#smash that link and get some cash money

[catgirltoes]

Epistemic status is there may be some other error but I believe DuckDuckGo is blocking searches about Apple (the corporation). I tried to look up the settlement against Apple in Canada (search: "apple canada lawsuit") but got an error message. I tried searching "apple" "steve jobs" "macintosh" and "macintosh apple" and got the same error message, but "apple pie" and "macintosh applw" both turned up results. My guess would be some sort of filter on search results, since I could bypass it with my totally-on-purpose typo, and it didn't bother to stop me from looking up recipes

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie | Part 1: The Convenience Store

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Eijiro Kirishima x Femme Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Tension, Hero Situations, Eijiro Kirishima is a Pro Hero

Link to My Master List 😬

5 Times You Stole Eijiro Kirishima’s Hoodie

Part 1: The Convenience Store

It is a rainy Tuesday night and you are absolutely exhausted from work. On your way home to your apartment, you decide to stop by a local bodega for some junk food. You have been looking forward to binge watching a trashy reality TV show all day long, and some potato chips would be the perfect snack to munch on as you enjoy the juicy TV drama.

The bodega’s glass sliding door opens with a squeak as you hastily fold up your dripping umbrella. You shiver as the cool store AC hits your wet skin, and goose bumps flare across your bare arms. The day had started out deceptively warm, and you hadn’t dressed for the weather. You are deeply regretting the choice to wear the navy sleeveless dress that is now clinging to your body and dripping a puddle onto the dull bodega carpet. Oh well – you will be home in just a few minutes and will be able to step into a hot shower soon enough.

You grab a shopping basket and wander the aisles, eager to satiate your cravings for salty crisps. The store is unusually empty for the hour – the sudden rain must have kept most people inside. The only other people present are the elderly cashier, and a man pursuing the energy drinks in one of the freezers. The other patron is keenly focused on a bottle of purple Gatorade - intently reading the ingredient list on the drink’s packaging. You pay no attention to this other customer as you locate the snack aisle and load up your basket with chip bags boasting a variety of fun flavors (BBQ chips?? Yes please!). The aisles are tall – stacked ceiling high with boxes and bags containing every flavor of chip one could imagine.

SMASH! A loud crash reverberates throughout the tiny store, followed by the sound of small objects scattering across the vinyl floor. A deep voice booms out: “This is a hold up. Give me all the money in that register. And make it quick – I don’t think either of us wants any trouble.” You freeze; blood running cold in your veins as you quickly put the pieces of the situation together.

“I swear old man – I’ve got a special quirk that will make your life all kinds of painful unless you Hand. Over. The. Cash.”

You move slowly along the aisle, looking for a gap in the snack shelves so you can better assess the situation. Through a small space between cereal boxes, the situation comes into view – the man that you had seen shopping for sports drinks is now standing menacingly over the check out counter. He is around six feet tall with sharp features; a simple black domino mask obscured his eyes. Clad entirely in black, he stands with his right arm gripping the linoleum countertop, the other poised grotesquely above the cashier’s balding head. It takes you a moment to put together exactly what you were seeing – the villain’s right arm was a gigantic crab claw! If the situation weren’t so tense, you would have died from laughter. The scene is ridiculous – the man’s arm (claw) is twice the length of a typical human arm and had a bright, shiny red hue. This kind of mutation quirk always gives you a start – the unnatural way the man’s body blends seamlessly with the extra large claw is uncanny.

            The shop cashier looks up at the villain with terror in his eyes. He seems absolutely frozen on the spot as the masked robber clicks his claw menacingly. With a start, you notice that the inside of the claw is wickedly sharp. The villain flashes it dangerously towards the cashier’s neck to drive a sense of urgency.

            You assess your options. Your quirk isn’t particularly powerful, but it definitely has some use here. If you could just get a little bit closer to the situation, you could probably use it to distract the villain long enough to get the cashier out of harm’s way. You stretch out your hand to activate your quirk, but stopped dead when you feel a warm, rough hand clamp around your mouth from behind.

You try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Adrenaline floods your veins as you prepared to fight for your life. You hadn’t heard someone sneak up behind you, and you squirm in an effort to get away. An arm reaches out to steady you, and it’s owner whispers: “Sorry to startle you – I’m here to help.” The soft, gravely voice sends a fresh wave of goose bumps down your chilled skin. You turn to see one of the year’s top heroes - the Red Riot - crouched over you in the snack aisle. You’d recognize that trademark red spiky hair anywhere. Your body starts to relax a bit – things are under control and a hero is here!

Over the past few years, Red Riot has been making quite a name for himself in the media as a dependable, chivalrous hero. You’ve often watched his battles and rescues play out on the television – not only was he a skilled hero, but also he was kind and genuine. His interviews were your favorite – he always found such nice things to say about his teammates and the people he rescued. And he wasn’t bad to look at either.

He’s clearly not on duty – his usual simple costume has been traded in for a black t-shirt, jeans and a soft red hoodie. Your heart skips a beat. He’s so totally hot. When he realizes you’re not going to scream and give away his position to the villain, he releases you from his embrace. He smiles reassuringly, and the warmth of his grins reaches his eyes.

“I’m going to get you out of this.” He promises.

For a second there, you completely forgot about the convenience store hold up occurring feet away from where the two of you were crouched. Your senses are clouded by the closeness of Red Riot, who is still holding you steady with his muscular arms. When he realizes his touch is lingering a bit longer than necessary, he quickly pulls away. He shifts to peer over your shoulder through the small cereal box window. The movement brings him ever so slightly closer to you, and you find yourself inhaling the sweet scent of clean laundry. You lean the tiniest bit closer to him.

But back to the situation at hand – you can hear the crab clawed villain barking commands at the cashier. He wants all the money from the register as well as a roll of lotto tickets. He must be either extremely overconfident or incredibly good at crime – because this man is taking his time! Red Riot scowls as he watches the scene unfold. You can see his body tensing as he prepares for a confrontation. With a look of determination, he turns to you and whispers “stay quiet and out of sight. I’m going to go distract the villain and try to de-escalate the situation. If things get physical – run. There’s a dumpling shop across the street – get someone there to call the police.”

His red eyes bore into your own. There’s something so intense and hot about him. You feel a strange connection pulling you closer to this man, closer to the heat of his body.

            “W-wait.” You whisper. “I can help!”

            You point to the man with the crab claw – he still has the Gatorade bottle in the pocket of his pants. To his left you see a palette of energy drinks waiting to be restocked. “With my quirk I can control small amounts of liquid. I can distract him by levitating all those energy drinks at once. I’ll suspend them in the air and bring them all crashing down on top of him, giving you time to get the cashier out of harm’s way.”

            Red Riot smiles appreciatively. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m afraid I can’t ask you to put yourself in danger like that. I’ll handle this on my own. Just keep quiet and get across the street, okay?”

            You make a face. You don’t understand why he won’t let you help. After all, the villain seems untrained and unfocused. His claw hand can’t do much damage to a bunch of small, moving targets.

            “Trust me.” Red Riot reaches for your hand. He places the pads of your fingers on his palm. You can feel him activating his hardening quirk beneath your fingers as his skin slowly becomes rougher. “I was built for this.”

            You nod, unable to argue. His quirk makes his skin feel smooth and strong like the bark of an oak tree. You press your fingers lightly into the center of his hand, but there’s no give. Reflexively, he closes his fingers around your own, causing electricity to shoot through your hand at the intimate touch. Red Riot’s eyes widen, an apology already at his lips. You quickly slip your hand out from his grasp.

“Good luck, Red Riot.” You tap the hardened skin on his forearm. “You’re right – definitely built for this.”

            He grins, seemingly basking in the compliment.

            “That’s right – just leave this to me!” He whispers back. “Stay safe, okay?”

Red Riot army crawls down the aisle. You watch as he slowly steps out from behind the shelves and approaches the counter confidently, grabbing a bag of BBQ chips on the way. The poor cashier is now filling a grocery bag with money from the register as the crab armed villain hulks over him, sneering and clicking his claw. The villain doesn’t even seem to hear Red Riot approaching him from behind.

            In two strides, Red Riot closes the distance and reaches out to tap the villain on his crabby shoulder.

            “Excuse me, sir. I’m going to have to ask you to step away from the counter. Other people want to check out.” As he says this, he pointedly tosses his bag of chips onto the shiny linoleum counter.

            The crab villain whirls around, face full of fury. His eyes widen and his face contorts in fury when he realizes whom he’s talking to. The villain wastes no time – he propels himself away from the counter, whirling his deadly sharp arm towards Red Riot.

Crack!

The arm makes contact with Red Riot’s rock hard skin. The hero smiles smugly, his right arm taking the brunt of the blow.

“Why don’t we take this down a notch, sir? I’m clearly a match for your quirk, and the police are already on their way. There’s no need to fight, we can just talk - ”

            The villain moves surprisingly swiftly, shifting around Red Riot’s outstretched arm and reaching to position his claw around Red Riot’s neck. The hero’s facial expression shifts to surprise – he wasn’t expecting a villain with such a cumbersome quirk to be able to move so languidly. The crab villain slowly starts to press down his claw around the hero’s neck. Red Riot is making a face that clearly says “Oh, shit.”

You turn and desperately reach your hand through the gap in the cereal box display, pointing your fingertips at the villain and willing your Quirk to activate. Almost instantly, the Gatorade bottle resting half full in the villain’s back pocket lifts into the air as all of the liquid rushes towards the top of the container. You focus all of your concentration on the bottle.

Unfortunately, you never had a lot of opportunity to train and refine your quirk as you had pursued an educational track that prioritized tech and computer skills over quirk competence. However, you had a grasp on the fundamentals of how your quirk worked – and you figured if you could just distract the crab villain for a moment, you could give Red Riot a chance to regroup.

The villain pressed his sharp claw further around Red Riot’s neck. You could hear an ominous cracking notice – and you hoped desperately that the sound wasn’t the hero’s thick skin crumbling beneath his assailant’s grasp. You began to feel a sickening mix of adrenaline and fear coursing through your veins and you try to renew your concentration. The liquid inside the bottle begins to boil – the water fizzing and popping in the small confined space. You shakily will the bottle to float up and behind the villain’s head.

Red Riot uses his hardened hands to try to break the villain’s grasp, but the crabby grip holds fast. The villain is intensely focused on trying to crush Red Riot’s windpipe, and so he is completely taken by surprise when the bottle of Gatorade explodes and hits the back of his head with a splash of scalding purple liquid. The villain howls in pain – both hands reflexively flying to cradle the back of his burned head. In his pain and fury, he unwittingly releases Red Riot from his grasp. The red headed hero is quick to take advantage of the situation – dropping to the ground and sweeping a strong leg beneath the villain’s own. The crab-clawed villain comes crashing to the ground with a large “thud.”

Red Riot wastes no time, dropping on top of the villain to pin disproportionate arms to the ground.

“Sir, you’re under arrest for armed robbery and for engaging in combat with a licensed hero. The police will be here shortly to take your statement - but in the meantime please stop resisting.”

You breathe a sigh of relief as Red Riot continues to hold the villain tightly to the ground. Behind the counter’s register, the convenience store clerk still stands frozen, holding a wad of bills in bills in a vice-like grip.

You hear the metallic slide of the store’s automatic doors followed by several pairs of heavy boots off to your right. Within a few seconds, a team of police officers comes into view, their starched blue shirts bright in the florescent lighting.

At the sight of the police, the crab villain finally seems to give up fighting – his body sagging to the ground beneath Red Riot. The hero holds his position, eyeing the villain’s mutant arm warily. Even from a distance, you can tell his hardening quirk is still activated – he isn’t taking any chances.

“Great job, Red Riot! We’ll take it from here.” A tall officer with a glinting badge steps forward and uses a length of metal cord to bind the villain’s large clawed arm. “We’ve been after this guy for weeks!”

Red Riot smiles as he steps back and lets the police team capture his assailant. He turns and meets your eyes through the space in the cereal box wall. He grins at you, his dark eyes wink a quick “thanks” in your direction as he detectives whisk him away for questioning.

“Miss – are you alright?” You let out a small squeak of surprise, turning to find a short female officer with a tight bun of dark hair coming around the corner of the aisle. You look down at yourself – crouching like a wild animal in a soggy, rain-drenched dress.

“I’ve definitely had better days.” You laugh, allowing the policewoman to help you to your feet. You feel the adrenaline slowly start to melt away, leaving you feeling shaky and a bit lightheaded. You can’t think of the last time you used your quirk, so you’re sure the little stunt you pulled to save Red Riot has impacted your stamina.

“Mind if we ask you a few questions about what happened here?” The officer asks, motioning for you to follow her to the front of the store where the crab villain is being checked for weapons.

“No, not at all!” You wrap your arms around yourself and attempt to bring some warmth back into your body.          

The police had a lot of questions. Apparently this villain had been evading them for quite sometime. He had been robbing convenience stores across several cities. He was quick, efficient, and sometimes even deadly – having injured half a dozen clerks and store patrons in his mad pursuit of cash.

“We heard that you used your quirk to get Red Riot out of a spot of trouble.” The policewoman with the bun taps a pen to a pad of paper thoughtfully. Her tone isn’t accusatory; she’s just stating facts. “The unsanctioned use of a quirk in combat is illegal, but since you were put in a potentially life threatening situation and you were in under the supervision of a pro hero, the Good Samaritan law should cover your actions today.”

 You feel the last bit of energy absolutely drain out of you and you reach out to grab a nearby store shelf for support. Illegal? The thought of breaking the law hadn’t even crossed your mind. You had just acted on pure instinct when you saw Red Riot in trouble. You start to shiver more violently as the weight of what you’ve done fully sinks in. The policewoman quickly waves to another officer and you find yourself being guided to a chair.

“Miss - it seems like you’re in shock. Please take some deep breaths and we’ll get you to a hospital shortly to get checked out, alright?” The officer pats your hand kindly and pockets her notepad. She walks out of view to call a medical team with her colleagues and you are momentarily left alone in the corner of the store. You stare at the ground, your head feeling fuzzy and cold. It was so stupid to use your quirk so recklessly like that! You admonish yourself silently. You’re sure that Red Riot could have gotten himself out of that bad situation given time – he was a top hero after all! You were just so worried and eager to help…

A soft material engulfs your shoulders. “You’re freezing! Here – take my sweatshirt.” You turn and see Red Riot standing behind you, his strong hands pressing his large red hoodie around your shoulders. He smooths the plush material around you, and you shiver at the contact.

“I couldn’t possibly take this!” You said weakly despite your body hungrily leaning into the warmth of his touch and the offered piece of clothing.

“It’s too late – it’s already yours. Consider it a thank you for saving me back there.” Red Riot grins, showing off a row of pointed teeth. You gratefully accept the gift – tucking your arms into the floppy sleeves. You’re practically swimming in sweatshirt.

“I really shouldn’t have done that.” You look down, ashamed. “You had the situation under control, and it was irresponsible to use my quirk like that. You even told me not to help earlier.” You shake your head, and then blush when you realize you’re probably showering the chivalrous hero in raindrops.

