#my point is just. yeah. It’s an atomic bomb going off!

[itspileofgoodthings]

As this generation’s iteration of Dido Taylor breakup news will never go down easy. Speaking purely as an onlooker on the good of the culture, I can appreciate that.

[moonlitdesertdreams]

Skip the small talk

Request: None A/N: Again, I just want to thank everyone for supporting my stories and liking/commenting/reblogging/etc. It means the world to have such great reception to these one-shots. So please, enjoy this lil' story about the reader being a badass :) Tags: Fallout, Cooper Howard, Cooper Howard x F!Reader, Cooper Howard x You, Ghoul x Reader WARNINGS: Canon-Typical language and violence, drug use, decapitation Summary: You really weren't looking for trouble. All you wanted was something to eat, but of course things go awry. This is the Wasteland, after all.

Word Count: 2.6k+

(Gif Credit to @acecroft)

Thunder booms across the Wasteland, combining with the sound of heavy rain on metal rooftops. 

It continues in tandem with its partner Lighting, who illuminates the hazy green poison that hangs low in the air tonight. The storm has been raging for hours, and doesn’t seem to be on the verge of letting up anytime soon. 

After hours of tossing and listening to the howl of the storm, you decide to give up on sleep for the moment. The inn room you’d acquired is small but cozy, lit only by a couple candles that burn bright orange on the side table. You untangle yourself from Cooper where he lies half-naked beside you, scarred skin on display while in the security of your arms. As per usual, he crankily grumbles curses at you for causing a disturbance, but there’s no malice behind the words. His eyes blink open and lock on to you, immediately more alert at the prospect of you venturing away. 

“What’re y’doin’?” His question is thick with sleep, forced through the haze by this codependency you’ve developed on each other. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed, and reach a hand back to brush his arm gently. “Thunder’s keeping me up. I’m gonna go see if the saloon downstairs has anything in the way of food.”

Cooper opens his mouth to respond, but a cough cuts him off. You pluck his inhaler from the nightstand and press it into his waiting hand. The cough wasn’t unusual, but you’d been traveling for days on end in search of a bounty and knew Cooper was putting on a facade of toughness. Everyone needed rest, and The Ghoul just didn’t know when to admit it. 

“Go back to sleep.” You murmur, “I’ll only be a minute.”

He relents, but points a finger in your direction. “Fine. But they got anythin’ good, you bring me some back too, huh?”

You snatch the hand out of the air and press a kiss to his palm. “Yeah, yeah. Go to sleep.”

And since the Wasteland’s most fearsome bounty hunter would rather live through ten more atomic bombs than not have the last word, he scoffs. 

“Bossy fuckin’ woman.”

You giggle at Cooper’s tough love as you tug thick tights and a long gray jacket onto your body. Out of pure habit, you look around for a weapon. Yours are stashed on the other side of the bed, but Cooper’s shotgun is propped against the wall by the door. You opt to grab it, slinging the gun onto your shoulder and making sure the strap is secure before cracking open the door. 

The old clock hanging in the hall reads one thirty in the morning, but the sounds from the saloon downstairs continue as normal. Perhaps a bit more toned down than the daytime, but voices still mingle and dance together up the stairs. You trail after them, patting your pockets to ensure there’s enough caps to pay for a hot meal. Cooper’s half-canister of Jet and the wrinkled bounty poster sure ain’t going to pay for anything.

Eyes flicker towards you as you step onto the main floor, but they return back to their own tables soon enough. Everyone’s clad in raincoats or hats, outfitted for the weather. The town was a central point for a few settlements which popped up around it, and a major trade destination. The frequency of armed caravan guards passing through proved to be a rather decent deterrent for the unpleasant types, and most people had been nice to the point of frightening. 

At the bar, you pull out a rusty stool and settle onto it. All the other patrons but one are at tables closer to the door. The same man who’d rented the room to Cooper and yourself is down the bar chatting. 

“No surprise there. They’ve got some questionable folks runnin’ cargo these days.” The bartender is saying. He drops his hands on the bar. “But they take what they can get.”

The other man at the bar is older, just like the bartender. Dressed in dirty clothes, hood up with heavy gloves next to him, you figure he might be a lead farmer. You give a brief nod his way before focusing back on the bartender as he slides over. 

“What can I do for you, ma’am?” For someone out in the Wasteland, his face is kind. Weathered and probably suffering from radiation poisoning like the rest of you, but kind nonetheless. 

“Got anything hot to eat back there?” You ask, but think better of it. “Or anything to eat?”

“You’re in luck. One of the trade caravans left us with an old brahmin yesterday. Fresh brahmin steak if it tickles your fancy?”

You toss the caps onto the bar. “Sign me up.”

He busies himself at the cooking station for a few minutes, and eventually delivers a steaming steak in front of you. He checks on the other bar-goer and floats back over to you after a few minutes. 

“So, I have to ask.” He starts, “You came in here with that ghoul, yeah?”

You pause, mouth full and one hand instinctively freeing itself for a weapon if necessary. He must have caught onto your bristling, as he holds both hands up in a placating gesture.

“I’m sorry. It’s nothin’ bad, I was just curious. We don’t get a lot of ghouls around here, let alone people traveling with them.”

Hell, there was no need for him to tell you that. Cooper and yourself brought stares everywhere you went, discounting the cities you frequented that knew you both by reputation. You’d been called every name in the book in small communities like this, from chem-head, to ghoul-fucker and anything people could come up with.

“Yeah, we travel together. Easier to stay alive and make money when there’s two of us.” You saw off another piece of steak. 

“Bounty hunters, then?”

You shrug. “Sometimes. We do whatever needs doing most of the time. If the price is right.”

If Cooper was next to you, he’d be spewing threats of dismemberment and cutting out tongues for all the questions, but you didn’t mind. It was nice meeting someone who wasn’t immediately training crosshairs on your body. 

“Fair enough. I’m Clint, if you need anything.” The bartender wipes his hands with a rag and moves about his way, readjusting liquor bottles and carrying beers out to tables that are hollering for them. 

You finish your steak and gulp down the water Clint had set in front of you at some point. It washes away the gamey taste of mutated beef. You wait for him to return, as you were sure that fresh brahmin steak qualified as ‘anything good’ in Cooper’s eyes. 

“This seat taken?” 

You barely glance over your shoulder at the question, but give a half-hearted shrug. There was a whole bar and whoever this idiot is wants to sit next to you?

“Nuh-uh.”

The stool scrapes against the uneven wood floor, and you look over at the man that’s sat himself beside you. He’s younger than you expected, but vaguely familiar as if you’ve passed by him before. Brown hair slicked back close to his skull and shaved on the sides,  and a distinct pale discoloration on his chin. There’s a valiant attempt at beard growth but it’s patchy at best. 

You stare for just a moment before returning to the drops of water left in your dirty cup. 

“Now, I can see you’re not from around here.” His tone is boyish, almost conceited. 

Narrowly resisting an eyeroll, you set your cup back down. “Aren’t you just a right scholar?”

“I know a few things.” He waves his hand at Clint as he returns, and a beer is set in front of him moments later. “I know that you rode into town tonight, looking for a bounty.”

Lightning illuminates all of the cracks in the building. Thunder rolls. 

It takes a moment, but hits you as a smile is breaking out across the man’s face. You hadn’t passed by him before or traded. Your hand ghosts over the folded-up bounty poster in the pocket of your coat. 

“Name’s Spade, by the way.” 

Fuck. You’d never forget the name of a bounty. Especially the one set to inherit an entire Gunner outfit that had been threatening caravans for miles in every direction. 

“Spade, huh? Named after a shovel?” You prod. “No wonder you ain’t good at making friends.”

Spade calmly sips on his beer. “Neither are you, I hear. Though that might be due to your choice in company.”

Turning your head all the way towards him, you entertain the banter. Trying to avoid the subject of having a partner. You didn’t doubt if the shooting started that Cooper would come running down the stairs, but surprise is always an advantage. 

“Yeah, I’m starting to question it myself.” 

“I heard you were funny.” Spade chuckles, and withdraws a bulky device from underneath his coat. It crackles and pops like a geiger counter. “But I know you didn’t come here alone.”

You listen to the device pop, but don’t recognize it. 

“Say, how much Rad-Away do you go through? Traveling, eating, sleeping and whatever else with The Ghoul must really fuck with your health. His radiation signature is all over you.” Spade tucks the device away. 

“Don’t worry, I wear lead-lined panties.” You pat your thighs and stand. “And I don’t have time for this.”

Just as you make it to your feet, you notice the rest of the patrons do the same. They all shrug off their raincoats and reveal standard Gunner clothing, and you pause. Betraying nothing, you simply stare. Counting eleven opponents including Spade. Too busy thinking about how you grabbed Cooper’s shotgun and no extra ammo because you’re apparently a fool. The one combat knife in your boot is a viable choice, but tough to handle so many. You note Clint’s swift exit out the back door of the establishment.

“All this firepower for me?” 

Spade follows suit, and stands. He towers over you. 

“Don’t play dumb. I know they want me dead, and I’m not keen on letting that happen.”

You nod. “Understandable.”

And it’s then one of his men gets twitchy, and you’re diving behind the bar at the cocking of a gun. 

Spade hollers something at the men that sound suspiciously like “kill her”, but the thunder drowns him out. You press your back up against the bar for cover, and whip the shotgun into your grip. You feel at the knife in your boot, and brush past the Jet in your pocket. 

“Fuck it.” 

You draw out the inhalant and put it between your lips. Bracing for the adrenaline rush, you squeeze the Chems into your mouth. Not much of a frequent user, you resist the urge to cough and waste the effects. 

In just a few seconds, the world around you feels as if it’s moving in slow motion. You leap up from behind the bar, aiming and popping off the two rounds you have into the groupies that Spade brought along. One slug crashes through two of them while the other blows another’s head to pieces. 

Three down, eight to go. 

You sling the gun back over your shoulder and draw the knife. In your peripheral, you notice Spade reaching for his waistband. On pure instinct, you whip the knife in his direction. It finds his mark in his right eye, and he goes to the ground wailing. Just as the Jet begins to wear thin, you hop over the bar towards the crowd. 

“Fuck her up!”

You bend down near Spade’s writing frame, and rip the knife out of his eye socket with a wet squelch. Leaving him for last, you twirl the knife around and beckon at his cronies. 

“Well?”

You lunge towards the closest, thrusting the knife at his throat. He catches your wrist and twists it away, but you’re quick to jam your elbow upwards into his chin. It stuns him just enough that you can stab the knife into his guts and rip sideways. Entrails spill, and you reach through them to grab the pipe pistol at his hip. 

The next few go down via bullet, and you’re eventually left with only Spade alive. He’s clawed his way to his feet as you finished off his gang, and now has an automatic pistol pointed at your head. It wavers dangerously, as he’s half-blind and still spurting blood from the wounded eye socket.

You drop the pistol that’s been occupying your right hand and hold up the knife. 

“Wanna get reacquainted?” 

Spade bares his teeth at you. “And here we brought all the guns for The Ghoul.”

A shrug. “I’m sort of offended that I was underestimated.”

“I’ll make a note of it.” 

Spade pulls the trigger as soon as you duck. His intentions were given away by the fractional squint of his good eye, struggling to aim properly. You charge towards him beneath the rounds, colliding with his knees. The bullets fly upwards, blasting holes in a narrow column up the wall. It sends splinters flying near the staircase. 

“Motherfucker!”

About fucking time Cooper decided to show up.

You straddle Spade’s body and knock the pistol away. One boot keeps his wrist pinned down, and you bring the knife to his neck. 

“Next time,” You growl, tracing the blade along his Adam’s Apple, “Skip the small talk.”

Blood sprays as you apply pressure, puncturing through his carotid. You drag the knife to the side, leaning away to avoid the spray as best as possible. Until he stops twitching, you keep him pinned to the ground. 

“Well goddamn baby, next time invite me to the party.” The Ghoul, as Spade had referred to him, swaggers over to you.  His honey-soaked eyes survey the carnage. “I thought you was gettin’ something to eat, not takin’ out our bounty so soon.”

You wipe your bloody hands on Spade’s coat and huff indignantly. “And I thought your old ass would move faster when you heard gunshots.”

Cooper holds out a gloved hand to help you up. “Thunder blocked out the sound.”

“Excuses, excuses.” You grumble, allowing him to pull you up. 

The world spins, thanks to the adrenaline fading and Jet withdrawals. You stagger into Cooper, and he grips your arm. 

“You ain’t shot, are ya? Left the stimpaks upstairs.”

You shake your head and let him steer you onto a barstool. “Nah. Jet.”

Cooper whoops. “My girl! Well shouldn’t we just be celebratin’ this momentous occasion.”

“Fuck you. I’m not doing anything but going back to bed.” You press your forehead into his chest. “Fuckin’ Chems.”

The Ghoul chuckles and uses two fingers to hold and lift your chin. He kisses your lips, already dry from licking at them. You hold the lapels of his coat to keep upright and only pull away when another pang of dizziness wracks you. 

