not on the table. He's hanging from the fucking ceiling making howler monkey noises. They shoot at him, but it's too late, he's MORBED. Oh my god, he looks hysterical. He ate that guy and how he's destroying shit.

B: Like Venom, he doesn't like noises. That woman just got pushed and she fell unconscious. Oh shit BULLET TIME. It's like the matrix! It looks bad. It does look like the source material but it shouldn't.

M: I don't even know what's happening. Morbo morbed and is killing fucking everyone.

B: He's going on a complete murderous morbius rampage. It feels like the whole movie has happened already.

M: Morbo wakes up and he's going back to being...human.

B: See he's buff! And he's got HUGE TITTIES. Did you see how big his titties are???

M: You're killing me. You are titty obsessed.

(Dib: What does LGBT stand for?? Leto got big titties??)

Biscuits is a proud member of the LGBT community.

B: *dies laughing* Morbius has to make sure his girlfriend is okay. He can hear her heartbeat because he's part bat.

M: I hope he's part sailor because he's got to get that boat back to land. Oh he's gonna Mayday it. Oh by the way you MURDERED everyone. Might wanna not be there when the cops show up. Oh the FBI is here. Doctor girl is in a coma just from getting pushed over. Morbo left an origami calling card though. Which was dumb.

B: Milo is like - that sounds like my ex boyfriend Morbius, he used to do that shit all the time. We used to Morb. Morbius is visiting his girlfriend in a coma. Whoops, sorry. My bad.

M: Oh the effects are wearing off. He's doing the stanky leg. He's gotta KEEP MORBIN. Despite the horrific side effects of murdering everyone. He's gotta get some blood.

B: He's using a pouch of blood like a fucking capri sun. Like a goddamn go gurt. He's doing math to figure out how often he needs to eat blood.

M: Morbius is like - well I'm a vampire but I'm really strong and I have huge tits so.....

B: Jared Leto is not a good actor. He's gonna vibe with his bat friends.

M: BATS DON'T MOB AND KILL PEOPLE. It doesn't happen. Oh he's got echolocation too. Oh this effect is so....so incredible. Wow. I can't even describe for our home audience how cool that was. The fake blood is only keeping him good for six hours, that's pretty bad.

B: Kids, don't do Morb. Milo shows up where Morbo has left all of his research carefully unguarded. He's locked himself in a cage to contain himself. He's writing BLOOD on the wall.

M: Milo has said Michael like 80 times.

B: Milo tries to pet him like a dog, lol. Milo is just like - HEY YOU'RE STRONG NOW.

Morbs do not appreciate being petted.

M: Nevermind all the sweating and blood drinking and shit. Milo is the one bankrolling this shit. Milo just wants the morb juice, damn the consequences. He wants big titties. I think Dib called it. Milo is gonna go get the morb juice and become the bad guy.

B: Dr woman is alive and concious. She doesn't know anything. She was dead at the time.

M: Is the FBI really suggesting that it looks like a vampire did this?

B: This is the MCU, they've seen weirder. But where is Dr. Morbius? Did he kill those people? Find out the next episode of Mighty Morbin Power Rangers.

M: We are not even halfway through!

B: HOW??? Again, the pacing of this movie is genuinely jarring. I don't know if it was the director or the writers or what but it's like being on a rollercoaster with pieces of the track missing.

M: Oh I guess he morbed out again and he's eating someone. Maybe. Might be Milo Morbin. Nobody notices that Morbius is suddenly tanned and jacked.

B: I'd smash that. Say what you will but I would hit that. Nobody notices how good he looks. Did he get some of that Captain America juice???

M: Oh the FBI found him. But his fake blood saved one of them. But they're like - hey you look pretty good for a guy who is mostly dead.

B: Did you do anything suspicious on that boat? Like turn into a vampire and eat a bunch of guys? He has beautiful eyes. I don't approve of anything he's said or done in his entire life but he's attractive. Morbius is gonna morb out and fight these dudes with his vampire powers. Oh he's got good leaps. 

He’s neo-ing all over the place.

M: He's got a grab bag of powers that would make Wolverine Origins Deadpool jealous. The bullet time is my favorite one. Now he's in jail. But they let him journal. They brought holy water to the interrogation so apparently they believe he IS a vampire.

B: Well he's gotta be SOMETHING because they just saw him do like a 40 foot vertical leap.

M: That's fair. Morbius is like - well I might have killed some people but I'm not like other Morbs. Also I'm about to morb out right now. Please bring my bag of fake blood.

B: I'm starting to get hungry. You wouldn't like me when I'm hungry.

M: Milo shows up pretending to be his lawyer. He's gonna be like - the only way to fix this is to give me the morb juice.

B: They're charging me with murder. Well you did kill people! You very much did kill people!

M: Ooh maybe Milo killed that woman. He stole the morb juice. He did bring him some stuff though.

B: He's not walking with his cane anymore, he totally did.

M: Now Morbo is gonna have to get out and take out his childhood bestie.

B: The movie is just like Jared Leto sweating simulator.

M: It's morbin time. Oh fucking SHIT. He's fucking breaking through a concrete wall, for fuck's sake. Oh he's doing BIG JUMPS now. Stops for a spiderman style moment on top of a building. Oh and he's got like super hearing. Oh yeah Milo is definitely a vampire. We are halfway through this movie.

B:  I don't understand what is happening??? Was this movie obliterated on the editing floor or was this how it was supposed to be??

M: What the fuck is the rest of the movie???

B: Jared Leto being sweaty.

M: Milo is like - hey it's cool.

B: Milo's supervillian arc happened so fast. I don't even have a word for how nonsensical this movie's pacing is. Milo has Black Canary's sonic scream. Vampire wrestling match in the subway. The trail effect is kinda hokey.

M: I'm not sure public is the best place for this conversation. Morbo is still wearing prison orange. Milo kills the cops who shows up and even more amazing effects. He fortnite dances. MICHEAAAAAAL.

B: Hey Mikey....Mikey baby...honey.

M: The rest of this movie is just slow mo effects shots. I don't think this is supposed to be funny but it really is. I don't even know what's happening to Jesus Morbius right now. Oh he's fucking FLYING. Just...flying. In the subway. I....I don't....

He’s playin’ the base and I’m FLYIN!

B: Not sure about that one, chief.

M: Milo is gonna go after doctor girl. To make Morbo mad I guess.

B: She's so important to this movie and I'm so invested in her arc. She's reading about how Morbius is wanted for murder but he's on the bus with her. Milo is using his science for EVIL.

M: Now they're in a diner. The issue is, when the fake blood stops working, I morb out. It's kinda bad. Some counterfeiters try to give a woman fake money after she knows it's fake.

B: Morbo is gonna go exact justice. They just counterfeited! I'm not sure they deserve to get fucking murdered.

M: This is the important counterfeiter arc. Is this really happening? We need to slow down the movie RIGHT NOW for this shit.

B: They're trying to show that he's a tortured soul. He's an anti hero. You never know what he's gonna do!

M: He's gonna take their lab? It's for making fake money, not science.

B: I don't know how counterfeiting equipment is gonna help him do blood science.

M: He seriously just made a venom reference??

B: He's a loose cannon Morb on the edge.

M: How is there this much tech in a money lab. And now the Milo sexy dance sequence that is really happening. He's very pleased with his titties I guess. This is really happening. The spiderman dance sequence is now no longer the most hilariously awful dance sequence in a marvel movie.

B: They could have cut that and it would have made no difference. Why is that in here? Milo is creeping on women at the bar now.

M: Can vampires drink tequila? I'm so lost about what is even happening. They don't need to establish that he's a bad guy! We already did that! We know he's a vampire and he killed people! But now he's just out there....roaming around??

B: Scenes in a movie don't really need to like...go together or have any work up or connection, right? Just put em wherever! In whatever order! It doesn't matter. Now Dr. Lady and Milo BadGuy are at Michael's lab and Milo is like - I want to help Morbo, do you know where he is?

M: But she already knows he's a vampire so... I guess he's just gonna leave.

B: Her character is just so incredibly not important to this movie. M: We are 2/3rds of the way through. Now we gotta drag out the final confrontation for another half hour. The FBI doing some fine work here. Oh no Dr. Lady Woman got scratched and Morbius smells the good juice and he's trying not to morb out. I love the whole fucking ‘on red’ shit.

B: ‘On red’ sounds like a euphemism for getting your vampire period. They're having such deep conversation. I really feel the chemistry between these two. None of this would have happened if they cast Keanu Reeves. He also has nice titties. If you just need a dude with nice titties, there's lots of options.

M: Oh they're KISSING. But Milo is watching from 10 miles away because he can do that now. The FBI again doing really important work. They're probably the most interesting characters.

B: The CCTV seems to show a guy getting fucking eaten by a vampire. Because that's how that works and it's not grainy or anything.

M: Jared Harris is like oh no....vampires. Maybe he's gonna be like some sort of vampire mentor. Or he's just gonna die because Milo's gonna murder him. The movie has started dragging ass. Milo has daddy issues. Now there's a showdown with Jared Harris about liking Morbo more. And apparently he just knows Milo's a vampire and he's like - okay? Oh he dead. Milo is a terrible villian ffs.

B: His arc makes no sense.

M: Now more bullshit blood science because Morbo has to die a hero. But there's a big problem with your plan MORBO, because Milo is not dead.

B: He's gonna try to inject Milo first, I think.

M: Jared Harris isn't dead tho so he calls Morbo who of course runs to help him because he's dumb. You can't just walk into a hospital, Dr. Morbo. And he's dead.

B: OH NO HE'S DEAD. This character who had like two scenes in the entire movie. But Morbo has super good ears and he can hear Milo threatening his girlfriend and so he's gonna go out with full ugly vampire face on and echolocate himself some bitches.

No bitches? Try echolocation.

M: That's how echolocation works.

B: He's....soaring.

M: The flying shit fucking kills me, it's so funny. Dr. LadyWoman is dying.

B: Use her tasty blood to make you stronger. Everyone is dying in a ten minute timespan now. They could have cut half this movie out and replaced it with some shit that makes sense. He angry!

M: Can we please do the final showdown and end this?

B: I'm gonna have to take a massive shit in a few minutes so can we wrap this up?

M: Morbo is getting his ass kicked.

(Dib: He's gonna inject himself with the blood and make Milo drink him.)

M: Quit calling everything!

B: Wow this is a really well edited action sequence where I can definitely follow what's going on.

M: And not badly lit at all. Oh it's time for the MORBIUS SCREAM which apparently fucking summons bats???

B: Morbius sucks. He just got his ass handed to him.

M: Oh you've gotta be kidding me. Are the bats gonna like...resurrect him? Eat Milo?? What!??! This is inadvertently HILARIOUS. More slow mo. Morbo is fucking conducting the bats like it's a fucking orchestra. This is really happening. They're attacking Milo.

B: *sadly* Oh nooooo.

M: He injects Milo with the stuff.

B: Get morbed. Mikey...I thought we were bros, dude. All of our bro moments. Our broments.

M: Is this over yet? Milo's dead.

B: Fellas, is it gay to stab your homies goodnight?

M: The cops....again. Time to morb out. A comically large amount of bats and Morbius Neos the fuck out of there. But Dr. Girlfriend is gonna come back??

B: Did his bite morb her into a vampire? That's the end?? O....kay.....

M: In the after credit scene...Michael Keaton is here???? He just got like...portalled into a room.

B: What does he have to do with Morbius??? The multiverse thing???

M: I....don't know. I really like the bisexual lighting honestly but that's like...the only thing.

