#post-blip

[samsseptember]

September  27 -  Post-Blip | TFATWS

[thatmexisaurusrex]

Starting to write that Gay Chicken, Post-Blip fic that people voted on 😂 Here's a snippet from it:

His hands were on Bucky. Lights flashing. The dancefloor should be packed. Bucky knew it was packed. But he was alone. Alone with Sam Wilson pressing into his back. Arms wrapping around, hands on Bucky’s bare thighs. And Bucky thought distantly that it was such a bad idea to wear whatever the fuck these booty shorts were. Deliriously, Bucky also thought it was the best idea he ever came up with. He felt Sam’s breath. On his neck. His shoulder. His jaw. The heat of it mixing with sweat and alcohol. Bucky still couldn’t take his eyes off those hands, though. Slowly. Moving. Up. An all too fast yet all too drawn-out millimeter-by-millimeter press upwards. Up. Up. Up. Toward those shorts of Bucky’s. Sam still grinding behind him, breathing on his jaw, feeling the presence of Sam’s lips but not quite feeling the press of them on his jawline, on his stubble. Bucky was sure his own breath hitched audibly as Sam’s impossibly graceful fingers began playing with the edges of those shorts. “On your left,” whispered Sam dulcetly into Bucky’s ear. Fuck. Why had Bucky started this? Why did he decide playing married was what they needed to do on this mission? Why had he started this dangerous, quickly escalating game of enticing moves? Why tempt fate like this? Why hadn’t he started this sooner? Bucky leaned into Sam, his head on Sam’s shoulder as their eyes locked. A silent understanding of what they wanted to do filtered between them in subtle facial expressions. And as if in sync, as if their bodies just knew how to move with one another, they did. Bucky spun Sam, the two of them shifting positions as Bucky caught the sword in his hand. Because the assassin thought a sword was the weapon to go with. The sword-wielding assassin, for his part, seemed befuddled at this turn of events. “Big mistake, buddy,” said Bucky as he closed his hand, the sword breaking and splintering like a stale grissini before Sam swiftly slammed his foot into the man’s stomach, toppling this would-be assassin down onto the lit-up dancefloor.

[gods-of-kanto]

(Uh oh! Your tank has fainted! Would you like to flee the battle?)

[guardian-angle22]

911 lone star fashion -> every tk outfit

↳ 2.06

[v-poreons]

Realizing I have to post about my ocs if I want people to know and ask more about my ocs anyways I'm trying to think of what Riff and Jive's (my other oc) dynamic would be like. I think it's definitely really awkward at first since Jive is so shy. *scurries away*

[windsweptinred]

Drawing the boys 🤍💚💛

[derzauberlehrling]

sometimes i wonder what radiohead were thinking when they came up with those modified bears blips or whatever they are called like

WHAT KIND OF EMOTION IS THIS GUY EVEN TRYING TO CONVEY?

also like am i supposed to give them all a very thick british accent?? a high pitched voice?? no voice at all??? ok sorry if i like to imagine silly creatures with funny voices i guess?

they be groovin’

aight that was fun, peace out.

[little-de-vil]

As recompense for me taking forever to respond to @tumblingghosts, I offer you My Ficlet. This is my first time posting about my Silly OC Thoughts, I'm terrified so please be nice!

This takes place during the 73rd Hunger Games, the main characters in this fic are Cassia (Slip Name) "Harlow" (Home Name) Sophro, an 18 year old tribute reaped from District 2 and middle child to Vance (SN) "Hawk"(HN) Sophro, the Victor of the 44th Hunger Games and a historic one as the first of the Cutters, and Dardanius "Dani" Bollard, another 18 year old tribute from 2, but a Volunteer. He's originally from the south, but his family moved up north after a tragedy. He's what's called a Cutter by Blood, someone who still holds onto the Cutter traditions but works (or in this case, his father) as a Keeper. He's trained as a Career, whereas Cassia has been trained by various Victors, those from 2 and not. @thegreatmelodrama let me know if I did your baby Dani justice! She's also a Snow but that's a topic for another day!

