#mrs chonk speaks

[mrs-chonk]

everytime someone denies that Caitlyn is Asian an angel loses its wings PAINFULLY

gonna use that gun on one of u if I keep hearing these lies edit: sorry to come back just to bitch and moan abt this but IT FRUSTRATES ME, yall will see a character this is very obviously a certain ethi=nicity or poc and if they arent given a horrific stereotype of that ethnicity/race or it istn explicitly stated yall will ignore it or swap their ethnicity with something that fits better into a different stereotype?? like sevika, she is obviously indian but yall saw she was a mean masc lesbian so you took "mean" and "masculine" and said "ah yes, this MUST be a black woman" woah buddy, you're implying a lot there ... and just cause caitlyn and her family don't talk with intense broken English and wear fetishized versions or traditional asian attire, suddenly no one can see that she is obviously viet or thai (or some other south-east Asian country at least), she has a British accent and isn't fetishized for her asian-ness and suddenly we cant tell if shes asian or not ?? its weird

[mrs-chonk]

This also means that we should be encouraging and fostering environments and situations where Indigenous peoples CAN get education to become scientists and ecological experts. We should be helping Indigenous youth receive proper education and not be shoved to the back of the classroom because no one thinks they're worth it or going to be anyone important. We need to stop underestimating native people who are just as capable as anyone else, and the only reason they wouldn't be is that we keep pushing them back AND we refuse to help them battle intergenerational trauma EVEN when they ask for help or seek out shelters and/or rehabs.

happy PRIDE i’m here i’m queer and i believe the land should be given back to the proper indigenous stewards.

[sparklepocalypse]

Hello! I missed Six Sentence Sunday for reasons of life happening, but I'm back today, bitches and non-bitches! 🥰 Thank you so much to the absolute cavalcade of fantastic humans who tagged me today, including @alasse9, @zwiazdziarka, @heysweetheart-writes, @violetbaudelaire-quagmire, @cha-melodius, @captainjunglegym, @wordsofhoneydew, @piratefalls, @orchidscript, @firenati0n, @priincebutt, @kiwiana-writes, @getmehighonmagic, and @duchessdepolignaca03! My tag is open, but @hgejfmw-hgejhsf, I'm calling on you specifically because I haven't seen your name in my feed yet. ❤️

Today I bring you another lil' chonk of my @aroyallybigbangrwrb fic, Meet Me on the Other Side, a Western AU featuring runaway prince Henry and bounty hunter Alex. And when I say I have been having the most fun finding 19th-century slang terms to pepper into the fic... there's just a lot of pepper, okay?

The Sunfall Inn is located just off the Marcelina town square. It’s rather flash, by Alex’s reckoning, but he’s never been the sort to be bullocked by the corn cob aristocracy in this part of the country, and he assumes this Mr. Srivastava won’t be any different. He’s right and wrong on that front. Mr. Srivastava is an unassuming, brown-skinned feller of a height with Alex, wearing a natty black three-piece suit and a chimney pot hat. But when he opens his mouth to introduce himself, it’s clear to Alex that this man has spent a fair portion of his life around the type of fancy folk who don’t have much cause for visiting towns like this one. “Mr. Claremont-Diaz, I presume,” he says, extending a hand to shake. He speaks with a genteel accent, and Alex feels himself straightening up just a tad. “My name is Shaan Srivastava. I appreciate your punctuality.” “Call me Alex, Mr. Srivastava. Everyone else does,” Alex replies, shaking his hand firmly. “Guessing some measure of secrecy might be in order here?” “You’re correct,” Shaan says. Alex notices that he doesn’t invite the use of his first name. It's awfully starched of him, Alex decides, but the bounty’s more than enough to warrant his continued attention. Alex nods. “If you don’t mind a walk, there’s a trail not far from here that leads to a little glade, and nobody goes there during the day. At night, well, if you aren’t partial to seeing some feller in his birthday suit dipping into the sweets of his best girl – or his best boy, if he’s of that persuasion – best you avoid the glade at night.” “Are you certain it’s secure?” Shaan asks. His hand rises subtly at his side but stills, and Alex wonders what he might be hiding that’s made him so nervous. “You’ll be with me,” Alex replies. “You’ll be safe as houses, sunshine.” “Not precisely what I meant,” Shaan sputters, but Alex is already gesturing at the side door of the inn, next to the bar, and walking toward it, and after a moment, Shaan follows.

[rainbowresurrection]

I'm borrrrred so here's a some stuff about myself!

My name is Jon.

I have a yellow gecko named Scully (like from the X Files), a tarantula named Alice Cooper (shes 16!) a tabby named Mrs. Chonk (she's food-obsessed and on a diet), and two ferrets named Benny and Marty :-)

Here's da Chonk

In my free time I like to get high and draw crazy shit with markers. I also journal. Though I have pretty bad carpal tunnel so these only happen in short bursts. I love retro videogames but the same applies here lol. I do more watching than playing these days. Atari, NES, SNES, SEGA installments, PS1, and arcade machines are an on-and-off fixation of mine.

I'm a language enthusiast. I used to be fluent in day-to-day Spanish but I haven't gotten to speak it in years so it's awfully rusty now </3 soy hispano y hablo mejor el spanglish :P I can read Spanish just fine. My #1 target language of interest is Japanese. I just got done with an Arabic class. Earlier this year I learned some ASL on the fly to communicate with a coworker, & took a Korean hangeul class (I somehow found that harder than Arabic).

I love many kinds of rock, metal, punk, new wave, alt, and experimental music. Lately I've been into dark trap, especially Ghostemane and Grim Salvo. Generally speaking, my favorite band is probably Black Sabbath (70s era). My fav solo artist is David Bowie.

Obviously, I love Star Trek. I've been a trekkie for ten years now. I started with next gen but TOS quickly became my favorite.