B: What...no Morbius rap song????

M: Closing thoughts?

B: This movie is a TRAINWRECK. It's kind of entertaining in it's badness. It's so insane. I don't know how much was the director or the writer or the editors but it feels like three different movies spliced together. Half of it feels like there's scenes that are missing and the other half feels like filler that should have been cut out. There's no screen time given to developing the characters, I don't even know the doctor's name. All I can say is it's just a disaster.

M: I think you put it perfectly with the first and second half bits. It's so incredibly paced, I can't even describe it. It's so insane. It's way too fast and then way too slow and then way too fast again and it makes NO SENSE at all. I was kinda entertained, I will admit. I think it's unintentionally hilarious, and honestly all the morbin' time memes are dead on. He just morbs and there's zero explanation for his random powers or why they show up and when, it's just completely random. The special effects are really...something. Matt Smith could not villain his way out of a wet paper bag.

B: It's Morbin.

(Dib: How am I supposed to go on with my life now, now that I've been morbed???)

M: Munch and Biscuits and sometimes Dib, Morbin' out.

[skribblz]

Fics??????? *very eyes, much emoji*

If sooo I recently just came up with another SenGen scenario-

I feel like Senku would question why Gen walks around barefoot all the time. He did offer some shoes for him one time but Gen declined cause I hc that for him it feels nice to walk around barefoot, and that since they're in the Stone world he has freedom to do so without getting called out, which Senku agrees nevertheless. But he does offer to clean his feet for him cause of how dirty they are sjfjsjfjsjf Gen ur gross /j /lh

and I think u know where this is going heehoo 👀👀👀

hehehehEHEHEH yay sengen ty angel <3

"Don't your feet ever...hurt?"

Gen tilts his head, a grin starting to spread across his face, "Aww are you worried about me, Senku-chan?"

"Just answer the question, damn mentalist." The scientist scoffs, earning a giggle.

"Of course it hurts if I step on something sharp," he replies, poking the other on the cheek, "but otherwise, nope! It's kinda like a nice little massage!"

"Don't tell me you have cuts on your feet." Senku starts, ready to go off on a whole tangent. "Someone like you knows how deadly infections can be, especially-"

"Especially in the Stone World, blah blah." Gen imitates, smirking as he received a glare from the other. "It's not that hard to say that you care, you stubborn thing."

Senku glared harder, pink faintly dusted across his cheeks since he couldn't honestly refute that statement. "You're just a-"

"Useful ally, I know, I know." The magician sighs dramatically, "Just another person to exploit."

Suddenly, a rough hand grabs onto his arm, pulling him out of his performance. His single audience member drags Gen along, who honestly doesn't mind. It did give him more chances to annoy the younger man.

"Fine, allow me to repay you for all the work you've done, as well as prevent your feet from falling off later. It's ten billion percent efficient."

"Ooh, where are you taking me, Dr. Ishigami? And please be gentle."

Senku groans, rolling his eyes. "Ew, shut up."

This was way too much fun.

It doesn't take long for Gen to realize that they were heading toward a nearby creek; all those trips to collect flowers for his tricks gave him decent knowledge of the land. Senku leads him down to the side of the water and allows Gen to roll up his the bottoms of his pants before obediently stepping in.

"It's cold!" He whines immediately.

"Deal with it, you big baby." Senku snickers at the mentalist's discomfort, letting this go on for awhile more. "Alright come on, get over here." He sits. "Give me your foot."

Gen backpedals a bit, trying not to fall into the freezing water. He’d prefer not to be soaking wet after all. Senku’s words did surprise him though, and he voices his concerns with a titter. "W-what? Who would've thought you were into stuff like this, Senku-chan!"

"Don't make it sound weird, I'm just cleaning your feet for you."

"I can do that myself-"

"You're the one who says how caring I am. So let me show how much I care." The scientist deadpans. He didn't understand why Gen was being so reluctant, unless there was actually a reason he didn't want his feet touched? Was he trying to hide an injury?

He frowns at Gen, offering his hand expectantly. The other shifts nervously, slowly sitting down on the grassy bank before placing his right heel onto the hand.

Senku immediately starts inspecting, taking note of the (thankfully) shallow scratches. Though when he starts prodding around for anything broken, Gen jolts and his face scrunches up all weird.

"Sorry, does this hurt?"

"No, no. I'm fine." The magician squeaks, willing himself to stay still as Senku shrugs, continuing his lighting poking and tracing.

After what seemed like ages, the sensations stop and Gen breathes a sigh of relief. He hears the bag rustle and Senku pulls out a bar of soap and dunks it into the water a few times. And without warning, he starts scrubbing the surface of Gen's sole.

And Gen squeals, instinctively yanking his foot out of the scientist's loose grasp.

"Oh yeah, you have some scratches so it might sting a little, but I thought you could take it?"

"A little too late for a warning don't you think!?"

"Just let me finish. It's your fault for not wearing shoes in the first place."

"And that's my choice!" Gen cries, trying to crawl away.

"And I'd rather not become the stone world's first amputator so you're just gonna have to bear with it." Senku remarks, snatching up the foot with a firmer grip.

"No means no!"

"Can you not?"

“Can you noEEE- NAahahaha!” The mentalist cackles as the scrubbing begins again. Although he noted that Senku was a bit gentler this time, it didn’t really help with his predicament. Gen’s back hits the grass as he clutches his stomach, desperately tugging at his trapped foot while the giggles fall endlessly from his mouth.

The scientist quickly puts two and two together, finally realizing why Gen was so reluctant to have his feet cleaned. It also explains the constipated looks he got during his inspection. "Huh, you're ticklish.” Senku says, mostly to himself. He watches the other squirm with great interest, cataloging each moment Gen twisted his head, face cherry red and mouth decorated with the cutest smile. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

"Behehecause it's- hAHahaha! Embahaharrassing! Nonononohoho!"

“I guess so.” Senku throws out casually, opting to dig his fingers into the magician’s toes. And Gen goes berserk, hands thumping the ground as he throws his head back, bright laughter filling the sky. He even almost kicks Senku in the face.

Senku, however, found this whole ordeal rather fascinating. He is very amused to find out how such a simple action could prompt such a large reaction. All that smooth-talking and witty remarks, turning into dorky, uncontrollable giggling. “Y’know, I think I like this side of you better, mentalist. Way more easier to deal with.”

And Gen wants to protest and argue and rebuke, but how could he? Nothing but chortles would come out; the ticklish sensations from his foot overloaded his brain, causing him to flail around madly.

The scientist decides that this is enough for now, dropping the foot back into the river. And Gen doesn’t complain this time, chest heaving grateful breaths. Each exhale produces a string of residual giggles, making Senku’s heart flutter just a tiny bit. Gen didn’t need to know that, he determines.

“Thahahat....was so...cruel.” 

Senku shrugs in response, “Again, your fault for not wearing shoes.” 

Gen ponders for a moment, was pushing Senku’s buttons right now really worth it? Sitting up slowly, he looks at the younger man through half-lidded eyes. “Well if you continue to give me special treatment...maybe I won’t ever put on a pair of shoes~” 

“That is extremely illogical and you know it.” 

“Maybe I think it’s nice having you touch me like this.” He really couldn’t help himself. Gen smiles flirtatiously, expecting to be met with wide crimson eyes and an equally crimson face. 

But instead, Senku smirks back, eyes not wide, but calculating. He’s not skillful enough to hide the tint of pink dusting his cheeks though.

“Yeah? I’ll touch you more if you’d like.” 

“Ooooh, how dirty~” 

"Hand over the other foot, mentalist." Senku's grin morphs into something more sinister.

Gen’s jaw drops, a look of betrayal spreads across his face. Asshole. He grits his teeth and then presses his lips into a thin smile, "...Please be gentle?"

[lloydskywalkers]

Heyo! Hope your doing exceptionally well, wonderful and ur staying safe! I was reading ur little oneshots for the movie! Verse and instantly fell in love! Think u have anymore for Kai and Lloyd? (But u don’t need to listen to this, obviously hehe) Have a splendid day!

ahhH thank you, I hope you’re doing well too!! :D oh man it’s been so long since i’ve written something for movie-verse, but I’ve had this little snippet in my head for a while so I guess it’s as good a time as any (and it is, of course, about kai and lloyd bc when is it noT)

it’s a little different than what i usually write, for movie-verse? but i hope it fits the bill! (takes place pre-movie, btw)

Of all his friends, Lloyd thinks Kai is most like the sun. Not just for his codename, and the enthusiasm with which he brings fire to the team, metaphorically and far too often literally, but for how bright he is. Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun at full force, strong and blazing and staunchly refusing to let anyone hide from his warmth. An endlessly combusting ball of stubbornness and passion.

Kai also reminds Lloyd of the sun in the way that he possesses about the same amount of brain cells the sun does, which is zero, because the sun has no brain — much like Kai.

“Hey, ru—de, ow, stop—”

Kai’s petulant response strangles off in cracked pain as Lloyd hushes him, simultaneously pulling the alcohol-soaked cloth from his arm with a sympathetic wince.

“Sorry, sorry,” Lloyd murmurs, wringing the edge of the cloth. “But I’ve gotta — it’ll get infected, if you don’t—”

“Nah, s’okay,” Kai says, breath hissing out through clenched teeth. He gives Lloyd a wavering smile that could almost be encouraging, were he not bleeding over Lloyd’s faded bedspread. “Just caught me off guard, I’m good now. ‘Sides, the — the stitches are gonna be worse, so—”

“It won’t be that bad,” Lloyd promises him, cleaning the rest of the deep slashes that run across Kai’s arm as quickly as he can. The lower ones aren’t so bad — he could get away without stitches, maybe. It’s the uppermost one that scares Lloyd, cutting deep enough into Kai’s skin to pose a threat. And Lloyd has no intention of leaving Kai anywhere near in danger, especially with the reason he’s hurt in the first place.

Lloyd swallows against the thick lump that suddenly forms in his throat, trying to banish the flood of emotions that have been rising since the battle against his father’s forces earlier. Surprise, shock, gratitude—? A swirling maelstrom of a deep-seated kind of aching warmth Lloyd is utterly unfamiliar with. It leaves him off-kilter, and words don’t come easily as they usually do.

Not that words ever come easily to Lloyd, but normally he isn’t quite this stuttering. Maybe. He hopes not. Maybe he’s just hyperaware right now, after everything, and he always sounds this embarrassing.

“I promise,” Lloyd continues, yanking himself from his thoughts as he busies with the needle. “I’ve got a lot of experience, and I’ll be gentle.”

Kai watches Lloyd threading the needle with a thinly-veiled fear, but he nods, the bravado Lloyd’s more familiar with making its way across his face. “Nice,” he says. “I trust you, Dr. Lloyd.”

Lloyd’s hands falter with the needle for a moment, before he resumes sterilizing it, ducking his head. Kai sounds like he means it — Kai sounds like he means everything he says, but the way he says trust hits differently, for Lloyd.

They’ve only been a team for few months, now. Not very long at all, to form any kind of trust in the son of your greatest enemy. Lloyd’s been going to school with some of the same people since kindergarten, and they’ve never looked at him with anything kinder than hatred, much less trust. And yet Kai is here, offering him his bleeding arm in Lloyd’s tiny room, trusting him to repair the damage he only took because he was protecting Lloyd.

Lloyd doesn’t understand. He doesn’t — people don’t — but his team—

They listened to him. Actually listened to him, to Lloyd. They actually listen to him in general, have since they were all thrown together in this odd little grouping, but it hasn’t quite hit home in the way it did tonight, when he’d snapped orders at them in barely-restrained panic, Kai’s blood staining his fingers as he’d staunched the knife wounds meant for him.