“Don’t beat yourself up about that at all! While it’s true that a Pro can always break out of a tough spot, someone once told me that ‘meddling where you don’t need to is the essence of a hero.’ You moved without thinking to help me when I needed it. That took guts.” His grin widens. “I’m so lucky that such a strong person was looking out for me from the cereal section.”

You laugh, cheeks blushing at the compliment. He’s just so…handsome, grinning roguishly at you with his deep, dark eyes.

“Your quirk is really strong, too. What was that – liquid manipulation? Have you ever trained your quirk?” You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his interest in your small little quirk.

“Not really – I had the standard quirk class in elementary school where we are evaluated and learn how to control the basics of each of our quirks. Beyond that, I never had much interest in it. I can make small amounts of liquid float, boil and freeze. It’s not particularly powerful, but I can make a mean pot of soup with it.” You smile, appreciating the attention you’re receiving from the hero. “I went to a specialty high school focused on business and marketing, so I pretty much avoided any quirk training or hero-focused track. Exploding that little Gatorade bottle was probably the crux of my power.”

“Well it was incredible! I feel like you’re really underselling yourself – I see so much potential in you and your quirk. With just a little training, I think you could really do some damage.” Red Riot says excitedly, talking animatedly with his hands. You laugh, picturing yourself in some ridiculous hero suit parading around the city splashing boiling water on legions of seafood-themed villains.

“Surprisingly, the hero life is just not for me!” You grin before a wave of shivers wracks through your body. Is this from shock? Or is it the damp cold of your rain soaked dress finally catching your attention.

Red Riot instantly notices your discomfort and shakes his head thoughtfully before saying: “Stay here a minute, I have an idea.” He scampers away and you’re left alone again. You focus on taking a few deep, calming breaths as you zip the hoodie up to your chin. You inhale deeply and realize that the red fabric smells comforting and sweet – a combination of mint and cedar wood. You deeply breathe in the scent of Red Riot, and you feel your panic ebb away. You’re steeped in exhaustion as you slouch against the hard plastic chair.

A moment later, Red Riot re-appears, holding a steaming Styrofoam cup. “I made you some peppermint tea.” He says shyly, holding out the hot cup. “It always makes me feel better after a fight – I thought it might do the same for you.”

You take the cup gratefully and tip it back for a sip. He holds out a hand to stop you. “Careful, it’s hot. Give it a second to cool so you don’t burn your mouth.”

“Thank you so much, Red Riot. I really appreciate all you’ve done today.” You’re too tired to care that you sound like a fan girl.

“Hey, call me Eijiro. After what we’ve been through together, we should be on a first name basis.” To your surprise, his cheeks tint pink as he shares his first name. You smile softly and share your own nickname. He repeats it back to you, seeming to like the way your name rolls on his tongue.

“It’s nice to meet you Eijiro.” You feel the warmth of the tea sinking into your icy hands.

“So what were you buying here at the store anyway? Let me go get you a cart and – oh, hold on!” He absentmindedly leans in close to you, reaching out to pull a stray wet strand of hair away from your face. He tucks it gently behind your ear. “We should really get you a hair dryer or something!” He laughs, “You’re still soaking wet!” Despite just having met, the touch is so intimate and familiar. You lean towards him, wanting him to touch you again with his strong, capable hero fingertips.

“Red Riot – the press is outside waiting to interview you.” A police officer calls over, snapping you both back to reality. “They’re eager to hear about how you apprehended the villain. For the sake of her privacy, let’s leave this young lady’s roll in the capture out of it.”

Eijiro snaps to attention, his hand still hovering close to your face. He turns to give the officer a thumbs up. “Sounds good to me! I’ll be right there.”

He moves to look at you again. His eyes are wide and his expression intrigued. “They’re going to take you to the hospital to make sure everything looks okay. They’ll probably keep you overnight for observation until you’re out of shock. I’m sure they’ll take good care of you, cutie.” He stands to walk out of the store. “Thanks for saving my life – I hope to hear from you soon!”

And with a wave, he strides away towards the press team waiting outside. You look down into your tea, confused and quietly delighted at his hope to hear from you. You have absolutely no idea how you would ever contact him again, but the sentiment and the term of endearment he had used is sweet. Ever the chivalrous hero.

The next few hours are a whirlwind of tests and scans and interviews with police officers and doctors alike. Despite your protests, an ambulance whisks you away to the closest hospital and you are kept under observation just as Red Riot - Eijiro ­- had predicted. The staff is courteous and sweet, praising you for your roll in the incident when the police officers tip them off. You’re given comfortable clothes to borrow and access to a hot shower adjacent to your hospital room.

When you finally sink into the hospital bed, it’s pitch black outside. You flick on the grainy old TV that’s mounted above your bed and flick through the channels until you stop to see a familiar face on the local news.

Red Riot is smiling down at you from the TV set, his eyes warm as he answers the questions of various reporters.

“I was just shopping for some ramen when I noticed the villain. Weird coincidence that I just happened to be at the same store as him!” The hero laughs, rubbing his hand behind his head. “I’m thankful to the store patrons and the clerk who stayed calm as I handled the situation.”

“Red Riot – did you have any difficulty subduing the victim?”

Eijiro pauses to think for a moment before carefully saying “There was a moment that he had the drop on me, but a really cute shopper distracted him for me and allowed me to get the upper hand.”

“You’re so humble, Red Riot. I’m sure you had everything under control.”

Eijiro shakes his head. “I don’t want to encourage recklessness, but I do want to make it clear that you don’t need to be a Pro to be someone’s hero. The woman who helped me today – her bravery and willingness to act even when things were scary is what true heroism looks like. I’m grateful to her, and I hope that I’ll be able to see her again soon.”

The reporters continue to fawn over Red Riot for a few more minutes – peppering him with more questions that he cheekily answers. He avoids revealing any additional details about you despite the reporter’s needling and prodding. Soon the news broadcast ends, and the anchor appears on screen and starts discussing upcoming movie releases.

You sit with your mouth gaping open. Had you really made such a lasting impression on the sturdy hero? You feel your heartbeat increase at the thought, causing the heart monitors strapped to your chest to peep and whir. A nurse appears at your side in an instant, and you bashfully explain to her that you are fine – just a bit overexcited from the day’s events. Once she is assuaged, you return to flipping through channels before settling on reruns of The Bachelor. This wasn’t the soapy TV series you had been looking forward to all day, but it was as close as you are going to get at this point. You let the show run and before long you are dozing in the propped up hospital bed, dreaming of seafood villains and heroes with bright hair and dark, endless eyes.

When you’re finally ready to check out from the hospital the next day, the nurse at the front desk presents you with your belongings. Your wallet, your high heeled work shoes, and an extra large bright red hoodie. “Oh – I forgot about this.” You gratefully accept the sweatshirt and shrug it on. It swings around you like a trench coat, fluffy and warm. You can still smell traces of cedar wood on the collar.

You walk out of the hospital and into a surprisingly sunny day, metallic sliding doors parting for you as you exit. You sink your hands into the hoodie’s overlarge pockets and are surprised to feel a rectangular square object tucked into the deep right pocket. Had Eijiro left a piece of gum in his hoodie? You fish it out with your index and pointer fingers – it’s a small folded up piece of paper ripped from a notepad. Upon closer inspection, you notice that it’s branded with the convenience store’s faded logo. You guess it was ripped from the clerk’s register notepad.

Curious, you unfold the small wad of paper. Written hastily across the note is a messy scrawl of digits and the words: Would love to take you to dinner some time, cutie. Thanks for rescuing me. – Eijiro.

            Oh my God. He gave you his number. A warm blush creeps up your face as your eyes run across the note over and over again. What a crazy 24 hours it has been! You reach into your purse to grab your phone. With shaky hands you add “Eijiro Kirishima” as a contact in your phone, adding a few rock emojis and a bright red crab emoji beside his name. He’d probably find that hilarious.

            You draft up a fresh text to the red headed hero and type: “In need of rescuing tonight – the villain: hunger and boredom. In need of a hero who knows the perfect ramen spot.” You hit send and hold your breath. What if he’s on patrol tonight? You worry. What if he was just being nice and doesn’t actually see you again?

            Your worries are totally baseless, because within seconds you have a reply: “I’m more than up for this mission – meet me in front of the convenience store at 8. Wear the sweatshirt so I’ll recognize you in the crowd?” He ends it with a winking emoji and your heartbeat quickens. You officially have a date set with Eijiro Kirishima – the Red Riot.

Your hero.

Thanks so much for reading!!!

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

Other Kirishima Stories:

Headcannon: Kirishima LOVES wearing Bakugo's clothes.

🦈❤️Boyfriend!Kirishima ❤️🦈

A Long, *Hard* Night with Eijiro Kirishima (A18+ - MDNI!!!) 💋

Link to My Master List 😬

[puckish-rogue-archive-deux]

Financial Opportunities Within the Criminal Underworld aka What the Fuck do the Saints do to Make Cash

Hi, everyone! It's me again, your favorite big boi and resident criminal organization expert Andre. Today we'll be having a semi-brief discussion on what exactly does the fictional gang known as the 3rd Street Saints do to keep the BIG CA$H MONEY flowing. Cause no one ever said running a powerful and sexy gang like their own was gonna be cheap. While I won't get into the specifics regarding the amount of money earned with each and every business venture (do that on your own time), I want to give a general idea of how big of an operation this all is. Especially when you take into account this blog's canon regarding the gang spreading out across the globe.

Now the Saints operate on both sides of the law, though anything that would be considered "legitimate" is still questionable at best. For the sake of simplicity and getting it out of the way, I think we should start by describing the various criminal activities they operate. As a whole, the Saints have their hands in a number of different ventures that operate outside the confines of the law. Their biggest ones being; racketeering, arms and drug trafficking, sex work, loansharking, smuggling, chop shops, illegal gambling, protection rackets, fencing, cyber crimes, and murder-for-hire. On an individual level, members of the Saints are more than welcome to start up their own side-hustles to earn even more cash so long as a percentage of that goes back into the gang. Everyone's doing their part, y'know?

Of course there are plenty of other ways members of the gang can make easy money, whether individually or for the Saints as a whole. Theft (and I'm using it as an umbrella term because there are many types of it) is always a go-to depending on the scope of it. You can go from something as simple as a smash-and-grab to a full-blown heist with all the planning that goes into it. Again, everyone is free to work as they please, so long as they remember to send back some cash. Otherwise you can just fuck off and work on your own without being in a gang.

As the Saints grow in size and expand outwards across the US and the world at large, I like to imagine that they'd take a moment to really think about what sort of work fits the environment that they're in. Not every new location will provide the same opportunities one may find in a different city. So why not accommodate? Adapting to one's surroundings is the key to both personal and financial survival. And while the Saints may be rather unorthodox in the way they manage themselves, you can't deny the fact that they've come a long way from being a mere street gang.

Now let's jump over to the other side of the law and discuss how they earn within that area.

As brought up in a previous post, there is an hourly city income you can receive in both the second and third games of the series. I'm not going to bring up the first game because that was an entirely different iteration of the Saints and we're focused on the Boss running it.

In SR2 and 3 you're able to purchase various stores that give you different amounts of profit, which then all add up towards your total city income. In the second game this is limited to stores and restaurants, but in the third we're given the chance to buy up properties as well. Said properties can range from condos, local stores, a sex shop, to even an entire airport. If you'd like to learn more, then I'd suggest checking out this link here.

Now of course I like to imagine that the gang have other means of gaining a steady flow of income that don't completely fall under the topic of nasty crime. You know for sure that some of the Saints run their own fronts like restaurants, clubs, or anything else that can be used as a means to launder money. The Boss is of course no exception either, as I can see him doing the same here and there to generate more cash.

Some time ago I would have said that the Planet Saints stores definitely create revenue for the gang as well. But after much thinking and taking into consideration what the state of the world is like after what happened at the end of my revised SR3 plot for this blog, I think a majority of those stores have outright closed. Mostly because it's kind of hard to market a gang when they've gone and embarrassed an entire government and probably scared the shit out of other world leaders as well. Not to mention a good chunk of the public.

That being said, I wouldn't be surprised if there were at least a handful of Planet Saints stores that were still operating. Mostly cause let's be real here; the concept of a celebrity criminal has been a thing for ages now. That kind of reputation can still go strong even years down the line. And with my ideas of the Boss doing work that blurs the line on whether he's for the people or a selfish piece of shit, you know damn well there will still be people itching to grab the latest in Saints merchandise. Especially if it's like chic streetwear or something.

One last thing to mention are the former Syndicate strongholds in Steelport that are turned over to the Saints once they've been acquired. The 3 Count Casino, the Burns Hill Reactors (which was definitely made into a nightclub), Safeword (a brothel), and Powder (designer weapons store) are obviously making bank for the crew as well.

Again, I won't do the math to try and realistically think about how much cash they're earning on say a monthly or even yearly basis. But this is definitely stuff to consider for threads and anything else that might involve business opportunities for the gang in the future. I think what's funny to me is that this probably doesn't even come close to what much more established criminal organizations across the globe might earn on the daily. Like some of these fuckers work off of that old money shit. But I mean hey, maybe these bozos can get on that level one of these days.

[citizenhullabaloo]

Smash, Pass, Trash: Simulation Theory by Muse

Disclaimer: Completely subjective opinion! Remember that before you bully me 😦

Pros?

A Muse album. ‘Nuff said. Heavy electronic influences, but it still rocks! I love the experimentation attempted and callbacks to common Muse songwriting tropes.

Cons?

A soundbite into the 80s revival nostalgia to cash in on the popularity of it becoming relevant again… But because it was a Muse album, there was some creativity to it. The first record to have multiple outside writers, which I noticed upon first listen. The first Muse album that genuinely disappointed me, yet I push on the benefit of the doubt and blamed the record label. A ruined opportunity to showcase “Something Human” as a pure ballad similar to older ones done in their past. Linked here is Matt’s original IG video showing what we could have gotten. Man, what I’d give to hear Something Human recorded as a band without all the excess instrumentation. That was OVERKILL.

Afterthoughts?

Muse is the reason I became a musician. I love every album, every song, every b-side, every DEMO (That I was able to hear, I didn’t have money for Origin of Muse *sad*). Simulation Theory had some redeeming factors about it, but it didn’t help that I genuinely thought “Get Up and Fight” was a Spotify ad upon first listen. I loved the extras on the deluxe edition and wished we had some more extras on future albums.

Rating Scale: Smash, Pass, or Trash

Rating: Smash and Pass

This would be my least favorite Muse album if I had to choose with a gun against my head. I would still consider all Muse albums my favorite because I’m delusional HAHA! If you love Muse, you’d buy it for the collection.

5 / 5 (Based off my The Music Checklist)

[howandreviews]

How Popping Your Own Popcorn Can Save You a Bucket of Cash (Literally!)

