#that's why the logo here is from a real box

[elusiveanomaly]

That one Cheerios Ad but now it's ✨real✨

-Made with markers and colored pencils in a small notebook-

I absolutely commend traditional artists 😭🙏 I feel like the proportions are a tad wonky.

.. . .

[love-anddeepression]

Movie Posters- Miguel O’Hara x teen!spider!reader

The awaited Father’s Day fic :D love all of you, and I hope you like this<3333

“Lyla?”

“Yeah?”

“What the hell is this?”

“It’s a cake, dumbass.”

“Yeah I know, dipshit. Why is it on my desk?”

“How should I know?” The AI shrugs, “maybe check the icing? Dumbass.”

The perpetually tired old spider rolls his eyes and opens the box to reveal a red and blue cake with his logo iced onto it. There’s a chocolate piece with writing on it.

“Get an empanada at exactly 11:26 am today for your next hint.” Miguel reads out, “I mean- sure I guess?”

From somewhere above, another spider in a purple suit smiles and disappears.

——

At exactly 11:26 am, Miguel is at taking the empanada from the spider behind the counter who also hands him a small box.Nodding in thanks, he looks at the post it on the plate.

“Good job, open the box after eating the food.”

He doesn’t waste time in scarfing the food down before opening the box.

A battery. And another note.

“Good job, at exactly 1:30 pm, go to Jessica’s quarters.”

“What?” He says out loud, attracting the attention of some of the other spiders, “nothing to see here.” He snarls and they all go back to eating in silence.

He internally groans, because he knows you’re behind this.

—

At one thirty, he glares as Jess smirks and hands him a paper bag filled with confetti.

Amongst the confetti, he finds another box.

Another battery, another note.

‘Almost done, now at five, go to the main hall of spider society to find the last part of your gift.’

“I’m going to kill that kid.” He swears as he carefully folds the paper and holds it as if it made of glass

“You’d kill yourself before letting anything harm her.” Jessica replies.

He doesn’t answer, only clenching his jaw in response to his colleague’s words.

Because nothing has ever been truer.

———

At five sharp, he opens the doors to the main hall to find a single spotlight shining onto a table with the last box on it.

He rips the ribbon wrapped around it and opens it to find a remote with a single bright red button and another note.

‘Two batteries and one remote. You know what to do, wiseguy.

Also, happy Father’s Day ;)’

He has never assembled something faster, as he quickly puts the batteries in the remote. And hesitantly presses the button.

The spotlight switches off and the momentary darkness in the hall is then replaced by a single hologram of a butterfly flying around him.

It rests on his nose and flies around him, as if wanting him to follow it. In front of him, a portal opens and the butterfly flies through it, expecting him to follow.

On the other side is what is supposed to be a media room. Complete with wooden panelling and a projector and speakers. He sees posters of what used to be his favourite movies and songs. Photos of his favourite soccer players. His hand moves to over his mouth at the photo of him and Gabriella.

“Don’t be mad.” Your voice reaches his ears and he whirls to see you look at him nervously, “i wanted to make this special.”

He clenched his jaw and scoffs, looking around the room once more, he eyes the empanadas and the movie, his favourite, ready to be watched.

He then looks you in the eye, and for the first time in entire time you’ve known him, you feel nervous.

He stalks towards you and after a few seconds of painful silence, he wraps his arms around you and hugs you.

“Oh honey, why would I be mad?” He whisper into your hair.

You let out a sigh of relief, “i know how much she meant to you, she needed to be here today. I..know I’m not your real daughter or anything, but you’re my dad.” You hug him tighter, hiding your face in the crook of his neck, and he gingerly picks you up.

“You’re my kid. Understand?” His voice is shaky.

You nod and he puts you down, a small smile on his face.

You giggle, “wanna watch the movie?”

His smile turns into a smirk, “come on what are we waiting for?”

Your smile disappears, “wait, shit! I forgot my glasses!”

“I thought spiders had 10/10 vision?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Sorry that your spider is a blind bat.” You snark.

“You’re hilarious.” He munches on the popcorn you’d made for him.

“Yeah I know.” You grin and open a portal to get your glasses.

A few minutes nts later, you emerge, a frown on your face. You go to stand in front of him and he looks up at you, “What?”