They hadn’t flinched back at his raised voice. Lloyd never raises his voice — he’s learned to keep it quiet, soft, unassuming. Even the slightest slip of frustration is enough to send anyone around him murmuring in suspicion, eyes narrowing and hissed whispers of just like his father filling the air.

Lloyd’s voice had been sharp and strained, barking across the rooftop, and they’d listened. No one flinched back, no eyes widened in fear — they’d just listened. They’re still listening, carrying out Lloyd’s orders without question, and it’s — it’s dizzying, if Lloyd had to put a word to it.

Cole and Zane are taking care of clean-up — something Lloyd will have to thank them for later, profusely. Neither were particularly happy about letting Kai out of their sights, but Cole and Zane are better at keeping each other steady than anyone else. It was the right call, Lloyd knows it was. Hopes it was.

But Lloyd hasn’t been having much faith in his calls, tonight. Not after Kai went down.

He swallows, focusing on the sounds reverberating from behind his closed door. Nya and Jay are talking with his mother, Nya’s louder tones easier to hear as she laughs. Lloyd knows her well enough to catch the strain in it, but he knows it’ll fool his mother. They’re distraction — Lloyd’s house was closest, and he’s got the best supplies stashed there. No one questions why he’s the one with the fully stocked medical kit, but Lloyd suspects they’ve all drawn their own conclusions.

He wishes they’d believe him, when he says it’s because he’s worried for them. He grew up with Wu as his uncle, who picks fights on a daily basis — with Morro as his cousin, who picks fights on an hourly basis. Lloyd knows the importance of having the good kind of medical supplies.

He finishes prepping the needle, squeezing Kai’s wrist briefly in warning. Lloyd’s not usually a tactile person — not that anyone would let him be — but he knows Kai soaks up touch like a starved sponge, and Lloyd’s desperate to give any kind of comfort he can before he starts with the needle.

Kai swallows, fixing his eyes firmly on the faded glow-in-the-dark stars plastered across Lloyd’s ceiling.

“Okay,” he says, his voice tight. “Bring it on.”

Lloyd swallows, steels himself, and sets the needle against his skin. Kai flinches at the first prick, eyes squeezing shut briefly, but otherwise he doesn’t move, jaw set stubbornly as Lloyd moves quickly. For his part, Lloyd keeps his eyes locked on the stitches, his hands steady. For all that Lloyd’s made up of bouncing nerves half the time, his hands rarely shake. Never when patching wounds up. He’s always been proud of how steady he can hold a needle, and tonight is no exception.

It’s the least he can do.

Kai suddenly tenses up, a broken-off noise strangling in his throat. Lloyd’s heart twists, but he stays steady, rallying himself. Conversation — Kai likes talking, right? Distraction, he can do that.

“So, um,” Lloyd stutters. On second thought, he’s awful at small talk. But — for Kai. “The way you took down that last guy was, it was really cool. Where’d you learn that?”

Kai bites his lip, exhaling shakily before he answers. “I train too, you know.”

Lloyd’s mouth quirks, despite himself. “Not like that.”

“What, a ninja can’t — can’t get creative,” Kai replies, through half-gritted teeth. Lloyd doesn’t say anything, but Kai rolls his eyes, continuing. “Fine. When I was younger, I ah…might’ve taken a few dance classes. For Nya! ‘Cause I couldn’t let her go alone, y’know, but they were — they were kinda fun, I guess, and maybe they slip into fighting, sometimes.” His cheeks darken, and Lloyd bites back a quiet laugh.

“Nothing like Cole, obviously, ‘cause he’s an actual dancer, but — that’s where I got it from.” He pins Lloyd with a glare, that’s somewhat dimmed by the scrunched expression of pain on his face. “Tell anyone and you’re dead though, okay?”

Lloyd hums his agreement, too focused on the stitches to reply immediately. After a moment, though, he speaks up again. “I did some ballet, when I was little.”

“No way,” Kai says, sounding delighted.

“Yeah, way,” Lloyd says. “I’ve heard from a very reliable source that dancing backgrounds are useful, with ninja stuff.”

“Very reliable meaning your uncle,” Kai grins.

Lloyd shrugs. “Maybe,” he half-smiles. Kai suddenly sucks in another pained breath, but to Lloyd’s relief, it’s likely the last one. He finishes off the stitches with a well-practiced hand, snapping the end of the thread and exhaling in relief.

“There. All done.”

Kai’s eyes widen. “Seriously, already?” He glances down at his arm, his other hand moving up to touch the stitches. Lloyd smacks it away, glaring at him.

“Don’t touch. You still have to watch out for infection. I’ll text you instructions for taking care of it, and everything. Just don’t do anything, ah…”

“No ninja-ing?” Kai finishes for him, crestfallen.

“Probably a good idea,” Lloyd says, apologetic. “But it’s not too bad. Shouldn’t take long, and you can be out, uh, ninja-ing again."

Kai is quiet for a moment, regarding his stitches. Then he turns to Lloyd, who is immediately staggered at the bright smile that stretches across his face.

“Cool. Thanks, Lloyd. You’re good at this.”

Lloyd can’t answer, his throat burning. He forces the welling moisture back, looking away. Kai’s only hurt for him, and that is layered with so much more meaning than Lloyd can comprehend right now.

“No problem,” Lloyd mutters, focusing instead on the voices outside his door in an attempt to find footing again. He can hear his mom laughing at something Nya’s said, open and relaxed in a way his mom rarely is. Lloyd’s heart twists into knots.

He doesn’t deserve them, any of them. Not really.

If Kai reminds Lloyd of the sun, then the rest of the team reminds him of stars. All bright and shining, bursting with warmth in their own way. Maybe not quite at the blazing heat that Kai does, but Nya is a north star if Lloyd’s ever needed one. Jay’s a blinking constellation, scattered stars that form a complex whole much larger than you’d thought. Cole’s the kind of star you see first pop up over the horizon, blending with the oranges and purples of the sunset, like a painting you’d see in soft watercolors. Zane’s the early-morning kind of star, the ones that stay stubbornly after the night’s left, dotting the pale morning with a calm steadiness.

Lloyd would be a planet, he supposes, caught in faithful orbit around the five people who have somehow, for some reason, given him a chance. It’d be generous, though. No, Lloyd is content just to be a moon — with no light of his own, reflecting only the brilliance others give him the best he can.

Kai’s finger taps the edge of his forehead, snapping Lloyd from his thoughts, and he blinks in confusion.

“Lost you there, again,” Kai asks, words mangled through a yawn. “Where’d you go?”

Lloyd shakes his head, turning his attention back to the bloodied thread leftover in his hands. His stomach turns, and he quickly sets it aside. “Just thinking.” He pauses, momentarily lost for words. He settles for jerking his head toward the window, where the smoke trailing from their hard-won battle is still visible against the dark sky, and gives Kai a wry smile. “How much do you wanna bet the cheerleading team comes up with a new song tomorrow?”

It’s been an inside joke for them, the ridiculous songs Chen and his gang keep coming up with to throw at Lloyd, and normally it gets a laugh from Kai. This time, though, Kai is silent, his eyes searching as he stares at Lloyd. Lloyd shifts under the attention, caught off-guard again. He doesn’t know what kind of look this is, that Kai’s giving him.

“They shouldn’t talk about you like that,” Kai finally says. His voice is quiet, but Lloyd can spot the brewing anger in it. Kai’s always got anger to spare.

“Sticks and stones, remember?” Lloyd shakes his head. He’s learned, after a while, that anger changes nothing. “Words will never hurt me.”

“Words hurt when people are throwing sticks and stones at you while they yell about your dad,” Kai grumbles.

“No one’s thrown rocks since second grade, actually.”

“Hm.” Kai’s tone is a mix of thinly withheld anger and mild amusement. Lloyd tilts his head, confused, and Kai gives a huff, anger tugging loose.

“Y’know, people say that if kids throw rocks at you in second grade, it means they’ve got a crush on you.”

Lloyd knows well enough it’s a joke, but he flushes red anyways, heat spreading across his cheeks. “Yeah, sure,” he stammers. Kai laughs at his reaction, though, the odd kind of anger departing, and Lloyd feels he’s found his footing again.

They’re quiet as Lloyd finishes cleaning up the medical supplies, Kai nodding sleepily on his bed while Lloyd carefully washes the needle in the bathroom sink. Maybe he can convince his mom to let Kai spend the night, he thinks. Jay and Nya , too — their apartment isn’t very big, but it’s awfully late to make them walk home, and Lloyd is fine with taking the floor, if he needs to.

Lloyd nods to himself, resolving to ask her once he’s finished hiding the evidence. His mom’s been so thrilled about him having people over at all, he can’t see her saying no. A smile pulls at his lips as he listens to the conversation outside his door again. Jay’s rambling on now, bright and excited without any of his usual reservation. He feels a pang, wondering if Jay’s the same as him — wondering if they’re all the same, playing at muted caricatures of themselves, too fearful to let whatever lies beneath shine through.

He wonders what it means, that they’re the ones with the city in their hands, that weight on their shoulders. Wonders what it means, that Lloyd feels safer with bullets strafing the air around him and his mask on, than he ever has with it off. That Green Ninja will always, always sound better than Lloyd in his ears.

“Hey, uh.”

Lloyd starts at Kai’s voice, twisting the sink off as he turns to face him. Kai looks half asleep, but the smile he gives him is bright as ever.

“Thanks, seriously. Not just for this, but for looking out for us. You’re a good friend.”

Lloyd’s heart skips a beat, his brain latching onto the word friend and holding on tightly, tucking it somewhere safe inside his chest.

“So thanks, Lloyd,” Kai yawns, barely awake at all now, but still stubbornly clinging to the threads of awareness.

Lloyd’s got his own thank you to give back, twisted and strangled behind whatever lump’s formed in his throat, but Kai’s snoring before he gets the chance to say it. So Lloyd tugs the edge of his comforter over his friend — his friend — instead, and runs the words over in his mind again and again, like a treasured line from a book.

On second thought. Maybe Lloyd isn’t so bad. He’s only ever liked his name the way his mom says it, without any of the snapping, harsh emphasis others give it. In others’ mouths, Lloyd’s name is a curse. In his mom’s, Lloyd’s name belongs to a person.

But he thinks, maybe, he likes the way it sounds when his teammates use it, too.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Combat.”

Wrote  this one in response to requests that I do more of Krill’s medical journals. I hope this is what you wanted to see 

To the: Intergalactic Journal of Medical Biology 

Humanity is a young species around 204,000 years old in their current modern iteration. While there have been many types of humanoid animals on their planet, The Homo Sapien Sapien as they are known scientifically and the only sub-type of human that remain having about .6% genetic variation between them despite their  range of color, height, and shape which has been openly observed by all nonhuman species.

In comparison to the Vurl or the rundi, humanity is a relatively young species still containing many of their more animalistic tendencies in comparison to species who have had more time to evolve into their sentient states. For this reason the examination of this paper revolves around human aggression, and defence. In many animals we see behaviors designed to defend or attack, either out of fear, protection or in order to impress a mate. Humans, being a sentient species use many different techniques to deal with this issue, but one of the techniques that might be considered most primitive, is their contact fighting.

Like how tall horns headbutt each other and longwings lock talons, humans have developed the ability to use their body as a weapon to the detriment of other humans. This practice has likely existed since the beginning of humanity, though through the years, and as humanity evolved, their refined and discovered different ways of -- as to use a human expression-- “Beat the shit ouf of each other..”