Hey there, popcorn enthusiasts! If you’re a fan of the buttery, salty, and absolutely irresistible snack that’s graced movie theaters and cozy nights at home for years, then you’re in the right place. But here’s the kicker: Are you shelling out more money than you should be on this fluffy delight? The answer is probably yes, especially if you’re accustomed to purchasing those pre-made, microwaveable popcorn bags or always getting a huge tub at the cinema.

But fear not! Today, I’m here to show you how popping your own popcorn can not only save you a ton of money but also give you an even more scrumptious snacking experience. Yes, you heard me right. So put down that wallet and let’s dive in!

Initial Costs: Let’s Talk Numbers

Firstly, let’s talk about what you’ll need to start your popping extravaganza. And no, you don’t need an elaborate popcorn machine that looks like it was plucked straight out of a 1950s movie theater. Here’s the rundown:

Popping Corn Kernels: You can buy these in bulk, and trust me, a little goes a long way. A pound can cost around $1–3, depending on the brand and quality.

A Pot with a Lid: Odds are you already have one of these in your kitchen. If not, invest in a good one; it’ll serve you in more ways than one!

Oil: Olive oil, coconut oil, or any other high-smoke point oil will do.

Seasoning: Salt, butter, cheese powder, you name it!

The Real Savings

Here’s where the magic happens. One bag of microwave popcorn can cost you anywhere from $0.75 to $2.50, depending on the brand and where you buy it. A movie theater bucket? Don’t even get me started — $8 or more for something you can make for pennies at home! If you make your own, a generous serving (let’s say about 5 cups popped) will cost you less than $0.50. Yep, you read that right.

The Health Bonus

Hey, since you’re into learning about diet and health, here’s a tidbit you’ll appreciate: When you pop your own popcorn, you’re in control. That means you can ditch all the artificial flavors, excess salt, and questionable oils found in store-bought or cinema popcorn. You can make it as healthy (or decadent) as you want!

Step-by-Step: How to Pop Your Own Corn

Heat the Pot: Put your pot on the stove, crank up the heat to medium-high, and add enough oil to coat the bottom about 3 Tablespoons.

Add 1/2 cup of kernels into the pot. This will fill the pot half way. If you want more popcorn just add more. If I want a full pot of popcorn, I will add a cup of kernels. 

When the popping slows down to 2–3 pops per second, your popcorn is ready.

I like to microwave some butter for 20 seconds until it melts and add to the popcorn. Make sure you spread it so it won’t be soggy.

Season and enjoy!

So there you have it — a simple, cost-effective, and tasty way to enjoy popcorn. Saving money while snacking has never been so fun, not to mention delicious. And hey, next time you’re at a movie and you smell that waft of popcorn aroma, just think about the stash of cash you’re accumulating by DIY-ing it at home. Until then, happy popping, y’all! 🍿

I’ve got a video that walks you through every popcorn-popping step. It’s like Food Network meets “Popcorn Flicks” — only better. Click on the link below and let your snack-venture begin!

👉 Click Here to Watch the Ultimate Popcorn Making Guide on YouTube 👈

So go ahead, smash that “like” button, annihilate the “subscribe” button, and drop a comment to let me know what you think. Your taste buds — and your wallet — will thank you! 🤑

[theorist-influencer-untitled]

3.2.23 Thursday

7:42 am

Uncle Jun went to baranggay task...

Kuya Peter & Mark are already here,the worker of Mystery Lover's ( Uncle DD & Aunt Karen ), wow! I feel amazed with a mixed of jealousy that they will have their own hot and cold shower...Oh! God! I need that on my sciatica angels... Just hoping for them to have a booster of wifi around the house...

8:08 am

I feel self-pity and wanna leave the hometown... I feel that I can' have success here angels... I need a career and I need money...

10:01 am

1 casserole is missing the old rice cooker casserole it is supposed to be 4... The one accidentally or intentionally burnt by Uncle Jun the last time he heated the patah broth, he forgot it and I was awaken by the smoke of it... Meaning we still have 3 rice cooker casserole... It doesn't have meaning at all... The one burnt by Uncle Jun, was thrown by him in the garbage last week...

The old missing chopping board is here, it os suddenly here... So,chopping boards are complete here...

10:10 am

I saw it,someone put it inside the refrigerator, still the old sinigang is there...I'm heating it now...

10:58 am

Bloody Thursday!

Chicken-Mechado ♡♡♡☆

Sweet Pork Giniling ♡♡♡☆

Still,wanna leave the hometown... Bleeding thursday...

11:53 am

Uncle Jun is angry why RV is getting rice here... I said it is just rice... The other food is only for the 4 of us here with John...

They are all the same here...

I wanna leave them angels... I wanna leave the hometown... I feel bitterish...

2:43 pm

Living with Uncle Jun is hell for 16 yeas angels....I wonder what are his plans in life...

Not really my ideal life living with Uncle Jun, so many weird things happened from the past 16 years.... Since I had have this windblow since 2007, I feel bitterish...

I can't progress on my own... I can't go up again on my own... I had yaya's and we had maids or helpers before or I usually had my own assistant but being with Uncle Jun it's hellish for me that everything were gone and changed into different beat.

It is also weird that life here in De Ocampo are reverse2x like Uncle DD is the undergraduate and a waiter boy but I know it is a job and he got a new house here with a hot and cold shower... I don't have to elaborate the explanation.

But my point, I'm on a big embarrassment since 2007...They took away my college diploma... And our mind-set here is really USA foundation.

Like Uncle DD is undergraduate but able to create his house, coz of his friends link coz in USA that is possible...

But my main point what about me? Me as college graduate,there are group who smashed me unfairly since 2007...

3:49 pm

RV asked for meal food or ulam,I told him we don't have extra... It's the meal of Uncle Jun and Granny Mother Trining... No extra food... Just,just, just... Extra rice it can be.....Not being selfish, it is just that the meal or ulam is not enough... Good for 3 people our budget plus my baby John...

4:02 pm

My toiletries in the kitchen.

LIFE MUST BE CHILL FOR AWHILE, FOR NOW, FOR THE MEAN TIME OR FOR QUITE SOME TIME...

For oil, soy sauce and vinegar.

4:27 pm

RV can have extra rice and pancake....If I have pancake... But the meal or ulam no... Coz it is not enough, Granny Mother needs to eat well and my baby John...

No extra budget for now...

5:20 pm

Done,watching it all...

Season 2 last episode is really heart melting, angels.

6:35 pm

Uncle Jun is fake,he left the dogs without giving their food and immature...

I gave their dinner,he just need to clean the cage...

6:49 pm

Uncle Jun went back and he cleaned the cage..

These are the babies... Eating their dinner..

Campaign for Help-Sale! We need cash...

9:48 pm

Still,having the windblow... I really do feel fat and ugly...

I need money and career... I feel frustrated... I wanna see donkey and camel with my baby John... I wanna leave the hometown..

I feel bitterish and self-pity that I can't buy starbucks everyday and I wanna go back to gym... I feel irritated and bitterish... I wanna have some attention... How can I have chance to be successful if I'm trap... I have no success for 16 years...

[fallencrowns]

@storiesung​  |  plotted starter

All it took was a little rumour to plant the idea in his head. The Imperial Faberge eggs, a lost treasure all on their own but hardly the big SCORE that he was after. Maybe he could sell those off as well but it was a far cry from what he was really after: The Oponskoye Kingdom. Supposedly. Allegedly. Honestly, Nate heard about it in some big pompous den Sully had invited him to so there was really no telling just how legit those claims were. For all he knew, it was just a bunch of rich guys talking out of their asses to try and IMPRESS one another. And people like that said that people like him were the DISHONEST ones. If Nate had learned anything, it was to never trust a guy with a wad of cash that could buy as many goons as he needed.

❝  Private collection, Schmivate schmollection,  ❞  he muttered to himself, slipping into the basement of one of those same guys with way too much money on his hands and gaudy art along the walls. If this was his BIG SCORE, he’d at least have some taste about his decorations. But tracking down one of the ‘lost’ eggs had taken some time along with gathering a couple of the others whose locations actually were known and one other lost one he’d managed to find in a garage sale. Cliché, much? This time, it turned out it was just in the hands of some COLLECTOR that wasn’t keen on letting the world know that it had been found and letting them continue to believe it was lost.

Probably because of guys like him, here to take it.

The basement was absolutely littered with treasures. Maybe if Nate were a COMMON THIEF, this could be his jackpot. But passing up on the jewels hidden behind cases or the safes probably holding their own hoards of treasure, Nate’s eyes were only on the center piece of it all: the Faberge egg. The Royal Danish egg. Light blue with gems glinting off its surface from the overhead lights. Nate let out a small whistle and the pure sight; the photo really didn’t do it JUSTICE. 

The alarm had already been disabled, the first thing he had taken care of when breaking into the manor. Hopefully they wouldn’t notice for a while longer and give him time to make his great escape. Soundproof walls of the basement and security was probably already on the other side of the manor based on how he had tracked them, it gave Nate the perfect chance. Gun in hand, the man brought the butt of the weapon down, SMASHING the glass encasing it. The one moment passed, then another, and no sounds of footsteps or of an alarm blaring in the background.  ❝  Nate, one. Rich guy, zero.  ❞  A small chuckle as a grin started to wash over his features at the sight of the egg without the glass coming between him and it.

Never mind the fact that he hadn’t been able to get the other eggs to drop their supposed ‘clues’ to some lost paradise, he could just focus on GATHERING them first. The second step of actually locating the place could come later.

❝  I’m pretty sure this is probably the fanciest easter egg hunt in history. Now, come to papa.  ❞  Tucking the gun back in his holster, Nate carefully reached in with both hands, avoiding the shards of glass left, to grasp hold of the Faberge egg and pull it free from it’s casing. It wasn’t exactly his STYLE to keep around once this was all over. Maybe the world would just appreciate the fact that it had been found at last. Once he sold it ANONYMOUSLY, of course. Didn’t need to link himself to a break-in. 

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Yep! Mammon is not perfect, but well, nobody is, so it's fine! We love him as he is 💗💖💗

I like your hc of Mammon reading about human injuries 😍 and probably about first aid as well? Also you explanation about Michael missing brothers as "perfect angels" - I didn't realise it before I had read it here, and now I absolutely agree with you.

(Mild spoilers to S3?) Nearly all of MC's plans in S1 were Mammon ideas. I am very impressed by his abilities and I see it as "his thing". He is full of plans and ideas, and they worked because he knows his brothers very well. It was a bit annoying when in S3 Lord Dia mentioned that the idea to put Luci and Satan into a game belonged to Levi.. really, Levi has a lot of his own achievements, please don't take Mammon's, pretty please 😭

Actually it's a bit upsetting how they ignore Mammon's achievements (not sure if it's a correct word, but oh well..). In S3 Mammon helps MC again in the cafe. He didn't have to, but he agreed because of MC, and his idea was good and it could work. Nonetheless Simeon calls him useless and tells his brothers that cafe's problem is a Mammon's fault (which is absurd and I see Simeon in a different light since then).

***

My MC.. her name is Lira and she is more or less self-insert 😅 She is a wildlife carer, absolutely crazy about birds, loves bats and other animals as well. Mammon's crows are her best friends, and she is mesmerised by his bat wings (ahh I should send you a video of baby flying-fox I raised last year, she was amazing! and her wings were so soft 💗💗💗).

Lira left her family in her home country to go study abroad, so she used to live without them.

She is a "big sister" type, calm, confident, caring and trying to help everyone. Always has some snacks with her in case Beel is hungry, always have some cash in case Mammon doesn't have money for his lunch (like in his homescreen text)), willing to help Luci with his papers, or make him some coffee etc (well, I think it's just a regular MC from the game???). Makes Mammon a bath or makes him breakfast, this sort of things, never says things which may hurt him (I hate some of the game chats because my MC would never tell things like "do you have any good qualities?" even as a joke 😭😭😭). Very protective of animals, kids, Mammon and any others who she has taken under her wing. Extremely loyal to Mammon as her friend and especially as her partner (later). If Luci hangs him again and forbids to take him down, she will just stay there with him damn be any plans, work or lessons.

As soon as she realised that Mammon is bringing her luck in money, she started to plan how to use it to earn more, to save and invest, so they could get rid of Mammon's debts and get a passive income enough to prevent him from making new debts. Would do anything to free Mammon from witches (at least those who are his debt collectors).

Absolutely oblivious when somebody is flirting with her. Thinks they are just being kind or polite. Very surprised to find out about Mammon's feelings, thinks it's just a platonic affection towards "older sister". Determined to keep relationships with Mammon on friendship level as she is too scared to lose him. Not very successful in it after all 😅.

Loves spontaneous events and trips. "Why not??" is our motto).

***

I love your fics, I have read several of them, and they are beautiful. My favorute so far is about bird!Mammon, it feels so genuine and it's sooo about HIM, like, about his personality, idk how to explain. But it is beautiful.

And I am very glad you mention your fics and give links, it's much easier to find them this way!!! thank you!

Yes we do!💕💕

Thank you! I have such clear ideas of what Michael and Raphael will be like built purely from the little snippets of information that OM! has given us and I have such a clear idea of what they look like that even though I'm excited for them to show up it's gonna hurt watching all those existing ideas be smashed🥲

Yes! I was wondering if I remembered it wrong in S3 cause I was sure the game thing in s1 was Mammon's idea? Is it bad that I'm liking the depth they're giving Simeon? Instead of being the pure sweet angel he's got a more cunning/shrewd side and I'm all for it:

1. Stealing and lying to Michael

2. The passive aggressive way he spoke to Diavolo in S2

3. Whatever he did to get demoted

4. The brothers in S3 clarifying that it's not that Simeon is more easy going than the other Seraphim it's just that they're way too intense

5. The way he was such a hardass during the play

Just, Simeon's got secrets and I desperately wanna find out more about them and him

Do you have any pictures or picrews of her?🤩

Yesss pls!! Send me pics of her! I've always wanted to pursue something related to animals and being a wildlife carer was on top of my list but unfortunately there aren't much options for it here and I had to change directions (though I do plan on moving in a couple years to a place where it is possible so fingers crossed?)

She sounds so cool, I'm an absolute mess of a person irl (Whenever I'm writing Mammon, I always draw from some of my own characteristics and responses cause I relate with him way more than I do with MC) so having a big sister friend or mom friend is the best thing ever? Yeah general MC also keeps food for Beel on them and makes lucifer coffee, and let's Mammon borrow money! Right!? That good qualities thing pissed me off so much (and did I write a whole 6k hurt/comfort fic based off that one chat? Yes.*) and at least MC in the main storyline can always be nice to Mammon

Yes!! We definitely need more people to be protective of him and whenever someone mentions that their MC uses the money they gain from Mammon's love to free him from his debt my heart just💝💖💗💓💞💕💟❣❤🧡💛💚💙💙💜🤎🖤🤍

Mammon is just so open about his love for MC, despite how hard he tries to hide it, so imagining exactly how oblivious Lira must be to not get it is hilarious??? When does she realise it? What happens during the opportunity to kiss him on S1?