He steps away for a moment, and gets to work removing Spade’s head from his body to return for the money. 

“Damn.” You rub your temples. “How the hell do you use that shit all the time?”

“Years of practice.” Cooper hums, and finds a burlap sack behind the bar to package the head. “Sure worked good for you, huh?”

You hop from the stool, using the bar as a crutch to stay upright. “Uh huh, right up until it didn’t. Now I wanna go to bed. Desperately.”

“Fine, fine.” Cooper relents, bloody sack in hand. He follows you to the stairs, free hand ghosting over your hip. 

The Ghoul hovers behind as if you’re going to start cartwheeling back down, and herds you back into the rented room. You strip and crawl back in bed, hiding away from the cool air beneath the blanket. Cooper takes his time, but eventually blesses you with his body heat. You cozy up, letting it burn away the symptoms of Jet withdrawals.

��Did you ever get somethin’ to eat?”

thanks for reading, much love ❤

Read More: Fallout Masterlist

[wlwanakin]

I absolutely agree that Anakin would’ve fallen sooner if he didn’t have Padmé by his side! She really brought out the best in him, and he felt the most happy with her which kept him together. Without her, he 1000% would’ve probably fell the minute Shmi died. Anakin having those visions of Padmé in ROTS really gave Palpatine the shortcut to his end goal. Otherwise Anakin would not have ever fallen, if he never saw those dreams.

BtwI loved your ship ask post! Do you have any other Anidala headcanons you could share with us? 👀 of course, no pressure if you don’t <3

yeah anakin’s constantly surrounded by people who view and treat him as Potentially Dangerous and padmé is pretty much the only person who isn’t doing that at all and she asserts his goodness more than anyone, and without her it’s like. if you treat someone like an atomic bomb consistently enough they’re going to start exploding. and without her all he’s got left is people who treat him like an atomic bomb. don’t see how anyone thinks that could end well.

and thank you!! i have so many headcanons so here are some lighthearted quick fire ones off the top of my head:

anakin loves affectionate biting. if a part of padmé that’s feasibly bitable is near his mouth he will bite it. he nibbles at her ear. he bites her shoulder. he chomps her hand. he bites her bottom lip when they kiss. padmé complains but she actually loves it and thinks it’s adorable and when he actually leaves a mark she’s like awww. after a while she just starts biting him back

padmé loves playing with anakin’s hair and if it is in her reach she’ll just start braiding it. doesn’t matter what else is happening. they could be having the most serious conversation in the world and there she is putting little braids in his hair. at a certain point anakin starts coming home with hairstyle requests and playing hairstylist becomes a way to kill an evening

tangential to this another fun thing they will do occasionally is doll anakin up bc he has literally never worn anything besides what is essentially his work uniform and anything else is like the most exciting thing ever and padmé thinks he looks so pretty in makeup

they shower together as much as they possibly can and part of that is shower sex but it’s mostly for the intimacy. they are allergic to not being close to each other of course they can’t be apart for a whole shower

in general they’re the clingiest people in the galaxy and when they’re home alone they are very rarely not putting their hands under each other’s clothes. and again this mostly not horny they really just would be skin to skin 24/7 if that were an option

mentioned this in the post you mentioned but i will reiterate that neither of them are particularly culinarily skilled but they love cooking together so much because it’s an excuse to be in close proximity for a few hours and sometimes they’ll even make something edible. win win! anakin is actually decent at cooking on his own but padmé’s presence is so distracting and her lack of skill is so great it brings them both down and that right there is true love

they don’t fight often but on the rare occasions they do it’s pretty explosive (mostly on anakin’s end) because anakin has Major Issues and this is quite literally the only non-hierarchical relationship he’s ever had, and in a way it’s also padmé’s but in the opposite direction because her only friends ever have been her employees, and boy oh boy can that collide in weird ways. and they resolve it fast enough but they always end up plagued by the fact that they can never fully understand each other because they’re spiritually clingy too and i think if they had it their way padmé would be able to read anakin’s mind and anakin would literally just merge with padmé into some eldritch being. and then they’d never fight again <3

tangentially their worst fights typically lead into their best fucks. they really cannot stay mad at each other at all they find it unbearable

that is broadly all i can think of for now but i definitely have more because i have unfortunately been plagued with star wars brainworms since i was in the seventh grade. i love anidala i love thinking about them i love talking about them i know them better than my own family at this point

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

Never ever again

Moon boys x gn!reader

Marc and Jake got into shit once again and Steven had to experience what it felt like when they got drunk.

*C'mon buddy, stick it inside already. Can't be that hard!*

Steven stopped.

"Bruv, that sounded so dirty coming from you."

*Get the key into the lock...* Marc repeated, this time slower and more thoughtful.

Steven tried to unlock the door again, but everytime he had a perfect angle and pushed, the key slipped.

"Bloody- I can't believe I'm too drunk to unlock that stupid door."

*Dude, try it nice and easy, Stevo. Nice and easy.* Jake chimed in, his words came out a bit slurred.

Steven tried again and finally it worked!

He hoped you'd be asleep by now, he was already embarrassed enough by being the one fronting when they're drunk. Steven stepped inside, not knowing you were very well awake.

You were in the bathroom, getting ready for bed. As you left, Steven nearly got a heart attack seeing you walking out because he didn't realize the light was on.

"Oh fuck–" he jumped.

The sudden appearance of Steven made you suck in a breath and make an ungodly sound. "Shit! Holy fuck, Steven."

"Hiya." he made an apologetic smile. "Y're still awake?"

You let out a breath to calm down, smelling something strong coming from him. "Yeah. And you smell like you fell into alcohol." you pointed out, taking a sniff and making a face.

Steven sniffed on his arm, smelling the alcohol Marc and Jake consumed on their mission.

"It wasn't me, Marc and Jake are responsible."

You crossed your arms. "Oh. Typical. I know you could never chunk down gallons of alcohol like they can. You're a good boy." you smiled. "But seriously, you should sleep."

Steven couldn't help but smile proudly at how you called him a good boy. "Oh, I'm what now?" he somehow wanted to hear it again.

"You're drunk."

"Oh.." his face fell a bit, but he grinned lazily as he started walking past you, wanting to clean himself in the bathroom.

When Steven walked past you, your senses were overwhelmed by the smell of alcohol, causing you to cough out. "Oh god- oh my.." another cough came out and you immediately made your way to the nearest window to open it wide. You stood there, poking your head out to get as much fresh air as possible.

Steven soon came out of the bathroom, having stripped off his clothes and only wearing boxers now. "My head feels like I've been hit by a bloody train."

"What have you done in Cairo when Marc had his quality time with the scotch?" you asked, turning around to face him.

"Nothin', he was out the whole time, he just slept it off and took a pain killer the next day."

You nodded. "Alright first-time-drunk Steven, you should sleep."

Steven flopped down on the bed, holding his head. "Fuck my head's spinnin' I don't think I'll be able to sleep."

"Want me to get a bucket...just in case?"

Steven nodded. "That would be lovely, thanks."

You went to the bathroom, grabbing a washcloth and made it wet, then returned with the bucket and the cloth, putting it on his forehead. "Here, that should help you get sober quicker."

"You're the best." Steven smiled contendly.

You sat down on the edge of the bed. "Care to tell me what the fuck happened?"

Steven nodded. "Well, Marc was after this druglord or whatever," he flipped the cloth on his head to the colder side. "That guy invited him for a round of alcohol, Marc had to do it for cover. In the end Jake took over and killed everybody inside the room."

"Jake managed to kill people while being drunk?"

"Yeh."

"Alright Steven, you should get some sleep." you patted his shoulder.

Steven nodded, closing his eyes for a few seconds before he opened them again. "Oh shit, I think I'm going to–" he quickly sat up, getting out of the bed to make his way to the bathroom.

Making your way over, you gently knocked on the door. "You okay in there?"

Judging from the sounds you heard coming from the bathroom, Steven was not okay.

"Don't come in here unless you want to know what an atomic bomb smells like, luv."

As bad as you felt for Steven and as bad as you wanted to whoop Marc's and Jake's asses for putting Steven through this hell, you had to suppress a laughter threatening to come out of you at Steven's comment.

But a snort came out of you, and you wanted to punch yourself for it. "Sorry." you covered your mouth, trying not to laugh.

Steven went quiet inside the bathroom, you heard the toilet getting flushed. You turned to walk back to the bed.

"Oi!"

You stopped in your tracks.

"I swear I'll never drink again. Ever."

You snorted. "Tell that Marc and Jake."

Steven came out of the bathroom. "I'll never understand how they can drink such stuff. The hardest stuff I've ever drank was Wine."

He flopped down on the bed again, putting the cloth back on his head. "I feel like I'm close to dying."

You headed for the kitchen, grabbing some crackers, a bottle of water and something salty. "Then Marc and Jake have to be alcohol-immune zombies or something." you joked, setting the things on the bedside table. "Eat those, it'll help with your hangover tomorrow."

"Nah, I can't think of eating anything now. Just let me lay here and let nature reclaim me, would ya?" It was Marc now.

"Then tea?" you suggested.

Marc looked at you, making a face. "Ugh.." he scoffed. "Steven can have the tea."

"Coffee? Black no sugar, your usual?"

Marc removed the cloth from his head. "Yeah but no. I'll make it once I wake up." he mumbled, pulling up the covers.

"Hey where is Jake?" you asked.

Marc closed his eyes. "Jake's out cold."

You decided to let them rest, wanting to prepare the coffee. "I'll go make the coffee."

"Nuh-uh."

Looking back, you saw Marc still with his eyes closed, pointing a finger at you.

"What?"

"Don't you dare move a muscle." he mumbled.

"Huh?"

"Yeah you heard me. C'mere, plant ya ass down on this bed and sleep."

Marc can be a goofball when he's drunk and he knows it.

"But–"

"Ah-ah." he opened one eye, then the other, smiling at you. "Please?"

"Can't sleep alone? You?" you chuckled.

He shook his head, pouting at you.

You surrendered "Fine. But only until you fall asleep." you smiled.

He nodded, smiling.

You laid down next to him. Marc pulled you into his side, shifting into a comfortable position.

Marc fell asleep almost instantly, you followed shortly after.

Couple hours later, you stirred awake, feeling the bed empty. Sitting up, you spotted him sitting on the couch, eating the stuff you brought earlier for Steven.

"Getting sudden hunger attacks?" you rubbed your eyes.

"Yeah. I guess early hangover's kickin'." Steven was back.

You got up, making your way to Steven and sat down next to him. "How do you feel?"

"Much better." he smiled.

You smiled back. "You better stick to tea. It's better anyway."

"Yeah I will. Tea tastes much better anyway." He grinned.

You couldn't agree more.

[suzukiblu]

more black zero please!

“I hope you all know I’ll be holding that against you,” Black Zero informs the Justice League, eyeing them darkly. Assholes. Assholes willing to strap a two year-old clone to an atomic bomb to investigate a threat they didn’t know jack shit about without backup. 

He could use a stronger descriptor than “assholes”, actually. 

“This isn’t the situation where you get to threaten people,” Superman says, narrowing his eyes at him. Black Zero genuinely debates taking a page from his teenage selves’ books and flipping him off. If Superman wants to talk to him like he’s somehow under the impression that he’s the strongest person in the room, he should, perhaps, remember that Wonder Woman is three feet away from him, and also that Black Zero himself is, again, an upgrade. “This is the part where you give us a reason not to send you to the Phantom Zone.” 

Black Zero really should just punch him. 

“Well, if you’re going to try me on hearsay, technically I am a minor,” he drawls, raising an eyebrow at Superman. He really did expect someone more impressive. “I’m the exact same age as your ‘Kon-El’, in fact.”

“I mean, give or take a reality,” Superboy says, gesturing awkwardly. “But, uh–yeah. I mean, Black Zero didn’t time-travel or anything, Cadmus just grew him to full-size and then kinda, uh . . . tossed him at Metropolis and told him to just . . . go be Superman. Which did not go well, for the record, so like–I mean, I get the Phantom Zone concerns, but he didn’t start out bad, and, well . . .” 

“It did not go well, no,” Black Zero agrees, his lip curling in disdain at the memories. Superman looks unsettled for a moment, then narrows his eyes at him in obvious judgment, like he thinks he has the right. 

“You’re a psychological adult,” he says. “You knew better than to do what you’ve done.” 

“You stayed dead in my reality,” Black Zero says, wondering what the inside of this idiot’s head must be like. Sunshine and puppies and bullshit, apparently. “Left it all to me. And you don’t know a thing about what I had to do.” 

He knows much better, in fact. Better than Superman, who was accepted even as an alien stranger who lied about his name to everyone he met. Everyone in Black Zero’s home reality had known exactly who he was and where he’d come from and what he’d been made for from day one, but they’d never trusted him half as much as their precious original Superman, even before things had started going bad. 