“They were on my head the whole time.”

“Oh were they?” He hums, “must’ve missed em. I have horrible eyesight.”

“Asshole.” You roll your eyes and adjust your glasses as you plop down next to him and start the movie.

He throws popcorn into your open mouth, “don’t talk to your father that way.”

“Shut up.”

[hmslusitania]

15 for timkon if you'd like! (“This is a lot, even for you.”)

“Oh boy,” Kon says, hesitating in the entryway to the microcave Tim’s claimed. When Steph and Cass had called him about it, he’d thought they were exaggerating. In Kon’s defence, Tim’s been on more than a few somewhat unhinged murderboard investigations in his life, and the girls’ claim that this is actually, truly, the most unsettling one he’s done, that he’s locked himself in a microcave and they’re not sure he’s been eating — and are absolutely sure he hasn’t been sleeping — had felt melodramatic in the way only Gothamites can get.

In reality, he thinks they might’ve undersold it.

“Uh, hey, buddy, whatcha doin’?” Kon asks, hovering over the piles of office document boxes that — jesus fuck, is that a LexCorp logo?

He finds Tim in the centre of the microcave next to the aforementioned murderboard, and then he kinda wishes he hadn’t. The focal image in the centre of Tim’s web of red yarn and blue yarn and green yarn and something that looks like yellow caution tape that’s been twisted into thread is… Kon.

Tim is hunched in gargoyle posture next to the murderboard, chewing on the wrong end of a pen while he stares at the board with eyes so far past unfocused and surrounded by such dark bags that Kon’s kinda a little surprised Tim hasn’t like… toppled over and passed out.

At the sound of Kon’s voice, Tim spins on the balls of his feet and hurls the pen from between his teeth at him. Kon rebuffs it with his TTK and when the pen clatters to some scattered manila folders on the cave floor, Tim frowns.

“You’re… real?” Tim asks, lifting an eyebrow to inspect him. When he talks, Kon can see the dark spot of ink on his tongue that really can’t be pleasant to taste.

“Please tell me you haven’t been hallucinating,” Kon requests, and immediately regrets it because he’s really not sure he wants the answer to that.

“Um, n—just like the squiggles in the corners of your eyes when you’re sleep dep—why are you here?” Tim asks.

“Well, this is, uh, kind of a lot, even for you?” Kon replies, and hovers closer to the one working electronic in the microcave besides the flickering overhead light: the coffee pot. There’s nothing but tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot which is definitely contributing to the acrid scent of the cave, alongside Tim’s general state of being.

“Oh,” Tim says, looking back at the murderboard and then to Kon again. He seems to finally register that the subject of his investigation is now in his personal space, because his eyes go wide in addition to glassy. “Oh.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me why I’m the subject of this, uh…” Kon trails off, gesturing at the murderboard. Tim doesn’t write his tacked-on notes in any sort of way Kon can read. It’s not actually shorthand, not the official version of it, but probably some hybrid system Tim’s developed on his own. Whether or not it’s legible to other Bats is anyone’s guess.

“Um,” Tim says, and falls off the balls of his feet to land hard on his ass on the desk where he’s been perched. Based on the way he rubs absently at his knees and rolls his ankles around, Kon gets the impression he’d been crouched like that for way too long. “You’ve been, uh, exhibiting some… uncharacteristic behaviours? For about ten months now, give or take.”

Kon blinks. “I have?”

“Yeah, your sense of humour’s shifted, because you keep finding me funnier than other people in our group,” Tim says. He reaches for the pen he’d had in his mouth, like he means to use it as a pointer stick, and remembers at the last second that he’d thrown it at Kon to test his realness. Kon picks it up and offers it to him. Tim thanks him with a distracted, dazed expression, and then points it at the red lines. “And, um, you’ve been agreeing with me more? So, like, I know you haven’t been replaced by Match this time, because that was all about him trying to argue with me and divide our team. Also, you keep looking at me more when you think I’m not looking, I had to run through so many hours of security tapes.”

Tim points to some pretty damning screen grabs of security footage from the Young Justice HQ that kind of make Kon want to die of embarrassment.

It kind of sucks that Tim is so smart that he’s noticed all of this, but has also completely failed to put it together.

“So, what’s your conclusion, detective?” Kon asks.