In more recent years this primitive form of agress, though still used to its intended purpose, has been made into a sport.

In other words humans hit each other for fun and they let other watch.

Some of these techniques include.

The slap- One of the oldest forms of human aggression which involves striking someone, across the face usually, with an open palm.

The punch- Similar to the first bud done with a closed fists, often puts the bones of the hands at risk, but puts more power into a smaller space, when the hips and legs are used through kinetic linking, the entire power of the body can come out through the hand.

The gouge- Humans do not have claws, but with the hand open and fingers slightly bent, they can use the hard keratin at the end of their fingers to inflict scratches and gouges on an opponent 

The kick- as if hitting people with your arms wasn't enough, now they have to hit people with their feet and shins. On a side note some humans punch and kick wooden poles to make their bones stronger! Yes then INTENTIONALLY inflict pain on themselves, causing MICRO FRACTURES in their own bones just so they can hit people HARDER.

The elbow - jamming the bony junction of their arm into other peoples faces, as it seems there is a location on the elbow without nerve endings, and so does not cause so much pain to the hitter but concentrates the weight on the end of a very strong bone.

The knee- similar to the elbow but with the junction of the leg. Usually aimed towards the upper abdomen, where the liver is located, because your opponents internal organs be damned.

These are the simple basics of human combat, those things that all humans have ingrained into them as instinct, however of course over time humans have developed more painful ways of hurting each other

The round kick- like kicking but with the extra step of spinning around really fast to gain momentum, is usually aimed at the face, because using your foot to hit someone in the face after spinning is SOOOO LoGiCaL 

The choke - can be done in many ways, but the general principles is if your opponent can’t breathe, than they cant win, bonus points if you crush their windpipe in the process because whoo hoo for murder.

The blood choke- its like choking accept the general principal is if no blood is going to your brain than you can’t live, so just squish the carotid arteries a little bit, not like they need those anyway 

The figure 4 choke - Choking someone like a blood choke but with your thighs because why the hell not

The Americana lock- They will submit if you screw up their joints especially the shoulder and the elbow because who the hall needs those.

An armbar - just lay your feet over their chest, grab their arm and put the elbow over your pelvis, now when you arch your back your can break their elbow joint backwards. So effective that your opponent will probably quite and give up screaming before you manage to actually do anything.

Body slam- yeah throwing your opponent to the floor violently and then falling on top of them might just work to make them regret knowing you.

Pile Driver, kind of like a body slam, accept you also use your elbow. Do you hate someone in particular? Do they need their ribcage cracked open like an egg? This might just be the technique for you 

Man of these techniques are used in combat sports, some of them for more theatrical use, but the principle remains the same. Now there are a few techniques that are generally prohibited rom fighting sports.

Head butting - why the HELL would you even think of this. Yeah I’ll just hit my head against their head that ShOuLdN’t hURt at ALl. Should work just PERFECTLY 

Groin Kick - the human imperative to survive is so aggressive that a single kick to their reproductive organs can send them into full shutdown mode, and this includes breathing problems, potential vomiting and crying like a baby

Biting - Here have all of my transmissible diseases, that should make you regret your entire life. I hope your arm gets infected and falls off 

Eye gouging - can fight me IF YOU DON'T HAVE YOUR EYES 

Curb Stomp - Just set someone’s chin up on a curb and then KICK THEM IN THE BACK OF THE HEAD.

WHAT KIND OF MONSTERS ARE YOU PEOPLE! My list Isn’t even finished!

MY LIST

 ISN'T 

EVEN 

FINISHED!

Why does humanity have to be so scary HHHHHRRRAAAGGGGG!

From the editing department at the: Intergalactic journal of medical biology

Dr. Krill,

We regret to inform you that your scholarly paper has been rejected for improper scholarly vocabulary, neglect to operationally define non-common language, use of onomatopoeia, and WhAtEvEr ThIs Is. Please review your submission and resubmit it to our review team. We appreciate your dedication to science.

Sincerely,

The Review Team.

[hoodedwing]

Loyalty Killed Me

Summary: The Joker could finally do what he wanted to do, traumatize Nightwing

Characters: Nightwing. Harley Quinn. Joker. Mentions of Red Hood

Warnings: Just really sick ways of stitching people up. Blood. Depressive. Major character/s death mentions. Batman. Doctor Leslie Thompkins

Additional Notes: I know Joker cannot traumatize Grayson canon-wise? Please correct me if I’m wrong.

Word Count: 2,242 words

***

Time doesn't stop.

Time knows, in its hands. It plays around with the seconds. These seconds matter, someone dying, someone on the communicator whispering, ____ come get me. come get me, I can't go back.

Time doesn't freeze. Time does not have a cloak drapes around it in a timeless manner. Time does not walk in a regal manner and stroke your gaping wounds to cauterize them. Apply pressure because really, when did Time wait for you to stop the damned arterial spray? Have you seen first hand how much blood can spew, almost like a fountain from that serrated dagger?

Time has caught up with Dick Grayson, the Wonder Boy. The Nightwing Blüdhaven didn't deserve. The loving boyfriend/husband of Barbara Gordon. The first son of Bruce Wayne, Batman.

Batman. He doesn't know who's Batman. Not anymore.

-

3200..6400..12800..

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Remember, inhale slowly, inflate lungs. Let it circulate through. Let. Let it work.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful and your father was handsome. You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters.

Pain.

Pain is relative. If you fuck with pain long enough, it won't fuck back with you. Pain spreads through him and he inhales deep, bigger breaths. Trying to drown out the searing ache. He succeeds, deceives his brain.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He knows how to lie, how to smile widely at the Blüdhaven precinct when shit goes down or still tell a joke or two when Damian is there.

Dick Grayson is such a liar.

He's a good man. Honest to goodness. He's fooled himself into thinking his left leg didn't feel on fire, he's successfully managed to stop gasping against the rattle of his chest, a rub or two might be the cause. Who knows?

BOY WONDER! SAD YOUR DEAREST BATMAN HASN'T COME TO SAVE YOU YET? WHY LOOK AT THAT.

Mistah J checks his watch and smiles, his crooked smile stares back at Richard.

Dick only looks away as the Joker's cold fingers run his slimy, skinny fingers along his body. He used to shiver under his touch in a bad way, he would gulp and squeeze his eyes shut, hunting for memories to dive into.

When he got Zitka. When his mother named him her Robin. When he went on patrol for the first time with the all mighty Batman. When he first met Jason. Then Tim. Then Damian. Then the nights they spent healing wounds, fighting together or just sleeping or Netflix.

Dick doesn't move, doesn't say a word. He doesn't even let out a humourless laugh or a quip. Dick clings onto a hope.

Batman. Come get me.

BOY WONDER IS STILL LIVING. WHY, THAT'S A JOY. COME OUT THERE LITTLE BLUE BIRD. YOU REALLY THINK YOU CAN STAY IN THAT LITTLE BRAIN OF YOURS? WHEN YOU WAKE UP. THAT LEG WILL HURT. YOUR BLOOD WILL SPILL AGAIN ON THAT DARNED LITTLE CREST.

He doesn't care. The glorious speech does not make him flinch. He looks at the window, one thought crosses his cloudy vision.

Bruce (Dad), come get me.

LET'S HAVE SOME MORE FUN, SHALL WE. EVEN JAYBIRD PLAYED THIS GAME TOO. COME ON, HE HAD FUN. LET'S PLAY BLUE BIRD. BLUE JAY. HMM. I LIKE THAT.

-

Playtime.

Its always target practice. He would lie there and watch Harley swing her mallet here and there, sometimes too close to Dick and she would talk to him, so sweetly.

Aww, you wanna play too? Let's play together, shall we?

His face will clench up, his head will scream and suddenly everything is loud as Harley fires guns at targets and maybe shoot some arrows at Dick.

On lucky days, he's used as her gymnast prop.

I want to fly again. Batman I'm falling, please I'd like to fly again. My wings are clipping and I will rip. -

He falls asleep.

You can't call it sleeping. Dozing in and out of consciousness, he was neither awake or sleeping. A grey haze flittered across his vision. No sign of clarity. He still heard the rattle of his breath, the fire in his leg. The now warm abdomen.

He feels someone at his leg.

Harley Quinn was there, a sly smile as he feels a needle go in and out.

In and out. In and out.

In and out, in and out. You need to breathe Dick. In and out. In and out.

When he hears the door shut and a ricocheting silence, he peeks at his leg.

A sick suturing of his leg stabs with dental floss, a handiwork Harley was sure to boast later on. He doesn't care if it gets infected. What's the big deal? Batman will take care of it.

He turns over on his side to his communicator lay. The Nightwing emblem was shattered beyond measure. No matter, I can get a new one. The communication mattered.

He presses the distress signal again, again. Again. Bruce better get that flashing orange light and he should feel his bipolar touch in no time.

He tries to talk, voice hoarse from decreased usage and a rough sandpaper-like quality stuck to it.

"H..hello? Bruce. Dad. Please get me. I'm.. I'm waiting. Please."

He turns back in his side, curled up like an invited animal.

The rain pours, shadows keep coming in and out but none belong to his dad.

The boy asks the moon if Batman had lost his way. Asked if the moon could shine the light brighter at him so Dad can find him faster. He'll be okay, he'll be okay. Bruce might be lost, after all. There's a lot of streets and time isn't on anyone's side.

-

Two weeks go by.

Dick still finds himself bound by the ties and definitely no sign of the caped crusader.

Batman is surely coming.

That thought fades slowly, over the weeks. He's gotten more used to the Joker and the crowbar.

Is this how Jason felt, when he was in Hell?

Dick cannot remember. Dick only knows how the sound of metal and bones work, how the bullet will hit skin, pierce it through with frightening velocity and dull ache afterwards. The pool of blood will remind him that yes, I was shot.

A sick game of Russian Roulette. Instead of one bullet, there's multiple. A .44 magnum shouldn't hurt anymore. The revolver keeps spinning in his mind where acrobats should be. Where's Bruce. Where's dad. Am I forgotten?

Dick tried to remember how to breathe. Is it that hard? Just pulling in oxygen and letting the respiration mechanism do its work?

Distract thine self.

He tries to remember. Tries. He's trying. Nightwing has to do this. You need to at least remember your name. Your mother, your father. Dick. Dick.

Richard. That's your name. Your mother was beautiful but I don't know what her hair colour is, sometimes it's blonde or chestnut and your father was handsome.  You are a Grayson. You have brothers and sisters. Are they Jason? Tim? Da- I don't remember, I don't remember the tiny one. Is he even real? Your sisters too. Stephanie, Stephanie. I have one more, the sneaky one. She's fast but I don't know her name. I'd like to know her well too. Pity I. I don't know her name. I hope she knows my name. That way I can hear her voice and maybe figure out who is the charming one. I know she does ballet. I know she made brownies once with.. Who? I don't remember his name. The old man with cheery wrinkles and deep eyes. I don't know who he is too. Oh. Oh oh. Dick.

[DANGEROUS TO FALL ASLEEP, RICHARD JOHN 'DICK' GRAYSON. EYES. OPEN. EYES. OPEN. BREATHE. (MY LUNGS DON'T WORK)]

I'm begging someone, please. It doesn't have to be Bruce. Get the ballet girl to help me please, she fast and maybe I can ask her name while she gets me out of here.

-

Bruce never gives up.

You know that too, do you? He's spent 3 weeks finding his son. His beloved child.

Do you ever think how much Bruce's heart breaks over and over everyday?