HIII THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!? I had so much fun writing that I almost wished I could make it into a full fic? BUT one of my first prompts for Mammon & MC was about dragon!Mammon and I loved it so much I ended up writing a 10 chapter outline for it so I figured once I start posting that, it would fill the quota for actual monster Mammon... I'm so glad it felt like him cause I worried without dialogue his characterisation wouldn't fit. Thank you so much for letting me know your thoughts on it!

Okay so I'm gonna take that to heart and add the link to my Mammon x unnamed gender-neutral MC 6.4k hurt/comfort fic based around the "Best Qualities" chat:

* Certified Idiots™

Someone had hurt their First Man and they'd walk through hell to make things right.

[mikminicule]

What was lost of Crown gen7 and gen8

Markus asked Cecilie Allen to move in, which caused Harold to fulfil his LTW: Swimming in Cash. Cecilie brought a ridiculous amount of money to the household.

Harold and Danielle graduated from Culinary School, both with highest honours. They decided to move out of their childhood home and into an empty small house big enough for just them. The house has since then expanded.

Not soon after, Markus and Cecilie announced their engagement and had such a wedding party that the whole town talked about it long after. Markus took Cecilie's surname when they married.

Evelina Hanson passed away at some point, having been the oldest sim in my game.

Shane Tracy passed away as well and Frederick started dating again.

Wesley Butterfield (nee Crown) passed away too.

Sheldon Tracy married Caitlin Dodge and took her surname.

Gale Tracy (Frederick's grandson) married Sue Dewitt that Raymond dated as a teenager.

Markus is now an elder.

Harold mastered Gardening soon after having moved out and registered as a self-employed Gardener. His garden has gotten quite out of hand since then and he's reached level 5.

Danielle started moonlighting at the local bar, her shy personality made it difficult at first but she is getting a hang of it and even has scrapped up enough money to buy her own bar.

Raymond dated around a bit before meeting Hope Devitt. They're now married and smashed their surnames together making it Crownitt. They also have a son called Maurice.

Since Harold is a Kleptomaniac he at one point stole a rubber ducky from Markus and Cecilie. He did return it.

Danielle is trying to become a chess legend, that too is going slow since there's so much she wants to do. So far she has won one match.

Harold has through using the science machine managed to get his hands on the Forbidden Fruit Seed. It's his wish to plant it, but he's no in a hurry.

Harold has removed 5 tree from the lot so far (Athletic: 1, Handiness: 4).

Romantically so far Harold hasn't had any interest, not since that guy he pillow fought as a teenager.

Danielle is really popular among the ladies, filling up the mailbox with love letters.

Generation 8 starts with Harold and Danielle almost half through YA.

For those interested, here's a link to the entire Crown family tree. I can't possible cover every spare having kids on this blog anymore 🤣 Spoilers ahead since I have completed this legacy!

[thefantasygirl3]

Negaverse Stories: Nightmare Fool

Genre/warnings: Comedy, Drama, Action.

Word count: 6 505

Summary: On a mission to catch Quackerjack's old employee going on a stealing spree, the poor duck gets captured and tortured with scary hallucinations of his friends while said friends are trying to rescue him.

Notes: Link to my fanfiction.net and Last story.

It was night in st. Canard, the perfect time for crimes to be committed. Which was exactly what was happening by one of the town's jewelry stores. The Darkwing duck's van was driving down the street towards the scene of the crime, ready to take care of yet another villain. Megavolt was driving with Bushroot sitting beside him in the front seat while Liquidator was in the back with Quackerjack, who was tinkering with some of his toys before they would arrive. "These toys are going to pack a real punch!" He giggled excitedly to himself as he held the Jack-in-the-box he tinkered with in his hands, hugging it lightly. Liquidator nodded and looked out the front window before turning back to the duck. "Alright. So you said you knew this guy, right? Cor-something Crow?" He asked as he leaned back in his seat. "Corbett Crow. He used to work for me when I still had my company. He made toys that were far too scary and dangerous for kids to play with. He was too stubborn about his ideas, so we had to drop him. I guess he didn't take it so well" Quacks explained as his face turned serious and he put the box down into his lap. "Yeah. It appears that way. Robbing a jewelry store isn't exactly a sign of "Taking things well". Do you have any idea what this guy could be capable of?" Megavolt asked as he focused intently on the road so he wouldn't crash into something, driving at such a high speed. "Sadly, I don't. I haven't seen him in years. I have no idea what he's like now" the jester sighed and shook his head. "Then we better be careful, don't want to go rushing in and have our butts handed to us" Bushroot said as he looked over at Megavolt nervously, who was still driving at top speed.

As soon as they arrived, the car screeched to a halt and they all hopped out quickly and looked over at the broken store window. They saw these rough, scarred toy soldiers with scary looking guns hopping out from the window with bags of stolen goods. "Good work, hollow heads! Let's get these back to the playhouse!" A voice yelled from inside before a crow in a lab coat jumped out, decked out in some most likely stolen accessories. He was closely followed by a small robot dog with an LED screen with a dog face on it. It was carrying a big bag over it's head, which it was struggling with. "Come on V.I.P. Chop chop! We don't have all day!" He cawed at the robot, who fell to the ground, weighed down by the bag. The thief pinched his beak in frustration. 

Suddenly purple smoke filled the street, along with a voice the crow found very familiar. "We are the terrors that flap in the night! We are the slippery ice patch on the driveway of evil! We are... The Darkwing ducks!" Suddenly, out of the smoke, the team of heroes appeared and struck their menacing poses. The criminal took a step back in shock, giving the four a hard glare. "Well well well! If it isn't my old boss... Whackers Jack" he mocked the jester, who hardened his look on him and tightened his fists. "Corbett! You maniac! I knew you were dirty, but I didn't think you'd sink this low! Let go of the jewelry and turn yourself in!" He demanded aggressively, skipping all the witty banter and going straight to the demands. The others looked at him surprised, but decided to not acknowledge it. "Y-yeah! Just make this easy for yourself and give up!" Liquidator added on and put his hands on his hips. 

"... Tell me, how often does that work?" Corbett asked as he raised a brow at the request they made. "Never! Criminals can be so difficult!" Megavolt commented and took a step forward, opening his hands to summon some lightning between his fingers. Quackerjack seemed to be done talking, as he pulled out a hammer from his arsenal and ran at Corbett yelling. The crow cawed in surprise and stared as he was about to be whacked, but it got interrupted by a toy plane that flew straight into Quackerjack, knocking him down to the ground. It flew back up into the air and started firing plastic pellets at the group of stunned heroes, causing them to scatter and the plane to continue following after Bushroot with it's shots. "You idiots! Did you even have a plan? Boys! Go after these slack-jawed losers. I'm going to enjoy a little bit of revenge" Corbett ordered his toys as he pulled out a pop gun from his coat, starting to aim it at the duck who was pushing himself off of the ground. The toy soldiers dropped the loot and ran over towards Megavolt, already firing at him. He started to throw electricity at them while jumping up on a park bench, to get them away from his legs. A jack-in-the-box with a knife in it's hand came bounding over towards Liquidator, wailing it around everywhere while giggling on a loop. "Yikes! S-stay away from me, weirdo!" He yelled and blasted it with water to push it back, but it just fell over, stood back up and kept approaching, knife a-swinging. 

Quackerjack was back up onto his feet, not able to gather himself for even a second before he heard a shot fired towards him. He whacked away a spiked cork with his hammer before looking over at Corbett, who reeled back in his shot and loaded it up again. "You don't realize how long I've waited for this! You ruined my career! My ideas were perfect and you tossed them out like yesterday's leftovers!" He yelled and took aim again, shooting at the duck straight between the eyes. But he just deflected it again before running over and hitting the villain away with a big swing. "YOUR career?! You caused us numerous lawsuits! I was losing so much money on having to pay for fees that YOU caused! You and your dangerous toys! Your ideas were not suitable for anyone of any age! They suck toes!" He yelled angrily and ran over towards him again to bash him into the ground. But Corbett rolled out of the way and quickly fired the gun again, piercing the duck in his arm and making him drop the hammer. "How DARE you?! My ideas are perfect! They are brilliant! Everyone else is crazy! But you! You crushed my last hope of success! And for that, I'm gonna make you pay!" He growled angrily at Quackerjack and stood back up, brushing off his coat. "Oh yeah? Do you take cash or credit?" He asked Corbett as he tried to joke through the pain in his arm, glaring at the crow. He just stared back, before a grin appeared on his beak and he crossed his arms. "I believe I'll be taking hostage, thank you very much!" He huffed smugly, making Quackerjack confused before he got smashed from behind by his own hammer, from the robot dog who had picked it up. He yelped in pain and fell forward onto the ground.