Black Zero still finds that ironic, considering. He has human DNA. He had humans he cared about. Specific and visible ones who weren’t just allied superheroes or people who could conveniently spin his existence for the press. 

No one could say the same about Superman. Not as far as they knew. 

“And you clearly made your choices,” Superman says. Black Zero gives him a flat look, then decides he’s not worth acknowledging any more than he already has and looks back to Superboy. 

“I’ve never actually met a Superman before,” he says. “Are they all this fucking sanctimonious?” 

“I mean, I’ve gotten some very weird lectures from the guy,” Superboy admits, making a bit of a face. “But he’s not–what the fuck does ‘sanctimonious’ even mean, asshole?” 

“It means he thinks he’s morally superior to the rest of the conversation,” Black Zero says. “And that he’s making a point of shoving that ‘fact’ in our faces.” 

“He is morally superior to us,” Superboy says in exasperation, scowling up at him again. “He’s Superman! That’s his whole thing!” 

“And I’m sure you came to that conclusion completely on your own, and through no outside influence whatsoever,” Black Zero says dryly. “Definitely no ‘very weird lectures’ were involved in the process.” 

“Don’t twist my fucking words around!” Superboy snaps indignantly. 

“Kon . . .” Superman says, his jaw tightening. Black Zero continues to ignore the spare parts, for obvious reasons.

[dreamofbecoming]

part two, this one is still mostly stobin and pre-steddie. the first part does provide some context, although i imagine you could figure most of it out yourself, but i'd recommend reading it first anyway!

ao3

part 1

platonic stobin, mentions of steddie

rating: t

wc: 3k

---

The conversation dies down and Steve goes back to filling bottles to hand off to Robin, eyes on Dustin where he's still goofing off with Munson. Good, he should get to have as much fun as he can. This is what he should be doing. What they should all be doing. Steve hates that these kids have to be fucking…soldiers so much of the time. He hates that he can't do anything to shield them from it. Not that they'd let him if he could.

Maybe Robbie has a point, about regular teenage life stuff being pointless right now, but god, what the fuck? Why should it have to be? He's 19! He can't even buy a drink yet! Robin is still in high school!

Fuck it. They should get to be kids and think about stupid pointless stuff, too.

"So I know you said you didn't want to talk about your love life, which is fair, but if I keep thinking about dying I'm gonna lose my shit, so you wanna talk about mine?"

She raises an eyebrow at him. "Oh, are we talking about how fucking weird shit has been between you and Nancy?"

Ah, fuck, that backfired almost immediately.

"What? No. Definitely not. Ok, it's been weird, but it's not a thing, ok?" She looks even more skeptical than before. "It's not! I mean, ok, maybe it is," she snorts at him, which. Rude. "But it's just like. Regular weirdness, ok?"

"What the fuck is regular weirdness?"

"You know, like, exes who haven't talked in a while in a high-pressure situation weirdness. The kind of weirdness anyone would be having in our shoes. Normal weirdness!" He throws his hands in the air, agitated.

Munson looks over at the sound of his raised voice, lifting an eyebrow and smirking. What is it with everyone raising their eyebrows at him today? He's being normal! Normal and regular! It's not his fault everything around them is weird and that makes his normal look weird by comparison. He's not doing anything wrong, so get off his nuts already! Geez!

Steve isn't sure how much of that very normal and regular monologue shows on his face, but it must be some because he can see Munson laughing at him as he goes back to playing keepaway with Dustin's hat. Bastard.

"Ugh! No, I don't want to talk about Nance. Like I really super don't. There's nothing there, it's done, it's over, there's nothing to say."

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to talk about that debacle in the bus either. Six kids, Steve? Really?" Oh Jesus. He was really hoping no one had heard that.

"Bobbie, please, why are you torturing me?" He rarely deploys the Sad Eyes on Robin, mostly because they don't work especially well on her, which is insane, because they work like an atom bomb on literally everyone else. He may have left King Steve behind him, but he has plenty of skills left over from those days, not to mention he looks as good as he always has. He knows what he's working with, ok?

Anyways, this is a moment to pull out the big guns, which means Sad Eyes are a go.

As usual, they aren't as effective on Robbie as they are on other people, but she does know him well enough to realize that if he's pulling them out, it's out of desperation, so she takes pity on him anyway. Whatever. He'll take the win.

She sighs, and rolls her eyes indulgently, but she's smiling just a little. He can tell. God, he loves her. He'd burn the world down for her, is maybe going to have to. He doesn't know what he'd do without her.

"Alright, bubba, I'll bite. You want to talk about your love life, but you don't want to talk about Nancy. Whatcha got for me?"

And, oh. Shit. This is the part where he's going to have to say it out loud. He hadn't planned this far, mostly was just anxious to get the swirling feeling in his chest out into Robbie's hands because he knows she can keep it safe, mostly just trying to wipe that awful, scared, defeated look off her face, but now he has to actually do the thing. He has to say it out loud, on purpose, the way he hasn't since that day in her bedroom when his whole world shifted a little to the left, and she was the only thing holding him steady.

Fuck. Ok. He can do this. It's just Rob. No one else is close enough to hear them, and Robin will always keep him safe. She'll never let him be alone.

"So, uh. You know the, uh, the thing? That we talked about that one time?"

"Yeah, we talk every day, I'm gonna need a bit more than that, bubs."

"The, uh. The thing we decided we didn't have to talk about right away? Because it wasn't important? Or, no, it was important, but it wasn't, um. What did you say? Relevant. It wasn't relevant to my everyday life?"

"Relevant to your…oh! Oh shit! The thing! The thing we talked about! That thing!" Her eyes are wide and so so blue and her hands are flailing a little, like she wants to pat him down for injury even though that's not remotely helpful. He carefully takes the bottle out of her hand and stuffs the rag into it himself, setting it on the ground where she can't dump gasoline on herself. She smiles a little sheepishly.

"So what about the, uh, the thing?" She lowers her voice like she's in a goddamn spy movie, leaning close and waggling her eyebrows. She's so ridiculous. He loves her so much.

He gives her a pointed look. She shakes her head in response, looking confused. Jesus fuck, she's gonna make him say it.

He tries one more time, bobbing his head at her to try and make his facial expression more forceful. He doesn't miss his old crowd, really, he doesn't. He does, however, occasionally miss being around people who were constantly alert for even the smallest social shifts, who he could have a whole conversation with using nothing but subtle changes to the shape of his mouth or the width of his eyes. He loves Robin and Dustin more than life, would kill or die for them, has proven it several times over, but Christ on a cracker they wouldn't know a social cue if it whacked them in the head with a hammer.

She's still furrowing her brow at him, so he sighs, and gives in. "I think it's maybe become…relevant. I promised to tell you right away, remember?"

Her eyes go even wider than before, and she thwaps him in the chest with the back of her hand. Hard. Ow.

"Dingus!" She's whisper-shouting, but he still doesn't think anyone is close enough to hear. "What the hell!"

"Ow, Robbie, Jesus, watch the open wounds!"

She flutters her hands around his middle, like she can fix his bandages through his jacket. She does look apologetic, so that's something.

"Sorry, sorry, fuck, sorry! Are you ok? Sorry. Just, what the hell! What? Who? When?!"

He smirks at her. "What, no why or how?"

"I'm going to set you on fire with one of these cocktails if you don't start talking, Dingus, I swear to god!"

He's laughing, she's so much fun to rile up. God, he hopes he doesn't have to miss this. He hopes he gets to keep this much, at least, when they're done. He'll probably go crazy otherwise.

"Ok, ok, I won't tease, I'm sorry. So I guess, to answer your questions, uh…I found a boy to crush on, who the hell do you think, and I promised to tell you right away, didn't I?" He counts them down on his fingers while he answers them, because if he can't act like a little shit to her then honestly, what is even the point?

"Right away…holy shit. Holy shit! Steve!" She looks frantically out at the field, where Munson has now knocked Henderson over and is sitting on him, wearing his hat and crowing victory, while Dustin flails wildly on the ground. Thank fuck neither of them are looking this way, because holy hell she isn't subtle.

"Robbie, don't look, what the hell! Do you want him to know we're talking about him?"

"Oh, so we are talking about him? Eddie "The Freak" Munson?"

He cringes a little at the reminder of his earlier dismissal. "Alright, ok, so I maybe didn't give him much of a chance at first, but the Upside Down changes things, you know that! It did for us, right?"

She looks thoughtful. "I guess, yeah. So go on, loverboy, what do you like about him?" She's grinning and waggling her eyebrows again. Ugh, this may have been a mistake. She does owe him for the Tammy Thompson thing. Still, there's no one alive he'd rather talk about this with, and he has to talk to someone, or he's going to explode, and they have a…wizard…demon…thing…guy to kill. Whatever. They have killing to do, so he needs to get this off his chest so it's not clogging up his brain.

"He has…really nice eyes. And really nice hands." Robin lets out a soft "Oh, ew," before he glares at her and she motions for him to go on. "He's funny, and weird but in like, a charming way? Kind of like you, but different. The way Dustin is weird and charming like you, but different, you know?"

"You have a thing for nerds, Dingus."

"Ugh, maybe, yeah." His mind drifts back to Eddi- Munson. Gotta keep calling him Munson, at least until they get out of this. Can't afford to be distracted. "He's scared out of his mind, but he's coming along anyway, which is the kind of brave and stupid this whole group kind of runs on. He thinks he's a coward but he's not. Going back to school instead of dropping out is brave. Trusting us is brave. Acting like he does even when everyone hates him for it is brave. I wish I had been brave enough to do that, you know? Maybe I would have dropped the King shit earlier. And he's good with the kids, which you know I'm weak for. I don't know, Robs, I just…I want him to like me, you know? I want him to be impressed by me. Is that stupid?"

When he looks up, Robin's eyes are wide and shiny. She looks surprised, and a little scared. That's not good, probably, but he can't take back anything he said. He meant all of it.

"It's not stupid, bubba, it's not stupid at all. I guess I was thinking…I don't know. That it was like an adrenaline thing? Like a 'you're hot, we're in danger, I'd rather think about making out with you than dying' kind of thing? Like what Nancy was clearly doing with you earlier, you know?"

"Ugh, Robbie, I so don't want to talk about Nancy right now, please," he groans.

"Yeah yeah, I know, whatever. I just mean, it doesn't really sound like that's what's going on with you, for Eddie, right now. It kinda sounds like you, you know, like like him."

"Like like him? What are we, 12?"

"You know what I mean, Dingus, it just sounds like there are actual feelings here, not just sexy thoughts."

He shifts a little on his stool, feeling kind of exposed, but it's ok. It's just Robin. "I mean, yeah, I guess I kinda do? Have feelings. Or maybe I will? I'm kind of trying to hold them off, I guess, until we get out of here, you know? I barely know the guy, honestly, but also every time this happens I end up bonded for life to someone new, so why not him this time? I mean, the first time with the demogorgon even got me and Nancy back together, and we were like, donezo, for real, after that thing Tommy did to The Hawk. This shit is better than superglue, you know?"

Robin barks out a laugh. She squares her shoulders and puts on her best announcer voice. "Do you have trouble making friends? Looking to join a new crowd, but can't find a way in? Try Hell Beasts! Our near-death experience package will create lasting trauma that will bind you together forever! There's no escape now!"

The two of them collapse into giggles, drawing the eyes of several their friends scattered around the field.

When she composes herself, Robin gives him a soft smile. It's one of his favorites. Almost no one ever sees it but him, and not very often. "Well, I guess we had better all make it out of this in one piece, then, huh? So we can do all our sad gay pining together."

"I dunno, I think maybe I have a shot," he says thoughtfully, eyeing Edd- no, stop it, Munson, where he's flopped on the grass next to Dustin, chatting happily.

Robin boggles at him. "What the fuck do you mean, a shot? Are you- oh god, are you just gonna tell him? Steve!"

"Wh- Not right away or anything! And not for sure! I have to figure out if he's flagging on purpose first!"

"If he's whatting on what?"

"Oh come on, you remember that one zine that talked about the, uh. The whats it. The code! The hanky code, that was it!" He snaps his fingers in victory, triumphant.

She's still looking at him like he's grown a second head though, so maybe not.

"I don't know, maybe you skipped that one? From what I could tell it was more about men anyway. I think they mentioned that ladies use, uh, caribou. The clip things, you know?"

"Caribeeners? Dingus what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's this thing, right? That like, gay people, gay men, I guess, use to like, signal each other, kind of. It's basically like, you wear a hanky in your pocket, and what color it is and what pattern is printed on it and which pocket you wear it in tells people what kind of sex you like."

Robin looks even more shocked, if that's possible. "What does that even mean, what kind of sex you like?"

Oh, right. Lesbian virgin. Fair enough. "Like, do you like to uh. Give, if you know what I mean. Or receive. Do you like blowjobs, or handjobs, or like. I dunno, weird stuff. Like spit or whatever."