Sand continues to trickle into the cave as the storm destroys the supplies at the nearby Cornucopia. What a rarity, for the whole lot of Career tributes to be cornered and beginning to starve. Starving softly, unlike the chronic harshness other district children are so used to. Like the pair from 3, who are tangled together in wires and sparks bleeding out from a corner most camera.

“Why can’t we just destroy each other?” Dardanius asks Harlow softly. 

The question throws her off and she’s been so focused on perfecting the nose of the stone version of her district partner that it takes a moment for his question to register. She is, however, certain that he’s broken his nose more than once.

Who is the “we”? The pair from 1? The lone boy tribute from 4? Certainly not the ones from 3, who no one can really tell why they’re still alive, let alone with the Pack.

Or does he mean himself and Harlow? Are they the “we”?

He must mean them. Because if the years of watching District 2 pairs reach victory has taught her anything, it’s that those from 2 are loyal to their community. Of masonry or military. And that it’s the worst part of watching The Games in District 2, how much the animosity grows amongst the crowd at even the slightest difference in trade or birthplace is put to question the chance of triumph as one tribute falls. 

But is the answer so simple? A mere difference in industry? In home? The Cutters: hewer and layer masons, quarry-folk, stone and crystal miners, blacksmiths. The Keepers: soldiers—the common grunt and almost unheard of 2 born general—, cadets in schools, Peacekeepers stationed throughout the country never to return for 20 years, the hundreds working in The Peak. The southern desert folk and their blunt nature, intrenched in tradition that mirrors what it was before. The northern mountain people and their river sweet ways, creating new rituals after living so close to their invaded neighbors. 

No, nothing as simple as that. Their mutual destruction is not an echo of past rivalries, but of present vows.

A small piece of granite crumbles under the light tap of her brother’s chisel, and she looks back to see that Dardanius’ stoney eyes match his own. “Because we both made promises that work against each other. You promised my brother that you’d protect me. And I promised my father that I wouldn’t become him. Those two don’t work well together.”

He nods, but his brow tightens in concentration, mind locked deep in thought. His voice is soft and filled with sadness or maybe remorse, unlike its usual deep, assured cadence, “So what will we do if it’s just us?”

She blinks, having not considered this point until this very moment. But something deep inside her quickly finds the answer, “I give you permission to kill me.” She says sternly, mirroring his typical tone.

That comment can’t be playing well with the audience. What sponsor would back a tribute so unwilling to see their own victory? Hasn’t the Capitol been so generous to give these poor tributes the opportunity to better their life? And her especially, who has grown up in the greatest Capitol family of them all her whole life? What joy comes from watching someone fight who will never want the crown?

But this must also be playing horrifically among the Cutters back home. Self-sacrifice isn’t a Keeper trait, but Cutters aren’t known to back down from a fight when it comes to dishonoring their people. By allowing even this possibility to happen, she’s just repeating the cycle of those loyal to the Capitol can claim victory, and those traitors are always bound to fall at their hands. 

But her father must be proud of her for lasting this long, for sticking with her partner, for still Saying her Stones? Was he proud of himself when he was in her position 29 years ago, or did that pride diminish once his partner crumbled in his arms and the trumpets of victory rang? She wonders if he will still be proud of his eldest daughter when she returns cold and lifeless, sprinkled with hard tact bread given to her by a joint sponsor of the Master Mason and Head Peacekeeper of 2, spread generously at the end by her partner. Or will he be filled with disdain and fury for defying his one wish to not become like him, like her cousin of the 66th, like her neighbors of the Village who practically raised her. Only time will tell, she supposes, to whose promise will be kept. Or if District 2 will have two tributes sprinkled with bread.

[crumbleclub]

Michael Afton's desperate desire to be saved never really went away.

It started when he was small. He didn't even know what he was missing– he didn't have the context for that– but the aching hole in his chest that grew with every moment of normal, necessary nurturing he was denied hurt, and he wanted it to go away.

As he got older, he understood bits of it. He wanted to be hugged and asked about his day like Charlie was; he wanted someone to ask what was wrong when he cried like he saw on TV. He wanted his dad to look happy to see him.