"Good job, V.I.P. Now, get him tied up and loaded onto the cart. Forget about the jewelry. Getting my revenge is now my number one priority" Corbett told V.I.P. as he started walking off. The other three heroes had just taken care of their troubles, Bushroot having grabbed the plane and crushed it in his vines, Megavolt having fried the toy soldiers and Liquidator finally done fighting the jack-in-the-box by just flattening it with his enlarged fist. "Great work, you guys! Now, let's help Jack with that crazy crow" the water dog said as he regrouped with the others. But as soon as they did, they noticed that both of the people mentioned had disappeared. "What?! Where the heck did they go?!" Megavolt said, shocked as he looked around frantically for them, until a big remote controlled cart zoomed by and left the group in a cloud of dust. They coughed before they could see the villain with a tied up Quackerjack, holding onto Mr. Banana Brain while laughing loudly. "Thanks for the gift, dinguses! See ya!" He yelled and tossed the doll at them before driving off. Megavolt ran after them while shaking his fist in his direction. "YOU GET BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! LET GO OF QUACKERS!" He yelled and only stopped once he realized they were too far gone. He looked down at Mr. Banana Brain at his feet and gently picked it up into his arms. The other two walked up behind him and stared in concern at him. "That… fiend. Well I guess it's good you got us all those trackers" Liquidator commented as he pointed back at the van. The rat tightened his grip on the doll before he nodded and turned around towards the van. "Let's hurry. We're not letting him hurt a feather on Quacks" he said before they got in and started driving off.

~~~

It had gone quite some time before Quackerjack regained consciousness. He was laying down on a hard cold floor, his vision slowly unblurring. He let out a groan and pushed himself up onto his knees, rubbing his aching head. He started looking around the small, empty room he was inside. The door was thick and had a small window on it. Then the face of Corbett moved into view on the other side of the window, smiling at the jester on the ground. "YOU!" Quackerjack yelled and quickly shot up to his feet and started banging at the door. "No use trying, cracker barrel. You're not getting out of there any time soon. You ruined my life, I became a laughing stock and unhireable. I ruined your life, you became a superhero with a great team! You made my life a living nightmare, so now it's time for you to know what my life is like!" Corbett told the duck as he kept banging on the door, glaring at him angrily. The crow just smirked and shrugged his shoulders, raising up his fingers and snapping them casually. That's when the room Quackerjack was in started to fill up with a greyish blue gas, slowly but surely engulfing him. He looked back at the gas briefly before he turned towards the door and started to bang once again. "Ha ha ha. Try all you like, you're only going to waste your own oxygen. Now I'm gonna go and enjoy the show from my office. I'm... AFRAID you won't be able to do the same! Ha ha ha ha!" The crow laughed cockily as he turned his back to the door and walked out of the room. 

Quackerjack kept hitting the door and yelling at him to come back and let him out, until he started to feel a cough come on from the gas that was entering his lunges. The weird smell of that gas was making it harder to breath, that oddly sweet but rotten scent. He stumbled back from hacking so hard and put his hands over his beak. "I... I gotta get out! I have no idea what this gas is, b-but I don't want to find out!" He muttered to himself as he reached a hand down into his pocket to find something he could use to escape. But he noticed that his pockets were empty. His inventory had been completely emptied and he had none of his toys on him. Squishing his face to the window, he saw that the ones he had brought along were laying on a table outside. He sighed heavily before another coughing fit came on and he gripped at his chest. "Come on. Come on! Th-there must be something I can do!" He whined and gripped his hat tails, pulling them out of panic. That's when he noticed that something was laying inside his hat. "AH! Of course! He must have forgotten to check my hat!" He said as he reached inside and gripped onto the thing and pulled it out. It was a screwdriver! He must have put it there sometime after getting done tinkering and forgetting about it. Perfect! Should help him unscrew that window so he could squeeze through. The duck got to work right away, quickly unscrewing all the screws holding the window in place while coughing harshly. He removed it and poked his head out so he could catch a breath of fresh air before he began pulling himself out through the hole. He took a pause when he got to the waist and thought that he'd have to give it a hard shove to get through with his hips, so he did and he shot straight through and crashed into the table of stuff. Seemed he had slimmed down after Corbett had taken all his things. He watched as the gas started to leak out the opening in the door, seeping into the room he had escaped to. The duck quickly shot up from the floor and grabbed all the stuff off the table and shoved it into his pants before he rushed out the room as fast as he could.

Outside the building that their friend was stuck in, the Darkwing ducks pulled up in their van. Bushroot peeked out the window at the strange building. It looked like some sort of old factory. "Of course. Villains always gravitate towards scary abandoned buildings like these. Why am I not surprised?" He grumbled and pulled his head back inside. "Alright. Seems this is where the tracker leads us. So let's just sneak in there and bust him out" he said to the others while looking between the other two. "No time for sneaking! We're just gonna bust in, kick butt and rescue chuckles! If we take too long, who knows what could happen to him?!" Megavolt barked at the plant as he opened the door and slammed it shut behind himself. Liquidator hopped out soon after and ran after him. "Wait! But what if we bust in and he decides to do something even worse to him! We can't risk that!" He tried to reason with the rat, who seemed a little pissy at the statement, but just crossed his arms and begrudgingly agreed. "Right... So let's find a window in the back or something and sneak in" the dog sighed and led Megavolt around the back, Bushroot following close behind.

As soon as Quackejack made it out of the gas filled room, he slammed the door shut behind him and leaned against it to make sure it was shut. He took a deep breath and let out a big sigh, sliding down the door and sitting down onto the ground. His legs felt kinda shaky as he had managed to make it out of there, even though it wasn't that challenging. Maybe that poison gas had made him a little weak in the knees. But other than that, he was fine, so he was probably fine. But then he heard something over some sort of loudspeakers. "That blasted duck has escaped! Go and capture him again! And guard every exit so he won't get away!" he heard that crow's voice yell throughout the building, most likely trying to alert his toy guards. Out of panic, the jester scrambled up onto his feet and looked around the corridor he was in, with doors to either side of him. He quickly bolted towards the nearest door and ran inside. 

Quackerjack found himself in some sort of swimming room, a big pool near the middle of the area. He slammed the door shut behind himself and kept running further in, until he stumbled and fell down in front of the pool. "Ah... ahh... darn... Where should I go? Where is the exit?! Is there anywhere to hide?!" He asked himself as he started looking around the room, trying to see if there was a locker or something around. His heart was beating unusually fast, despite him having been through worse than this before. It made him feel nervous and like his chest would burst open from his beating heart. But he was snapped out of his panic by a soft sound. "Hey. Quackerjack. I found you" someone said quietly, making the duck look around for the sound. He then looked down at the pool and spotted something that made him gasp in surprise. "Ah! Liquidator!" He called out and tilted over the edge to see his face at the surface of the water. The dog was smiling up at him, face flat in the water. "Quackerjack! I found you!" He said happily. "Oh you can't believe how happy I am to see you right now! We gotta get out, now! Before those toys find me! Show me where you got in, so we can use it as an exit!" The duck started rambling as he put a hand to his chest and let out a sigh of relief. "Hey! I found you!" Liquidator repeated while he didn't move from his spot in the pool. Jacky got this confused look on his face and tilted his head, saying "Uh... Yeah! Good job? We should hurry, really! Preferably now!". 

But as he said that, something very odd happened. A second face appeared beside the first one, popping up and saying "Hey! Quackerjack!". "H-huh?!" The duck gasped and stared in shock at this weird incident. Then, as he stared, another face popped up, then another, then another. These faces all just appeared and were saying his name as they did. In wide-eyed terror, Quackers pushed himself back and began crawling away from this messed up view. He had no idea what was happening, but he was sure he didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. Then, the surface of the pool started to rise up slowly, showing the water blob with a hundred faces on it as it grew and grew, shaping up into an upside down water droplet. The jester had already pushed him back up to his feet and was backing up until his back hit the wall. The faces started to emerge out of their flat area, forming into the familiar looking head of his friend. The way they poked out, it looked like pimples on the face of a teenager, except very creepy and disturbing. He squeezed himself more against the wall, trying to flatten himself against it as much as possible. "Wh... W-What's wrong with you?! What happened to you?!" He inquired desperately while still pressing his body into the wall. Then the blob started crawling up from the pool and onto the poolside, approaching the scared duck while saying in unison "Hey! I found you, Quackerjack!". "N-No! Stop! Get away from me! You're freaking me out!" Jacky yelled as he finally managed to push himself off the wall and zoomed over to the door, which he quickly stumbled out of and forced shut behind him. 

Quackerjack started panting as he hunched over and leaned against his knees, trying to catch his breath and calm down his racing heart. What in the world was THAT?! What happened to his friend?! Why was he acting like that... or looking like that? It was all just too much for him. First he was kidnapped, then his friend mutated into some sort of blob monster. This was... surreal. As he kept thinking about how unreal it all was, he noticed something standing a little bit further down the corridor. Looking over at the figure, he saw someone thin and with messy hair. He could recognize that figure anywhere! "Bushroot!" He sighed relieved and walked over to the plant in the middle of the hallway. "Bushroot! You gotta help me! Something weird is going on with Liquidator! I think that DARN CROW did something to him! He's- uh..." As soon as the duck got closer to his co-hero, he noticed a few unsettling details. His body looked a little more... greyish, like he was a malnourished potted flower. He also had a few twigs sticking out of him with sharp thorns poking out. It made the clown gulp nervously and reach out one hand hesitantly towards the other's shoulder. "Bush... root?" He asked and gently nudged his shoulder. 

Only from that one touch, the plant man's head tilted back towards the shaky duck, so far that he was facing him completely and his whole, empty, emotionless face could be seen. His eyes were big and hollow, his beak hanging open lazily as he let out a low, zombie-like moan. "GYAH! WHAT THE-?!" Quackerjack yelled as he stumbled back and stared at the face of his wilted friend. Bushroot turned around and tilted his head towards the side, making it flop over completely with no neck support as he raised up his arms and reached them out towards the other duck, groaning again in that ghastly way. The thorn bushes wrapping around him then started to extend out towards him, like a big, thin hand, trying to grab at their victim. "N-NO! NOT AGAIN! STOP THIS! PLEASE!" Quackerjack screamed as he backed away from the plant zombie trying to grab for him, before making a beeline for another one of the doors on the other side of the hallway. He quickly grabbed the closest object, which was a dresser, and pushed it in front of the door to block both of his friends from getting him.

The jester leaned against the dresser for a moment, panting and gripping at his chest. Now his heart was really pumping, his entire body shaking from the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He gripped onto his hat tails and pulled them down out of stress, drilling holes into the ground with his eyes. "What... what's going on?! What happened to my friends?!" He whined weakly and curled up on the floor right in front of the door. He was so panicked that he hadn't even noticed the cafeteria he barricaded himself inside. He didn't care, as long as he wouldn't have to see his friends like that again. His wishes, however, wouldn't be fulfilled any time soon as he heard something echo through the room. Something that sounded like a metallic clunk. His head perked up and he pushed himself up onto his feet, darting his eyes around the room to find the source of the noise. His knees were shaking as he took a few unsure steps into the room, keeping his eyes very peeled for any signs of life. Not even five seconds went by until he saw something move in the kitchen near the back. The Duck instinctively flew into a battle stance and tried to keep his composure while quiveringly approaching the shadowy figure. But as he moved closer, the shadow suddenly turned and revealed a long red light blaring brightly in the darkness at him. "GHA! ... Who... who are you?! C... Corbett?!" He demanded an answer from the figure, his voice clearly full of fear and anxiety. 

The obscured person then moved over towards the door and exited out of the shadows and into the light, which reflected off of the metal coat of the person's body. Then, when they had completely emerged from the darkness, Quackerjack immediately recognized them and felt a new wave of despair wash through his body. "... No... Megavolt... Not you too..." He whined with a tearful grimace, now realizing that all his friends had been turned against him. Megavolt had a big and bulky exosuit with a pair of red glowing visors instead of his usual goggles, a stone cold, emotionless expression on his face as he stood completely motionless. He made some quiet beeping noises before he opened his mouth to speak. "UNKNOWN OBJECT DISCOVERED. BEGIN ANALYSIS SCAN" he spoke in a monotone voice, the red light from his visor growing brighter as he just stood there and stared at the duck. Quackerjack shook a bit as he stood frozen on the spot, trying to urge his body to move, but to no avail. "M-megavolt... Please! It's me! Quackers! Jacky! Chuckles! Joker! Your pal! You gotta recognize me!" He begged off the robotized rat as he managed to at least move his arms to wipe away a tear. The robot stopped the scan and stood quietly for a moment. "... Quackerjack..." He said softly, making the duck feel a slight bit of relief, as it seemed like he had been heard. Then Megavolt raised his arm and pointed it at him, saying in the same voice as before "TARGET ACQUIRED. EMPLOYING EXTERMINATION PROCEDURE". He then fired a blast of fire at the clown, making him yelp in surprise and duck down under it just in time. "No... no... NOOOO!" He cried out as he started running towards the door again, trying to shove the dresser out of the way again. Megavolt just kept walking after him with heavy metallic steps, still aiming the fire cannon at him as it was slowly building up another blast. Quackerjack grunted loudly as he finally managed to uncover the door and ran out of it as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he got outside, he grinded to a halt as he saw the other two already there, looking at him with this predatory focus. He felt like a defenseless bunny. Liquidator kept repeating himself as he moved closer, Bushroot walked closer slowly while reaching out his vines and Megavolt busted down the door behind Quackerjack, directing his attention towards him before saying "TARGET LOCATED". The scared duck cried out in terror as he bolted down the hallway again towards the room he was previously stuck in. He clumsily stumbled inside the room and threw it shut behind him, once again trying to block the door by pushing one of the desks inside up against the door. After he was done with that, he sank down onto the floor and let out a shaky, fearful sigh. He just buried his face in his knees and started panting heavily while he tried to compose himself. But he couldn't calm down. His head was spinning. His heart was racing. The air was heavy.

"Catch those intruders! Catch them now, you dummies!" Corbett's voice was heard over the speaker system, yelling and cawing. The three heroes were running down the hallway, chased by a wave of killer teddy bears trying to devour them. "SNEAK IN THE BACK, YOU SAID! IT'S LESS RISKY, YOU SAID!!!" Megavolt screamed annoyed at Liquidator as he was running beside him while throwing balls of lightning at the toys behind them. "WELL I'M SORRY THAT I DIDN'T KNOW THEY HAD RUBBER DUCKS SCATTERED EVERYWHERE IN THAT BACKROOM!" The dog yelled back at him as he was trying to make the floor wet so it could conduct more electricity. Bushroot groaned at the two men arguing while they were trying not to die, looking around the hallway to see where they were heading. He then gasped as he saw they were heading towards a dead end. This couldn't end well. But then he spotted the support beams above them and got an idea. "Guys! Grab onto me!" He told the other two, who directed their attention at him and quickly obliged. The plant stretched out his arms towards the beam, wrapping them around it and pulling them all up right before they hit the wall. The toys all crashed into it instead, breaking them. "Ha! Nice job!" Liquidator said and gave Bushroot a big high five. But they didn't get to celebrate for long before Megavolt hushed them both. That's when they all heard the sound of someone screaming. They could immediately recognize who it was. "QUACKERJACK!" they all said in unison before they hopped down to the floor and started to run in the direction of the noise. 

The jester was staring in wide eyed shock at the thing standing in front of him. He was shaking and whimpering in fear as he saw his daughter just standing there. But it couldn't be his daughter! It couldn't be! Her body was made out of a soft fleece fabric, her hair out of string and her eyes were a pair of green sewn on buttons. His child was a toy, a doll, a plushy! This couldn't be happening to him! It couldn't be real! "Daddy! Play with me!" She said cheerfully as she was waddling over towards him, arms outstretched presumably for a hug of sorts. But Quackerjack didn't want a hug from this thing! It wasn't his child! It was a nightmare! He just kept begging weakly "please... please leave me alone... Give me back my real family... Don't hurt me..." As he was pulling his jester hat down over his face and crying into it. It was the only thing he could do to get rid of that thing, so he wouldn't have to look at it. Everything around him was spinning, the room was warping and rotating around as if it was made of something soft and unstable. Or maybe it was more like the room was a mirage? Whatever it was, he didn't like it! The duck let out another scream as he pulled the hat even more out of stress. He just wanted to go home to his real family! He wants his precious little Gosalyn back!