She's waving her hands frantically, her face screwed up. "Ahhhh lalalala that's enough! That's plenty of information, thank you!" He holds up his hands in surrender. She asked.

"Anyway, what does all of...that...have to do with you having a shot with," she switches back to her not-at-all-subtle stage whisper, "Eddie?"

"Haven't you noticed he's had that bandana in his pocket the whole time?" She whips her head around so fast he's surprised he doesn't hear her neck crack. Jesus, Robin.

"Would you chill out? You're going to make him look over here and then I'll have to let Vecna eat me because there's no way I'll survive the humiliation if he hears us, Robin!"

She glares at him. "Don't even joke about that, Dingus. You're making it out alive or I'll kill you myself."

He knows he's smiling adoringly at her, and if Henderson is looking he's never, ever beating those "in love with Robin" allegations, but whatever. "Noted, Buckley."

"So, what, you think he might be...like us? 'Cause of the bandana?"

"I mean, maybe, yeah? I might be crazy, but I also feel like he was definitely flirting with me earlier. Like in the Upside Down, and also at the trailer, you know?"

"Now that I think about it, that "Big Boy" thing was super weird. I figured it was just Eddie being Eddie, they call him The Freak for a reason, right? But I guess that could have been called flirting."

"Right? That's what I thought! And when we were down there, he was like, all up in my space, and he gave me his vest, and he seemed annoyed when I talked to Nance, even though he was trying to push me back to her. Which was insane, I didn't tell you this part Robs, oh my god. I was fully staring at his lips, just laser focused, like I would be on a girl I want to kiss, right? And he won't stop telling me how Nancy is definitely still in love with me and I should get her back! What the hell! Who does that? So I don't know," he sighs, feeling a little lost. "Maybe he isn't into me after all. But I have to at least check, right?"

"I mean, I don't think I'm the right person to ask about that, bubba, but if it goes sideways, I'll burn his house down if you want." She wiggles a molotov cocktail at him, grinning.

"Jesus, Bobbin, alright. Let's, uh. Let's call that Plan B, yeah?"

"Roger that, captain!" She gives him a stupid little salute, and for a moment he's back at Scoops, before everything went shit-shaped, but she's still his Robin, and they're safe and alive and nothing hurts.

And then he blinks again and he's sitting on an overturned bucket in front of a stolen RV, making molotov cocktails with his soulmate, watching his baby brother and the guy he might maybe sort of have a crush on tussle in the grass, hoping against hope they all live to see morning.

He picks up another bottle.

part 3

[edynsgarden]

The Orchid

Chapter 1

There had been whispers of an American Jujutsu sorcerer with a cursed technique that rendered them unstoppable. No one could identify this sorcerer by face, but they were recognizable by photos of each cursed spirit with an orchid beside it. Typically, gossip about foreign sorcerers did not carry across the ocean to Japan, the pillar of Jujutsu, but it seemed that this American sorcerer dubbed “the orchid” was the only topic of conversation in the Jujutsu world. While many higher ups and special grade sorcerers feared the arrival of The Orchid, Satoru Gojo was excited. Finally, a rival, an equal, or maybe… a lover.

Story Warnings: heavy smut, breeding kink, spanking, spitting, violence, mentions of abuse, blood

Chapter Warnings: none <3 (no smut this chapter)

Chapter 0.5 - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

Chapter 1/1

Upon their arrival to the courtyard, they noticed there had been some new decorative decisions made by the new guest. An orchid plant, fruitful with hundreds of different flowers sat on a small table right in the middle of the courtyard. The two were fixated on the plant for a short while, cursed energy emanating off of the flowers like a nuclear bomb of curses. “So where is he?” Gojo asked, tired as the sun was starting to set. “I’m right here.” The Orchid said in a mocking tone. Eyes widening, Gojo briskly turned around preparing himself to obliterate the unknown figure. He was immensely confused. How did he not sense their cursed energy? The figure in front of him was not a human, simply a blur, an amalgamation of particles, with no features to distinguish what they looked like.  “How did you–why couldn’t I sense your cursed energy like I can sense it now?” He asked. “Well, that's all in my cursed technique but I’ve prepared a whole monologue for that so sit tight and I promise I’ll tell you. Oh shit! Pardon my French. I forgot to revert to my human form, sorry about that. How rude of me!” The blur of particles began to reform itself into a human figure, not just human but a beautiful figure of “a girl?” Gojo whispered to Masamichi. The girl had long, dark hair, dark eyes, and tan skin. Gojo couldn’t help but look at her figure as she was wearing a white tank top and a tropical flower-printed skirt, so American. “Okay! Now it's time for me to get serious. You should all take a seat.” the Orchid said, conjuring up two recliner movie seats out of thin air. “Mr. Gojo, my cursed technique is very similar to yours, but just in a more physical state than atomic. I can rearrange matter to be anything I want! But, it takes a whole lot of cursed energy, but I can siphon that energy from other beings since I can control their physical states, taking their cursed energy and mending it with mine.” The last fact was interesting to both Gojo and Masamichi. It meant that you could get stronger boundlessly, having no shortage of cursed spirits or objects. “Well– oh wait! I forgot to ask, would you guys like some snacks? I know this is kinda long.” “No, we-” “I do.” Gojo interjects.  After that comment, a large buttered popcorn appeared in Gojo’s lap. “I think I’m starting to like this girl,” Gojo said to Masamichi. What he was never going to tell Masamichi was that he was becoming completely infatuated with her. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was smart, rambling on and on about atomic theory. “–but aside from that, my main point is that I want to work with Satoru Gojo.” The thought of working with you excited Gojo. For some reason, the thought that she could possibly annihilate him exhilarated and somewhat aroused him.  “While Gojo may be capable of handling every cursed threat out there, he still had some weak points. I've read about the incident with Toji Fushiguro, if I was there, Toji would be on that orchid plant with all of the other special grade curses I’ve captured.” “Wait what?” Masamichi and Gojo say in unison. “Oh yeah, that orchid plant is my special grade orchid plant. It is what I use to siphon the cursed energy from the special-grade curses I encounter. Once they are completely drained and exorcized, their orchid falls off and dies. When a cursed spirit is manipulated into a new shape, an orchid per se, it becomes completely incapacitated so I can funnel its cursed energy directly to me with no worries at all. The process is completely irreversible for everyone other than me, so it really is foolproof.” At this moment, Jujutsu High needed a powerful ally, especially one with wit and power to stop the most powerful curse in the world. After a shared glance between Masamichi and Gojo, the strongest let out a low grunt as he readjusted himself in his recliner before quickly responding. “Well, I guess that settles it. You can work here, with me, on one condition. You help me save my student from Ryomen Sukuna.”

[aliorsboxostuff]

tangerine x gn (or m if you need to gender) reader where the twins take a job & the mission is like to protect/escort reader. love ur work have a great day/night!!

A/N: Y’know I've been thinking of writing a fic like that and hey! You requested anon so here it is! I took the liberty to give Reader a codename (both easier for me to write and for y'all to imagine) And he will be codenamed ‘Wolf’ (Cheesy ik). Now Reader is a bit more cheerful and bright than Tangerine, overall a golden retriever, so we got a grumpy x sunshine on our hands! Enjoy dear anon! <3

Sharp Smile

TANGERINE X M!READER

Tags: Tangerine x male!reader, implied nsfw, described nsfw, Lemon egging on his twin, sexual innuendos, pool table (ever since TGM there's something so sexual abt it idk), dom!Reader, golden-retriever!Reader, meet-cute (maybe?), escort!fic, fluff, fluff and smut

Tangerine and Lemon do yet ANOTHER escort mission after the disaster in Japan, but this time, Tangerine meets a boy too interesting to let him off his leash. 

—

3rd POV

"Who's the bloke anyway? Need’n an escort and all,"

"Well from what the file says, mans an important relative to some mob boss in Belgium. The guys inviting his family over for some gathering' i think? And were tasked with keepin' em' safe,"

"Better not be like that fuckin' white deaths kid again," 

"Nah man, we're only pickin' up the guy from the station, over to a private airway, and off we go in a fancy jet flyin' over the Atlantic Ocean,"

Tangerine huffs, his eyes scanning the crowd as it filters out of the train station. He rubs at the scar on the left of his neck, which finally healed enough for him to not feel self-conscious and wear a turtleneck, especially not around mid-July in America. He and Lemon stand just out of reach from their car, both looking around for their package. 

"Oh! Speak of that devil," Lemon grins, suddenly he whistles loudly. "Oi! Over here!"

The man in question turns. Tangerine felt like an atomic bomb went off in his chest. 

His hair was neatly swept back, a gray suit in place with a dark coat, and a devastating smile as he waves and approaches the twins. As he makes his way closer, Tangerine notices the extra inches he had on him. Not enough to make his neck crane but enough to grow the number of butterflies in Tangerine's stomach. 

"Tangerine and Lemon, right?" He smiles, pointing between the two. 

"That's right mate, pleasure to meet ya'," Lemon shakes his hand. "I'm Lemon," Tangerine spots a sliver of skin with small scars littered on them, he wonders if he could count them all.

"Oh I'm not supposed to tell you guys my real name, right, privacy purposes and all that," He pauses as if recalling something. "My uncle told me my codename is 'Wolf' so just-"

"Yeah, that'll do mate," Lemon nods.

"And you must be…" Wolf extends his hand in front of Tangerine, whose eyes are still glued to the man's perfect structure. Lemon rolls his eyes, elbowing his twin and pretends to cough, finally regaining Tan's focus.

"Right yea- Tangerine," He succeeds with minimal voice cracks.

"Tangerine," Wolf smiles. "Please to meet you,"

"Yeah sure," Tangerine says all too fast. He quickly turns to grab Wolf's luggage and bumps Lemon. "Come on then, I don't wanna waste another fucken' hour in this place,"

Soon enough, the three are flying through the highway in their Range Rover, courtesy of the rich boss that wants nothing less for their relative. Lemon drives while Tangerine sits shotgun, Wolf scrolling through his phone in the back seat. 

Something about the man interests Tangerine; and no it's not just the good looks and the slightly windswept hair from the man's train ride and from when he pulled his head out of the car like a fucking dog until he had to nag at him about his safety and his face dropped and pouted—No it really isn't that. For someone to reach Tangerines radar, they had to pique his interest in a specific way. Usually, he'd go for a man that's a couple of years older than him in age, maybe a gentleman with experience just so he can relish the feeling of being a pillow princess, or a person that's so reserved, so mysterious, he finds the thrill of getting to know them better. That, or his enemies—because he likes taunting them okay?

But Wolf, this man, kid even; judging from the way he's thoroughly engaged in a discussion about Thomas the tank engine with Lemon, there's nothing to be picked apart from him. To put it simply; Wolf is just another work from another rich geezer that's too careful about their precious relatives and has too much time on his hands. 

Tangerine glances at the rearview mirror when Wolf exhausts himself from the animated conversation with Lemon. The man is now looking out the window, his eyes trained on the road. Until he suddenly turned and their eyes met. Wolf smiles. It's bright and warm, and it scares Tangerine a little how sincere it is. Tangerine breaks eye contact, quickly looking out of his own window, cheeks tinted red slightly.

The group stopped for gas, Lemon leaving the two to go use the toilet and buy them snacks. Wolf suddenly peaked from between the front seats. 

"Hey, Tan?" He jumps, suddenly hearing his voice so close to him.

"Fuck- Yeah?" Wolf chuckles.

"Have you ever been to Belgium?" The man asks, tilting his head, his blinding smile in place.

"Sure I've been, was on a mission with Lemon there once,"

"Really? Have you ever been to Bruges then?"

"Uhm, no don't think so," Wolf grins impossibly wider if that was even possible. Tangerine should've brought his sunglasses. 

"From what my uncle told me, it's the most romantic city in Belgium," his eyes glinted slightly. "I think I'd like to take someone there one day,"

"Well whoever that would be one lucky bird,"

"Oh I'm sure he is," Wolf sneaks a wink before he slinks back into his seat, leaving Tangerine into his own spiraling thoughts. A steady red slowly blooms on the merc's cheeks, he quickly looks out the window to see his twin walking back to the car. He sighs in relief.

When they finally arrive at the private runway, Lemon and Tangerine carry Wolf's luggage while the man carries his day bag into the jet. The twin notices the size of the plane, slightly roomier and bigger than a normal private jet. While the exterior is sleek black, the inside is a luxurious beige and white, complemented with accents of mahogany brown on the side of the seats.

"There's a bar at the back, and after that should be the bedroom and bathroom," 

"Bloody hell it's a whole house 'ere," 

Lemon's statement makes Wolf giggle as he sets his bag on one of the seats. "You boys get comfortable, it's a long 9-hour flight," 

The seats were divided into groups of four and two, with a table separating each group. Wolf dropped his bag on one of the fours and so Lemon and Tangerine sat opposite him. The light to buckle in turns on the group braces for take-off. 