When Evan was born, even as Michael was steadily growing to dislike being touched, he was jealous of how often the baby was held. He knew it was stupid; he knew babies needed to be held, but something about it still hurt. He imagined what it might feel like to be picked up, since it never happened anymore.

He was only six years old.

As Michael got older, and things at home got scarier, his mindset shifted. He stopped wanting things to change, and instead wanted someone to take him away.

He daydreamed about being rescued. He daydreamed about being stranded on a faraway island, and whoever lived there taking him in as one of their own. He daydreamed about some tragedy befalling his father, and of being taken in by someone else.

That last one made him feel guilty.

His dreams settled in that state. The theme persisted throughout his life.

They sometimes twisted after the Bite. Sometimes, he'd imagine that his rescuers would hurt him; punish him for what he'd done. He'd turn on the news to see another disappearance, and some part of him hoped that he would be next.

At its core, though, all he wanted was to be taken away; taken out of that house that was empty and cold and filled with broken glass.

He grew up, he moved out.

His daydreams remained the same.

In his apartment, he'd sit and imagine someone coming in the night to take him away from his dad's house.

In the security office– as he watched the clock and locked Bonnie out for a third time– he imagined someone waiting for him outside, asking why he'd been out so late and offering to drive him home.

(He'd save them. Nobody could save him, but he could save them.)

(They could have saved him. Countless people could have saved him.)

(Nobody wanted to.)

With the scooper staring him in the face, he humored the idea of someone barging in and demanding to know why he would do something so reckless, so stupid.

They'd pull him out of the way.

They'd take him home.

They'd wipe the blood off his chin and tell him that everything was going to be okay.

When he opened the pizzeria, Mike pretended that Henry's recordings were just that: somebody saving him. Henry had sometimes been the face in his dreams, but it had hurt too much to imagine other times. After all, Henry had never believed him.

Did he believe him now?

And, as the office burned, he turned his head to the doorway. Smoke filled his lungs, and, if he squinted just right, maybe, maybe he'd see someone show up to save him.

Nobody ever did.

[marlynnofmany]

Troublemakers and Pestcatchers

I had just finished saying “Don’t let her claw you,” when the cat’s paw connected with the waving head frills of my crewmate.

“Ow, that’s sharp!” Blip exclaimed, pulling her head back to a safe distance while her brother pointed and laughed. I didn’t see any blood, so that was good.

“I did mention the claws,” I said patiently, adjusting my hold on the barely-a-kitten who was intensely fascinated by all the motion in the hallway. I’d brought her out with harness and leash, taking turns acclimating the cats to more than just my room on the ship. So far they were doing well. Only clawing the really tempting stuff.

“You should know better than that!” Blop said, waggling his own fins from a safe distance. He made broad gestures with both arms, filling the space with muscles and flowy blue silks. “Don’t stick your face next to the tiny predator!”

“It didn’t hurt before!” Blip objected. She folded beefy arms in indignance, stepping farther away when this earned another swipe at her sleeve.

I caught the kitten’s paw and gave it a gentle squeeze. “The claws only stick out when they want them to,” I said. “See?”

The Frillian twins crowded close despite everything, and were quietly impressed. I let up on the squeezing but kept hold of the paw. When the twins stepped back, I stroked the kitten and murmured praises for holding still.

This one was my favorite, not that I would admit such a thing when the plans were clear that I had to find homes for all of them soon. I’d made sure to give them simple names for the most part, since their new humans would likely rename them. While the mom cat was Tapestry and the gray one was Mimi (named after our engineer), the others got names like Cloudy, Classy, and Casserole.

This one was Telly. Short for Teleporter Malfunction. Because she was one of the very few chimera cats I’d met in person: her face was a perfect split between orange with a golden eye, and black with a piercing blue eye. The rest of her fur was a fascinating mix of the two. I’d explained the rarity of embryos fusing in the womb to more than one alien crewmate, but none of them seemed to appreciate the striking beauty. All the cats were weird little predators to them.

“Have you found homes for more yet?” Blop asked. “There’s not many humans at this stop, but maybe at the next?”