Some of my favorite books include Star Trek: The Motion Picture (ofc), The Lord of the Rings, Interview With The Vampire, and The Dead Zone (I like a lot of Stephen King). I'm currently reading a psychedelic fantasy series known as the Great Book of Amber by Roger Zelazny. So far I'm loving it.

That's all for now 🫡

[decayandfanfics]

The great book of sayings

PAIRINGS: Tomura Shigaraki x FemReader

SUMMARY: He looks at you, his scarlet eyes fixed on yours, burning a hole through your head, every bit the predator he is, but you are as tough as it gets, so, against your better judgment and any well-founded logic, you answer his silent threat, the animalistic look he gives you with nothing less than a fearless smirk, irises burrowing into his pupils.A clever girl. He thinks, finally labeling you inside his head, cursing himself in the very moment he allows his brain to think of you as more than an asset. He is sure (he knows himself enough to know) he’ll think of this moment many times from now on.A clever pretty girl.

Reader is a typical college student until she gets herself tangled with the league of villains.

WARNINGS: Unhealthy/complicated relationships, violence, Tomura being Tomura, mentions of murder, heroes’ abuse of power.

A/N: I’m trying so hard to write crusty boy here really in character. At least after AfO is taken. Any misspelled words, english is not my native language so i’m trying Helen.

As always, let me know what you think!

________________________________________________

Chapter 12 / Chapter 13

Any port in a storm

Tomura knows a bastard when he sees one, and Chisaki Kai looks like someone who could stab his own mother just to prove a point.

And he’s not only a bastard, but he’s also very full of it. The way Chisaki talks like he knows better than anyone else, questioning Tomura and calling him out on his previous failures, as if he knew anything about dealing with pro heroes and a bunch of overpowered children ruining your plans.

Tomura knows where he’d failed and he learned from it, but that doesn’t mean he’ll have to waste his time hearing this asshole lecture him about leadership and planning. After all, Chisaki Kai is nothing but a low thug that works for money or whatever the fuck someone like him cares for. The league, on the other hand, has bigger matters to attend.

He sure like the sound of his own voice. Tomura thinks, narrowing his eyes when Overhaul begins to babble about leadership and pawns like they are nothing else than mere meat at his disposition, and not people with interests and wants.

It doesn’t take long before shit goes down. Magne’s remains puring over them like rain because the bastard makes her explode like a piñata with just a single touch.

Yes, Tomura also knows a deadly touch when he sees one, and Overhaul’s looks ridiculously overpowered.

“Compress, wait-!” Tomura shouts, but Chisaki is faster and before they understand what’s happening, Compress quirk goes off and Overhaul blows Atsuhiro’s arm with a simple touch and the fucker is so damn coward that the moment Tomura lounges towards him, he just orders one of his pitiful pawns to act as a fucking shield and die in his place.

The yakuza has the nerve to call himself the next leader and Tomura is almost impressed by the audacity.

“Now I get it. You should have just started with this, saved us all some time.” Tomura spits making a monumental effort to keep his cool for his sake and the sake of the league.

“Where are they come from?! We weren’t followed, I swear!”

“One of them probably has a tracking quirk.” He’s also trying his utter best to not smack Twice’s masked head for being so damn naïve.

“We’ll cool our heads and try again later. I ow your side an arm.”

“Bastard! I’ll eviscerate you!” Twice barks at his side, holding Compress against his chest.

“Tomura-kun. Let me cut him. Real quick.” Toga ask, pulling out her knife.

“No.”

“it’s my responsibility!” screams Twice.

“No.”

“I don’t wanna rush you, but the sooner we talk the better.” Think things over carefully. Consider how your organization should be run, then when you’ve calm down, call me.” Overhaul speaks like he didn’t just killed Magne, comparing her with one of his ridiculous pawns and Tomura hates him, truly. It’s not like when he says he hates society and heroes, no. This is more personal. He hates Chisaki Kai the same way you hate your childhood bully, the same way you hate someone because you had the misfortune of knowing them.

“They’re gonna pay for this. Why can’t I go after them?!”

“Now thinking, we need to get Atsuhiro-san to a doc. “

“Right.”

“That wouldn’t work…damn that hurts” Atsuhiro whispers almost unconscious.

“Maybe we do have time to make them bleed.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Tomura-kun!”

“Another time.” He orders, watching as overhaul and his band of assholes disappear into the night “You’ll pay for what you’ve done today.” He swears already thinking in a million ways he could make him regret this.

“Shigaraki! We need to see the doctor! Atsuhiro is bleeding out!”

Ah, doctor Ujiko really found and excellent time to go missing, didn’t he? Now without his sensei and the hideout completely wrecked by the heroes, he’s between kidnapping some doctor or finding some abandoned hospital and pray there is some supplies that could work. But kidnapping someone would take time and efforts and the nearest abandoned hospital is forty minutes away and Compress doesn’t have so much time.

Ah, the perks of being a villain.

“Tomura-kun! What do we do!?”

He clenches his fists until his knuckles go numb, his mind rushing, thinking what to do besides the obvious, trying his best to ignore that option.  

“We need to take him now!”

Tomura rolls his eyes and suck his teeth hating his life because this is the last thing he thought he would be doing when he woke up that morning, something withing him twisting painfully between excited and done with this awful feeling he can’t rid off.

“Tomura-Kun! What do we do?!” Toga presses again, panicking because Compress is getting paler and paler.

He groans kicking some rock completely fed up. Why couldn’t Atsuhiro just stay sit there when he told him to wait? Now the itch gets insufferable out of nowhere and Tomura scratch his neck raw, snarling under the hand that covers his face. He doesn’t want to go there, but Twice needs help to carry Atsuhiro now that the man just fainted, and he can’t do copies of himself, so he’ll need someone else. It could be Toga, but Tomura hardly thinks she’s going to be helpful with that tiny body of hers. Besides, they’ll need someone who can clear out the streets before rushing out, so, he’ll have to go anyways.