It was irrational to have a fear of flight when your literal work was taking heads off of people but Tangerine does, so fuck him. While Lemon took notice of how fast they went on the runway, Tangerine had nowhere to look beside the inside of the plane. He frowns slightly, only to choke when he spots how Wolf was sitting. He doesn't remember the man taking off his coat but it's nowhere near his body, instead, the vest pressed perfectly on broad shoulders and chest, the column of his neck prominent as he rests his head back. The brit swore under his breath, suddenly too keen on looking anywhere but at Wolf.

The captain announces that they are steady in the air and passengers are free to roam. Wolf was the first to stand, eager to leave the sitting room.

Wolf made his way behind the twins and opened a door, leading to the bar. The twins follow, taking in the spacious room with a pool table in the middle, a couch next to it, and a bar on the far end. He slides behind the counter, already scouring the vast choices of alcohol and non-alcohol. "Fancy a drink, boys?" 

"I'll take Scotch," Lemon has already made his way to the island, taking a seat.

"Buboun for me," Tangerine mimics his brother, though he gravitates towards the seat closest to Wolf. The man nods, fishing for the bottles and glasses. 

"Here we are gentlemen, enjoy," He gives Lemon his drink, then Tangerines, placing the glass with a wink before he sips on his. Tangerine had to scoff in order to hide the annoying blush it spurred.

"Does the pool actually work or is it jus' for show?" Tangerine asks in order to avert Wolf's gaze from him. The man perks and skids out from behind the bar.

"In fact, it does," He picks a pool cue. "Want a round, Tangerine?" Wolf purrs, his smirk sharpens. 

That voice is gonna be the death of me. "Sure, see how well you can take me,"

"Oh you're on, darling," 

After an hour and a half, a couple of drinks later, and enough inappropriate innuendos throughout the game to make Lemon cackle while Tangerine tries to contain his growing infatuation—and arousal, but he wouldn't admit that. Wolf, on the other hand, is having the time of his life. His arm would brush with Tangerine, making the man shiver slightly. He would lean too close, enough to feel the warmth from the agent. When he aims to hit a ball he would bend over enough to accentuate the curve of his ass and would hear a curse under Tangerine's breath, he smirks. 

When they realize the sky has turned a subtle violet, hints of orange peeking through the clouds, they've settled down into the couch and into a comfortable silence. They left around midday from the runway, should the flight go well then they would arrive in Belgium at night. 

"Well, I'm gonna go change, I'm having dinner once I arrive there," Wolf stands, leaving his empty glass at the far end of the bar. "You two can tidy up, or whatever you please," 

And with that he enters the designated bedroom, door clicks shut. Tangerine realizes he's left it unlocked. 

"Mate," 

"What?" The brunette answers, a little too harsh for Lemon's level look.

"You fancy him-"

"No i do not-"

"Quit lyin' mate!"

"Am not! God," Tangerine melts into his seat. "He's just…"

"Just? Bruv, come one," Lemon sat up straight, his arms propped on his legs, and regarded his twin with serious eyes. "Throughout the whole day, you've been lookin' at him like he hung the moon," Tangerine scoffs at that. "That, or, you've been trying to fucken' shag him all day,"

"Fucken hell…" The worst part is that his twin was right, he was trying to get into Wolf's pants. Not that he's not interested in Wolf as himself, no, in fact, he's also trying to suppress the idea of going on a midday stroll around Burgess with the man. No, Tangerine was infatuated, to a mission no less.

Just then, a thud came from the bedroom, followed by a series of muffled curses, then oddly enough, silence. Tangerine and Lemon shared a look, the younger already reaching into the gun in his coat.

"I'll check," Lemon only nods as he lets his twin approach the room. 

"Tangerine!" Wolf suddenly calls. The air of tension dissipates. "Uh, sorry, can you come in for a second?"

Tangerine sighs, putting away his brass knuckles. "Be right there!" He shrugs when Lemon raises a brow. 

Tangerine curtly knocks twice, before he slowly pushes the door open. "Wolf?"

"Oh just the man I'm looking for," 

The man turns, dress shirt unbuttoned, exposing built chest enough to make a man salivate. His hair is slightly damp, from a shower or face wash Tangerine doesn't know. The man is fiddling with something on his wrists, but the agent is too distracted by the expanse of Wolves chest to realize he's is offering his hand to a gaping Tangerine

"Do you know how to work these? I can't seem to get them around," The object in question is a golden cufflink. Tangerine blanks, then he blinks, looks up at Wolf before looking back down to the link.

"Cufflinks? Really bruv,"

"Well these are new! I don't know how to…" His face scrunches up, before shrugging his shoulders. Wolf's cheeks beam a hint of red. Tangerine bites the urge to kiss them. "I don't know," Wolf sighs.

"Come here," Tangerine huffs, pulling the man's hand closer to his chest. "These things are easy to put on, I don't understand why you couldn't do it yer’self mate,"

"Yeah well maybe I'm just not good at it,"

"Yeah like the spoiled brat you are," Wolf only laughs. 

Tangerines fully focused on the man's cuffs, letting his guard down just enough for Wolf to fully grasp the agent in front of him. The plane's bedroom isn't that big, just enough to fit a queen-sized bed and drawers built into the cabin, so the two men are slightly pushed together due to the circumstances. Wolf notes Tangerine's furrowed brow, his mustache following in his pout, and the way his hair is styled.

"Your hair…"

"Yeah? What about it?"

"It… curls," 

Tangerine falters. His hands shook slightly, finally done putting the cuffs on. In fact, his whole breath shudders. Something akin to fear, or anticipation. He's afraid to meet Wolf's eyes. 

Instead, Wolf reaches under Tangerine's chin. He should be alerted, quick to snap his arm in an unnatural manner, so bad it breaks, despite being his mission. But Tangerine lets him. Let Wolf tilt his chin up, enough until he meets the man's striking eyes. 

"I shouldn't be doing this," Tangerine whispers. He doesn't realize how close he's standing with the man, inches away from him. If he reaches out just enough he could run his fingers on the man's soft skin.

"I shouldn't either," Wolf's eyes grow darker, his gaze fleeting to the man's lips. "But…" 

Tangerines too shaky for his own good, his suave has been thrown out the plane's window. He relies on Wolf's guiding hand to bring him closer until he's breathing the same air as Wolf. His lungs ache, like taking lungfuls isn't even enough to sate the burning desire between him and Wolf. 

Their kiss is all-consuming. Tongue and teeth and reverent moving until they fall onto the bed, their breath knocked out of them, but they continue. Wolf makes room so he's on top of Tangerine's thighs, Tangerine can practically feel the heat that's so close to reaching his crotch. Wolf does something with his tongue and it takes Tangerine by surprise. He moans into the kiss, the man above him devouring the noise like a man in drought. His hands travel from Tangerine's shoulders, chest, to his hips, not demanding but holding—grounding him. Wolf is asking permission and Tangerine is willing.

"You're okay with this?" Wolf whispers when they part for air. "Is this good?" 

"Fuck yes just-" Wolf is smiling and it takes everything for Tangerine to not entwine their mouth together again, instead he wraps his arms around the man's neck, pulling slightly until his pupils dilate in surprise. "Continue, now."

Wolf grins. Tangerine realizes where he got the name from."Gladly, love,"

—

They're on the private runway in Belgium. The sky has turned dark and stars are starting to show themselves. Tangerine and Lemon are standing outside the jet, near a parked car that's designated for them as a closing for their mission. Wolf's assistant is inside the jet, getting his luggage, and so is Wolf.

Lemon has an annoyingly smug grin on his face while he leans on the car. 

Tangerine on the other hand is readjusting his collar so the hickeys won't show.

About two hours earlier, Tangerine finally managed to pry himself off of a clingy Wolf and into the lounge cabin where Lemon, to his surprise, is taking a nap on the couch. He'd half expected a raised eyebrow, maybe a teasing smirk on his brother's face yet he gets an eye full of a snoring Lemon. He huffs, retreats back into the bedroom to grab a spare blanket not wrapped around Wolf like a Caterpillar, and drapes it over his twin. 

Tangerine pours himself a drink then sits on the bar, mulling over the interaction that happened the past hour. Somehow, out of sheer luck, Wolf pounded into him and made him scream and beg before performing the best aftercare he's ever experienced in his life. They cuddled for fucks sake! And Tangerine is not a cuddler—despite what Lemon says.

How the bed didn't break or Lemon didn't come barging in thinking his brother got ambushed is beyond him. He thanked whoever bastard made the plane's bedroom soundproof. 

Tangerine runs his hand to the side of his neck tracing over bites and marks Wolf carelessly placed. It makes him shiver, something about the possessive 'mine' it gives off excites him. But he thinks, what are they? What does this mean?

He's had his fair share of honeypots in his merc life. Bedded men and women for missions or for his own relief, and yet—something is swelling inside of him. When he sees the way Wolf smiles, teasingly or sincerely with stars in his eyes as if Tangerine is the missing comet in his galaxy, or the way he laughs freely when he gives a jab about his pool skills or when he giggles. light and short from an offhand joke. The way his hand ghosts over Tangerine's body, the bruises that will surely appear on his hips, sensitive skin meets attentive fingers.

He remembers the way Wolf held his hand while he was buried deep, breathing into his ear as he grunts and moaned with each thrust. Wolf traced a careful finger in his healed scar and he asked how he got it, which Tangerine only brushed off as an accident in a mission. Then Wolf proceeds to press his lips to it. He kisses them like prayers, once and twice until he bites lightly, definitely leaving a mark before he whispers 'So you won't remember this from a mission, but from me.' Tangerine almost came then and there.

It's not just his attractiveness, but Tangerine is falling. Hard.

He's afraid of how far he'll fall for a one-time mission. 

Cut to two hours later, they've landed, Tangerine has gathered himself enough to be presentable and Wolf is still getting his luggage. 

The evening in Belgium brings a cold breeze over the runway where they've landed. Tangerine pulls at his outer coat tighter, his eyes scanning the vast concrete range until he meets Lemon standing behind him. To no one's surprise, his twin is still smirking at him, which makes Tangerine scoff and instead divert his attention to the opened Jet door. He knows Lemon is currently staring a hole on his back and he almost turns to argue with him before Wolf pops out of the jet, day bag in hand.

"There you guys are! I thought you'd left already," There's an underlying tone of relief unnoticed by Tangerine admiring the man making his way down the jet stairs.

"Nah mate, job says to escort ya' til yer' safe, right?" Lemon hollers from behind Tangerine, making sure he's loud enough to beat the wind and test his twin's patience.

Wolf laughs and nods, mumbles something too quiet for the harsh wind, until his assistant makes their way out of the jet. The man turns, regards the person in the crisp suit, before they take his day bag and into the car that'll take Wolf off of the twins' hands. Tangerine half thought that'll be it, Wolf would wave them goodbye from the car door and zoom off, never meeting Tangerine again. Instead, the man makes his way past him and to Lemon.

"Thanks so much for keeping me safe," Wolf places a stray lock behind his ear as the wind picks up, making his hair wave around. 

"Part of the job bruv," Lemon shrugs. "You take care though, thanks for the jet ride," 

"Of course," Wolf chuckles. Tangerine almost lost his eyes with the way he stared in shock as Wolf pulled his twin into a hug. Lemon, the 'people's person' he is, patted the man's back firmly before they let go. They shared a brief conversation that Tangerine couldn't catch.

But Lemon laughs, patting Wolf's arm and he laughs too, before Lemons stares at Tangerine's confused look and laughs again. His twin only gets more confused from their interaction.

Finally, Wolf walks over to Tangerine, his blinding smile in place. Tangerine thinks he can get drunk on just seeing them.

"Tangerine," He regards, righting another stray hair.

"Wolf," Tangerine nods. He's conscious of how his curls look, definitely messier than Wolf's hair.

"I guess this is it," 

"It is,"

"You'll…" Wolf inhales. His heart drums. "You and Lemon will get your payment. Thanks for taking care of me," 

"Yeah," The merc swallows. "Y-yeah o'course,"

Tangerine is already leaning into Wolf before he knew it, the man opening his arms and accepting Tangerine's crushing weight. His hands claws on Wolf's pristine jacket, gripping and tugging just to take an ounce of Wolf with him. Wolf isn't any different from Tangerine—He's trying to gather the merc into his arms, to engulf him fully, feeling the warmth of his body the way they held each other in the plane. 

They pull apart. If Tangerine's eyes are not playing tricks on him he swore he saw Wolf's eyes shake. 

"I'll miss you," Wolf's voice wavers. Tangerine swallows around a lump.

"Yeah," He nods. He's afraid any other word would break his restraints. 

When Tangerine thought Wolf would walk past away, leaving him fully and into his car, instead the man pulled Tangerine close again, his breath against his ear.

"You know where to find me," Then suddenly he sobers up and smiles. Tangerine stares in complete confusion.

"This should cover everything, use it as you want." 

"What…?" 

Wolf pushes a sleek black card onto Tangerine's palm. Upon realizing, Tangerine sputters then stares at Wolf. "Are you insane?!" He shouts.