-

"ALFRED?! CAN YOU GET JASON NOW, NOW, NOW?! I FIGURED HIS COORDINATES."

Bruce flips from the Batcomputer and grabs everything. A blind haste, he's never dressed so fast. His son. Oh my god, his son.

Jason is down there getting the Batmobile to rev up and they speed.

They speed.

Are they fast?

I guess. If you call 290 in 85 fast.

They run, Jason dashing first and his breath catches in his throat. A cold draught erupts inside of him. He snarls, Bruce turns as he digs through the alleyways. He finds what he knows lurks.

"The sick fucker is going to end Dick in the same fucking warehouse he ended me in. That big bitch.

Bruce puts one hand on his shoulder and squeezes. No time to panic, Dick is the one. is the unsaid message as Jason crashes through the window.

And even him, Red Hood. The one who sees and commits murder everyday, stops and hot anger sears through him.

Dick lies, barely 15 feet away, bound up and covered in his own blood, the ripped Nightwing suit from his recon mission. Bruce picks him up while Jason gladly punched (and secretly plugged a bullet) the fuck out of Mistah J and Harley.

They lie on unconscious, Jason evaluates the scenes, trying to suppress his screams at what they've done to Grayson.

Bruce picks up Dick like he's glass, he hurries to the Batmobile with Jason telling to prepare the Medbay.

"The Medbay.. I.. I don't think. Leslie. Leslie can."

Is all Bruce says and Jason revs up, driving the Batmobile way beyond the legal limit. Bruce doesn't give a flying banana about it. He'll pay the fine later.

Bruce looks down at his son, hoping he hasn't fallen asleep yet. Finally, finally Dick is in the arms of the crusader. Half his domino mask is ripped and Bruce tries to not break at the baby blues staring without any light-hearted gaze.

His heart still beats (A reminder he's alive and could've been more alive. Bruce failed him)

"LESLIE. DR THOMPKINS!"

Jason screeches across and marching in, earning angry stares  from the other patients but it turns into gasps and horror when they see Batman carry a limp Nightwing barely clad in spandex anymore. Everyone bows out, knowing they were priority.

-

Something inside Dick broke.

He doesn't know what it is.

He'll live with it.

-

"Bruce, he's fallen into a coma."

Leslie says, solemn. Angry tears form in Jason's eye and he was about to fight Bruce, give him the tirade. Compare him to Nightwing.

The unspoken message rings loudly in Bruce's mind. He doesn't need Jason to say it.

You failed him too.

Jason is seething, anger. Sadness a d everything is violating him from inside.

If you were a minute later, he would've died. We would've been carrying his body to the grave. The Joker would still live. You see the problem? DO YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROBLEM?

Bruce sits beside Dick, his pulse like a fluttering butterfly. He grasps his hand in Duck's fragile one and prays.

Prays that he wakes up.

-

Dick is on a life support machine now.

I guess the ventilator couldn't keep him up. All good boys do die. If not, maybe a part of them broke.

Dick is no exception.

-

Alfred squeezes Bruce's hand. Jason sits so quietly beside him alongside the rest of the family.

Its April 27th. Jason was taken this day.

They don't say a word, neither does Red Hood, he just wants the baby blue eyes to open again.

He cries.

-

Five months have gone by and he stirs slowly.

He's barely moving and Jason shoots up and looks, squeezes Dick's hand again.

Baby blues meet emerald green.

Jason dashes for Leslie. She comes and shoos everyone out.

Jason is fucking glad. Dick is alive.

-

Bruce is disappointed.

He cannot bring himself to meet Dick who's currently in the ward under observation. He's failed Dick. He knows it.

He enters, heavy hearted. Dick is smiling at everyone but Bruce can see it, the hard lines. The sunshine doesn't reach the baby blues. He thinks they've turned into aquamarine, a shade tad too dark. I guess, that's what trauma does to people.

Dick smiles at Bruce, he feels the tension and Dick pats the chair beside him where Jason was sleeping. Bruce softly sits, he has no heart to wake Jason up.

Dick is alive. Dick is alive.

Bruce places one hand on Grayson's one, it feels much more warmer and his pulse is beating normally.

And he breaks.

He cries, tears steaming down his cheeks. An ugly sound escapes his throat. Bruce gasps in air and exhales shakily. Dick watches, silent.

Is this how you felt when I was in Hell?

Dick doesn't touch Bruce, doesn't say its okay and I'm alive. He stares dead into Bruce.

I cannot forgive.

Dick sits quietly, he doesn't have to say it. Loyalty does kill you in the end if you step on all the wrong pieces of glass.

That's when you find yourself falling from the trapeze line, you find yourself swirling again in the memories you wish you could lock.

Loyalty in the end, is your demise.

[brian-vlasak-writer]

Originally Published in:

THE DAILY DRUNK

NOTES FROM HELL

9 December 2020 | Essay

My body has been on fire for the past decade. Think less “Damn, I’m fucking jacked!” and more “STOP, DROP, AND ROLL!” This fire stems from an irreversible neurological disorder and its antecedent nerve injury.

You may well think I am exaggerating. That’s fine. It’s hard to imagine being perpetually on fire. Why would anyone want to imagine that? Perhaps a finer point is needed. Why should anyone have to imagine themselves on fire, undying, for years? Do you even want to? Such wondering can only be rewarded by non-understanding. Sure we’ve all burnt our fingers, but can you imagine that moment when the flame touched your finger pad dragging on for years?

I read a quote today attributed to Julius Cæsar. “It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience.” Irrespective of the author, the speaker has a point. Ask yourself this question — which would you rather? Die, or submit to a life set alight, every moment of every day. That’s it. Those are your choices.

Which would you choose?

There’s a reason the non-fatal neurological disorder I endure — Complex Regional Pain Syndrome — is known colloquially as “The Suicide Disease,” and I suspect it comes down to this very dilemma. After all, what is the point of continuing onward — body consumed by an invisible fire, mind slowed by pain, spirit shattered from constant existential questioning — if one horn of the dilemma, that of living, is a Sisyphean act‽ Or, as Camus mused, “There is only one really serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide. Deciding whether or not life is worth living is to answer the fundamental question in philosophy.” In other words, what’s the breaking point?

Pain enables people to flood their bodies with chemicals, injure themselves to trigger the mind’s pain gating mechanism (the brain prioritizes trauma — immediate threats receive more attention than chronic), and, through it all, watch as their core being slowly floats away amidst their drifting dendritic ash. This disease, living with omnipresent burning pain, is worse than any flesh-horror of Silent Hill — because of the compounded threat of Covid and the opioid crisis, not even the nurses pay attention to us, doctors shirk away (though not out of fear for their safety but their medical licences), churches are no longer safe ground, and the most vulnerable are drawing away from those whom we love most. Like dying cats. At least there’s no literal barbed wire — it just feels like it. Besides, because we’re on fire, we’re more susceptible to infection. There is no help to be had. There is only the self.

I’m writing this now under the influence of dextromethorphan, an NDMA-antagonist. As Dev rapped in «Bass Down Low» (2010), I am “straight buzzin’, Robotussin.” Sounds fun, right‽ It’s not. We of the invisible conflagration are desperate for relief, but the risk-reward benefit is too low. The math is painful. It is also easy: Go to the Emergency Room, wait for hours for a single possible injection of something to take your pain away, and end up dying weeks later ... after fighting so hard to not!

I’ve turned to studies and long shots in the hope that maybe this one time — these four or six or eight hours — the flames will be snuffed. And, even if they are, they’ll come back. Such is the nature of fire.

The flames shall continue to consume my spirit, my patience, my will. Perhaps something shall come from the ash when it falls back to earth in this imagined space. But, just like Silent Hill, it’s cyclical — any relief is temporary, brief, an eau de vie ... You live for these brief respites even as they tear your professional life apart. Your reputation. Your baseline health. It’s all you’ve got, after all, this temporary escape.

You will burn again — it’s just a question of time.

Brian Vlasak, MFA, PhD is a disabled essayist and thinker living in Salem, Massachusetts. Dr. Vlasak’s work has been published in Coffin Bell, Paragon Press’s Echo: A Journal of Nonfiction, Columbia Journal, and is forthcoming in Saranac Review. They unwind by losing games of Overwatch.

[justjessame]

Babysitting Butcher Chapter 32

Life as a human guinea pig is a strange thing. First of all, there's the questions. The same questions over and over, to the point where the machines and medical doodads and the noise that became almost normal for me, but the questions became the irritant of the day.

"How are you feeling today, Dr. Taylor?" As I'd squint into the bright light being forced into my marrow it seemed. A muttered reply from me, and honestly the same answer in varying degrees of annoyance or acceptance depending upon the day and how many times I'd been asked it so far. "Uh huh, and are you feeling warm? Is there tenderness in your abdomen?" While they poked and prodded, testing skin, muscle, bone and eventually blood.

Did you know the average human adult has around 1.2-1.5 gallons of blood which equals roughly 10 units? I know this because I wanted to be certain that I'd have enough after all the blood testing. Research would either be the way I kept sane or what finally pushed me over the ledge into complete madness, mark my words.

Billy visited, as often as he could, and every single time he'd greet the head poker in residence with his own version of the repeated question game. "How is she? What's the bloody progress?" At which I would inevitably check the arm that seemed to be their favorite vessel for bloodletting. "How much longer?" And then he'd meet my gaze and focus his attention on ME, rather than on my medical condition.

Yes, I was calling it a condition. If I let the reality of my situation fully grip me, then I'd scream. And I had moments of it, trust me.

How would you feel if every single time the man you loved walked in and spoke about your person as though you were a petri dish experiment before reminding himself, through sheer force of finally SEEING you, that you were in fact the woman he loved?

Now take that feeling you just got from that scenario and add the annoyingly taunting voice of the caped asshole who caused this whole fucking irritating bullshit situation reminding you that you fell in love with a man for whom hatred of supes is as natural as inhaling. Feeling just a hint of discomfort? Just add the sound of beeping, buzzing, and dripping to remind yourself of the fact that this was all happening while I was being held hostage as a "let's see what happens if we try this mixture to counteract the demon juice flowing through her veins" was tried over and over.

Strained. My nerves, body, and brain felt strained. Even after the feeding tube was gone and Billy could kiss me. Even after I was given the go ahead to work from my hospital bed. Frayed would be a kind way to say how absolutely on edge I felt.

And the worse part? I felt like I was missing something. Something important. Something paramount. Just out of reach and as though, even surrounded by my laptop and notes, something that was keeping me out of an important loop.

The longer that I stayed in the 'undisclosed medical' location, the more that I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Literally anywhere. I started to yearn for Bolivia and the Black Ops team that had gotten caught up in the web of a rogue agent and 'died' implicated in a massive fuck up of epic proportions.

When a rational woman who knows how the inner workings of other people's brains and behavior follow reliable patterns starts thinking fondly of the heat of a tropical place where she had to wade through more red tape than most people would assume humanly possible to unravel the truth, all while hearing the type of rumors about the men she was trying to clear and resurrect from faked death, then shit has hit epic levels of horrible. It did remind me to contact that team to see how their return to their former lives had worked out, and wonder if their leader had gotten over his own tragic ability to attract murderous women.

I wanted to go further than the small courtyard deemed safe enough for me to explore, and near enough to make them taking me off the dialysis machine after another fun round of 'clean her blood again' reasonable. I wanted to sleep in my own bed and watch television at my discretion without interruptions for another round of the questions and poking I wanted, in short, to be back to normal already.