Tomura sighs defeated, this isn’t about him, so he decides to ignore the knot in his stomach and the quick drumming of his heart against his ribs, preparing for the imminent headache before barking the orders.

“Follow me.”

______________

 A loud bang on your door wakes you suddenly.

You observe your room, remembering that you were studying before falling asleep over your desk after a whole day of paper reading and a pack of oreo’s for dinner. Your laptop screen flashes 00:23 am, so you’ve been sleeping for hardly an hour.

Another bang and this time the sound of someone trying to enter your apartment at midnight shoots your adrenaline levels to the top.

“Big sister! Please!” Toga’s voice sounds desperate from the other side of the door turning your fear in worry, so without thinking, your feet tap quickly through the flat to just opening it before some neighbor sees her, but your mouth falls open the moment Toga rushes into your apartment with Twice and Shigaraki behind her, carrying a half-conscious Compress.

In a second that feels like hours, your eyes travel quickly between all three men, to stop on the red ones that bore into you, sending shivers through your spine as you heart do a flip inside your cage because your infatuation with the villain is right there, in the same place he left it last time he touched you.

“What the…” Your voice gets stuck in your throat when you notice that Compress bloodied wound is in fact him missing an arm.

“Shit. Lay him down on the table” You order already running across your flat looking for a hairband. “Take his shirt off, Toga, bring me some towels.” You rush to your bathroom to wash your hands quickly, and Shigaraki follows you without a word, clutching at your side looking for the first aid kit your keep under the sink.

“Tell me what happened.”

“A Yakuza bastard blew his arm of with his quirk.” He spits carrying the kit to the kitchen. “He shoot him something and his quirk went off.”

“You think it’s some kind of drug?”

“Probably.”

“Crap. It could be dangerous if I don’t know the effects.”  

You run behind him, taking some latex gloves from the kit before approaching your patient. Atsuhiro breathes heavily over your kitchen table, his legs dangling from the edge as he bleeds all over the floor.

Your quirk activates in full force the moment you get close to him.

“Hello, Mr. Compress.” You talk to him trying to calm him the same way you would talk to a child patient as you remove the poor bandage that wraps the remains of his left arm. “Long time no see.”

“Lovely to see you, dear.” He whines with his hand holding the gory pieces of meat that still dangles from his shoulder, a chonk of his broken bone horribly exposed. “It hurts a lot, you know?”

You wince at the sight but straighten yourself to do your job and let your hands hover over his wound, numbing his nerves, keeping his blood from spilling out because he’s already at the brim of drying out.

“I know, but it’s okay now, Compress. I’ll take care from here. Now…sleep…” you lull him with a smile, relaxing him quietly, slowing his heart rate to make him pass out.

“Is he..?” Twice ask watching with trembling voice.

“he’s unconscious now. I can stop the bleeding with my quirk for now, but I’ll need to…sew this…. somehow.”

“Oh! Big sister! Your quirk is amazing to cure people!” Toga says joyfully, leaving the towels close to you.

“Himiko-chan. I need you to wash your hands very carefully. I’ll need some assistance.”

“Okay! I’ll be back.”

You begin to clean the wound, retiring the little fragmenst of bone from between the exposed muscle with some tweezers.

“How bad.” Shigaraki is behind you, towering over your shoulder and you can feel his warmth on your cheek, as he winces watching the mess over the table.

“His arm is destroyed. I need to cut a little of bone, it’s too jagged to just close this, it could lead to an infection. Only after that I’ll be able to rearrange this mess.”  

“What do you need.”

You look at him worried. He’s covered in blood and for a moment you panic thinking that maybe he’s injured too.

“A-Are you al right?”

The question comes out as desperate product of your impossible nerves from having him so nearby. It caught him by surprise from the way his jaw clenches before answering.

“…I’m fine. What else do you need.”

Relief washes over you, so you return your eyes to the man over your kitchen table.

“I…my dad had a garden saw in the closet. Disinfect it the best you can. This is going to be nasty.”

___________

 When she’s finally done, it’s already 3 am.

Compress lays over the couch, finally sleeping after some gruesome scalpel work that lefts her panting from her quirk overuse, siting in the floor with her back against the front door.  

A thick trace of blood drifts down her nose, but she’s too tired to even care, so she just let her head rest on the cold wood.

Silence and shadows fill the apartment. The lights are off so Atsuhiro can sleep, but the lights of the street are enough to see inside the flat. In her room, twice and toga share the bed, already sleeping after helping with the cleaning. Her kitchen looks spotless under the moonlight, none could guess she just operated someone over the table with a gardening saw.

“Are you sure you are okay?” She asks with hooded eyes, her own conscience drifting slowly.

“…I told you I’m fine.”

Tomura watches her, leaning against the wall in front of her. She’s grown thinner and paler than the last time he stood in her home. Her bloodied clothing only accentuating her lack of color and the dark bags that rest under her sleepy eyes.

She stares back, neither of them wanting to look away, not when the three steps gap between them extends so wide and deep that it hurts. The notion of being face to face again stirs quietly inside of him and all his anger and dread goes silent now she’s there at the reach of his hand, and Tomura understand that he doesn’t know how to feel now.

Her stomach growls of hunger and her eyes open in embarrassment and surprise.

“Stop staring at me.” She mumbles cleaning her face with the back of her sleeve, getting up to walk over her kitchen.

“You were staring first.” He mumbles annoyed “whatever…” Before he can even walk to the door, she stops him dead on his tracks.

“You can stay…if you want.”

Tomura looks at her while she prepares a sandwich, trying to avoid his gaze at all costs to no avail. Her hand trembles as she tries to put some butter on her bread, giving away her internal turmoil, because as him, she doesn’t know how to feel about this sudden intrusion in her life. Again.

Well, at least he’s not he only one who feels awkward.

She laughs halfheartedly out of the blue.