"For you? Maybe," He jokes, already running towards his car and assistant. "I'll see you later, Tangerine," He winks, one leg already in the black Chevy. 

"Oi you git! We can't-" 

And he's off. Tangerine stands in disbelief, his eyes wide, hair now fully out of place. The merc feels relief and excitement but he can't hide the slight disappointment of never seeing Wolf again. Or so he thought. 

"Hey, what's that peeking out your back?" Lemon points from behind him. Tangerine raises a brow. He reaches into his back pockets, before he feels a piece of paper, clearly out of place. 

Tangerine pulls it out and begins to read it. He squints from the minimal light, trying to make out the words, until he recoils because he didn't read words, he read digits.

Wolf gave him his number. Personal number if he judges from the note above saying 'Call me'. 

"That bloody… madman," Tangerine sighs. He follows the dimming backlights of the chevy before it exits the runway area, into the night to god knows where.

"Well, looks like you got yer'self a good man,"

"God i hope so," He exhales. He can only pray that Wolf would call back and be the gentleman he might be because Tangerine is gone for him, and it's gonna be one hell of a trip to get back down.

Lemon cackles, he shakes his head then makes his way into their car. Tangerine blinks away the afterimage before he joins his twin.

"Is that a fucken' black card?" Lemon stares incredulously at the card on Tangerine's palm, now it's his turn to laugh.

"Mate," He turns to the shocked Lemon. "Let's have fun in Belgium," He grins.

Requests are open! <3

[tobiasdrake]

So, the film opens with the atomic bombing of Nagasaki in WWII. A scene I'd love to hear a Japanese perspective on because it feels weird to me.

So, they see two enemy planes flying towards Nagasaki which is that city across the bay. Immediately, the entire camp goes into a total panic.

Soldiers are fleeing the camp on foot.

The officers all get together to commit seppuku together.

Yashida releases all the POWs from their camp. He does this by slicing off the padlock with a katana. I don't know the physics well enough to know if that would actually hold up, but I do know they're setting him up to be an Anime Warrior Superperson so I'm not going to question it too much.

They also take a moment to note that Yashida made this choice in the heat of the moment. There were no orders to release the prisoners; He's just demonstrating his own kind heart. This is conveyed through a guard in a tower shooting at the escaping POWs until Yashida yells at him to hold his fire.

Logan, down in a pit, apparently knows a lot about atomic bombs. Enough to know that a bomb delivered by a B-29 to Nagasaki will wipe out this military base across the bay. He calls out the type of plane specifically like, "Oh yeah, that's the A-Bomb plane, those deliver A-Bombs".

Logan is a Canadian foot soldier who's been imprisoned in a well for an indeterminate length of this war. Would he be able to see an American B-29 in the distance and go "Yep, that means an atom bomb is incoming; better hide in a well to avoid the blast radius."

Then the bomb goes off.

Yashida looks directly into the flash and is totally fine. Um.

Logan then grabs Yashida and jumps back into the well with him. He can't seal the well, so he grabs a big chunk of metal that I guess was just lying around and throws that over Yashida.

Fortuanately, metal is famous for its ability to remain cold under intense heat. So while Logan gets barbecued by atomic fire, Yashida is safe and sound save for one part of his face where the heat got in through a small hole in the metal plate.

Yashida gets up and watches a smoking husk of meat regenerate back into a man. Reasonably freaked out by this, he tries to exit the well, but Logan stops him.

Logan looks up at the sky and sees all the nuclear fallout in the air. So he makes Yashida stay down here in an open-air hole in the ground where the fallout can't reach them.

Honestly, Logan seems to know a startling amount about nuclear bombs. Was he on the Manhattan Project?

This is all....

I dunno. This is the Nagasaki bombing, so Hiroshima just happened three days ago. So it's not like they wouldn't know what's coming. But I don't know. This whole "OH MY GOD THE AMERICANS ARE COMING KILL YOURSELVES OR RUN LIKE HELL" thing gives me a strong whiff of history written by Americans.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just paranoid due to the lack of any Japanese creatives involved with the making of this film. I have no idea what this moment in history must have been like on the ground. I can't even imagine. But this feels very Hollywood.

I cannot say with certainty that any of this is wrong. I am not a scholar of nuclear physics, nor am I well-versed in Japanese military culture circa-1945.

But this whole scene just feels weird to me. Either I don't know enough to explain why this is all wrong, or I don't know enough to understand that it's actually right. But I'm definitely having the creeping sensation of knowing that I don't have enough information to parse what I'm seeing.

(As an aside, I have seen some people point out that this is a dream sequence to explain away how weird it feels. But I don't accept that explanation. What Logan is dreaming up is clearly meant to be the memory of a real event that he lived through. Yashida is not a made-up giraffe man his brain invented to process his feelings about WWII. The events of this day in Logan's history drive the rest of the film.)

[queenvhagar]

"And then they just... included no fire or blood to these characters." but...there’s no shortage of "fire and blood" in the show? not to defend it or anything, but let’s be honest—there’s plenty of "fire and blood" going on. Rhaenyra had the dragonseeds burned by Vermithor, Rhaenys torched a heap of smallfolk during Aegon’s coronation, and Aemond casually set Sharp Point ablaze. The Rook’s Rest battle itself was basically akin to an atomic bomb going off. These acts alone already reflect the destructive, violent nature the Targaryens are known for. And that’s just the beginning—next season’s bound to bring even more war crimes, with Viserys' children at the forefront of the mess (sans Heleana). At the end of the day, all these characters—Rhaenyra, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron—are neck-deep in violence. Whether or not their reasons are justified doesn’t really matter because they're all guilty. And it is expected because the Dance is a civil war filled with atrocities on both sides. Black and Green do not matter. Every major player gets their hands dirty in some way. The show doesn't shy away from the brutal nature of these characters or their actions. What it does—and what fans often fall into—is minimizing the severity of their deeds by justifying them with backstory or motivation. Fans latch onto these reasons to the point where they start romanticizing aspects of these characters, searching for the "good" in them (gag in disgust), when in reality, they’re all meant to be deeply flawed, even horrible. Let them be bad! That is fine!!! IS FINE!!!! So yeah, the show has many problems regarding narrative arc and artistic decisions, but it isn't shying away from the fire and blood of the Targaryens; it’s woven into their legacy, and we’re seeing that play out. What we really need to do is move past these no-nonsense teams. No more Team Black or Team Green...my god! Just choose Team Evil!!!

My main problem that I'm getting at is the idea that any Targaryen, after their own kin is slain by the enemy and said enemy is actively opposing you, is willing to sue for peace. ESPECIALLY when in Fire and Blood the deaths of Jaehaerys and Lucerys were these ultimate moments where all out fire and blood mentality kicked in for everyone and not only was war inevitable but it was desired. They wanted fire and blood. They wanted vengeance for harms inflicted upon them through any means and at any cost. These are Targaryens at the height of their absolute power. There is nothing they feel they cannot do or will not do. There is no one capable of opposing them, and if anyone tries, they shall face fire and blood.

I understand the argument of there being plenty of actual fire and actual blood being present in the show... as in yes, the dragons still breathe fire and the war is still killing people. But the house words of fire and blood? The mentality of taking all that is owed to you, no backing down, raining annihilation down upon all that oppose you? That's just not present. It's barely even allowed to be hinted at.

Rhaenyra burned Dragonseeds to get dragonriders? Sure, there was technically fire and blood involved and one could argue there were wisps of a true fire and blood Rhaenyra being hinted at for the single scene. But afterward? There's no acknowledgment narratively, nor is there any character growth: Rhaenyra immediately reverts to only wanting to have dragons as a deterrent to war. After she's lost her throne. Her father. Her only daughter. Her son. Her aunt. Their dragons. And despite the fact that the only way she can press her claim when there's already a crowned king is to wage war, and the only reason there is a war is because she is pursuing it in the first place in order to get her throne.

My problem is that there is such a lack of that fire and blood mentality to Rhaenyra and many other Targaryen characters that should be there and was there in the source material. They're not allowed to be real humans let alone real Targaryens. Their fire is extinguished. Their actions illogical. Their emotions suppressed. They do shy away from the brutal actions of these characters by removing their motivations or distancing them from the actual events that they cause. Any blood they spill is not their intention or is done with the goal of preventing a war that they should want at all costs but continuously, unrealistically, try to back away from.

So yes, of course the characters are still involved in terrible things and their actions get people killed. But the drive behind those actions is gone. Instead it's a series of happenstances and misunderstandings and peaceful aspirations that move the plot along. Where is fire and blood? The fiery boldness and anger, the burning desire for vengeance, the willing violence to grab at power and hold it, the inherent self-entitlement and superiority complex that leads them to believe they deserve the throne at all costs, no matter who is in the way and why they have to do to get it? That mentality is gone, as are representations of the true Targaryens of the books. The family that willingly destroyed itself through the embodiment of fire and blood mentality, taking what they believe is owed, seeking total annihilation of the enemy, using living weapons of fire and force submission. These new characters of the show are shadows of what they should have been. That's my problem with the show. The fire and blood mentality that defined this family is gone. In its place are shells of actual characters.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: I need you to know that I headcanon Leo having a cowboy accent and that's how I usually try to write it -Danny Words: 1,906 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Walking Disasters' -by The Wombats

XLVII: Turn Down the Gospel Music, the Demons Are Still Here

The ceiling starts to collapse so Nico and Hazel have no choice but to transport them to the hillside near the River Acheron. It's a fresh morning, and the crew is safe and alive.

Leo stumbles, pale and shaky from shadow-traveling. "You know... I think I'll sit down."

They all sit to catch their breath, then Frank tells them what happened after they split.

"Frank is being modest," Jason intervenes after a moment. "He controlled the entire legion. You should've seen him. Oh, by the way..." He looks at Percy. "I resigned my office, gave Frank a field promotion to praetor. Unless you want to contest that ruling."

"No argument here," Percy smiles.

"Praetor?" Hazel beams at the boy.

"Well... yeah. I know it seems weird."

Hazel pecks his lips. "It seems perfect."

"Fitting," Ara agrees. "Having you as one of my right-hand leaders will be an honor."

The boy blushes and Leo pats his back effusively. "Way to go, Zhang. Now you can order Octavian to fall on his sword."

"Tempting," Frank smiles a little, then turns to Percy. "But, you guys... Tartarus has to be the real story. What happened down there? How did you...?"

Percy winces, reaching for Annabeth's hand. "We'll tell you the story. But not yet, okay? I'm not ready to remember that place."

Ara looks down and shakes her head. "It's my fault. There'll never be a way to make up for what I—"

"We're not blaming you," Annabeth cuts her off. "Closing the Doors of Death was something that had to be done. You thought it was your job but the fates had different plans..." The girl's eyes shine as she takes in Ara's appearance. "Your time here wasn't wasted."

Leo pulls her closer and smiles. "She's been nothing short of an atomic bomb with every bad guy we've encountered—she's all 'Hasta la vista, baby', and BOOM! Monster dust rains."

"That's a stretch," Ara blushes.

"I believe it," Percy smiles a bit.

"Look, our ride," Annabeth points at the ship approaching.

"That's my boy!" Leo says proudly, watching as the Argo II approaches them.

"About time!" Hedge shouts. "What took you so long, cupcakes? You kept your visitor waiting!"

"Visitor?" Hazel struggles to her feet.

"Oh, gods," Ara's mouth dries. "Reyna."

Ara didn't visit the Athena Parthenos during its time at the Argo II, she was too ashamed to look at it, thinking it would start berating her as soon as she got close. Now that it's standing on the hill, she looks at it in awe of its power and beauty.

"Incredible," Reyna mutters. "It looks newly made."

Ara thinks Reyna is just as impressive as the statue. She traveled alone with nothing but her pegasus and a sword, and still made it in one piece. If someone had told her Reyna was a goddess in disguise, Ara would've believed it.

"Yeah," Leo hums appreciatively from his spot on the grass. "We brushed off the cobwebs, used a little Windex. It wasn't hard."

"Hey, girls," Annabeth calls over to them. "Have some food. Join us."

The group is having a picnic under the shadow of the Argo II. Ara wants to nap more than she wants to eat, but she encourages Reyna to join. "C'mon, Praetor, you've had a long journey."

"All right," The group makes room for Reyna and she grabs a sandwich, staring at it before giving it a little bite. "So. Frank Zhang... praetor."

"Well, yeah. Field promotion," Frank hums, too focused on eating.

"To lead a different legion. A legion of ghosts."

"Reyna," Jason stays, "you should've seen him."

"He was amazing," Piper nods.

"Frank is a leader," Hazel states. "He makes a great praetor."

"I believe you," Reyna agrees. "I approve."

"You do?" Frank asks in surprise.

Reyna smiles shortly. "A son of Mars, the hero who helped to bring back the eagle of the legion... I can work with a demigod like that. I'm just wondering how to convince the Twelfth Fulminata."