I might have been empathizing with Billy's urge for the Vought wankers (his word, I swear) to find the magic solution so life could go back to the routine we both wanted a return to. Or I might have been trying to only see the positive outcome, since there was a creeping feeling that maybe, just maybe there wasn't an easy fix or a fix at all.

A month passed, with my cabin fever slowly increasing by the day, and with it my internal and external temperatures. Oh yeah, that's right, I might have forgotten to mention that while the steaming was at bay, now it was just my actual body temperature that would fluctuate and freak every single fucking person all the way out. When Billy said I nearly went "nuclear" he hadn't been joking, apparently I could have fucking exploded like a goddamn human time bomb and I didn't want to consider just how fucking messy that would have been for the janitorial staff.

Finally, maybe because I wanted some type of control about the questioning, I started asking some probing ones of my own. And what I found, when they would meet my eyes and answer me as fully as I wanted, was that that creeping feeling was growing more likely.

The issue wasn't simply that they didn't know which variation of Compound V that Homelander had me infected with, it was that as they broke down the components and addressed each one, my body didn't simply fight their attempts, it attacked itself. The asshole, it would appear, had basically chosen the self destruct version, and it was trickier than any puzzle these 'real doctors' had ever come across. I was truly feeling the confidence of having a toddler performing my brain surgery with this knowledge.

Oh and that wasn't all, even IF they figured out how to 'neutralize' the formula inside of my bloodstrain, then there was a probability that I could pass it on to any future children. Isn't that some kind of amazingly poetic bullshit to hear after you chose to evict a foreign invader from your uterus? That the one stabilizing agent I'd had scraped and dumped was the ONLY one that I would ever get to actually be allowed to experience. Remind me to send Homelander a HUGE fucking thank you card, would you?

Early into my first true consciousness, before I found out just how fucked the pompous dick had made my entire existence, Billy had told me that my parents had visited while I was knocked out. Apparently near death experiences make even the weirdest of families reunite. And mine was no different.

Mom became a regular visitor and I was shocked by how much I started looking forward to her visits. She was strangely comforting, and tried to keep my spirits up, she even made peace with Billy. Dad was less frequent in his contact, but Mom told me it was difficult for him to see me look like a shell of myself.

And I did. I looked like a ghost that's haunting what was left of my body. The feeding tube had kept me nourished, but my muscle mass had suffered from the amount of time I was forced to spend in bed. I was constantly tired, my work hours going from nine to six to an hour here, a few minutes there, and the amount of napping I did would make most house cats jealous. The gowns that I wore hung from my frame, my appetite was scarce and I felt like this was the LONGEST goodbye letter ever to be written.

As the days passed, one merging into the next without me taking stock of how much I missed, how much that puzzle of what I was missing had bothered me early on, the negative ideas started creeping in. Homelander's voice grew louder. His smug question about Billy and me and what my condition would mean for the two of us in the end kept pushing through my attempts to distract myself.

I was sitting in the soft chair they'd brought in for me by the window, staring out and thinking of my options when Billy came in for his visit. I heard him, in the background noise of beeps and whirls, ask his questions. I felt him when he was nearer to me, but my eyes stayed on the 'view'.

He started to greet me, but my mouth opened and the question came out without me thinking about it. "How will you do it?" I watched a leaf, one missed by the obsessive groundskeepers, dance in a breeze I wish I could feel. He was confused, his reflection showed that much. "When you kill me, how will you do it?"

"Veronica," I could hear the pain in his voice, the fear hiding behind it. "I wouldn't-"

"Frenchie then?" I tilted my head considering. "MM? Hughie barely managed to make the choice with-" I stopped and took a breath. "Kimiko?" I sighed and pulled my legs up onto the chair, hugging my knees. "I hear she makes quite a mess of her prey." My voice wasn't loud and it didn't sound anything more than resigned, and I was a little curious. "If you can get Starlight to do it, you could make it seem like self defense? Or," I sighed, and bit my lip, "it would finally give you a reason to take her out too."

"Ronnie, love, that's not gonna-" I turned and he flinched when he saw that I was serious and not the least bit upset. "Ronnie?"

"Billy Butcher, I wrote the book on you." My smile felt wrong to me, but right at the same time. "I know you inside and out, or at least I think I do." I had the research on the flash drive that was hooked into my laptop on the bed. "You are single minded in your focus and your focus has been on eliminating supes from the world for a very long time." I turned back to the window, staring past the view and at the reflection of the room behind me. "It was one of the things I found the most attractive about you, I think. That you could see a goal and pound away until you master it." He sat in the chair close to me, but at a distance far enough that he'd have to work to touch me. "So, how will I die, Billy?"

"You'll die safe and sound, of old age in our bed, Veronica." I smiled sadly at this pipe dream of a fairy tale he wanted so badly to believe. "When you're sick of me, remember?" I could hear how badly he wanted it to be true, how much he wanted to hold me and it to all be a terrible dream.

"Never took you for a nursery rhyme and fairy stories fan," my eyes were still on the window. "This isn't going away, Billy, what he put in me isn't going away. And you will start to look at me like you look at him." My eyes found his, and face to face I wanted to force him to see it. "You will. And then, just like you, Frenchie, and Hughie brainstormed about Translucent and the best way to end him, you'll start to consider my pressure points." I gave a harsh, humorless chuckle. "And the funniest part is that Homelander built mine in for you, all you have to do is take me off the blood cleanse for a day and my own body will do it for you." His eyes tightened at the reminder of how many close calls I'd had. "Oops, I guess I just planned it for you."

"Please don't." He was begging me to let him pretend it wasn't the truth, that he wouldn't lose me too, and because of the same supe as Becca's cause of death. "Don't do this."

I smiled sadly, knowing he knew, even without me telling him, what was going to happen next.

[ghoststrawberries]

hey so I literally just started watching kny bc literally your taste is almost 1-for-1 the same as mine, and I was like 'ok I trust ghost, I got some free time and a hulu account, let's do this' and like???? yeah. it's good. i have only known my son for one day and I love him, my weird maroon midoriya boy. tl;dr you have great taste and do you have any more recs (besides mp100 & bnha which I both already watch & love)

i love gettin asks like this….. like yes…. come here……… come to ghost…………. let me infect u and make u trust me………… let us share our taste for fictional media…….. itll all be fine and every character definitely ends up happy in everything im into and you will not cry at any point itLL BE FINE. TRUST ME. 

gosh tho im so glad i influenced u into giving kny a try and that ur enjoying it so far!!! tanjiro is also my son whom i love. tbh ive been reading more than watching it bc the art of the manga is really unique i think! but wow im emotional , im so emotional,, please take care of ur heart while proceeding thru kny

some other recs ive got for manga/anime are:

Dungeon Meshi - no anime yet, but please read it, it feels like a classic rpg/dnd game and youll fall in love with the characters, and the plot is so much deeper than it first leads u to believe. it needs more fans its literally so good

Kekkai Sensen - ghHGHHH I LOVE KEKKAI SENSEN’S WHOLE AESTHETIC. the plot is a lil wonky ngl, but studio bones animated it and lemme just say its GORGEOUS. the city its set in feels like a living breathing thing alongside the characters and i keep going back to it just for its vibes

i started HunterxHunter last year, havnt continued with it yet just cause my brains a mushroom, but what i saw i liked! its really fun, and an anime classic, if you havent seen it.

also i dont wanna assume you’ve seen it and not rec it but if u have seen it feel free to ignore this rec: Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood is ALWAYS in my top 5. always and forever. absolutely incredible characters, plot execution, setting, everything.

The Promised Neverland is another new anime that i enjoyed. i will say tho its not for everyone, bc the main characters are very young children and they go through a lot of turmoil, but theyre so smart and its really thrilling to watch thru the suspense, and root for them as they try to escape their situation

and if u want a break from action and tension…… Fruits Basket is very sweet………. sometimes u just gotta watch and enjoy a goofy shoujo…. u just gotta give into the soft romance…………… 

Mushishi is also an anime to watch if u want a break from action and tension….. i love it a lot. every episode is kind of its own self contained story, and the supernatural elements are so enchanting. its a very slow-paced and mesmerizing anime

That’s all i have off the top of my head rn really! ofc I hope that you enjoy the ones u try out but dont feel obligated to stick it out just cause I rec’d it - every story is different and has different things that might interest some people but repel others. like, before lookin at any of these def look into if theres any warnings for stuff u might be squicked out by, cause i have no idea your real preferences beyond that our tastes often align, but overall i hope i dont steer you too wrong with these recs!

Have a good day! 💖

[mothmanliveshere]

Are You All Ready for my Wacky TGWDLM Theory

It’s 3am and I’ve forgotten how to sleep or write effectively so here goes

so my theory predicates on a few sub-theories, or assumptions, i guess, as follows:

The infected don’t completely ‘take over’ their hosts in the traditional sense. I believe the infected take on the goals and motivations, and some facets of personality, from their hosts. This is mostly corroborated, in my opinion, by the song Not Your Seed. To me, Alice’s attacks and laments seem too personal and complex to completely be manipulative attacks. We already pretty much know that the alien adopts your memories, why not this? I think the meteor just turns you into a different version of yourself, one where you’re inhuman and loyal to the hivemind, but still yourself in many other senses. the important thing here is that you keep your primary motivators, if a bit warped.

The infected have distinct personalities from one another. This one kind of stems from the last one, but I think in certain instances - infected!sam and infected!charlotte interacting, for example, or infected!ted’s “he might just kick your head” line. I remember one line establishing that they had distinct brains but were also connected to the hivemind... brain... meteor and my take is that the meteor has a stronger influence on them at some times compared to others, evident in how “in sync” they are - Cup of Roasted Coffee vs Not Your Seed vs Join Us (And Die). 

So where am I going with this? You guessed it: it’s yet another Paul is/isn’t infected theory. 

So basically, my main theory goes as follows:

I believe Paul was infected. I mean, he was singing right in front of us, guys. We all saw it. 

The infected take on the motivators of their hosts. What’s Paul’s primary motivator? It’s right there in the name. He just doesn’t like musicals.

For a musical species, that’s pretty incompatible, right? Hence: a loophole. 

Let’s take a detour and look at the two songs that I think most leave questions: The Guy Who Doesn’t Like Musicals and Inevitable. 

People have already said this, but I mean, look at Inevitable. Paul is giving me nothing if not the impression of playing along with someone you know you can’t win against. Everything from the “I’m still the man you trust” to “you have to sing to survive” to the desperate “look at the fun we’re having already” gives me those exact vibes. 

A lot of people have been debating the place of The Guy Who Doesn’t Like Musicals within the universe. I at first took the opinion that it was a meta song, a greek chorus third-person kind of thing, but I’m willing to accept the alternative viewpoint that it takes place after the story, as the infected are recounting it for the audience or for pleasure or whatever.  Through the lens of this theory, I’ve been seeing the second scenario - namely, in the part where Paul neglects to make his grand entrance, as suggesting that the rest of the hivemind found out about his rebellious nature - it’s a hivemind, it’s not exactly easy to keep secrets - but seeing as he is one of their species now, they aren’t willing to be as violent with him. He’s part of the family now, only they view him as the rebellious teen who’s a dang handful. My only problem with this is that it would imply Paul letting Emma get infected and still going along with it, which I really can’t see him doing. Unless it’s a completely different infected person who also works at Beanies and happens to also be played by Lauren Lopez. I dunno. 

I lost my train of thought - its almost 4am now -  but tl;dr - Paul was infected, but his firm hatred for musicals allows him to fight back and gain individuality in some sense from the hivemind. He’s still Paul, just a bit more - musical. 