“What’s so funny?” he asks looking at the wall, his voice mellow because he doesn’t have the energy to quarrel with her now. Not after everything that happen.

“It’s just…I swore I was going to choke you with my own hands next time I saw you.” She cannot stop the laughing.

He doesn’t know what to do with that statement, finding difficult to keep his distant mask now she’s trying to sound playful. He can feel his anger and awkwardness dissolving into something more bearable so he just smirks amused.

“Bare hands, huh? no quirk involved?”

“Yep. Acapella”

“And how is that working for you?” he asks, gravitating closer to her, standing at her side, very aware of the height difference between them as he leans to see her face better.

“Oh, fuck off.” She smiles.

“Ladies first.” He cannot contain the little smile that blossom in his face.  

Tomura feels his shoulders relaxing softly now. He falls in the ease of her company, the roaring turmoil he’s been feeding all these past weeks, going silent now that she’s finally close, smiling tired and lightheartedly.

It was this, and he almost forgot about it. It was the soft wittiness, the clever jokes and back and forth. He liked to talk to her because it was like playing a game, but somehow, he forgot between his bitterness and rage.

“Sandwich?” She asks, handling him half oh her own.

“…Thanks.”

They eat in silence. Atsuhiro’s breathing is the only sound in the house.

Tomura is tired, his eyelids weight heavy over his eyes, but this moment is enough to keep him awake, so in exchange he memorizes the smell of her home, her presence filling him softly and gently, calming the rage and the fury he’s been feeling over a month in a rare peaceful moment that feels dangerously too much like finally coming home.

What a stupid thought to think he could get rid of this sweet softness, the only one he’s ever felt. A foolish desire made of spite and bitterness in a place that can only be filled with their silent bond.

He feels the gap closing slowly, luring him to stay for the night. He should…he could...maybe this…

“I’ve missed you.” She whispers suddenly without looking at him, her eyes fixed in the wall in front of them.

Time stops and he whips his head so fast he could hear something crackling in his neck.

He definitely didn’t though about this when he woke up that morning.

“Like wise.” He raps swallowing hard, thinking about all the things his done in a month, realizing there was not a single minute of the day in which he did not think of her.

He’s truly smitten, isn’t he?  

“I’m sorry about what I said…i…I got nervous. I thought you would get mad, I just made it worse.”

“Why would you think that, huh? I thought I was pretty obvious.” He says, hiding his hands in his coat before changing his weight to the other leg.  

“Because you are a big bad villain, aren’t you? and I’m just…me.”

“Just you” he snorts “you managed to terrorize one of the most dangerous villains without even touching him. Just you is fine enough to deal with anyone. Even big bad villains.”

She smiles shyly.

“Shigar-“

“Tomura.” He interrupts, finally looking at her.

She looks beautiful under the pale light; the shadows of the night drawing angles and shapes on her face.

“Tomura.” She states, meeting his gaze and he delights in the way his name falls from her lips like a spell and less like a curse. She looks at him decided, certainty written all over her face and he knows she’s about to do something reckless. “I really like you.”

Tomura has learned his lesson. As he always does, so he absorbs her words and weighs them carefully inside his chest.

“A horrible decision, really.” He mocks back with a grin, closing the gap between them until he has her trapped between him and the kitchen counter. “Your parents never told you about big bad villains?” this time he asks close enough for her smell to fill his personal space as he gives her a hungry look, licking his lips.

“Oh, Fuck you.” She sighs laughing quietly.

“I hope you do.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Are you going to keep talking back or are you going to kiss me already?” She whispers feeling his warm breath against her lips.

He stops entranced with the way her eyes reflect the streetlights from the outside. He’ll think of her like this frozen in time and undercover darkness, just a silver string of light between the shadows of her home and his life.

Tomura kisses her hungry and desperate. His jagged lips bruising against her mouth, invading her, eager to feel her closer, but is not enough. Him yanking her against his chest, four fingers gripping tight over her wrist as his right arm encircle her waist is not enough. Feeling her hands clutching at his shirt pulling him is not enough. Sensing the motion of her rising cage as she began to suffocate is not enough.  

No, nothing is enough when he wants to split her chest open to hide inside her ribs, filling her with this feeling that’s been smothering him for too long.

He’s overwhelmed by this unforgiving desire that goes beyond anything physical. Is about the terrifying nature of the world that surrounds him, where she’s the only hideout that could contain his horror and everything that scares him about himself.

Like sensing his despair, she moves her hands to his face, caressing his jaw enamored with the shape of his face, the texture of his skin and the soft locks of white hair that brush over her fingers every time he tilts his head to kiss her deeper and deeper.

A low rumble fills his chest as she opens her mouth fully to him, giving him access to her warmth for him to gorge on her taste, terrifyingly close and needy.

She breaks contact searching for air, but he moves ever so little.

“The things I’ll do with that bickering mouth of yours” He whispers before biting her low lip, giving her a ravenous look.

“Like wise.”

He considers to just shove her against the wall and take her right there over the dishwasher, finally sinking his teeth on her skin, buried deeply in her; but since she was bleeding not long ago, tired and in desperate need of sleep, he keeps it gentle. They are both tired. Tired from the fight, tired from the operation, tired of this game of cat and mouse they’ve been playing for two months, so he shoves his animal instincts under the rug and treats the situation the same way he holds things carefully with his fingers.

Just this one time he promises, knowing he will go absolutely feral on her as soon as he has the chance. So, he just leans over and kisses her gently…surprised by his own tenderness and the warmth that fills him, something akin to happiness and peace.

Tomura nuzzles against her cheek before resting his face on her shoulder, the awful longing that’s been eating him alive finally shut down.

“Come.” She calls him softly, a ghost of a kiss burning over his lips before she tugs him by the hem of his coat, leading him to the spare room.