"The legion will listen to you, Reyna," Frank replies. "You made it here alone, across the ancient lands."

"In doing so, I broke the laws of the legion."

"Caesar broke the law when he crossed the Rubicon—Great leaders have to think outside the box sometimes."

"I'm not Caesar. After finding Jason's note in Diocletian's Palace, tracking you down was easy. I only did what I thought was necessary."

"It's in your blood," Ara pokes the girl's back with her foot. "None of you can be denied of your right to be leaders. If your legion has a problem, they can talk to me about it."

Percy smirks. "There's that atomic bomb."

Leo and her brother chuckle like old buddies and Ara feels a mix of affection and concern. She likes that they're getting along, but it's a little worrying to think how they might team up to tease her in the future.

"So, the twenty-million-peso question," Leo says. "We got this slightly used forty-foot-tall statue of Athena. What do we do with it?"

"As fine as it looks on this hill, I didn't come all this way to admire it," Reyna replies. "According to Annabeth, it must be returned to Camp Half-Blood by a Roman leader. Do I understand correctly?"

"I had a dream down in... you know, Tartarus. I was on Half-Blood Hill, and Athena's voice said, I must stand here. The Roman must bring me."

"It makes sense," Nico responds. "The statue is a powerful symbol, a Roman returning it to the Greeks... that could heal the historic rift, maybe even heal the gods of their split personalities."

"Now, hold on. I like peace as much as the next satyr—"

"You hate peace," Leo interrupts Hedge.

"The point is, Valdez, we're only—what, a few days from Athens? We got an army of giants waiting for us there. We went to all the trouble of saving this statue—"

"I went to most of the trouble," Annabeth scowls.

"—because that prophecy called it the giants' bane—So why aren't we taking it to Athens with us? It's obviously our secret weapon. It looks like a ballistic missile to me. Maybe if Valdez strapped some engines to it—"

"Uh, great idea, Coach," Piper says. "But a lot of us have had dreams and visions of Gaea rising at Camp Half-Blood... Since we got back to the ship," she draws out her dagger. "I've been seeing some bad stuff in the knife. The Roman legion is almost within striking distance of Camp Half-Blood. They're gathering reinforcements: spirits, eagles, wolves."

"Octavian," Reyna scowls. "I told him to wait."

"When we take over command, our first order of business should be to load Octavian into the nearest catapult and fire him as far away as possible," Frank makes a face.

"That can be arranged," Ara crosses her arms. "But if Reyna is meant to take the statue, she can't do it alone. Some of us must go with her, to ensure the quest succeeds."

The thought of parting ways isn't happy, but they know Ara's right. Reyna can't transport the statue alone, and they can't spare the ship. "You're not going," Leo says, almost like an order.

Ara frowns. "Excuse me?"

Reyna intervenes. "Valdez is right. Your place is in the main quest."

"My place is wherever I say it is," she replies stubbornly. "Besides, Romans and Greeks here means a Roman and a Greek should go on your quest to keep things even."

"Yeah, but you're the Strategus, we need you for the big fight. I should go with Reyna," Frank says. "If I'm a praetor, I should go. Maybe we could rig some sort of sled, or—"

"No, Frank Zhang. I hope we will work side by side in the future, but for now your place is with the crew of this ship. You are one of the seven of the prophecy."

"I'm not," Nico points out.

"Nico—" Hazel starts, but he interrupts her.

"I'll go with Reyna. I can transport the statue with shadow-travel."

"Uh..." Percy frowns. "I mean, I know you just got all eight of us to the surface, and that was awesome. But a year ago you said transporting just yourself was dangerous and unpredictable. A couple of times you ended up in China. Transporting a forty-foot statue and two people halfway across the world—"

"I've changed since I came back from Tartarus," Nico says, unable to control his hostility towards the boy.

"Nico," Jason tries, "we're not questioning your power. We just want to make sure you don't kill yourself trying."

"I can do it. I'll make short jumps—a few hundred miles each time. It's true, after each jump I won't be in any shape to fend off monsters. I'll need Reyna to defend me and the statue," he locks eyes with Ara. "Please, trust me."

"My young brigadier, I trust you with my life." He scowls at her sarcasm, but Ara sees his soul light faintly glowing. "Nico is Greek and one of the best warriors I've had the pleasure to have under my command," Ara concedes.

"Very well," Reyna fixes her posture. "But there will be many monster attacks. I would feel better taking a third person."

"Coach Hedge," Frank offers quickly.

"Uh, what, Frank?"

"A satyr is of great importance in a quest, Percy," Ara intervenes quickly. "Hedge knows medicine, he's a good fighter and a good protector—Besides, the demigods under his care always reach camp in one piece."

"The coach is the best choice," Frank insists. "The only choice. He'll get the job done."

"A faun," Reyna raises a brow.

"Satyr! And, yeah, I'll go. Besides, when you get to Camp Half-Blood, you'll need somebody with connections and diplomatic skills to keep the Greeks from attacking you. Just let me go make a call—er, I mean, get my baseball bat."

As he hurries out of the scene giving them a brief but grateful look, Ara takes his seat next to Leo. "So that's settled! Mr Firecracker, can you pass me a drink?"

Leo hands her a plate of food and a juice box. Nico gets up and dusts off his hands. "I should go, too, and rest before the first passage. We'll meet at the statue at sunset."

"Nuh-uh!" Ara tosses him a wrapped sandwich. "Eat more!"

Nico curses under his breath in Italian, but he unwraps the sandwich and nibbles on it grumpily as he walks away.

"What's that about?" Percy raises a brow, mouth covered in chocolate syrup.

"What's what about?" Ara replies with her mouth full.

"You guys are friends now?"

The girl raises her brow. "Nico has always been my friend."

Hazel puts her plate down and interrupts their talk. "We're at another crossroads. The Athena Parthenos goes west. The Argo II goes east. I hope we chose correctly."

Ara looks around to confirm Janus isn't there. She ponders a moment before speaking. "I think it isn't a crossroad, Hazel. We're stuck in a straight path."

"One thing bothers me," Percy sighs. "If the Feast of Spes is in two weeks, and Gaea needs the blood of two demigods to wake—what did Clytius call it? The blood of Olympus? Then aren't we doing exactly what Gaea wants, heading to Athens? If we don't go, and she can't sacrifice any of us, doesn't that mean she can't wake up fully?"

"Percy, prophecies cut both ways," Annabeth holds his hand. "If we don't go, we may lose our best and only chance to stop her. Athens is where our battle lies. We can't avoid it. Besides, trying to thwart prophecies never works. Gaea could capture us somewhere else, or spill the blood of some other demigods."

Ara locks eyes with Leo. "Talking about prophecies... You need to hear mine."

Percy's expression shifts and she can almost hear his heart stopping. "You got a prophecy?"

"The General's ready for her sharing-is-caring session?" Piper puts her dagger away. "That means it's time for dessert!"

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

[thatbeluga]

Wet Sock 2x09: Womb Builds a Destiel Bomb

Season One / 2x01 / 2x02 / 2x03 / 2x04 / 2x05 / 2x06 / 2x07 / 2x08

Wombat did a double triple backflip frontflip and landed expertly on his marsupial toes. Rad was launched out of Ohio and slammed face first into the dusty road, but pushed off with sheer chin strength and righted herself, also striking an Epic Pose. Then Misp came tumbling through, about to form an Epic Pose, when they tripped on their Crocs that were still sticky with Grimace Shake. They smacked into their brother and mom, sending all three sprawling onto the ground.

"Misp you fucking dweebus," Womb groaned, struggling to his feet or paws or whatever. Rad rubbed her head, looking up.

"Where...when... are we?"

A giant election map dominated the sky, clouds proclaiming that putin was stepping down. A darkened town surrounded them, the remains of a former Superwholock empire. The distorted notes of Wendy Williams on the Masked Singer performing Native New Yorker echoed across the ruins.

"We're in November 5th, 2020," Womb said, glancing around at the empty houses. Misp screamed, pointing at something on the ground.

It was a piece of fishing tackle, left in the middle of the road. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be holding a pride flag. Misp walked toward it, eyes so wide they could make Y/N jealous. Just before they could grab it, Womb swatted it away.

"Hey!" Misp kicked Womb. "I was gonna get it."

"You don't want to touch that. I read about it in our grandparent's secret tomes," Womb said, pointing to another abandoned fishing lure further down the street that was wearing a rainbow sticker. "It's... oh god... it's queer bait."

"No!" Misp said, stepping back. "That can't be true! Queer bait isn't real!"

"It's very real," Rad said, kicking a stray queer bait into the shadows. "It caused the downfall of many an empire. You don't fuck with queer bait."

"As long as we steer clear of it, we should find everything we need to save Beluga and Fuck," Womb said. "We just need to build a bomb."

"FUCK YEAH! BOMB!" Misp shouted.

Womb pointed to the sky, "Every midnight, Castiel confesses his love to Dean, and this realm is briefly revived. If we harness all that energy, we can build a bomb big enough that Y/N will have to come to fix the damage herself. While she's distracted, we can find Bel and Fuck and bring them back to the estate."

"Or," Rad said, shrugging in her iconic pose. "We could just go home."

"But Mom..." Misp said. "I really wanted to build a destiel bomb. With womb. I mean also save my grandparents from having their atoms torn apart by Y/N, but mostly I wanted to build a bomb with womb, mom."

"Offspring, the queens and kings of the multiverse sing that oh fuck I can't rhyme that much, well actually, Author!Beluga can't cause he's shit at writing poetry on the spot," Rad said, shaking her head, but in fact, she was not dead, and her favorite color was not red, but she wished she could eat some bread, in bed, and then go to the fictional country from Brandon Sanderson's the Stormlight Archive, Jah Keved.

"...whut?"

Rad knelt down, and patten Misp's mushroom head. "If you want to save your grandparents, that's fine. I won't stop you from building a destiel bomb. But I'm not gonna help you either."

"But Mom, it's Beluga and Fuck," Womb said.

"Yes," Rad said. "They handled themselves before. They can handle themselves without our help."

She turned around, and opened a rift back to the Quarter Family estate. She turned back to her kids. Womb shook his head.

"I'm gonna help Womb with the Destiel Bomb, mom," Misp said. Rad nodded.

"Don't get queerbaited."

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

Rad walked back into the manor, her head hung. She had no idea how long she'd been gone, but hopefully Elmo hadn't--

"RAD!" She looked up to the ramparts of her estate and saw... Elmo.

And standing behind her, cerulean orbs quavering, was Y/N.

[clonedchaos]

Godzilla: Minus One Short Rant

AHHHHH I FINALLY WATCHED GODZILLA: MINUS ONE ON NETFLIX AND IT WAS GREAT!!!!! I’ve been wanting to watch it for a good while now. Some spoilers below btw, just gonna do a short rant so I can go back to my crochet practice—

The found family dynamic between Koichi, Noriko, and Aikiko was so wholesome and adorable. I love how Noriko just finds him on the streets, says “Here, take this kid” and runs off with the police after her. Then she comes back and crashes at Koichi’s place and he’s just like “What the heck, this is MY house??” And then they end up becoming an unlikely family throughout the film and it’s just ✨chef’s kiss.✨ Found family is my favorite dynamic, I loved it in this film. Well, it’s more of “these two end up falling for each other + an adopted daughter they both raised” but same thing kinda.

And Goji looks super spooky this movie. Like, he’s genuinely kinda creepy to me. Still find him adorable, but I find 99% of monsters cute in general, so that’s just a me problem and not a design problem. I do love the contrast between the Japanese Godzilla which focuses on him being a horrific force of nature that is supposed to show humans the results of tampering with what they shouldn’t, vs. Americas/Legendary’s Godzilla who is more of an action hero who helps protect the world.

And in my personal opinion:

I love both versions of Godzilla. Either it’s a heart-wrenching story centered around survivor’s guilt or “big lizard fights big monke” and I’m here for it.

Also, Koichi’s survivor’s guilt in general is such a big gut-punch. He carries that guilt with him for years and doesn’t believe he should ever be happy. I’m definitely glad he got a happy ending though, he’s been through a LOT. It’s also been a bit since I’ve watched a more serious film (I watch a lot of kid’s movies okay).

I feel like this movie was written well too, it’s got plenty of action points to break up the story to hold audience’s attention. It focuses more on the story and characters than the action or monsters, which is fine. It just takes some getting used to given I’m more used to faster paced action films. A slower pace doesn’t make it bad though, as I said.

And that opening scene was an AMAZING hook. It definitely pulls you into the horror aspect of the film. I really enjoyed the first shot of Zilla specifically from a cinematography and lighting standpoint. It just makes me happy for some reason. In fact, so many of the action scenes in this film are so goood. Specifically when flaming ships or trains are yeeted through the air and crash into buildings.

Goji’s design took some getting used to as well, mostly because I was introduced to the Godzilla franchise through Legendary’s Godzilla. I love how angry and somewhat grotesque he looks. I think he’s still the twisted result of radiation if I remember correctly? I don’t know if his backstory in this was different or not.