Anyway now that that’s out of the way I’m gonna go watch all the songs again. 

[mumbal33]

The Warrior Within

Dark, brooding, and burly, one-time badass Ronon Dex has come a long way since he first jumped through the Stargate. Now a trusted member of the Stargate: Atlantis team, Jason Momoa reveals that there’s more to Ronon than just his muscles…

By Byran Cairns, Stargate SG-1/Stargate Atlantis Magazine

Big guy. Big muscles. Big gun. Big attitude. There’s no denying these qualities immediately impressed Stargate: Atlantis viewers about Ronon Dex, a Satedan soldier from the Pegasus Galaxy who was implanted with a tracking device so the life draining Wraith could hunt him down. After easily getting the drop on Lt Col John Sheppard and Teyla Emmagan in the episode Runner, Ronan agreed to help them capture the infected Lt Ford if Dr. Beckett removed the alien mechanism under his skin. Realizing his potential as an ally against the Wraith, Sheppard later invited him to join his team and although they’ve slowly gained his trust and have been a positive influence on him, it has still been a difficult transition.

“To a certain extent, it has,” notes Momoa in his deep, gruff voice. “Ultimately, Ronon is still kind of a loner but has taken direction from Sheppard as long as he thinks it is right. That is the great part about him though. He’s military so he’ll still react and have that instinct within him but at the same time, he’ll still listen to commands.”

Since his inauguration, Ronon has been a key participant on multiple missions and the outings have given him the opportunity to connect with his team mates and adjust to his surroundings.

“Sheppard is Ronon’s commander but to me, he and Teyla are the only ones I can trust,” offers Momoa. “I go to Teyla for everything because Sheppard isn’t big on the emotional things. If I had a problem, I would go to Teyla because we’re both aliens. She’s like my sister. Shep is like my best friend through the whole thing. Weir is just my boss, I don’t know too much about her but at the same time, I respect her. Rodney is the brains and I’m the brawn and it will always be like that between us. I can kick his ass but he’ll outwit me. Beckett saved my life numerous times and in these episodes, you’ll see he’s probably saved me more than anybody. He is someone I trust and Beckett is like a good buddy now.”

The second season concluded with Ronon and McKay captured and cocooned onboard a hive ship awaiting either rescue of imminent doom. Among the Atlantis squad, those two are arguable the most polar opposite as McKay can be annoying and Ronon takes no crap. The unlikely pairing is a guilty pleasure and the new season sees them sharing even more screen time together while engaging in their trademark witty banter and scathing remarks.

“The upcoming Tao of Rodney is really good because there’s stuff where McKay is getting a lot of power and thinks he can beat Ronon,” reveals Momoa. “I’m like ‘Oh yeah? Want to take me on?’ And he’s like ‘Um no.’ It is still very much him eating all the time and me making fat jokes about him, McKay saying I’m not smart enough or I am his big friend with few syllables. He’s been calling me Caveman too and I call him fat ass. He’ll poke jokes at me or I will poke them at him but there’s a mutual respect. When it comes down to it, he’s saved my life and I’ve saved his. I am the Pitt Bull on the show and I can tear anyone apart. If McKay and me are bickering, I would chop somebody’s head off to save him.”

As the muscles on the series, Ronon’s special talent to intimidate, threaten, and kick some serious Wraith butt makes him better suited as a fighter rather than a peacemaker. Unfortunately, such roles can sometimes be limiting to an actor by not providing enough depth and development.

“Well, that is the character and the way he is,” defends Momoa. “You can’t expect him to get real emotional. That’s hard to write for. That is why in Sateda, there is a lot I don’t say but am suffering through. [Robert] Cooper and a lot of the crew guys were coming up and going ‘Wow! That was amazing!’ I don’t necessarily have to say anthing, but that doesn’t mean I’m not acting. As long as there are good things to chew on and you don’t have to ramble off all this mumbo jumbo like McKay. I would never want to say all theat sci fi garbage or Beckett with his doctor terms. I speak through my actions and the way I hold myself. I’m not the way Ronon is in real life so it is still fun to play but it is an an ensemble cast and they write for everyone.”

Luckily, Stargate: Atlantis has no intention of pigeonholing anyone and the talented writing staff has been shattering any preconceived notions by sprinkling juicy nuggets throughout season three for Ronon. The humorous Irresistible was such a case. With Atlantis somehow enthralled by a man named Lucius Lavin, Momoa was thrilled to see his tough guy alterego crack a smile.

“That was great, man,” he enthuses. “The night before, I was talking with my fiance, was a little intoxicated, and she’s making me laugh. I would go ‘Hhon! Hhon! Hhon!’ and it sounds like a motor. I couldn’t stop laughing. It was one of those giggles and the next day, I had to shoot this scene where I’m laughing and we’ve never heard Ronon laugh at all. I thought it would be great to be this big dumb animal and be, ‘‘Hhon! Hhon! Hhon!’. He just has this big, funny, annoying laugh. Irresistible was fun because I got to laugh and be goofy.”

Momoa also appreciated the series shifting from the Wraith-heavy adventures to something more light hearted.

“That is what is great about the show; we don’t take ourselves too seriously,” he admits. “The most serious character on the show is me. In that respect, Joe Flanigan plays the lead so great. He’s this unsung hero. I love the way everyone acts on the show and that it has that comedy element to it.”

However it was the recent Ronon-centric Sateda which truly excited Momoa. Once again, Ronon encounters the Wraith, returns to his home world, exposes his tragic past and vulnerable side while dealing with a dangerous present day threat.

“I had to do so much in Runner and this year, Sateda just blows it all away,” exclaims Momoa. “They finally gave me something to act with. Being an actor, I want dialogue. My guy doesn’t say much, but when he does… Sateda was an amazing episode and worth everything. We shot it as the third episode, it aired as the fourth, and it was like ‘Oh man! Now there’s not going to be anything! The rest of the season is going to suck!’ but it has been really good!”

According to Momoa, Sateda was probably the series’ most ambitious and time consuming production to date.

“Sateda was unreal,” he acknowledges. “I usually do four or five days per episode and if it is every day, it is with the whole group and I have little lines here and there. Sateda was a 12-day shoot when we normally shoot in seven. It was the biggest budget I think we’ve ever had and the most stunts and explosions. We’ve never had that many locations. I was exhausted. We basically shot a full-on movie in 12 days on a movie schedule.”

The experience was further heightened when Executive Producer Robert Copper stepped in to direct the episode.

“Robert was fantastic to work with,” praises Momoa. “I hadn’t talked to much with him before that. He’s a very quiet guy and I never go up to the office unless there is a serious problem. I came with my ideas and when I first met him, they were having a little meeting so I went in and gave him the hugest hug. I had to prove to him that I could act. He was there every scene, if I needed the set to be quiet, he would make sure they were. He gave me my time. Not to float his boat but he is definitely one of the top directors I’ve worked with on the show, let alone my career.”

Not exactly a big talker, Ronon’s right hook or his weapon shoved in your face speaks louder than words. Thankfully, outside of Stargate: Atlantis, Momoa kept in great shape on Baywatch Hawaii and North Shore. Neither series were as physical taxing as playing Ronon yet the gung ho actor immediately embraced that warrior spirit.

“When I was doing Baywatch Hawaii, my cousin was a big toe in surfing and now he’s a full-on stunt coordinator so I’ve done a lot of water stuff that has been pretty heavy in big waves,” says Momoa. “That was the only thing I knew. I had never really been in any fights and my manager is Japanese so I wanted to work with a stick. I basically did that for a bit and watched movies before I got the role. I watched tons of samurai and action movies, studying people’s body movements which is what actors do. I was finding my own way, incorporating them into the role, and listening to Bam Bam who is just a talented artist and can come up with a fight like that [snaps fingers]. We work well together because he’s not, ‘No, do it this way!’ He takes into account what you made for your character and how your body moves.”

For Momoa, that included laying off a previous injury which flared up early.

“I have bad knees, so grappling and going low are very hard for me,” he notes. “Runner just got me because we didn’t have the lighter guns so it was five-plus pounds and it was hammering on my right knee. At the end of the day, you soak in the bath, have some wine, pop some Advil, and you’ll be fine. But we established Ronon isn’t really a kicker and more of a head butt, punch kind of guy. The studio likes it and it is working well. Sateda did rip me apart because I had armor on too.”

Before the SG-1 spin-off geared up, most of the actors reportedly signed a five-year contract. Yet when asked whether he could imagine himself in the series for the long haul, Momoa momentarily pauses.

“Tough call. I don’t know if I would want to play Ronon for five years. Playing a character for four years is a little much for me so I’d like to move on. Ultimately, I’d like to be in movies. It’s kind of up in the air. This was a fantastic role and I’ve never played anything like it but not to expand or try other things would be selling myself short.”

Naturally, Momoa isn’t necessarily vying for those adrenaline charged parts.

“Originally, I did not want to be an action star,” he confirms. “I felt it was a trap I’d get into and it would come easy for me. I’m a pretty coordinated cat. I don’t want to be an action star because I don’t want to limit myself to anything.”

In the meantime, Momoa couldn’t be happier on Stargate: Atlantis. However, with only a handful of episodes to finish, he isn’t prepared to speculate on where Ronon is heading. Yet after adding his two cents on his imposing, dreadlocked character last year, the 27-year-old is hoping to fulfill a growing ambition on the series.

“I’d really like to do a story and have a credit for that,” says Momoa. “If I stay on the show longer, I’d love to do a director’s attachment where you sit down and go through the whole thing with him in post-production. I’d eventually love to be behind the camera, going through the dailies, editing, and enhancing what has been shot. I’d love to do that. Hopefully that may be possible next season.”

[zonewaves]