He follows her quietly, taking off his sneakers and coat before getting inside the little bed, wrapping his arms tightly around her, fists safely closed at her back.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?” She asks merely a whisper, her lips delicately brushing his own.

His forehead rest against hers, her warmth inviting him to close his eyes and rest, lulling him silently into sleep.

“…yes.” He whispers as he drifts away, feeling the light touch of her lips kissing the scar over his mouth.

“Good.”

Chapter 14

[mrs-chonk]

why did you throw a fucking brick at my face ?

[histrionic-dragon]

The Cross My Heart Job

I love how it was Parker and Eliot putting the walkie-talkies together out of...whatever. Hardison has clearly been teaching people things.

Poor confused Crab-a-Rama employee!

Soooo Parker just walked across the airport carrying that mid-90s beige chonk of a computer, huh? OTOH, I’ve been in airports at yuck-o-clock, and I probably would have been too focused on getting home to care much if I saw that, either.

“How do we get Level One passes?” “Twist Sophie’s ankle.” Apparently this is enough for Parker to assume that reasonable ways of getting the other passes are (a) breaking Eliot’s wrist and (b) setting Nate on fire. Ah, Parker.

“Yeah, this will keep my stuff safe. From a six-year-old with the DTs.” OUCH, Parker. Ouch. Aaand Eliot just punched the lock open. OK then.  --Appreciate how Parker and Eliot can just change here and it’s not a thing, and it’s not meta-made a big deal of either in terms of how it’s filmed or the music or anything, it’s just “assume next disguise and carry on.”

“Mr. Kirk Picard, please meet your party at door E.” YESSSS! Eliot speaks enough geek to get through this hiccup!

Ohhhhhh Nate’s speech to Chesney.... Nate is SCARY. You really, really don’t endanger sick kids when he’s around. He is ruthless. I mean, threatening a sick old man isn’t really okay--but also, that sick old man is willing to kill a kid for a chance, and to be all smug about it (”God helps those who help themselves”), which is also not okay. Nate’s “I help those who can’t” is pretty damn powerful.  Then later--”I didn’t kill you. God killed you. I just made sure it took”--tips it back from “righteously vengeful” to “Um, yikes, a bit,” and I think it’s telling that Nate is alone there. Nate is not a nice person when it’s just him and anger alone in his head. The team is important for everyone.

Aaah! Hardison has to figure out what info a pilot needs to land a plane ASAP. Yikes.

Please tell me they already swapped the bags or coolers or something--! Oh good.

[theyearoftheking]

Book Thirty-Nine: The Green Mile

Hoooooly crap, y’all! This is the halfway point of this project: I’ve read thirty-nine books, and I have approximately thirty-nine more to go (depending what Steve releases before the end of the year). And honestly? If it wasn’t for COVID, and quarantine, and lots of time traveling (pre-COVID, of course); I wouldn’t have reached the halfway point. This probably would have turned into a two year project. But here we are, diving into The Green Mile!

Of all the Steve books, I dreaded re-reading The Green Mile the most. I had originally read it when it was first published, and it came out in chapters every few weeks. I’d breathlessly tear through a chapter, only to have to wait for the next one to be released. It was a pretty fun format, and I really wish I still had my original chapters. Oh well. 

But this time around, I didn’t think I was in the right head-space to read it, and the world sure as hell isn’t in the right head-space. The Green Mile was published in 1996, and takes place in 1932. It could very well have been set in our current climate. Just a few quotes for you...

“He got (his sentence) commuted mostly because he was white...”

“I think we have to be humane and generous to solve the race problem. But we have to remember that your negro will bite if he gets the chance, just like a mongrel dog will bite if he gets the chance and it crosses his mind to do so.” 

“John Coffey is a Negro, and in Trapingus County we’re awful particular about giving new trials to Negros...” 

NOTHING HAS FUCKING CHANGED SINCE 1932!! We are still hearing these same sentiments from people claiming, “I’m not a racist, but...” Our judicial system is still biased against POC, and the rate of incarceration for POC compared to whites is staggering. 

NOTHING HAS FUCKING CHANGED. And that’s the part that makes me the most sad. So, yeah, I wasn’t looking forward to cracking The Green Mile in our current climate. 

Few Steve books have touched me the way this one did. A fellow Constant Reader pointed out, “This is one of the only stories where he showcases the forces of good. We usually get ghosts and demons, but John Coffey may be the closest thing he has ever wrote of an angel...” Hot damn, Sam Beall, you’re not wrong. 

But in addition to forces of good, we’ve also got Percy Wetmore; who I feel is the nastiest Steve villain ever... he makes Randall Flagg and The Crimson King look like dudes who drink matcha lattes at a cat cafe, and compare notes on their polarized sunglasses. Percy Wetmore immediately activates my, “must kick hard in the junk” reflex. He. Is. The. Worst.

The Green Mile is told from the POV of Paul Edgecombe; a prison guard on “the green mile;” which is where convicted killers awaiting the death penalty are housed. “The green mile” refers to the long hallway inmates have to walk down to get to the electric chair.

 The story kicks off when John Coffey (like the drink but spelled different) is accused and found guilty of brutally raping and murdering two little blonde twin girls. He’s found on a riverbank, clutching their bodies, and crying, “I couldn’t help it, I tried to take it back, but it was too late...” 

So, Coffey makes his way onto The Mile, and shares space with Eduard Delacroix and his pet mouse Mr. Jingles; and William Wharton (Billy the Kid, or Wild Billy, depending on the day). Delacroix is French southern gentleman found guilty of murder, and then arson to hide the murder scene. He’s a bad guy... don’t get me wrong... but there’s something intensely likable about him. Maybe it’s the pet mouse he’s trained, maybe it’s his meek nature that Percy (another prison guard) takes advantage of... I don’t know. But you grow to like him, and the relationship he has with Mr. Jingles. Mr. Jingles randomly showed up one day, and the guards (except Percy) were all taken with him. After Percy attempts to smash him with a club, he takes to Delacroix and whispers in his ear that his name is Mr. Jingles. 