And for the fans who have seen the older Japanese films, has Godzilla always been able to regenerate? He literally takes a bomb to the face and goes:

And I love love LOVE the way Godzilla powers up his atomic breath. The way his spines slowly extend and begin to glow was eye candy.

So yeah, I really really enjoyed this movie. It’s a more serious, horror-esque film than what I’m used to in this franchise, but it was great. Now I should watch Shin Godzilla and Godzilla ‘54 because those are also a more serious take on it, and I’m working on seeing all of the films after all. :)

Also I was going to riot if Koichi or Noriko had died at the end… At least Goji isn’t dead though, he’s just taking a snooze at the bottom of the ocean. Wonder what he’ll do when he wakes up. 🤷‍♀️

Probably be cranky again.

[zahri-melitor]

DC Holiday Special 2017 #1 - wouldn't it be nice if DC got back to some sort of consistent naming pattern?

The Reminder - Constantine & Superman. Constantine gets thrown out of a bar for being drunk and dour. Clark doubts Superman can change anything while the barkeeper tells him all the great things Supes has done over the past day. Supes then invites Constantine home to see the family.

'Twas the Night Before Christmas - Batman. OH MY GOODNESS THIS IS A DENNY STORY!!! And wow is it ever a Denny story, we have ghosts and all (where's the Order of St Dumas, Denny, I know you wanted to shove them in too). Storywise, Bruce is tracking down (in a blizzard) a couple who've been kidnapped and held at gunpoint by a man haunted by his dead grandmother, after they both died/almost died in the snow due to the couple, years ago. Bruce stops this.

You Better Think Twice - Green Arrow & Black Canary. Ollie dresses up as Santa ever year for the orphans. Dinah is sceptical that this is helpful. The art direction pretends Sin exists in this story for a page and my heart melts even though that is 100% not Sin.

Not Sin. But Dinah is missing her.

Going Down Easy! - Sgt. Rock. Because what is a Christmas Special if I don't have to read Sgt. Rock stories for some reason.

Amazingly, this is the Hanukkah story for the year! Varying it up. An American Jewish soldier, after being shot, holds on and lives for 8 nights with the German soldier who shot him, until Sgt Rock and his troops arrive. (Then he dies). This is a miracle of faith.

Hope for the Holidays - Flash. Wally just wants to give Barry his Christmas present. Barry gets distracted fighting crime and then taking everyone at the snowed in airport to their destinations. But eventually, he finds time to make it to see Wally in Titans Tower.

A Wilson Family Christmas - Deathstroke.

Aw yeah Adeline's here. Shoot Slade, Adeline! (Tragically she does not even though she threatens to). So is Grant, because we're in a flashback. Anyway Slade is looking for a bomb in a pile of donated presents (and a Santa dies), the rest of the Wilsons come off the road in a carcrash in the snow, Adeline doesn't believe a word Slade says, it's all very them. Also somehow Grant, who was driving, DIDN'T wipe himself out at this point. Survived the teen car accident only to die stupidly fighting the Titans. Way to go kid.

Driver's Seat - Lois & Clark. For some reason this was skipped by the DCUI file. Lois' first car gets totalled in a car accident, which she's broken up about because she wasn't ready to say goodbye. Clark rescues the driver's seat and steering wheel for her, then takes her flying in the seat.

Silent Night - Atomic Knights. I...do not know the Atomic Knights. I vaguely remember something about them in Final Night. It appears to be an alternate timeline?

The community protected by the Knights is worried about the 'Trefoils', a set of walking trees who frankly look like Triffid ripoffs. The village wants to burn them down even though they used to be part of the community. But the Trefoils actually brought a Christmas Tree for everyone! The Spirit of Christmas lives.

Holiday Spirit - Teen Titans. The team fights Three Ghosts similar to those in A Christmas Carol, except the goals of the ghosts is to make everyone depressed by feasting on their memories of Christmas. But Kory doesn't have memories of Christmas (I squint at this and go 'sure, that sounds wrong, haven't you been on Earth for at least 5-6 years now? but I guess we're still untangling timelines')

Then the team make new Christmas memories together.

The Echo of the Abyss - Swamp Thing. Uh. In a future? The space station Archer has been on quarantine for 6 months, with a possible nuclear war on earth. One of the crew gets out some mistletoe to try and cheer people up, then loses it in the face of certain death and decides to kill everyone on the station. Swamp Thing comes out of the mistletoe (somehow using the Green) and ties him up with vines, replenishes their bio chamber gardens, and gives them a Christmas Tree for hope.

Solstice - Wonder Woman and Batman. Oh FUCK YEAH this is an echo story like they usually do for Bruce and Clark. I am INTO THIS. (Also Greg Rucka and Bilquis Evely team!!) Bruce and Diana reminisce on the importance of making a difference and fighting to help people. Then they come together and build a bonfire for the Solstice as Diana cannot of course go home to do it with the other Amazons, as we are in Rucka Rebirth era.

The Silent Night of the Batman - Batman. Reprint of Batman #219, this is great, if you haven't read it yet you should.

Total real Santas? None.

Total times I got irritated by plot points in these stories: you don't want to know.

Times my heart melted: fakeout Sin and the Bruce & Diana story.

[snappingtwiggs]

Movie Review: Godzilla Minus One

Open up by saying: Minor spoilers ahead. I don't give large spoilers for movies such as the play by plays that you often see in reviews, but just the general vibe and enough info that you can have a similar experience to me watching the movie. If you don't want any spoilers at all, well I provide the spoiler free review first, so stop after that if you've not seen it yet and want to remain pure. That should cover just about everything.

General review: 7/10, would recommend. Its a Godzilla movie. You should know what you're getting yourself into here. Critique of the Japanese government, heartfelt human characters, and of course, GODZILLA! He looks great in the movie, and as a fan of Atomic Fire Breath, I rate this one's as FANTASTIC. Literally my favorite one so far. So yeah, go watch it!

Now to spoiler review where I give vague and stupid statements about the actual movie:

Great message, the critique we're looking at is the treatment of Japanese soldiers during WW1, in particular the idea that you where expected to die for your country despite the fact that the war was already decided. I love the struggle of the main character, as well as his relapse into the trauma he carries with him. Though written with recovery being a bit unrealistic, the break downs and problems working in life feel quite true to form, if not exaggerated by movie logic as always. Dealing with PTSD is where most of the movie's real plot is, and I feel like it is done quite well. It managed to make me tear up a few times.

The kaiju plot was a little odd tho... Godzilla has always been a warning against nuclear war and disasters, the idea that we are working with power that we are not responsible enough to handle. That's what Godzilla is... So why does Godzilla exist before the first bomb was dropped? The first bit of the movie shows that Godzilla had existed long before the bombs, but that... doesn't sit quite right with me. Just the slight critique tho, other than that Godzilla is great.

There was a lot of scenes in this movie where if I wasn't in a movie theater on opening night, I would have burst out laughing. As in there are multiple points in the movie where Godzilla's head gets blown off like a rock em sock em robot. Its a genuinely hilarious image, but I was in a movie theater and really into it, so I ended out not laughing as much. What sucks is that every single one of these funny moments is in a very climactic scene, and I won't lie, they where unintentional and I do think that brings the movie down a little bit. Overall it wasn't much a problem tho.

Once again, 7/10, would recommend. Its a good Godzilla movie, and I once again recommend it to people who are interested in the franchise and those who just enjoy movies. Good job Godzilla Minus One.

Now the funny of this review: Godzilla gave someone cancer. I have no idea how the break this to you other than that. Godzilla legitimately gave a character in the movie cancer. But it's not like normal cancer? Its like Godzilla cancer? I have no idea why Godzilla gave a woman Godzilla cancer, but I hope we get another movie in this universe so that we can know what Godzilla cancer is. I can't get over this. Why does Godzilla cancer exist? Is it normal cancer but flavored Godzilla? Is the woman going to mutate into a Godzilla people like with Shin Godzilla? WHY DID GODZILLA GIVE THAT WOMAN CANCER? THATS NOT VERY CASH MONEY OF YOU GODZILLA!

[dailyanarchistposts]

Do you worry that you validated and perhaps encouraged the irrationally violent desires of the school shooter who called your radio show through your shared desire for de-industrialisation?

Ishkah: You talk a lot about school shootings on your show and it’s such a horrific thing and it’s a sign of atomization, and culture being fragmented.

You had a weird case of someone phoning your radio show who years later committed a school shooting. And there was a CNN piece… [8]

Zerzan: Adam Lanza, yeah that was pretty incredible. He acted out the very thing that he was trying to raise awareness about, the chimpanzee attacked its owner in a very horrible way and you know he said that’s us, we’re forced into these impossible unnatural ways of being and people are gonna snap, like the chimpanzee and then he snapped. I mean talk about incredible irony there.

Ishkah: Yeah, I mean it’s a really difficult one, have you thought about how you maybe would have handled it if you had the amazing foresight of interpreting what he meant or what his state of mind was.

Zerzan: Well that would have been really nice, but he struck my co-host as kind of a quiet troubled high school kid, but picking up on on the reality of life in late civilization and how bizarre it is and the pressures one’s under.

We both said yeah exactly, thanks for the call, I mean it certainly did not occur to us that he was part of the very thing he was warning about and I guess that was about a year later that that happened. That would have been awfully nice, but we didn’t, we thought that that’s quite a good insight, that’s quite a good parallel that you’re making and you know that was it, there wasn’t any dialogue, we didn’t even… he was just trying to bring out that point and bothered to call and yeah, ‘thanks for the call’ and that was that.

If only we could have or seen that he was actually going in that very direction, it would have been nice, we could have tried to do something, tried to engage him in terms of where he was at, with how his life was, in his own life.

Ishkah: Yeah and I mean I know primitivists in my own life and I know a lot of them get a lot of value from it, when they get into the philosophy and they start an allotment and they feel more connected to the earth and all the stuff and maybe work on a food no bombs stall and stuff, they’re often very much part of campaigns on the left.

But, saying all that, I’m not a primitive so I know that if if I’d had that call I might have tried to challenge him a little bit on domestication and how inevitable violence is, even if you feel pushed to an extent through bullying in school or something, like whether I don’t know… I guess my fumbling over my words now shows that it’s hard and I wouldn’t necessarily have the perfect words to say, but I don’t know, I wonder if there wasn’t someone he could find with a shared philosophy of de-industralisation and he’d phoned up someone who had challenged him a bit, that it could have been a turning point.

Like with the CNN piece, the doctor of criminology they had on at the end said:

“the subtext of what he’s [the school shooter is] saying is violence is innate and instinctual to humans, and really should not be punished because it’s their natural basis, that’s the message I think he’s trying to get across, and the parallel to himself is obvious, he feels possessed by this need, this compulsion to commit violence.”

So do you agree with that? Do you think that he was saying something like that or…?

Zerzan: It sounds very, very off base, that people are innately homicidal, is that what he’s saying?

Ishkah: Well, I think the criminologist was saying that Lanza was bringing up the story because maybe he felt those impulses within himself because of domestication, because of like bullying at school, and so if there wasn’t domestication, it wouldn’t have happened to him, so then his violence is justified in some way.

Zerzan: Well yeah, that seemed to be the lesson of what he phoned the show about, you know that’s what you get, that’s why this chimpanzee freaked out and attacked its owner, I mean precisely because of the domestication control, the so unnatural and painful, and it just caused the animal to snap. And you know he was saying of course that corresponds to the situation in society, it’s so unbearable really and I bet there was quite possibly bullying in the picture. There have been other cases of mass shootings where there was in fact bullying and then that’s part of the you know the onerous life that somebody’s living and they… it’s intolerable so yeah…

Ishkah: I mean still I would have liked to try to challenge him or challenge anyone who talked about violence as somewhat inevitable, I would have tried to say it’s not acceptable the way schools are structured at the moment, the way bullying is allowed to happen, and the way we are domesticated by technology to a degree, but I just worry that because there’s a sect of like nihilist primitivism of the ITS variety, that think nature is violent in some way, rather than nature just being destructive, that think they are justified to do it, so if I came across someone like that, I would hope that I would try and talk them over to a kind of personal low tech lifestyle, but to see that like there’s a future in building better schools and not being justified to take violence in that way.

Zerzan: You have to see… I mean is somebody coming from an anti-authoritarian point of view or not? You know that’s kind of basic. Or to put it another way, is this person an anarchist? Are we starting out with the same sort of general approaches or values?

I don’t know, some of this stuff is just off the table, like this ITS stuff, that just strikes me as completely unworthy of making any contribution at all. I was just appalled that people like the Little Black Cart folks were saying ‘oh we can learn something from this’, really? Murdering random people? No, it’s not, that’s just sick and fucked up and if that’s what passes for being an anarchist, no thanks. You just have to distance yourself from shit like that.

Ishkah: Cool, okay yeah, definitely agree on that.