Megavolt was running ahead of the other two, trying to reach their kidnapped friend before anything bad could happen to him. Liquidator looked equally concerned, but wasn't nearly as fast as the rat and could only try to keep up with him and the other hero. They all rounded a corner into a hallway with a few doors on either side of it, ending with one final door at the end. "This is where it came from! Which room is he in?!" Bushroot asked as he looked between all the doors nervously. The electric rodent let out an angry growl and didn't even hesitate a moment before walking down the hallway, kicking in every door to check. "Nothing here!" He said, then moved on to the next one and did the same. The plant duck, although surprised by the sudden action, decided to do the same and open the doors to check. Liquidator followed after and peeked inside one of the already open doors. Nothing. Finally Megavolt reached the last door and tried to open it, but was surprised as it didn't budge. "Hey! This one is blocked!" He told the other two, who walked over and tried for themselves. Same thing for them. "Ugh! What's keeping this door shut? It's not locked" Bushroot pointed out as he kept trying to push the door while wiggling the handle. Liquidator decided to take a peek inside to check what was going on in there. The room was full of this dark blue gas, making it a little harder to make everything out. But he did manage to make out one thing. Quackerjack. He was sitting on the floor, hyperventilating and shakily gripping onto his hat harshly. The expression on his beak was one of absolute terror and panic. "JACK!" He exclaimed before looking down and spotting the desk in the way. "HE BLOCKED HIMSELF INSIDE!" the dog told the other two as he moved away from the window and tried to force the door open along with them. "We're not getting in like this! Let's take a step back and charge it!" The plant suggested as he pulled his friends back, making them follow his lead. As they were far enough away, they rushed towards the door and shoulder-slammed into it, causing the door to slide open slightly. Bushroot reached his arm into the gap and started to pull the desk out of the way. 

Finally, the heroes were able to enter the room, only to be bombarded with a sickly gross smell from the gas filling the room. "Cough cough! What the heck?! What is this?!" Liquidator coughed and covered his mouth. "Some sort of chemical gas!" Bushroot groaned and used his hat as a makeshift gas mask. Megavolt ignored the two and crouched down in front of Quackerjack. "Hey! Quackers!" He called out to the duck while putting his hands on his shoulders. "Stop it! I just wanna go home! I just want my family back!" Quackerjack shuttered and kept rocking back and forth on the floor. "HEY! SNAP OUT OF IT!" The rat then yelled and snapped his fingers in front of his face. The duck directed his attention towards the person in front of him, staring at him for a few seconds before yelling suddenly. "HEY! Hey! Calm down! It's me, Megavolt!" He said to his scared friend, gripping onto his shoulders lightly. But the duck suddenly kicked him off and ran out the room at top speed. "WAIT! JACKY!" Liquidator called out as he went chasing after him, along with the other two. 

As they were running down the hallway after the crying duck, they were calling out to him and trying to make him stop. "STOP! QUACKERJACK! PLEASE COME BACK!" The plant yelled after him while struggling to even keep up. The clown rounded the corner as he kept crying, but then bumped into something that knocked him to the ground. The other's came around the corner soon after to see him sitting on the ground in front of Corbett, who looked quite annoyed and ruffled. "Finally... I would have stopped you earlier, but SOMEONE spilled coffee on the control panel and locked me in the office!" He growled as he leaned down towards the scared hero, staring in stunned silence. "This is exactly what I wanted to see! Your scared out of your mind, unable to tell hallucinations from reality! Truly living in a nightmare!" He mocked Quackerjack and kept walking closer to him, causing him to crawl away clumsily out of fear. "HEY! You leave him alone! What did you do to him?!" The dog growled angrily as he furrowed his brow and started boiling in rage. "Just making sure he gets to experience the same kind of nightmare I live!" The crow responded as he made threatening gestures at the shivering mess of a duck in order to elicit a reaction. "You mad, petty, cruel, nasty excuse of a man!" Megavolt yelled as he stomped over towards him. "Flattery will get you nowh-" before Corbett could finish his one liner, Bushroot smacked him across the beak down onto the ground. Liquidator rushed over and joined in on the beating with a few punches to the gut. Megavolt walked over to Quackerjack and crouched down beside him.

The frightened jester was covering his head and shaking on the floor, feeling like the world around him was spinning as the monsters around him were making unintelligible sounds. He couldn't even move anymore, being paralyzed in fear. The Cyborg Megavolt was crouching down beside him, staring at him with a cold intensity that sent shivers down his spine. "... Please don't kill me" he begged as tears ran down his face. He kept making unintelligible robotic noises, just beeping and such. He could almost make out something akin to a voice, but couldn't begin to guess what was being said. As he stood there for a few moments, he then reached back towards something in his pocket. Jacky flinched and pulled back for a second. But as Megavolt pulled the thing out, he could see it was Mr. Banana Brain. "Ah! B-b-banana brain?" He stuttered quietly. "Hey, Quacks! You don't look so good! Is everything OK, buddy?" He asked his friend while sitting in the robot's hands. "NO! IT'S NOT! All my friends have been turned into monsters! They're out to kill me! My family is gone!" He cried at the doll. "No! That's not true! Listen, I understand that things may look scary now, but you're not in danger! Everything is OK! Look" the toy told him as he reached a hand out, with the help of the Megavolt bot, and put it on his shoulder. "You're safe, alright? These guys are your friends. Look at Bushroot and Liquidator beating up the guy who hurt you. They're not monsters. What you're seeing isn't real. You're going to be OK. Just come along with us to the van outside" he then said in a comforting tone as the stunned duck was just staring quietly. He was silent for a moment before he gave the doll a light nod and shakily got up to his feet, with the help of the robot rat.

Megavolt had finally managed to convince Quackerjack to calm down and come along, with the help of his best friend, Mr. Banana Brain. He handed the toy over to him and started leading him down the corridor. "Come on, you two. We got him. Let's get out of here quickly" he told the other heroes who had just stopped their beating to look over at the nervous duck. They rushed over to them, leaving the bruised crow on the floor with stars spinning around his head. "Good job! Let's get him to the base so we can bring him back to earth" Liquidator said as the four finally reunited heroes were heading out of the frightening toy nightmare.

As the sun was just starting to rise, Quackerjack was sitting on the hideout couch, drinking a nice cup of tea and eating a sandwich. He let out a big sigh while rubbing his head, trying to not focus on the dizziness he felt from his still warped sight. Oh well, at least the hallucinations were over. "Feeling better?" Bushroot asked as he walked over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Yeah. Thank you guys. It was really scary! You guys all looked like thematically fitting monsters and you were trying to kill me! Or... not you, but... um... Sorry, I can't get my thoughts straight" the clown grumbled tiredly as he rubbed his eye. "It's fine! Don't worry about it! Just take your time and let us treat you for now" the plant told him and smiled comfortingly. The other two also walked over and sat down as well. "The cops have arrested Corbett now, so everything is fine. Nothing to worry about. Let's just head back home and take a nap. Especially you, gagman! Take it easy for a while, Alright!" Megavolt told his pal as he reached over and gave him a playful noogie, making him snort gently. "Yeah, Alright. Let's do that. I'm looking forward to having servants for a day!" Quackerjack joked as he looked up at the grinning rat. "Don't push it" Liquidator had to comment before he reached out to the lever that would transport the couch they were on back home.

[mego42]

I 100% agree about wanting more fanfic lists! I honestly think it's the best way to get a variety. Everybody has personal preferences, if someone, who mostly reads long, fluffy au Brio fic, is making recs, they're not likely to mention short, angsty, canon Brio (which is understandable and fair!) so ideally someone else, who does like those, would also do recs. I'm pretty sure I've read or at least tried the vast majority of Brio fics, but the recs often make me re-read the fic and author.

YAAASSSS!!! I mean like, okay, I v much get why people have issues with rec lists, and I def do not by any stretch endorse the idea that recs/rec lists should be considered anything other than one person sharing a think they liked, but to me a lot of the issues (the same fics/authors getting recced, feeling like awesome fics/authors are going unrecognized) can be solved by more reccing, not less. everyone’s got different taste and different stuff they look/read for and I am extremely pro sharing that.

Idk, I think about it like this: in a previous internet life I was a YA book blogger and I lived and died by recs from other bloggers whose taste and preferences I knew. I mean, you know, I’d check out a book bc the premise sounded interesting but literally the first thing I would do was go to Goodreads and look for a handful of people who tended to like the same books I did and see what they were saying about it bc that was the best way to get a good idea of if I wanted to give it a shot. Or, on the flip side, there were some people whose reviews I followed bc I knew we v much did not read for the same things so if they hated a book for X, Y and Z reasons, I was probs going to like it (one thing about book blogging is if you want to keep current, you do not have a lot of time to mess around, snap judgements are key but that’s a whole other thing and idk if it’s even relevant anymore bc that landscape has changed so much). 

ANYWAY, the point is, I got in the habit and now I do the same thing with fic bc, tbh, I don’t have a ton of time to read, esp not when I’m actively writing which, with the exception of the last week or two, I’ve been doing p non-stop since I got here. All of which to say is, I am desperately in favor of fic recs for purely selfish reasons, I need them! Give them to me!!! Please!!!!!

That said, I uh, am v bad at returning the favor and I recognize that (I think I’ve made what? two rec lists for this fandom?) so I will try to do better to live by my own, idek what this is, moving on and here are 10 recs not really thematically linked by anything other than I’ve read them and loved them and don’t think I’ve put any of them on one of my rec lists yet (and if I have, my blog is a trainwreck I cannot be expected to remember what’s on it LET ME LIVE):

The Goodest Boy by EnsignDisaster

There’s a key turning in the lock and Buddy rushes over to greet his Master excited for her to meet his new friends. The door opens and he dances around Master’s feet rejoicing on the fact that she’s made it home. It's been literally forever.

“Hey Buddy what’s wrong? Need to go potty? Need to pee-pee?”

“Nah he’s good we took him out.”

Master does something very unMasterlike, she drops all the food she’d brought in on the ground and screams. It’s a non traditional avant garde type of hello…Buddy loves it. Mostly because while Master taps furiously on her small light box and sits tense in the corner opposite his new friend Buddy can lick up the egg smashed on the hardwood floor.

Buddy! The! Dog! POV! no further explanation necessary. Technically WIP, but it covers the whole pilot in a way that could be read as standalone (THOUGH THAT WOULD V MUCH GIVE ME A SAD though, when did the show forget the Bolands had a dog? so maybe that’s a tragic casualty of canon, idk)

May The Moon’s Silvery Beams by @pynkhues

Emma hums in agreement, and Rio turns her around to sit her on the counter, grabbing one of the older looking boxes of muesli while she kicks her legs out, heels bumping back against the counter, watching him. He gropes around the inside of the box, finally just opting to pull the plastic cereal bag out and peering inside. He can’t quite keep the grin off his face when he sees the wad of cash lining the bottom. This woman kills him, she really does.

Then there’s a little face peering up beside him, trying to peek into the box.

“What is it?” she asks, and he tilts the box sideways so she can see inside.

The upside to not getting here until s3 is that old fic is new to me! Huzzah!! Idk how many of y’all have already read this on but if you haven’t I highkey recommend. Extremely cute take on what if Emma woke up when Rio and came by to collect his/Beth’s/whoever's money during the shutdown. Cannot believe I’m reccing kidfic. Witchcraft!!!!!!

Maybe You’re My Fantasy by ohmisterjapan

He fucking loves the involuntary. It speaks to how he likes to unlock chaos and walk away. He's been called a control freak before and it felt like such a misunderstanding of him - he's all about self control but he doesn't want to control others. It's more that he enjoys revealing to them how little they can control themselves. It's more that he likes to stand still in the eye of someone else's storm and pick coldly through the wreckage.

Another oldie but a goodie. This fic is more like an extended character study (first chapter Rio POV, second chapter Beth) and I LIVE FOR THIS KIND OF SHIT. I really really really love the take on both characters, it really digs in and pulls out some nuances that made me sit and think about my own read of them and I love it.

A Shock Of Blue by mintletters16

“You don’t look very well. Would you… like me to get you a glass of water or something?”

Her voice is low but smooth, laced with a softness that cuts straight though to his core. Strawberry blonde locks fall gently just above the pair of magnets freezing him in place.

He can still feel the chaos tearing through his veins - emanating from the gold plated gun stuffed in his waistband - and suddenly he can’t be here anymore. Can’t meet this wide-eyed gaze that’s been locked on his for the past God-knows-how-long anymore.

Can’t see blue alive and concerned when he just left it cold and void somewhere in oblivion.

She’s looking at him like he’s on the brink of madness. He thinks maybe he is.

Apparently, it’s backlist rec day over here and I’m not sorry. This one is another technical WIP but the chapter works as a standalone (BUT if the author decided to return to it I WOULD NOT BE MAD). It’s a what if Beth and Rio met pre-canon and it works so!!! well!!!! The tension and fascination and build are all *chef’s kiss* plus the writing is gorgeous and lyrical and ugh, I love it.

for a moment we were strangers by openhearts

“We got stuff,” Rio motions with a nod to the backpack Beth hadn’t noticed when they arrived hanging on the back of one of the chairs at the island.

She swallows and turns back to the dishes, realizing Rio apparently means to sleep there , assuming the place isn’t bugged.  Or for some kind of cover story if it is.  She turns and fixes Rio with a narrow-eyed stare, studying his face, the corner of his jaw especially prominent from the angle she’s looking up at him.  He’s methodical about drying each dish and setting it back on the rack, maddeningly ignoring her hard stare, so when he goes to take the next plate from her hands she grips it tightly and gets his attention.

“Hey.”

“What you on about now?” he asks, irritated.

It gets her gut uneasy, how he’s just . . . there, settling in, in ways he never had before, no matter how nonchalantly he would let himself in through her locked doors.  

“This is,” Beth tries, failing, to find words for it, “. . . it’s weird .”

This one takes place post 204 and Rio and Marcus end up spending a long weekend staying with Beth and Emma for reasons (that work, for the record, I’m just not trying to summarize rn) and it’s domestic and cute but honestly my fav part of it is how weirded out Beth is by how easily they slip into sync. The story does an excellent job balancing where they are in canon (uneasy post-sex truce) with a snapshot of what they could be if they got over themselves (HA! as if) and Beth is DEEPLY FREAKED which makes her slow slide into realizing she could maybe sort of kind of oh shit like it/him??? that much more satisfying.

Not So Careful by @bensonstablers

When he doesn’t answer, her eyes go to his but he’s too busy watching the letter opener which is still pressed against the back of his hand. Curiously, Beth runs it up his arm, careful not to press too hard, and smiles a little as he shivers. Pulling her leg up onto the bed, she shuffles closer to him before pressing the tip of the sword to his chest and slowly circling his left nipple with it, being sure not to get too close.

“You ain’t gotta be that careful.”

And when she lifts her eyes to meet his, he’s got that look. The one that always makes a lump form in her throat and for her to fall back into bed with him without a single thought of what they have to do that day. Only thing is, this time they’ve got nothing to do for the rest of the weekend and well, staying in bed the entire time had seemed like an appealing idea so she allows herself to give in a little to that look.

It makes me EXTREMELY SAD that knifeplay ranked so low on the kink survey so I’m gonna need y’all to check out this V V V EXCELLENT example of it and come back and tell me you’re sorry and you voted wrong. I am v reasonable what are you talking about.

love (where it wasn’t supposed to be) by @lilliloves

"You know what I can't stand?" Rio asks, stepping closer. It's a rhetorical question but he pauses for a second and watches Dean sniff, watches a bead of sweat trickle down his forehead, watches him shift on both his feet as he contemplates making a run for it.

"A guy who don’t realize how good he's got it." Rio continues, looking Dean up and down in disgust. "A guy that will literally fuck up a good thing just to get his dick wet."

"Yeah, well I can't stand a guy who can have anyone he wants but chooses the married woman he's not entitled to.” Dean shoots back. "And I really can't stand the fact that you're always in the room with us even when you aren't there."

And who brings him into the room Dean hmmmmm????? Jk, jk (or am I). In this one Rio catches Dean out on the town with another woman (bc of course he is) and tries to call him out but whoops! gets called out himself. I really love the like, idk, undercurrent of wistful regret in this fic. I love Dean straight up calling Rio out on his feelings (spoilers but there’s an exchange right after this one that made me straight up holler), and, you know, obvs I am here for Rio making Dean feel like an ass. 

Hell Is Other People by makemanybraver

Rio: We're in Hell, Elizabeth! If you don't think you belong here, then repent! Don't fuck everyone in the room in hopes that you get to go out!

Beth: Why do I have to repent?!

Rio: Because you did some fucked up shit in your life, Elizabeth! You keep doing fucked up shit here, too! And you think you don't belong here!

Beth [screaming at the top of her lungs]: Because I don't!

This fic is existentially bonkers and I love it. It’s the kind of experimental format/homage/what have you kind of thing that I L O V E. Based on No Exit by Jean-Paul Sartre, Beth, Rio, and Fitzpatrick are stuck together in a room in hell for all eternity. What more do you need, honestly.