I nodded. “I called ahead to put the word out to somebody I know, and I may have a taker for a couple at once at the big station. Soon I won’t have to kitten-proof my quarters anymore.”

“Have they fallen on your face while you sleep?” Blip asked with a grin.

“No,” I said, “Because I put a proper shelf there, instead of just the pipes. And more shelves so they can climb up without knocking anything off the wall.”

Blip nodded. “Wise.”

The intercom binged at that point, with the captain calling me specifically to help load up our next cargo. She didn’t specify why, but we all knew. I was the animal expert. This cargo had hooves.

“Have fun!” Blop said.

“Best of luck!” Blip added.

“Thanks,” I said. “C’mon Telly, back to the room with you.” I took my leave and returned the kitten to her family, most of whom were napping on my bed, then I hurried off to the cargo bay.

It was space goats again. Not the exact same ones, thankfully, since those had been masterful escape artists, but only time would tell if these were just as bad.

At least there’s only three of them, I thought as I joined Captain Sunlight and Mur. It sure would be nice if somebody provided their own livestock carrier, though. Mur was holding three leashes in three different tentacles, looking like a particularly grumpy squid while the captain finished signing for the delivery. The space goats ambled in circles, sticking their long necks in every direction and fondling anything within reach with the field of orange tentacles on their backs. It still looked like fur at a glance, even though I knew better. A very confusing glance.

“It’s a pleasure doing business with you,” said Captain Sunlight with a nod of her scaly yellow face. The delivery person, another Heatseeker with green scales, nodded back and took his leave. “Say hi to the family for me!” Captain Sunlight called after him. He waved. She hit the button to shut the cargo hatch.

It was a bit loud in closing, and the three goats immediately sent up a chorus of whining bleats that echoed through the ship.

Captain Sunlight’s tail drooped. “This is going to be a long trip,” she said. “Let’s get them to the pen. Are the vent covers still in place?”

“Oh yes,” Mur said firmly. “Fused the bars myself. And I checked the camera too.”

“Good,” said the captain.

“Here’s to a trip with no shenanigans,” I said. “Do you want me to carry the supplies?” I gestured to the box of food with a red ball that looked like a dog toy on top.

“I’ll handle those.” Mur thrust the leashes toward me. “You take these. I’m tired of being licked.”

I couldn’t argue that. My reach was longer and so were my legs; these beasties were small bundles of trouble. And of course they didn’t want to go. Not when they could do a maypole tangle of leashes around my legs instead.

“Is that an enrichment toy, by any chance?” I asked, stepping over yet another leash.

Captain Sunlight plucked it off the box and held it out to me. Definitely a dog toy. I held all three leashes tightly in one hand long enough to toss it down the hall. “Hey goats! Fetch!”

Tangled leashes or not, they ran for it. I did my best to keep up, with Mur and Captain Sunlight following behind me, trusting that I knew what I was doing.

I was definitely making some of this up as I went, but they didn’t need to know that. Alien creatures or not, these were still animals, and I knew animals. Reasonably well.

The ball rolled to a stop before we reached the right storage hold, and I managed to hold the goats back long enough to elbow the door-opener button, then kick the ball through. They bounced in eagerly, rebounding off three crates and getting more excited by the second.

While two of them were having a hilarious tentacle slapfight over the ball, and the other was chewing on it, I got the door open to the large clear pen that dominated the room. A nudge of the ball with one shoe was enough to get everybody moving into it. Throwing dignity to the winds, I knelt by the door, holding it mostly shut with one knee, but open enough for my arms to fit through and unhook the leashes. The goats bounced in excitement. None tried to climb my face to freedom, and I shut the door in triumph.

“Success!” I announced to Mur, holding the leashes up.

“Well done,” he said. “You get to put those back on when it’s time to offload them.”

“Ugh,” was all I had to say to that.

Mur chuckled as he stowed the box of food in a low cubby. “You know, the nicer models of that pen come with an airlock.”

“And they cost as much as a new set of thrusters,” said Captain Sunlight from the door. “Good thing we’ve got you to stand at the ready with a capture net instead, right?”

Mur sighed. “I look forward to it.”