William Wharton is another story. He’s a wild card, who upon his arrival, promptly tries to strangle a prison guard. He also spits masticated Moon Pie at another guard. Sooo, he’s a lot of fun. 

The three of them live on the wing, and the first up for execution is Delacroix. Percy has a particular hatred of him, he claims he tried to grab his junk once. It didn’t happen... Del just got yanked along when he was in handcuffs and fell in Percy’s lap. The day before his execution, Percy thinks it might be fun to kill Mr. Jingles. Like I said... total fucking asshole. He stomps on him, and Del loses it. Mr. Jingles is the only thing he loves in the whole world... and maybe the only thing that loves him back. 

Thinking quickly, Coffey asks for Mr. Jingles little mousy body. Speaking of junk grabbing, he grabbed Paul and cured the UTI he had brewing for weeks. So, Paul is hopeful Coffey can use his miraculous healing abilities to do it again. And he does! Mr. Jingles lives!

But Percy’s not done being a scab on the balls of society. The night of Del’s execution, he tells him Mr. Jingles isn’t going to Mouseville like Paul promised he was (total lie- like telling kids a dog is going to live on a farm). And then, Percy doesn’t wet the sponge before placing it on Del’s head prior to his execution, so it’s horrible, painful and just horrible. So, Del is dead, Percy plays the, “I don’t know what happened!” card, and Mr. Jingles is gone. My heart. Of all the scenes in the book, I was dreading this one the most. 

Meanwhile, the prison warden, Hal Moores is struggling with the fact his wife Melinda has a massive brain tumor, and it’s starting to change her personality. He doesn’t know what to do. Paul thinks they should pack Coffey up, and take him out to the Moores’s house and have him heal Melinda. 

It’s a crazy idea, but it ends up working. The other prison guards drug Billy; and  put Percy in a straitjacket and throw him in the supply closet so he doesn’t notice anything is amiss. They tell him it’s payback for how Del’s death went down. So, they race out to see Hal and Melinda, and Coffey does his thing. They race back to the prison, and no one notices they’ve been gone. However, Coffey is in a bad way. This was much more healing than he’s used to doing, and he’s mentally and physically exhausted.

After they release Percy from the supply closet, Coffey grabs him and “kisses” him: which transfers the sick energy he got from Melinda into Percy. Percy then turns around, and shoots Wild Billy/Billy the Kid dead; and then becomes catatonic. 

He’s then carted off to the psych ward, which is too good for him. Fiery pits of hell would have been better. 

But wait!

Plot twist! Billy the Kid had briefly touched Coffey, and Coffey learned HE was the one who had killed the two little girls.  Paul puts this together as well, and tries to fight for Coffey’s release. He realizes Coffey’s words,  “I couldn’t help it, I tried to take it back, but it was too late...” were about his inability to heal the girls, not his guilt.

 When I had read the revelation the first time, I flew through the end, hoping and praying justice would be served, and Coffey wouldn’t be executed. Bad things didn’t happen to good people like John Coffey, right? Oh, how naive. There were A LOT of tears. 

But Coffey is at peace with his upcoming execution. He tells Paul, “I’m rightly tired of the pain I hear and feel, boss. I’m tired of bein on the road, lonely as a robin in the rain. Not ever havin no buddy to go on with or tell me where we’s comin from or goin to or why. I’m tired of people bein ugly to each other. It feels like pieces of glass in my head. I’m tired of all the times I’ve wanted to help and couldn’t. I’m tired of bein in the dark. Mostly it’s the pain. There’s too much...”

That right there makes me cry every damn time I read it. 

So, Coffey is executed, and life continues on; as it always seems to do. Paul is actually writing this story in his old age, at the  Georgia Pines nursing home. There’s an orderly there who’s just as evil as Percy, and he keeps trying to follow Paul on his daily walks outside. Where’s Paul going??? 

TO SEE MR. JINGLES!!! 

Yes! He’s still alive! It seems when Coffey healed people, it added onto their life expectancy. Mr. Jingles was still alive, and Paul was one hundred and four years old. But he knew his time was coming. He reflects on the loss of his beautiful wife, the people he knew on the Green Mile, the guards he worked with, and that mile seems LONG. 

Such a sad, beautiful end to an incredible work. This is another one I recommend to people who tell me they don’t like Stephen King. Try it... you’ll like it... when your heart is done breaking that is...

Total Wisconsin Mentions: 27

Total Dark Tower References: 38

Book Grade: A+

Rebecca’s Definitive Ranking of Stephen King Books

The Talisman: A+

Needful Things: A+

The Green Mile: A+

Rose Madder: A+

Misery: A+

Different Seasons: A+

It: A+

Four Past Midnight: A+

The Shining: A-

The Stand: A-

The Wastelands: A-

The Drawing of the Three: A-

Dolores Claiborne: A-

Nightmares in the Sky: B+

The Dark Half: B+

Skeleton Crew: B+

The Dead Zone: B+

Nightmares & Dreamscapes: B+

‘Salem’s Lot: B+

Carrie: B+

Creepshow: B+

Cycle of the Werewolf: B-

Danse Macabre: B-

The Running Man: C+

Thinner: C+

Dark Visions: C+

The Eyes of the Dragon: C+

The Long Walk: C+

The Gunslinger: C+

Pet Sematary: C+

Firestarter: C+

Rage: C

Insomnia: C-

Cujo: C-

Nightshift: C-

Gerald’s Game: D

Roadwork: D

Christine: D

The Tommyknockers: D-

Next is Desperation, which I know nothing about, other than it’s a real chonk of a book. 

Do me a favor, please? Stop being ugly to each other. Stop hurting gentle people like John Coffey. Please and thank you.