May Death Never Stop You

B̸͙̰̽a̴̝̠̍̀ḏ̵̳̓͝ ̴͔̇̌n̴͇̉ẽ̵̱̮w̶̧̭̽͝ś̶͖̜̾ ̵̧̱̉f̵͍̋r̷̟̍͌ò̸̡ḿ̴͈ ̷̤̺̋̎t̷̺̚h̴̰̎͛e̷̲̓ ̵̤̿z̴̗͌o̵͎͚̾ň̶̤͚ę̶̼̔̓s̷̨̖̐,̸̡͇̈͂ ̸̰̆t̵̳͔͌ȗ̶̱̙͝m̴̧̹̓ḅ̷͗l̶̦̳̾e̴̡̓ẇ̷̮e̴͚͖͌͑e̶̙̼̐̚d̷͕͙̚s̷̨̛̟ ̷I̴t̶ ̴l̵o̴o̴k̵s̵ ̸l̴i̷k̴e̸ ̸J̵e̴t̵-̷S̵t̸a̸r̴ ̴a̵n̵d̴ ̷t̸t̶̲͛h̶͜͝è̵̳͠ ̸̜͖͋K̶̫͒o̴͔̿̕ḇ̶̘͂ř̴͍͝a̵̱͌͗ ̶̭̀̚K̶͔̀͆i̸͈̥̕d̸̩͒̄ H̸a̶d̵ ̶a̵ ̷c̷l̸a̸p̸ ̷w̷i̸t̸h̵ ̶a̵n̶ ̵e̴x̶t̸e̷r̵m̵i̴n̵a̷t̵o̶r̶ ̷t̵h̶a̴t̴ ̷w̷e̵n̷t̶ à̵̧̚l̴̨̪̓l̷̏̿͜ ̸̲̭̇̎C̸̟̪͂͘o̶̱͉̓͂s̷͎͝t̷͙̮̀̇ã̶̗̑ ̴̫̀R̴͓̪̈̓i̴͉̋͆c̷̤͙̔͝a̵̝͑͂ ̴A̴n̴d̵ ̷u̶h̴,̶ ̴g̶o̸t̵ ̴t̸̷̸̟͔͒̽̈́h̸̶̶̬͍̓̓̆̔ȩ̵̶̶̩̙͐̇m̷̵̷̨͔̌̍͐ş̷̴̵͕̐̑e̶̷̵̟̲͎̿̆̽̽l̶̸̴̪͔̍̈́̐͊v̸̷̴̨̻̊̈́͠e̷̷̶͍̣̩̳̿͋s̵̵̸̘͉̈́͊̊ ̸g̵h̸o̷s̶t̷e̵d̷,̵ ̴d̵u̶s̷t̶e̸d̶ ̵o̵u̵t̸ ̴o̵n̷ ̴R̶̟̫̽͒o̷u̶t̵e̶ ̵G̶u̸a̸n̴o̸ ̶S̴o̵ ̵i̶t̴'̷s̴ ̶t̶i̷m̷e̸ ̶t̶o̷ ̵h̵i̴t̶ ̶t̶h̷e̸ ̴r̷e̶d̵-̴l̶i̷n̸e̷ ̴a̶n̴d̵ ̸u̷p̴t̶h̶r̶u̷s̵t̸ ̴t̴h̴e̸ ̶v̵o̷l̵u̵m̷e̴ ̸o̴u̶t̷ ̸t̸h̷e̷r̷e̷ Ḳ̶̨̡̺͍̮̘͔̪̰͗̈̀̈́͛́͗́̀̎͊̔e̶̛̗̿̌́͊͌͌̈͘̕ễ̴̛̙̪̩͍̄͑̆̀́̋͘͝p̷̡̘̗̳͍̯͎̤͖̣͕̈́̅ ̶y̷o̵u̸r̶ ̴b̵o̷o̶t̶s̶ ̴t̴i̶g̷h̸t̷,̴ķ̵̧̡̛̛̻̠̥̪͙̦̠̭̆̋́͒e̴̺̣͙͖̳̥̲͓̓̆̀͊̂̓̓̎̚͝ͅe̴̗̙̫͎̗͓͂̈́̉̌̀͘͘p̶͇̫̣̗̺͎̹͎̯̲̉́̈́̎̿̎̑͆͑̉͑͜ ̸̩̠͓͎̦͉͎̖̍̚͝͝ͅÿ̴̪̹͓̝̻̜̏̉̈̀̃̊́͒͝͝ó̵̱̯͕̙̫ų̸͙̯͚̘͎̙̭̮̫̥̮̍̀̎̂̒̓̓̓͛̕͝͝ŗ̴͔̣̯̺͈̺͈͖̲̒̏̈́͛͠͝ ̴̮̬̹̼͛̏͊̅̏̄g̸͉̤̬̬̑́̇͛̓ͅu̶͇̺̗̱̣͔͖̦̭̬̤͗̆n̷̡̘͇̘̬͕̿̈̍̽̅̈́̒͆͌s̷̲̏̈͆̾͌̆ ̴̨̗͈̼̰̣̦͖̯̗̹̠͐̄͗ç̴̢̛̩̼̤̤̍̀̂̊̂́͗͝͝l̷͔̳̍̐̈́́́̚͜͝͝͝ŏ̷̦͛͝š̵̡̙̰̆͋̅̊̅̄́̈́̊͝ẻ̸̬̪̺̑̉ ̵A̶n̴d̵ ̷d̷i̵e̵ ̶w̵i̷t̵h̵ ̷y̸o̴u̴r̶ ̷m̷a̵s̶k̵ ̸o̷n̴ ̸i̸f̵ ̶y̸o̵u̵'̸v̸e̵ ̵g̵o̶t̷ ̷t̸o̸ ̵H̶e̴r̶e̷ ̵i̴s̶ ̶t̷h̶e̶ ̴t̵̢̨͎̻͖̖̦̻̞̹̫͂̅ͅȑ̵̢̨̻̋́̉a̶̢̭̱̖̹̠̩̟̣̐̈́̇̕f̴̘̯̻͕͆̈́͛̏f̴̧̡̤̦̯̜̼͕̟̣̐̽̓̇̐̈́̈́̎̚̕͝ͅͅī̵̞̃͊̐̀́͝c̴̖͙̀̀̆̑̓͑̾ ̶

Kobra Kid smirked, looking at his weary companion who had the opposite expression. Goosebumps were shooting up and down Jet Star's body, night cold and clammy. Hearing the deaths of his friend and his scare the highlights out of him.

"D'you really think they'd think that?" Kobra mischievously questioned as if wanting it to be as true as desert swirlies. Jet took off his glasses and pulled a bandana from his pocket, wiping grimy sweat off his face.

He started to think.

Dr. Death Defying was a close friend of his—nay, Kobra's. He wouldn't seem to be the type to be that cool delivering that kinda hot stuff. Even so, the Four agreed that if one of them dies, they be keepin' it a secret to continue propaganda against BLi. The Four (or two of the Four) wouldn't allow this odd obituary to hit the airs. Right, he nodded to himself in reassurance and put on his glasses.

He must be right, he thought.

"It's to keep the 'Crows and Dracs from searchin' for a while," he finally replied. "Our own deaths are our life-savers now, Kid."

Still with a shit-gobbling, pie-eating, sly-high smile on his face, Kobra chuckled, "Oh yeah? Wonder what Pony heard and make of it."

Show Pony, the filthy unicorn with a tail of dust clouds as they rolled and rocked everyone's socks off. The love child of Mother Mayhem and Father Fabulous no one questions why or how. Well, whatever their reaction is, Jet's sure it's bizarre as heck. Maybe they was with Dr. D's broadcasting, laughing as much as a manic pixie just like their two-of-a-kind bestie.

Why was he always stuck with the loony?

"What matters now is we stay low," he grumbled, tying the bandana he was holding around the singed flesh by his calf. Kobra watched him then sat by his side, slipping his lipstick red jacket off to reveal a patchwork of bruised and burnt skin. It made Jet wince more than what his wounds meant to him. "You were carrying all that when we went gone?" he asked.

Kobra shrugged, "I'm a close ranger. Yeah, I can shoot an eye for an eye but fists are my kicks, you know?"

He didn't want to know. He didn't want to remember how brutal the kid is in firefights. It was both scary and reassuring to have him there by his side but alas, Lady Luck spat at their faces today and threw them in a sticky, sticky situation. They were out in a scavenger hunt at the rundown gasoline station, looking for mostly scraps of metal they can trade for food. Nothing was really salvageable as killjoys used to frequent the old pumps and bit by bit, like worker ants without a queen, they took all the goods they can find. All's left there now was mostly the big metal frames of the station that no one can yell timber at.

It was locally known to be killjoy territory so the Four thought it was a nice day and all for a field trip kinda shit whilst you know, getting stuff done at the same time. They hitched a ride from the sand sledders, planning to walk it all out when the moon rose.

All's good and all. They found bits of metal, like the bigger screws and bent nails they can trade for a few coins. Fun Ghoul even found a toy drum which was quickly snatched the brothers who started singing out tunes from the old times. It was nice until the Scarecrow party patrolling nearby heard it and thought to check it out. And that's when the circles of hell bubbled up and bursted at their midst.

One minute they was trying to remember the lyrics to a song about a boy who left home, and the other, they was regretting why they left their so-called home. Jet even started to wonder if he was the boy the song they were singing about referred to as a ray of light zoomed towards him and bit his leg.

Adrenaline makes you feel things—or not feel things.

Jet remembered stumbling at Kobra who had just electrocuted some Drac with his hand-thing. He grabbed him and he was almost fried—he swore he was when he saw the light in the kid's eyes dulled out to a muted hue rather than the usual piercing glare. He remembered Party Poison shouting for his brother as their legs, now completely drunk from adrenaline, move on their own accord. Both of them ran and ran and ran until Kobra got a hold of the hem of his clothes and tugged him inside an abandoned shack, half-filled with sand.

And here they were now, just having listed to the announcements of their deaths giving them no further ideas on what to do next. Kobra was wiping and trying to wipe himself. All they've got was Jet's pack: a battery operated radio, some strips of jerky, and a worn out map.

He handed a strip of dried rabbit meat to Kobra. "Quit fiddling with your wounds, would ya?" he said as the other took the offered jerky.

"Whad'ya think?"

"Infection if you ain't quitting on touching your skin."

"Not that, ya goose. I meant the traffic report."

Jet paused, "Hell of a heart stopper."

"Yeah?" Kobra snickered. "Always thought it'd be more... I dunno, theatrical?"

"You want it to be like some Romeo and Juliet type of shit?"

"Who now?"

"Ro—nevermind," Jet said, remembering the brothers were desert born and all their city knowledge were through cds and cassette tapes smuggled from decades before—heirlooms of their family, they would always say. Kobra nudged at him, "So? Wouldn't you think it's a bit bland?"

"For what's happened to us, Kobra. This is all the grandeur life has to offer."

Kobra smirked, "Shit, man. Loosen up. I know they was just trying to send a message."

"Maybe you ought to—" Jet cut himself short when a distant rumble steadily became nearer and nearer to them. He raised his finger against his lips and crawled towards the only opening of the shack, taking a peek at one of the rotted holes.

It was a car dragging a blue trailer behind it. Jet crawled back to Kobra's side and relayed the information to him. At best, it was a band of friendly killjoys, with the worse being not-so-neutral neutrals. If it were killjoys, they would be asking for their hideout and that's not safe at all. Neutrals tend to be too passive or aggressive. It was risky business to get out there and be known, especially after the traffic report.

"Gimme your jacket," Kobra suddenly insisted.

"What?"

"Just shut up and trust me."

Jet sighed and shrugged off his jacket which the other took and folded, slipping it in the pack Jet had. He then took his own and turned it inside out, making it an off-orange one with tattered bits hanging out. He put it on and with handfuls of sand, dusted himself with dirt. He instructed Jet to take off his sunglasses which he reluctantly did and showered him with sand as well.

Before Jet could even ask, Kobra was making his way out of the shack and started waving at the vehicle. Jet immediately tackled his friend and they wrestled on the ground like worms drying out from the sun. "What are you up to, ya punk?" he angrily asked him.

"Right now Kobra Kid and Jet Star are ghosted. People ain't have a picture of us in they brains. They don't know us. Trust me. I need to get cleaned, you need to get tended. We out here for fuck knows when and what assurance we got? Just the Phoenix Witch, Jet. I can hear her cart wheels squealing and wheeling and coming our way. I don't want to be collected. The news can say I'm dead but I ain't dying weak-willed. Death ain't stopping me. Get up your ass and start calling that car!"

Jet froze like rock formations against sandy winds. All he felt was the sand around him as he absorbed what the other said. Kobra scoffed and pushed him away, continuing on trying to call the attention of the car.

He's right, he thought.

He slowly rose to his feet. The other spared a glance at him and smirked then went back on waving his arms wildly. He lifted his hands and opened his mouth, "Hey!"

Then, a car honk.

"Heeey!"

Honk.

He figured he will never ask for help. This was just his battle cry. He was still fighting for his life. He grinned, the same goblin, winning, all-fears-are-gone smirk like his friend's. To stay alive or not doesn't matter. But how you put up a hell of a fight. And he was red, red, ready.

The car honked again as it further approached them. Both men lowered their flailing arms, panting heavily and smiling wickedly. Kobra patted him and snaked his arm around his shoulder, pulling him close to him.

"Fake your death good."