The rubber ball thwapped against the wall of the pen, followed by tiny hooves. I turned see that these three had picked up the knack of skating across the anti-climb surface even faster than the last ones had. “Quick learners,” I said.

Mur just sighed again.

“I’ll keep an eye on that camera from the cockpit,” said Captain Sunlight. “Be ready to come running if they pry the bars off or something.”

“They will not,” Mur said, jabbing a tentacle in the direction of the goats, as if they were listening instead of enacting an elaborate low-grav roller derby.

“Here’s hoping,” I said. “Are we ready for takeoff?”

“Just about,” said the captain. “I’m going to check in with Kavlae now. We should be in the air soon.”

She left, and we followed, with the goats having a grand old time behind us. Blip and Blop peered through the open door in curiosity.

“That looks like a handful!” said Blip.

“Who spilled food?” asked Blop.

“What?” Mur demanded, spinning in place.

I spotted the pile of food pellets, right next to the bin Mur had just carried in.

Mur scowled. “That wasn’t leaking a minute ago.” He tentacle-walked over to glare down at the offending bin. Then he made a noise that was probably a swear word. It sounded more like a fart to my Earthling ears, but either way, it was rude in polite society.

And when I got close, I saw why. “Those are toothmarks,” I said.

“Toothmarks that appeared while we were standing here,” Mur said, pulling the box out and opening the lid just a crack. Nothing jumped out. He opened it all the way, then shut it and began looking through the cubbies. “Everybody grab a flashlight, and shut the door,” he instructed.

I hit the button while Blip and Blop hurried to a supply cabinet. “Any guess what we’re looking for? Is this station known for pests?”

Before Mur could answer, Blip called, “No, but they are!” She pointed at the space goats.

Learning something every day, I thought. “What kind?” I asked.

“Little fast things the same color as their backwhips.” Blip held her fingers apart for size. Dinky. “Grabbers for holding on, and they’re really good at chewing through stuff.”

“Great,” I said. “Hey, did we not scan these guys on acceptance?”

Mur shoved a crate aside, punctuating his sentences with effort. “No. Old client. Trusted friend. In a hurry. Gonna scan ‘em in the air. Never had a problem before!”

Blop shone a light into a far corner. “Captain’s gonna have strong words for that friend as soon as she hears.”

“Should we tell her now?” I asked.

“There!” shouted Blip, launching herself fist-first across the room to where something zipped along, an orangeish blur. She dealt the floor a mighty hammerblow with bodyslam to follow, but fell just inches shy. The thing scuttled to the door where it wriggled through a tiny gap that I hadn’t realized was there.

Blip pounded the floor again, then scrambled to the button that Mur was already pressing. Judging by the exclamations and lack of further violence, they didn’t see a trace of it out in the hall.

“Now we tell the captain,” Mur said. “I’ll go. Keep the door shut, and look for more.”

I looked back at the goats. “We should get Eggskin’s medscanner in here right away.”

“On it,” Blip said. She exchanged nods with her brother, then shut the door from outside.

Blop tossed me a flashlight. I caught it and started looking near the doorway. “I’m surprised there’s a gap here,” I said. “Did the door shut on something?” It looked slightly warped.

“There’s a long story to that,” Blop said, head in a cabinet. He stepped back and moved on. “But it can be summarized as ‘Pockap.’”

“Ah. Gotcha.” The former captain of this ship was an endless source of grievances even now. He’d probably wanted to run a power cord into the hall or something, and dented the door on purpose.

“There!” Blop yelled, then did a series of angry stomps the led to nothing more than probably some annoying echoes in the engine room. “Where’d it go?”

“I don’t see it,” I said, moving closer and shining my light around. The goats in the pen were bleating in excitement, but a glance showed them just watching us, which wasn’t helpful. “I’m pretty sure there’s a better way to do this.”

“Like what?” Blop asked.

Before I could explain my bright idea to him, Eggskin arrived with the medscanner that I hadn’t fully learned to use yet. Blip towered over the little Heatseeker, talking a mile a minute about the pests. Eggskin ignored her and went right for the pen, the picture of businesslike efficiency with booger-yellow scales. Eggskin was both the medic and the cook, very levelheaded.