Working On Things by odenkirk

Unknown Hold up, Elizabeth. I'm really thinkin about you here.

Beth turned her face into the pillow, effectively suffocating herself for a moment, but thinking it was a good trade off for the way the cool silk of her pillowcase chilled her skin.

She lifted her head to glance at the still sleeping Dean before replying.

Beth I'm thinking about you too. But this can't happen.

She wanted him to know she wanted him, but she also thought that admitting she was already there would save Rio from trying to convince her. She wanted him, but morals had to win just once in a while.

YES this is technically Beth/Dean while also being Beth/Rio BUT it’s also sort of Rio/Dean and I am HERE FOR THE DIVERSITY OF SHIPPING leave me alone who asked you.

Five Times He Knew What She Was Thinking, and One Time He Didn't by JoeyLee

Aight, so tell ‘em I was hittin’ it. Said deliberately blunt, eyes locked on her face the whole time, just to see those blue eyes widen. She looked so shocked that he almost laughed, so he softened it teasingly just to keep her going. Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell ‘em we were makin’ love.

Then he just watched her, just watched her face, just fucking fascinated. Her lips were parted and her eyes were big as saucers, and…there it was. Before she could look away flustered, he watched the thought go through her mind. Him and her together.

He wondered what she was picturing or where. Them in the back seat, her bed, a motel?  Her on top or him from behind or his face between her legs?

Whatever it was, the blush started immediately, and he watched it bloom out from her cheeks to her hair. Then she was tearing her eyes away to gulp a little.  But it didn’t knock her down for long before she was looking back. And then, wait, was she actually asking him how to go about telling a fed they were fucking?

Okay this is another technical WIP but works as a standalone. I am absolutely fucking feral for character POV takes of canon scenes and this is a supremely excellent take on Rio POV of some notable scenes from the pilot through 204. Imo it brilliantly captures Rio’s voice and I love it a lot. 

HEADS UP I am absolute shite at tracking ao3 to tumblr unless people have specifically told me someone’s ao3/tumblr name SO if you recognize any of the non-tumblr authors on please lmk so I can tag them and YES I recognize that I am asking y’all to do things for me throughout this entire post and I’M SORRY OKAY I’M A WHOLE ASS MESS LOVE YOU BYE

[fusonzai]

I think I'm talking about confidence, I'm not too sure.

I was fifteen when I first saw Great Teacher Onizuka. My friend had lent me the DVD set (as you did when it was 2008) and I was about to spend the day watching it, feigning some illness to get out of school for the day. I needed some time alone, to process everything that had been going on around me.

For context, my parents were in the middle of a divorce. My mum, the most amazing person in the world to me, was not having a good time and I was not at all possessed with the skills to help her cope. Processing the concept of divorce, while trying to mediate the two adults going through it, wasn’t something I could handle. I didn’t know what I was doing. I needed a whole day away from friends and away from parents. While everyone was at their day job, I could think about everything and nothing, uninterrupted.

My attempt at getting out of school worked, however it came with a caveat. Mum had decided she’d take the day off with me. Feeling defeated but still stubborn, I insisted that if she was going to stay home too that we were watching GTO. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into.

GTO begins with our protagonist, Eikuchi Onizuka, squatting down by a payphone, trying to stare up the skirts of some high school girls coming down the nearby escalator. That’s a bold open. Two delinquents notice this and attempt to then extort him for cash. He promptly beats them up, forcing them to use all the money they have to buy him some food from the nearby convenience store. This scene establishes a few things straight off the bat: Onizuka is, first and foremost, a pervert and he’s physically strong but not to the point of unfairly asserting dominance over others. Onizuka dreams of being a teacher of all things. He wants to be the teacher he never had, being there for students outside the classroom as well as in. The series showcases Onizuka using his ex-biker gang leader skills and sheer determination to change the attitude of the antagonist students in his class. Each week he solves the reason behind their resistance toward him and they join his team until eventually he really is the Great Teacher, Onizuka.

The first delinquent problem Onizuka solves is that of Mizuki Nanako. Her parents aren’t divorced but they’re not exactly doing well. Ever since her father’s company started doing well and they moved into a mansion, she feels as though her parents just aren’t seeing eye to eye anymore. She blames it on a simple wall separating her parents’ private rooms. Before it got put up, her parents would talk and laugh together, sharing in their joys but also their defeats. Then before she knew it, they put a wall up and stopped sharing anything at all.

So, Onizuka arrives at her house. He’s got a bandana tied around his head, his abs gleaming as he’s smoking a cigarette. More importantly, he’s holding a sledgehammer, ready to demolish that wall. With her parents yelling at him threatening to call the police, Onizuka ascends the staircase and begins to take down that wall. Every powerful swing, shaking the wall and cracking the foundation.

(What a man what a man what a man what a might good man)

It felt cruel watching this scene with my mum. Here we were, two people still trying to process a big life event, opting to spend the day away from the problem. Here Onizuka was, just smashing through the problem with nothing but conviction, stupidity and sheer confidence. I couldn’t quite conceptualise the thought just yet but I think I envied that confidence. I wanted to be able to take a sledgehammer to this invisible problem and fix it. I didn’t know what an actual sledgehammer would solve nor was I even able to figure out what my situational sledgehammer would be, I just knew I wanted to be more like that. I wanted that confidence; I just didn’t know what it was yet.

Confidence. A complete assuredness in your actions. You may not have any idea of the outcome of said actions but you’re certain in the choice you made taking them. Maybe that’s just one definition. I struggle to this day with how to define confidence, I’ve been confident at different times in my life for different reasons. Mainly it’s been something I’ve found as I’ve gotten older though.

I struggled a lot with it when I was younger. I’d struggle to find it and when I did there was someone there trying to take it from me almost immediately. Pink polos were gay, skinny jeans were gay, being interested in anything outside the norm was gay as well. I wasn’t bullied by any means but there was always somebody around to tell you what they thought. I’d fold under that kind of pressure. I remember when I was 10 and we were in music class, I sang a little too loud and the popular girls behind me started pointing and laughing, clipping me before I got too sure of myself.

I got older and I thought I’d found confidence through weight training, but it was just arrogance. I genuinely thought I was better than other people in my creative writing class because I picked heavy things up and put them down. Of course, this had a drawback, whenever I’d meet someone bigger than me, I’d feel pathetic, jealous and inferior. I thought I’d rid myself of this arrogance when I started studying Japanese. My initial study was diligent and excessive. I’d have two Japanese classes a week and spend the rest of my time after work revising. Looking back now it was necessarily efficient studying, but in terms of time put in the hours were there. I believed I was working hard, which led to this arrogance in my abilities. An arrogance that was swiftly cut down whenever I met somebody better than me.

So, I always arrived at this juncture where I’d learn a new skill or hobby and wonder how to be confident in myself without comparing myself to others. I didn’t quite know how to praise myself for doing well at the gym or learning something new in Japanese without immediately comparing myself to others. It meant that I’d occasionally have these emotional highs when I achieved something only to be brought down to earth when I saw that somebody could do it better. I didn’t know how to make my achievements my own. The confidence I had was too fickle, it didn’t come from within and it often led to feeling superior to others based off of a single quantifier.

I was still uncomfortable with myself. I wanted outside validation which led to comparison, boasting and arrogance. I didn’t realise that I couldn’t get any of that from anyone else, it all had to come from within.

It’s taken me 14 years, but Onizuka finally made sense to me. I was watching the incredibly famous (in Japan) live action version of GTO one night, which turned into a nostalgia trip as all the episodes were almost identical to their anime equivalent. As I was watching I was wondering why I still hold this fictional character in such high regard, of all the powerful charismatic anime protagonists I watched in my teenage years, why does Onizuka persevere?

It’s because he’s kind of a dork.

(Get you a man that can do both)

Along with the confidence and strength that being a protagonist in a medium geared towards young boys affords you, Onizuka also has some very human flaws and vulnerabilities. The intense scenes like surprise renovating Nanako’s house or rescuing a whole bunch of kids from a gang are always juxtaposed with him being absolutely wayward in so many other aspects of life. He lives at the school because he can’t afford rent, he’s 26 and never had a girlfriend and his only friends are his students. We are always shown that his confidence isn’t intrinsically linked to how well his life is going, it’s just his feeling and determination in the moment. For all that bravado we see, we’re also shown the more human, relatable aspects. He’s amazing, brave and confident, but at the same time he’s still vulnerable and human.

Yet here’s the thing, I thought confidence meant a lack of vulnerability. I thought one couldn’t be both confident and vulnerable. This isn’t some segue into Boys Don’t Cry or a delve into masculinity. I didn’t believe that vulnerability wasn’t masculine, I just thought that vulnerability meant you had a long way to go before you were allowed to be confident.

(These lines go from bravado to insecurity in an instant, but I still think Tyler is confident as fuck)

I show what I feel to be the pretty vulnerable content on this blog. I write about my doubts and insecurities, the events that shaped me and the times in my life where I really felt at my lowest. I document the struggle I find myself in now, trying to carve something for myself and come to terms with the changes that keep happening around me. I don’t think anybody reading this would have an image of me as an outgoing, confident person. There’s rays of positivity sprinkled in occasionally but it’s generally content that I struggle to tell people in person.

Before starting this blog, I would have imagined that if I wanted to become this confident idealised version of myself, I’d need to erase any form of vulnerability. Delete the Instagram posts with moody lyrics, delete the couple shots and stop caring. I’d need to kill part of myself to become someone different. I couldn’t consciously accept that they were two signs of the same coin, even if I knew it in the back of my mind. The more I’ve been writing the better I’ve been feeling. These fears and insecurities being out in the open don’t make me any weaker, they actually feel like progress. My weaknesses will exist regardless of whether or not I tell people about them, my insecurities won’t disappear overnight. I’ll never be someone I’m not. What I can do is take these things that used to terrify me and put them out in the open. In my last piece I waxed on about making my words my own, by verbalising and bringing these thoughts into the open I feel like they become my own. They’re not completely stripped of power but they don’t hold the same sway over me that they once did.

So that leaves me with confidence. I can air my vulnerabilities and doubts but then where does my confidence come from? How do I then stop it from becoming arrogance?

Let me tell you about Charisma Man.

You know how when Superman goes back to Krypton he’s just a regular person, but on Earth he’s basically a God? Charisma Man is a joke (turned comic) about how Western Men often believe themselves to be Superman on Earth when they move to Japan. Why? You’re basically bombarded with compliments from the get-go. You get told your Japanese is amazing (when it’s not), that you’re so tall (when you’re short back home) and that you’re such a handsome man (when all experiences up until now have led you to believe the opposite). Thus, you create a kind of false confidence for yourself. Or do the people around you do it for you? You yourself haven’t changed but the people around you have, and they’re whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

(Honestly didn't know it was a comic, initially heard of it on a subreddit making fun of other expats in Japan)

Hell, maybe I am good looking? I studied Japanese for a year back home, maybe I am just really good at it? Maybe those people around me back home were just obnoxiously tall and mean. Maybe I am the shit. You begin to formulate this new identity for yourself. You are Charisma Man now. You’ll be making heaps of money, have girls on standby and be loved by everybody in no time.

Except that never happens.

The reality of Charisma Man isn’t so bright. You’re probably an English teacher living somewhere far away from the big city. Your apartment is probably small and old and your salary is half as much as you were making back home. Despite being told about how good your Japanese is, you still can’t turn on the TV and watch a program. You still can’t go to the bank and open an account with your bilingual Japanese friend. You’re still single and you’re probably getting fatter off convenience store fried chicken, if anything.

It’s fake confidence with no merit, built on nothing. You haven’t put yourself out there or done anything to earn that confidence so it always feels foreign to you. There isn’t some feat you perform or some hurdle you cross to get that kind of confidence. You’re not smashing walls with your sledgehammer or confronting your fears and growing. You just get fed compliments until your confidence balloon bursts.

I felt like I was Charisma Man for a hot minute. Separated from everyone I knew, out drinking every night, being complimented left right and centre. I kept trying and failing to keep my feet on the ground. Back then I thought it was new-found confidence, but I wasn’t really coming out of my shell; I was just being obnoxious. After long the facade faded and I realised I was the exact same Elliot I was back in Australia, just with less money and a nicer haircut.

I began to think about my experience. Why was I so confident? Why did it dissipate so quickly? Why was I not the only one that experienced this little phenomenon?

I came to the conclusion that confidence can come from many places. It can come from other people, but then it’s reliant on the praise of others. It’s shallow, fickle and bound to dissipate sooner rather than later. You’re constantly reliant on the praise of others to affirm who you are as a person, you can fool people into giving you praise but that goes away before you know it as well.

It’s a big enough of a struggle to understand yourself, it’s near impossible to understand strangers. Relying on such an unstable form of validation is essentially just inviting mental trauma in the long run.

On the other hand, confidence can also come from within.

After I distanced myself from all that charisma, I began to realise that I felt my best and my most confident when I actually put the work in. I started properly studying, eating well, and writing down my thoughts. It didn’t matter as much if people didn’t say anything, because I went to bed every night knowing that I put in enough work. Nobody said anything about the change, but I felt like I was becoming my own biggest supporter.

It’s both rewarding and daunting when you switch dopamine suppliers. I used past tense in those last few sentences because that particular fountain hasn’t been flowing so well lately. The flip side of not letting other people’s compliments fuel you anymore is that when you’re not doing right by yourself, that confidence tend to dry up pretty quickly.

[monchesi]

jim is back w another one...... same goes same goes fr this special liddol muse o mine here... like if u wld like to plot or simply msg me on discord (jimb#4863) n we will get it poppin (pinterest) also frgive me this is gna be more of a blurb type intro than anything i cnt focus atm bt im trying to get something out there in a timely manner

* amanda campana, nonbinary + she/they  |  you know monserrat marchesi, right? they’re twenty, and they’ve lived in irving for, like, six years? well, their spotify wrapped says they listened to underneath it all by no doubt like, a million times this year, which makes sense ‘cause they’ve got that whole drunk walk home, low rise jeans, pounding headache that starts to feel good once you get used to it thing going on. i just checked and their birthday is december 11th, so they’re a sagittarius, which is unsurprising, all things considered.

mon has been alone fr as far back as she can remember (bt thts questionable now considering her memory has been gnawed down to the marrow by extensive and continuous use of ecstasy)

(tw abuse) wht she can briefly recollect is tht shes been on the streets since she was 16 n life before tht was desolate n sad. other than tht vague recap.... shes wiped her mind of being physically n verbally abused by her stepdad in a teeny tiny apartment in florida fr several yrs (since she was an infant) n all throughout it was never defended by her mom. in fact in her preteens her mom decided to jump in on it out of a warped jealousy she developed over the years in which she felt her husband was paying more attention to treating her daughter like garbage instead of her so she jst.... began including herself in the mistreatment mon was getting n basically verbally harassing her every day after school....... it worked in terms of forming a bond between her parents in a sick n worrying way bt was so so so crippling n horrible to mon

so wht really matters is whts in the present. dont even think abt learning much of her backstory because she cant recall any of her childhood except for those small granules tht lead to nowhere / provide no better understanding of who she is today n just send her spiraling since none of it makes any sense anymore. i think the one moment she will never b able to erase frm her mind however is when he (stepdad) smashed his cigarette into her mac n cheese n told her to eat it. she just sat and stared at it and cried

(tw homelessness) mon doesnt even remember running away. she mightve been dropped off fr all she knows.... cant pin any of her memories of going to school as a kid down even..... has kind of been an unidentifiable blip on the map since becoming homeless

tht being said... without a parent or guardian shes been fending fr herself n was a street rat fr such a long time. doesnt hav a drivers license or a ssn or even any form of ID. no credit card or debit card. knows her name n date of birth n buys flip phones frm the grocery store to keep in contact w people xx pays in all cash n coins xoxo