“I don’t… know,” Tim huffs, and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes like it’s about to give up on him and he needs to fight it into submission. “And I can’t think of what happened ten months ago that would’ve started a change in behaviour or—”

“Can I give you a hint?” Kon asks, swallowing down the nerves it immediately gives him, just to offer.

Tim blinks. “Wait, you’re aware of the change in behaviour?”

“Yeah, Tim,” Kon says, only keeping himself from laughing at the consternation on Tim’s face by the skin of his teeth.

Tim looks between him and the murderboard, a deep frown on his face. “So what happened ten months ago?”

“Well, eleven months ago, you told us you’re bi,” Kon says. He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his hands under his biceps to keep Tim from noticing them shake with nerves. Not that Tim’s really in a state to notice anything at this point. “And it took me about a month to do some soul searching and figure out that I am, too?”

The furrow between Tim’s eyes gets just a little deeper, like he can’t make the math problem add up. “But… if that’s it, then why are you looking at me like…”

He trails off, staring at the board for an excruciating enough length of time that Kon seriously considers just flying away and hoping Tim’s so out of it that he won’t actually remember this conversation.

“Wait, you like me?” Tim asks, face fever-bright when he looks away from the board to stare at Kon instead.

“Only kind of, like, a lot?” Kon replies, balling his hands into fists under his arms.

“Oh,” Tim says, and finally, to Kon’s relief, his face smooths out into a smile. “Cool.”

And, mystery solved, he immediately loses power to all systems, and slumps into a deep sleep. When he starts to topple forward off the desk like a marionette with the strings cut, Kon swoops forward to catch him. There’s probably a bed somewhere in this microcave, but if there is, it’s completely buried by Tim’s boxes of files, and Kon doesn’t want to dig. He cradles Tim in his arms and carries him out of the cave into the uncharacteristically pleasant Gotham evening, and when Tim burrows closer into his chest and murmurs, “like you too,” Kon can only smile.

[oneforthemunny]

a teeny tiny modern!eddie blurb i had rattling around my noggin. loosely based on real events (my ex is a pos and modern!eddie is an angel lol), but made me giggle when i thought about it. kinda smutty but nothing graphic more-so just alluded to. enjoy <3

“Hey, pretty girl.” Eddie grinned, half-lidded hazy eyes lighting up when you walked through the door. 

“Hi,” You mumbled, hip bumping the door to push it closed, shoulders heavy after the exhaustion of the day. 

“Did you have a good day?” Eddie chirped, flicking his mic up on his headset, pulling it off his messy curls. “Sell lots?” 

You snorted lightly, purse sliding off your shoulder onto the coffee table. “Oh, yeah. Dealt with ten year olds wanting foundation matches all day.” 

“Ten?” Eddie frowned. “Can ten year olds even wear makeup?” 

“Apparently they can. And they’re very particular.” You rolled your eyes, rubbing out the growing knot in your shoulder that was beginning to ache. “Did you empty the dishes?” 

“Yep.” Eddie nodded. “Loaded them up for you too, baby. Got you another one of those candles you like. Your stash was runnin’ low.” He smiled proudly. 

Your lips twitched, trying to fight back your own flustered grin. It did make your heart flutter, Eddie always did. “Thank you.” You muttered instead. “I’ve gotta get out of these clothes, and I’ll-” You started to lean over the couch, lips hovering over Eddie’s, his parting lightly to fit yours before you stopped. Halted by a familiar smell. 

“What- What’s that smell?” You sniffed, turning in the air before your nose found the source. “Are you- Why do you smell like that?” 

“Shit, is it bad?” Eddie tugged at his t-shirt, nose pressing towards the underarms of his shirt. “I took a shower today, but then I had to meet up with some people. I didn’t think it was bad-” 

“-No, it’s not that.” You snapped, eyes narrowing down at him. “Why do you smell like Bum-Bum Cream?” 

Eddie paused, blinking at you. “Bum-Bum?” He repeated, brows lifting. “Is this a joke? Like Up-Dog-” 

“-Eddie,” You huffed. “Don’t fuck with me right now. What? Did you have another bitch here?” Your teeth gritted, gaze flickering in seething fury around the apartment for anything- any sign of infidelity. 