“Hm. It’s a good thing this pen closes with a tighter seal than that door,” they said, nodding toward the entrance without looking away from the screen. “All three of them are carrying multiple external parasites.”

Various exclamations of displeasure filled the air just as Captain Sunlight joined us. “How many?” she asked as the door shut behind her.

“In this pen? Fourteen,” said Eggskin calmly. “Outside, I can’t say.”

“I saw one over there,” Blop rushed to say. “Plus the one the got out.”

“I’m pretty sure I saw it in the lounge as I passed,” said Blip, pointing to the right.

Mur said, “I feel like we would have noticed if any dropped off between here and the cargo bay.”

A distant shriek echoed from the hallway to the left. Paint yelled, “What was that?? There was a thing!”

Mur draped a tentacle over his face. “Or I could be wrong.”

I winced in sympathy, remembering Paint’s phobia of small scuttling things, and tendency to hyperventilate. “Do we have a way of catching these animals that I don’t know about?”

There was a heartbeat of silence, then Blip said “Smashing,” Blop said “Squishing” and Captain Sunlight said “Not a good one.”

“Next question,” I said, turning to Eggskin. “The medscanner has records from when we scanned the cats. Can you tell me if these pests would be toxic for them to eat? Or at least bite?”

There was a lot of conversation at that point, but I ignored most of it while Eggskin tapped buttons on the medscanner. They answered promptly. “Nontoxic. Assuming the cats don’t try to swallow any bones or such, I see no problems.”

“Excellent. Captain!” I turned and stood at attention. “Permission to put my roomful of tiny predators to their time-honored use.”

“With supervision, my permission is granted,” she said. “Just don’t make any new problems.”

“Understood! One room at a time, starting here.”

Captain Sunlight nodded. “Proceed. Everyone else, help by guiding the tiny predators, not by smashing.”

Blip and Blop grumbled, “Understood.”

“I can help narrow things down,” Eggskin said, waving the medscanner.

“I’ll check the camera records to see if I can spot when any jumped off,” Mur volunteered.

“And I’ll inform the rest of the crew,” said Captain Sunlight. “Blip and Blop, you guard the door to prevent any further spread of the problem.”

“On it!”

Everyone split and got to work. I returned to my room and scooped surprised kittens into the carrier with promises of exciting new toys to chase. They didn’t understand me, of course, but that had never stopped me before.

“You too, Mama Kitty,” I said to Tapestry as I lifted her from her nap spot on the bed. She protested sleepily, but there was enough space in the carrier for everyone.

I grabbed a bag of cat treats in case I needed bribes, then carried the awkward load back to the storage hold.

And there, I got to show my alien crewmates why humans had brought cats into their homes in the first place.

“Did you see that jump??” Blip exclaimed. “Right up the wall, then turning to land on its feet!”

“Oh, cats are masters at landing on their feet,” I said proudly.

A squeak and a scuffle behind a crate caught my attention, then Tapestry proudly trotted out with a small orange shape in her mouth. She dropped it in front of two kittens, who watched intensely. It wiggled, and she demonstrated pouncing technique.

They caught on quickly.

They also caught four of the pests in the storage hold, two in the lounge, one in the cargo bay, and five in the kitchen. And they found a pen someone had lost behind a table, batting it out into the open like the best of toys.

I doled out treats every time they caught something (ushering them away from decorations and electronics), and showered them with praise. All the crewmates were appreciative, even the ones like Trrili who had joked that the cats looked like food.

“Mighty predator,” Trrili said to Casserole, holding out the tip of her pincher arm to sniff. “You do your ancestors proud. And I hear you are skilled in attacking your human’s ankles with no warning; well done.”

I smiled. “This one’s a master of stealth, that’s for sure. Did I tell you about their larger cousins that have been known to kill humans by jumping out of trees at them from behind?”

“Magnificent,” said the terrifying bug alien, who was herself fond of jumping out at coworkers for fun.

“That they are,” I agreed.