Until next time, Long Days & Pleasant Nights,

Rebecca

[angryschnauzer]

Hi!

Well, that's a relief. I have generalized anxiety, so I'm always worried about disrupting people.

I do agree about the casting. I've never watched Game of Thrones (don't plan on it, either) but from what I have seen, The Witcher is so much better in many ways!

The episode with the striga really got to me, too! I was so scared I was shielding my eyes away from the TV! She was... really not pretty to look at. When the episode was finished, my dad, knowing that I was terrified, went outside, put his face in the window and posed liked when the striga was on the ceiling, ready to pounce. I was not happy.

There was another episode(the orgy one) where there's this sort of like spider of steroids with claws. It was making me all itchy.

As twisted as that sounds, your theory about fear and sexual desire might be actually true! I like reading smut, though (have been for almost ten years now) and am able to cope with the horror, so I'll continue reading it. Particularly yours.

Hellraiser, hmm.. I've seen smut of Mikey, but I've never watched the movie. It is scarier than The Witcher because that's all I can stomach right now.

Oh yes, before I forget, did you watch the movie ''Immortals''? It came up when I searched ''Henry Cavill'' on Netflix? Based on the photo, (of Henry in a Roman robe with the side open to reveal quite the thighs), and the plot, it seems interesting, but I wanted your opinion anyway.

Also, I think I've created monsters out of my parents. Last week, they weren't even remotely interested in the show, but they still saw snippets out of courteousy to me, now they're binge-watching episodes without me! I feel so hurt....yet proud? I don't know how to explain it.

I'm especially content that Mr. Big Chonk is affectionally called, between my mom and I, ''that guy'' and that we tease each other by saying ''hmm'' like Geralt would.

Anyway, I think that's enough for today!

Speak to you soon,

To reassure you, i will never be upset or annoyed at receiving asks. I sometimes may not always be able to answer them immediately (i'm a Mum to a very active 6yo boy who has type 1 diabetes), so sometimes i'm busy, sometimes i'm completely drained from not sleeping for 3 nights in a row, but i will always get to the ask and i do love hearing from people too!

I have not seen Immortals. Its on my 'if it ever gets onto Netflix UK i'll watch it' list, but i've heard mostly bad reviews of the movie, so the literal only redeeming factor will be Henry looking like a basted Rotisserie Chicken in enough fake take to fit in during an episode of Jersey Shore or TOWIE.

I do not think i could watch a crush with my parents in the same room. But then i had a pretty useless relationship with my parents, but I love that you Mom will call him Big Chonk, because hhmmmn yes, much chonkyness.

Gif for big-chonk factor where he has such a good ass he busted through his Supes suit

[mrs-chonk]

rip lil sha, you would have loved ur mom jokes.

[mrs-chonk]

A waste of blood - Paucity

Part 1 master list here (The story is heavily inspired by this art made by @miracleboylene) tags : sevikaxreader, AU of arcane, set in a fantasy/maleficent-inspired world, reader isn't explicitly mentioned or present in this chapter, brief swearing involved, 1000+ words, third person, can't really think of anything else note : this series will be a bit longer! please don't complain about how many parts this will take, I have to include world-building and add a whole new character. Anyways, enjoy! summary : Sevika is called to the castle. But for what task?

"We're friends, aren't we?" they ask quietly. 

She looked at them, a small pause strung in between them, like the highest cord of a lyre. "Of course." 

They scoot closer to the second, taking her hand. My golden girl, They think. The girl with the obsidian hair littering the view of her dusty eyes. Eyes so knowing, knowing of things that should've been kept behind closed doors and garden hedges. The girl with the big voice and shifty eyes. The eyes that have seen so many things that should've been left behind fresh linen sheets and starry skies. The girl with the passionate bearings about small things like rocks, sunrises, and the smell of dandelions in her neighbour's garden. Her small chubby hands, which were calloused from squeezing a wheelbarrow too tight. Her chipped tooth from when she'd fallen off her horse when they were 11. The scar on her left cheek that she'd refused to talk about, and the other thought it was because she wanted to keep something close to her chest. Something that the other didn't know. The girl with her early mornings and secret smiles. The girl with her worries. 

The girl with a father who slowly smothered her, his binding words and silent resentment. 

The girl with her gentle nature and loyal heart, too precious to be exposed to the world. Yet she was not exposed, but instead thrown, dragged, kicked, and beaten into it. Shamefully.

“And we’re always going to be friends?” They ask, fragile, as if a single breath could undo the 13 years of life they had already lived so boisterously. 

The girl looked seemingly undisturbed by this question, a skill she had learned so well from her father. Though internally she wonders what follows this conversation, what tragedy the other could have foreseen to tear them apart so suddenly. ”Yes. Always.” She says, with hesitancy you could only see if you paid close enough attention, gently rubbing her round fingers against the calluses at the edge of her palm.

The other smiles and closes their eyes beneath the twilight, and allow the moonlight to swallow them. Emulating a sharp glistening spark along their contrastingly melanated skin. “That's good enough for me, Golden Girl.” 

“Fuck.”

Her fingers fumble the sling for what feels like the millionth time. The bend of her chest leaves little room for anything else, forcing the sling of her prosthetic to crawl its way provokingly between the divot of her mounds. A string of shushed audible fucks leaves her deep brown lips, as she finally reaches for her merlot cape. Quickly tossing it over her shoulder. The metal creaking, a once sturdy design betrays her with its age, rust now lining its entrances and crevices against her shoulder. The floorboards were now littered with sun rays that had broken through her window. She makes a few lazy, but large strides to her varnished entrance door stepping on them, and closing the door with conviction behind her.