jump to now.... mon is technically homeless bt is content. lives on the beach n is more than happy with it. sometimes just sleeps on the sand bt has a trailer parked underneath a dock thts been getting threatened to be removed fr months now (she dsnt care). its decorated with all types of lights that shes found thrown out or at the thrift store n it glows so bright u can see the neon colors thru the boards of the dock above it. has lawn chairs in frnt of the door n a big cartoonish padlock on the door. she wears the key arnd her neck

(tw affair mention) personality wise shes vry naive n playful. part of this is the E bt a lot of it is wanting to feel like life is worth living even in the rough parts — shes found tht tht aspect of her can also be misconstrued as carefree n has gotten mingled with a handful (or three) of men tht take advantage of her untroubled nature to forget all of their responsibilities. at the moment she has an ongoing affair w a married man named hank who helps her stay on her feet by giving her money every month or two in an envelope with a big wax stamp on it. its nothing major bt it helps

(tw sexual content + drug use) mon kind of has a reputation bt i dont think shes aware of it. im sure a lot of locals bully her or pick on her fr it behind her back.... they kind of mistake her for a bit of a nymphomaniac bt she doesnt consider it tht way at all. things jst spun out of control the more n more she was using E (and other similar drugs) to get by n now being reliant on it she just gives in to urges n will sleep w just abt anyone. it turns out fine most of the time bt sometimes she just crashes on the way to their place n becomes this vacant girl tht doesnt speak or do much of anything. in one of these instances she n some dude were abt to hookup bt she crashed on the way to his apartment n he pulled ovr n pushed her out of the passengers seat onto the sidewalk. she jst laid there until the morning w her heels kicked off n scrapes all over her elbows n knees

so shes known fr many of these instances.... security guards finding her sprawled out on the asphalt of a parking lot or at the bottom of a staircase of a motel she doesnt know. its rly depressing

ANYWAY........ moving on from this sad sad sad stuff.... mon is notably a lovebug shes vry sweet n kind n she works shifts at fannies every two weeks or so / whenever ppl call out. she loves ppl she loves partying n dancing n she is fun. has no defined sexuality n questions gender a lot so considers herself nonbinary bt uses she/her/they/them. a bit odd and kind of unaware of wht is appropriate n what isnt (several instances of wearing bikinis n a pair of sneakers to shop for a loaf of bread n some lemonade) bt she means well

has a black kitten named shanks tht she litchrally considers her child. takes better care of him than she takes of herself n brings him places cradled in her arms like a baby

anywho..... i rly recommend checking out mons pinterest tht i linked up there i feel like mayb having visuals of the vibe will help piece together her personality xoxoxo

anyway..... give me ALL the plots ANY plot u cld ever want i will hand to u in a matter of seconds the writing will just manifest at my will..... i still have a lot of things to figure out with mon bt i love her n i hope u all will too

[thepokeduck]

Masks 02 - The Robbery at Cash N Go

CW: graphic violence

What am I doing here? Nadya thought to herself, as she jogged across the parking lot shared by a hair salon, a Hawaiian food restaurant, and the Cash N Go: Checks Cashed. She could see a masked figure inside the Cash N Go. The man was pointing a handgun through the plexiglass, as a clearly underpaid teller pulled bundles out of cash out of each register. I'm just a kid, and I don't know what I'm doing.

"Get in there, nab the bad guys, and then a big smile for the camera. These guys are amateur hour. You got this," Softy had said earlier. And then shooed her out of his office.

She took a deep breath as she reached the front doors. Dark swirls of shadow formed a thick cloud bank fully encompassing her body about a foot in every direction and at least 3 feet above her head. Like the handful of other times when she'd been about to get into a fight, it churned violently, like a choppy ocean, with occasional tendrils spawning in random directions, striking and grabbing at nearby objects. Nadya felt her heart slamming in her throat as tendrils shot out of her cloud, grabbing the handle of the glass and aluminum door and pulling it off its hinges. As her power flung it into the parking lot, she shouted "Surrender peacefully, and no one needs to get hurt!" She wasn't sure that they could hear her over the sound of the door smashing to pieces on the pavement.

Stepping into the Cash N Go, she took in her surroundings. Unlike others, Nadya had no difficulty seeing through her own darkness. The masked man was pale, with light hair and a white beard, and had snapped around at the sound of the door being torn off. His mask was white, and he wore a black shirt with a white S on it.

"What the fuck are you?" he shouted, unloading his firearm in her direction. Most of the bullets went wide, but one bullet, momentum dampened only slightly by the malevolent smoke around her, clipped off one of the light kevlar plates she wore on her chest, arms, and legs. The distraction of her entrance allowed the teller to duck behind the counter.

Nadya's leg gave away beneath her, and she fell to the ground, grasping her thigh with her hand. A tendril reached out and knocked a nearby display over, scattering pamphlets across the room, and another wrapped itself around the neon sign on the inside of the window, cracking the tubes and causing the room to be lit with a flickering, sparking light. Panting with the pain, she focused on the image of her power shrinking, and the tendrils withdrew, remaining only in a cloud around her body. She looked at her leg. The plate had absorbed the blow, and her leg was intact at least, despite the fiery pain.

The man took a moment to shoot a bullet through the plexiglass, creating another hail of glass in the small room. He carelessly scooped up a few bundles of bills that the teller had pulled out and shouted, "Pepper, we gotta get outta here! Some freak-show is busting up the place!"

A door in the back wall banged open and another man in a black mask leaned out. This man was broad and tall, with prominent white hairs visible throughout his black beard and afro. His white shirt had a large black "P" on it and slung over his shoulder was a heavy duffel bag. "The back way, Salt. I got the cash from the safe. Let's go!" said the second man.

Nadya gritted her teeth and clambered to her feet, as the two men vanished out the back. Her thigh throbbed painfully and her shadows were threatening to tear up the rest of the window display. She looked around but couldn't see the teller behind the counter. "Nab the bad guys," echoed in her ears, and she dutifully limped out the back door.

The alley was narrow, and the sound of sirens were blaring in the distance. The brick walls of buildings surrounded the alley on 3 sides, and at the far end, there was a tall chain link fence with a gate. It must have been locked because Salt and Pepper were still there, trying to pile up trash enough to climb over it. Salt was standing on top of a pile of trash bags on a small barrel, both hands on top of the fence, unsuccessfully trying to pull himself up. Pepper was trying to hold the trash in place with one large arm, and simultaneously push up Salt's bottom with the other hand.

Nadya didn't see the gun anywhere, so she made her way down the alley slowly, darkness spilling before her like an unrolling carpet.

"Please, just return the money and give up," she called to them when she was a couple dozen feet away.  At the sound of her voice, which sounded hollow and echoy from inside her cloud, Pepper gave Salt a final shove with one hand, allowing the smaller man to pull himself up on top of the fence. Salt reached a hand down to Pepper, but the larger man said something to him and turned around to face Nadya.

He grabbed a large piece of broken wood from the trash pile and with a sudden shout and a burst of movement charged down the alley towards her. The sound of sirens growing louder filled Nadya's ears, and her power lashed around her. She focused on the mental image of a dark shield, heavy and solid, and her power billowed out in front of her. Pepper collided with it and for a moment she felt her power hold firm as she pushed him away from herself.

The noise from the sirens reached an apex. Her control faltered, and the shadow dissipated as if cleared by a gust of wind.  Pepper charged again and suddenly he was right in front of her, swinging the huge beam at her head.

At the same moment the red and blue lights appeared on the other side of the fence. Faster than she could think, a tendril sprung out and caught the man around the wrist, halting the swing of the makeshift club. Two more tendrils wrapped around his neck and his knees. From his wrist came a loud snapping sound, and the hand began to turn around backwards, bones and tendons breaking and ripping.

"No, please, no!" Screamed Nadya, trying to imagine the shadows retracting and and shrinking. She gestured frantically at them.

Someone was screaming, "Keith!" with such a fierce panic that Nadya's heart, already hammering, skipped a beat. The cloud rose up in front of her and wrapped the man from head to toe in roiling shadows and there came a stomach-dropping cracking sound of ribs being crunched together, even as ligaments were being torn apart, accompanied by the gasping sound of air being squeezed out of lungs.

Nadya felt the man's body go limp in the hold of her power. She could feel the blood trickle from the tears in his body as if her darkness were an extension of her own arms. Her voice was caught in her throat, unable to choose between screaming, crying, and calling for help.

In the background, megaphones emitted unhurried pronouncements of "Put your hands up" and "You have the right to remain silent." But Nadya could only stand rooted in place, staring at the body limply suspended inside of her shadows, the awful crunching sound playing on a loop in her head again and again.

[cash-smash]

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[imaginesbymk]

PINK + WHITE.

—CHAPTER SIX ; JUST ANOTHER WOMAN.

summary: teresa’s permanent resignation from the peaky blinders leads her to a whole new chapter of working in an art museum. but little did she know her best life would be butchered some time later when her former lover tommy shelby gives her no choice but to return to the peaky blinders after they make new enemies, with the leader, of all people, being the man teresa fell in love with one night after a wedding reception back in post world war; luca changretta.

pairing: luca changretta x OC x tommy shelby

tags in this chapter: swearing

[ chapter index / meet my oc / wattpad link ]

BACK in 1918, Teresa wished she could kiss Tommy again. When he returned home from the war, kissing him felt like kissing a stranger. He was there physically, but not mentally, spiritually. He just wasn't all there. It was no surprise to Teresa. Without even an ounce of experience fighting in the trenches and ducking for cover when a grenade is thrown, she had an idea on what horrors Tommy faced before referring himself as a patriarch. The one thing he wanted to do was drink and throw things around before finally seeing his family again. His lips she used to kiss were cracked dry, trembling from the dirt.

But that was 1918. Teresa kept her patience with Tommy as the shell shock brought him sleepless nights and downing more booze and night terrors. Now it was near end of January 1926, Teresa stood in front of another man she was once in love with, someone who was a soldier for the Spinietta family. Or perhaps a man she might still be in love with...

"Miss Griffith!" Alfie exclaims, getting up from the stool before stopping one of the henchman to march over to the girl. "Uh, uh, uh! Hang on, let me give my best loyal customer a proper greeting."

"Shalom, Mr. Solomons," Teresa smiles, embracing the man.

"Shalom, my dear!" And Alfie kisses her both on the cheeks before remembering Luca was still there. Alfie looked at the Italian. "Well, mate since you now look like you've seen six heads on one body, I'm going to boldly assume you and Miss Griffith had some history. So don't mind me, pretend I'm not here." He sits back down, putting his glasses back on and jotting something in his slip of paper he takes out from his pockets.

Luca stared hard at Alfie, then at Teresa, then back at Matteo. There were no words. What even was there to appropriately react to this? What was even there to say? The match stick was soaked with his saliva from staying in his mouth so uncomfortably, but he bit it down with his teeth to keep it from falling and to just clench it from his sudden frustration.

Teresa was just as at a loss of words when she saw the Italian. She even recognized his cousin standing behind him. What were the odds? She was just talking about him to Michael Gray whom he had an encounter with prior to warning her at her art exhibition.

Teresa hated winter but she loved covering herself with the warm buttoned up trench coat to shape out her slim figure, Luca noticed that. He also noticed how her hair was in waves, just like how the women were styling their hair when there wasn't a special occasion. It wasn't new to see the same thing, but he had to admit, it was nice to see those blonde locks again. Luca always tucked a strand of it behind her ear before lowering his head to kiss her so passionately- the lips- yes, he does remember kissing them, too. But kissing her in that moment wouldn't be as beautiful as the first time.

"Hi." Teresa smiled at him, even though she felt like smashing one of Alfie's rum bottles on the floor in anger.

"Miss Griffith," he greets her. His accent thickened as it drew a low volume. "What're you doing here?"

"Came to see Alfie, I owe him money for bringing rum to my grand re-opening."

"You're still directing in Penarth?"

Teresa nodded. "We showcased art deco."

"Oh. Well, congratulations on the exhibition."

"Thank you." There was a short pause. "How about you? You're here to buy rum?"

"Business," he replies. "We're here on business."

"Yeah, okay. This conversation is as immensely dry as the Sahara desert," Alfie removed his glasses. "Unfortunately, I cannot leave you two unattended with my bread in my bakery unless you're here to pay up."

"This ain't no fucking bakery, Mr. Solomons," Luca snaps.

"Mate, I will smash a lead pipe on your obnoxious fucking face if you make one more comment on my business that you intend on taking from me," Alfie emphasized the last part of his sentence, then switched his expression to smile sweetly at the lady. "Now, you said you're here to pay me?"

Teresa pulls out her purse, handing Alfie a stack of cash. "Ten pounds. But it was worth it, the guests loved your rum, Mr. Solomons. I thank you again."

Alfie chanted, counting the bills in his hands one by one. "Thank you for choosing Solomons' Fine Old Rum. I hope to see you again in the future. Right, I'll leave you two alone now, but please don't fuck on top of my barrels! The bottles are very fragile, it'll cost you another tonne for damages, mate."

And he was gone.

Following the white noise and footsteps from the workers in the background, behind the men he brought with him, it really was just the two of them. Matteo cleared his throat, queuing him and his other men to walk over to pat Teresa down. She cooperates knowing she was armed with a handgun strapped to the inside the coat, in which they confiscated, much to her annoyance. After searching her, Luca kept his stare.

"What?" Teresa says. "You're still in shock?"

"It's just..." he trails off. "Seeing an old face again gives me a weird feeling in my gut."

Matteo leaned over, muttering a comment in Italian, causing Luca to let out a chuckle. Teresa frowned at that. Luca knew Teresa didn't speak Italian as English and Welsh were the only two she was fluent in, not even when they dated she picked up a few basic Italian words and sentences here and there. But having people presumably make a remark at you in a language you didn't know was a barrier, and yet it still stung.

"You said you came here on business?" Teresa didn't even need to enlighten her question. She knew exactly what Luca was doing back in England. "Yet you came to see Alfie. I'm just gonna assume it's a proposition."

"Sure," Luca said dryly. "My men and I will be on our way." Luca turned his heel, chewing on the ends of his match stick.

"Not so fast, Luca," Teresa crossed her arms. "you ended things on a sour note and you don't even care."

He turned back around, rolling his eyes. "What?"

"Luca, you hurt me. You were in such a hurry to leave me, now that we're standing in front of each other you're not gonna own up to what you did? Don't you even remember me?"

"Six years ago, I took you to my cousin's wedding and we began seeing each other afterwards. Yes, I do remember you, I just don't remember everything. The average man sees almost a dozen women a day."

"No, they don't," Teresa shakes her head. Do they?

He places the match back in between his teeth. "That was six years ago. You think I'd recall every single thing?"

"Well to me, it was special. You made me happy. But I guess it wasn't special for you."

"I'm serious about how many women we see a day. I would see them from parties, some coming to talk about business," Luca waves his hand. "It's like being in a candy store, you dunno where to start, so you just grab a fuckin' load of 'em." Then he smirks to Matteo. "Un sacco di caramelle." And they both chuckle.

She froze at the thought of Luca seeing other women while he lived back in New York, jumping from one to another. Yet again, no surprise. He's a gangster.

"So I meant nothing to you?" Teresa had to ask.

Luca looked down. "I was happy, can't deny that. I guess I never really had time to settle down with someone. When I went back to America, I've never felt more at home than the old country. I became more successful than ever. My family invested in so much just so we could walk around the streets like we owned New York City. So, when I was staying here after the wedding, there was really nothing else to do other than... squeeze in some fun. So-"

Please don't say it...

"You were just another woman." Teresa felt like her body was shrinking. Luca Changretta was kind to her, supported her work, he let her hold one of his Thompson guns for the first time like it was a trophy. He shared his passions, his secrets, his fears, as she did to same. He even promised to take her to Italy one day. But the man standing in front of her looked at her like she was a creature. Perhaps all gangsters carried that kind of attitude, some of them just don't care after.

Gulping the back of the throat to prevent choking out a cry, she spoke back. "Right. Well, welcome back. It's nice to see you again."

Luca nodded as a response and turned to his men. "Andiamo." He was the first to walk back the way he came, Matteo following, then the rest of his men that stood in formation were the last.

"Can I..." Teresa stops him. He turned back around, raising his brow. "...have my gun back?"

Luca tilted his head at Matteo to retrieve it back to her. Matteo walked back to his boss, continuing to make their way down the corridors.

What a way to make an exit, she thought. She didn't have anyone to follow her around, so she exited the back door all by herself, dragging her cold feet and her shattered heart.

//

+ honestly, this entire reunion chapter sounded better in my head. so writing this was a huge challenge because i need more practice, therefore i hate this piece. but yes, luca is a bitch. "b i c t h... and in that order."

+ btw, alfie ships luca and teresa. periodt.