Eggskin appeared at the doorway with the medscanner and did a sweep of the room. “All clear!” they announced. “I can safely say that every escaped pest on this ship has been dealt with.”

“What about those still on the hosts?” asked Captain Sunlight.

“I’ve administered a repellant to the animals in the holding pen,” Eggskin said. “To great success.”

“Did you need help keeping them from getting out the door?” I asked anxiously. “You could have called me.”

“Oh no, I just threw it in the vent,” Eggskin said. “It’s a gas thing. Perfect for this kind of pen, really, since it didn’t dissipate right away. All the pests loosened their hold, and got shaken off to the floor by some lively dancing by the host animals.”

“It wasn’t bad for them, right?” I asked.

“Not at all. Made for them. This is one of many things I keep on hand for animal cargos.” Eggskin turned to the captain. “We should bill the client for a replacement, by the way.”

“Oh yes,” Captain Sunlight said. “We will definitely be doing that.”

Something rolled past my foot that I recognized as one of Blip and Blop’s favorite shrimp sticks. A two-toned blur of fur tackled it and gnawed with vigor. Out in the hall, I heard Blip enthusing over another cat’s speed. We’d relaxed the “one room at a time” rule now that the whole crew had turned out to watch the kittens.

Telly trotted up to me with the shrimp stick in her mouth, showing off her catch. I scooped her up and gave her scritches, then held the stick for her to chew on.

“You know,” the captain said, “If for some reason it might be hard to find homes for all of them, it might not be a bad thing to have a pest-catcher onboard.”

I smiled. “They’ve certainly served my people well.”

“And they’re cute and fluffy? I understand that is a bonus.”

“Oh, for sure. One of the best.”

“Well then,” Captain Sunlight said. “See that they behave themselves, and who knows what the future holds?”

“I’ll keep a close eye on them,” I said, looking down at the kitten in my arms. It was definitely the shrimp dust, but she kind of winked at me. I winked back. I could see many good times ahead of us.

~~~

The ongoing backstory of the main character from this book. More to come!

[yuichiroswife]

{ Happy 26th birthday to me. }

[gods-of-kanto]

Is all we can do right now is just wait for the right moment, like the one you mentioned, Pepper?

Pepper: I- we have to waut for that right moment. We need to- i'm... I'm getting too distracted, i need to focus.

It is alright to feel Pepper. Isn't that what you told me? But you cannot think of this Ash as your uncle. Objectively, it is not true.

Pepper: That is peddljng two different ideas in my head System, I get it, i swear i do. But putting it into practice is another scenario.

Of course, i don't doubt that.

Pepper: I meed to figure out what the fuck that little bitch did to them- if it does it again then-

I'll review the tape, but the camera was off a majority of the time. I tried getting the humans to annoy them to keep it on but-

Pepper: Yeah... I know...

(Pepper has seemed to vaguely acknowledge your questions, but she didn't seem to answer many- if any of them)

@haycoat-art @dingbat-things @pixelgamer07 @churchofyolk @one-simpleman

[wholegrainporkndbeans]

My huswife

[weregonnabecoolbeans]

By the way I am on both sides at the end of CA: Civil War.

I can understand Tony in the moment losing his mind over the winter soldier having killed his parents.

But like, I also think it’s insane that he thought his “friendship” with Steve is even remotely close to the same level as his with Bucky.

And also Bucky was innocent so…

[cinnamonsikwate]

watching the first 2 episodes of frieren last year shook me so bad i still can't get myself to continue it, but between what i remember of it and the nightmares episode of dungeon meshi i can't stop thinking about the ways laios would prepare marcille for his death. what would he leave behind to remind her that he (and by extension all the people she loved and who loved her) are still with her in spirit, even if not in body?

[sillyparker]

how long do you think tony waited to see if aunt may was alive after the snap? do you think he lived in denial pushing it away for as long as he can, or it was one of the first things he checked? do you think when he found no traces of her, he was relieved? jealous? a mix of both? i wonder how it must have felt to be the only person alive who still cares about peter parker, none of his friends were there anymore, absolutely nobody, hes there to carry the treasured memories and absolute weight of the loss alone .