“In a hurry Sev?” She turns to see a tall, wide man holding a dull machete and a bucket with questionably cut slabs of assorted vegetables inside. And a lucrative addition of dirt smeared across his upper lip and hairline. A small girl behind him begins to make “snowballs” out of the soppy mud below her. Lightly giggling to herself and her silver hair clips reflecting the sunlight above. Sevika fiddles with the lock on her door, knowing that the frame of it is so torn that the door could easily be kicked down regardless. ”Still rushin’ around? Ya know, I’d say that ‘Vanessa’ up there works you too much these days.” he says with a hand on his hip, twirling the machete loosely in small circles. 

“Busy, Vander. Unlike some people, I don't have time for mud pies.” She says unamused and in a slightly bitchy tone as she finishes up with the lock, abandoning it and leaving it open. Her weak brown soles slap the stone path as she rushes uphill. Making way for the tall ivory towers of the kingdom ahead. Vander flicks the machete’s handle against his side, the dull thud matching his quiet sigh. “Alright then.” Vander mumbles, to himself almost. With a huff, he turns around to give the small blue-haired girl a frown, followed by a stern index finger nodding in her direction. She drops the congealed ball of mud and wipes her generously soiled hands on her pant leg. 

Sevika ponders the inquiries of the queen, the reason she's walking this absurd distance in the first place. She was accustomed to the queen's requests for intel, small things regarding the people of Sevika’s side of the kingdom. A side the queen herself would rather distance herself from. 

The queen knows they're not all animals unlike the rest of the council is convinced. She sees them as important; she knows they serve a greater purpose than even they know. But it is about keeping them in line. The lesser must be cultivated to believe in little, dream small, and keep working —all with no hope of achieving above their means. To keep them tamed you must beat them, kill them, and hurt them. That is a queen's duty. But Sevika’s duty lies in a more urgent nature. 

“You're late.” The woman's octave reached lower than Sevika was expecting. Spindling her position, Ambessa faces Sevika. Her expression was rather blank, yet obtrusively disturbed. Sevika didn't reply with words, but instead with a bothered expression that rang “Get to the point.” without verbalizing it. Ambessa saw it and promptly ignored it, moving to more pressing matters than the ugly meaning behind Sevika's contorted face. 

A gruff expression of hesitancy clouds her face, her dark brows nuzzle their way into the center of her face and her lips tighten their seal; as if careful not to spill unwanted secrets. “You’ve heard of the market spikes I would imagine? Ref among them.” She slowly began her small circle around Sevika, her heavy feet gently meeting the tile floor. Leaving small unseen traces of dirt and bacteria. The small flickering candles down the hall left glints of orange sprinkled in her luxurious coiled hair, the strands of silver emulating a bright white rather than any specific colour. “It's funny how a dried-up flower can cause so much disturbance when left unattended.” Sevika releases a pent-up sigh from her lightly scared mouth. “And you think I know who's eating poppy seeds?” she asks in an almost rhetorical tone. Ambessa, yet again, doesn't give her sass any attention, looking at her when she speaks but not changing her face to accommodate her words. Turning her head to look at a painting on the wall instead, one depicting her young daughter, who could be no more than a couple of years old by now, maybe 8 or 9. Sevika had seen her daughter a few times, peeking around the corner at her and Ambessa’s conversations or sitting with poise and strictness in portraits along the main hall of the castle, which was always dimly lit, heavily guarded, and the location of these curious conversations. Ambessa allowed a small indent of worry to crumple her brows.

“No. I want order. Ref is a distraction, but distractions are costly.” Her face ever so slightly changed to one of frustration and reminiscence. “Someone a little too close to home has let their greediness get the best of them. Someone’s been careless. Their indulgence compromises more than their purse. It compromises us all.” Sevika's interest peaked, the concept of a part of the court succumbing to what must be public humiliation among the council, the thought amused her. “This weed must be nipped before it grows outside of my jurisdiction. I need someone with a precise hand and… good sheers.” she says, questioning her analogy a bit before she continues speaking. Sevika slowly understanding the picture being painted before her. “Find the hidden game, the treasures buried beneath the decay. Bring them to me, before the wolves smell weakness in our borders. I trust you know how to get your hands dirty, coming from a long line of prestigious hunters.” Her smile doesn't reach her ears, and she lets out a low hum when Sevika relaxes her face out of annoyance, and into curiosity as she begins to speak. “What am I looking for?” Sevika doesn't want to feed the rich by any means, but she of all people knows best what happens when the rich go unfed.

[mrs-chonk]

URGENT HELP🚨🚨🚨🍉🇵🇸

Hello,

How do you do ? I hop to be in a good condition.

This is my special campaign

We hope to help us by donating or sharing to others.

Every donation makes a different even if it a small.

As you know, the war began on October 7 and lasted ten months. During this period, we were unable to obtain food, drink, or treatment because we did not have money.

There is no source of income for the family at the present time, so we are unable to buy food, clean water, and medicine, especially after we are afflicted with the ongoing infectious diseases spread in the north like Hepatitis C disease.

Our house has been damaged a lot since the beginning of the war. We are from the north of Gaza and we are still in the north and have not displaced to the south. We displaced 10 times from place to another seeking to safety .

We hope for your help and support, even if only a little.🙏🙏

Vetted by Femme intifada on telegram.

Also, vetted by gazavetters on tumbler and my number is #60

My campaign was recently vetted by butterfly effect group on Instagram and my number is #964

This is the link if you would to read our story well 👇👇

https://gofund.me/4e896ac1

Thank you all

.

[mrs-chonk]

When ur at 600 words but you barely even started the fic ...

sevika x reader , you will be released to the public soon ,, I PINKY SWEAR

[mrs-chonk]

CALL TO ACTION

@hyamshehabfamile s://www.tumblr.com/hyamshehabfamile/770910517814493184/dont-skip-stop-a-small-donation-can-make-a-big?source=share

[mrs-chonk]

Final poll for the title

i took the top two from the first poll then picked an extra that I personally liked 🤭

Anyways ! do your thing guys ,,

[mrs-chonk]

normalize putting 86% of the post in the hashtags 🤷