“What?” Eddie gaped, turning to look at you. “No, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t do that-” 

“-Then why do you smell like that?” You screeched, throwing an arm out at him. 

“Smell like what?” Eddie countered, voice raising in defense. 

“The most recognizable smell in the world? You couldn’t tell your bitch not to wear that-” You smacked the door to your shared bedroom open, halting in the doorway. 

“I didn’t fuck anyone!” Eddie followed, throwing his hands up. “Why do you always start this shit? I’ve never-” 

Your eyes narrowed, stomping towards the bedside table. There, on Eddie’s side, amongst the phone chargers and empty carts sat a box of tissues next to the familiar yellow tub of cream. Half screwed on, greasy on the lid- recently used. 

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” You huffed, snatching the jar, grimacing at the slick, greasy substance still left on the lid. Pivoting, you turned to Eddie, hoisting the jar towards him. 

Eddie blinked. “What?” 

“This is what I’m smelling.” You snapped. “This is Bum-Bum Cream. My Bum-Bum Cream.” You jabbed a manicured nail onto the logo. 

“Oh,” Eddie quipped. “Yeah, I did use that.” 

“Used it?” You growled. “You used my fucking expensive lotion to jack off?” 

Eddie’s cheeks tinged with pink embarrassment, eyes wide and round like a child caught, still with some mischief that made your skin crawl with irritation. “Well,” He started. 

“Well?” You gawked at him. “Eddie, this is- You can’t use this!” You unscrewed the lid, mouth falling open at the large scoop that was now missing from the middle. “Are you- Do you know how expensive this is?” 

“No.” Eddie admitted, swallowing a smile. “I just thought it was lotion-” 

“-You have lotion!” You snapped. “You have your Nivea or whatever-” 

“-I ran out!” 

“So you use this? My lotion? My expensive lotion?” You growl. “How- How does this not burn your dick off? It’s a fucking fragranced lotion.” 

Eddie shrugged, lips curling in a shit eating grin. “It felt kinda nice, actually.” 

Your nose curled in disgust. “You’re fucking sick, and you’re buying me a new one.” 

“Fine.” Eddie’s hands slid down your arms gently. “I’ll buy you a new one. I swear. I’m sorry, I didn’t know I couldn’t use that one.” 

“Don’t use any of my lotions to jack off.” You glared at him. “And put it back when you’re done.” You shove the lotion back at him. 

“Alright, alright, hey- look at me, baby, please?” Eddie cooed, lips still curled with a smile you wanted to smack off his face, nerves rattled with annoyance. You glared at him, shoving your work jeans down with a huff, not missing the way Eddie’s eyes lingered. 

“I’m sorry, ok? I didn’t mean to. I’ll buy you a new one. We can go right now if you want.” He muttered sweetly, his soft tone making your heart swell. 

“No, it’s fine.” You huff, rolling your eyes, pulling your top off. “We can go later. Just don’t do it again.” 

“I won’t.” Eddie lifted his hands playfully. He waited a second, turning the yellow tub around in his hands. “It is good stuff though. Can see why you like it so much-” He dodged your balled up shirt you flung at him with a loud cackle, scampering to the bathroom to put it back on the counter.

also this is the lotion / sol de janerio's bum bum cream referenced lol. a very canon event i fear. hope you enjoyed!

[hermitcraftx]

Actually, no, I'm not done talking about the Minecraft Movie. I'm so incredibly angry about what could have been. Rant incoming, sorry to any and all witnesses. All ye who enter here abandon all hope.

The Lego Movie was a good movie because it was an homage to animators and the community it had built up during the years, was genuinely very well animated and had good plot points despite maintaining its humor, and was a good watch to people who didn't even like Legos. It did have a couple big name actors placed in there to draw views (i.e. Will Ferrell) but for the most part the movie was completely animated with very sparse real life moments that worked very well to tie into the narrative the movie was creating. You're a little kid and the world is so big and angry and full of structure, and you just want to create the things you want to see without being told what to do. Emmett is an ordinary guy told he's special as a lie to get him to comply with what Vitruvius wanted, the same way he complied with orders his entire life, and he defeated that cycle of thinking by showing kindness despite his terrible treatment, unlike Lord Business (i.e. Will Ferrell). It worked astoundingly well to create something that ticked a lot of boxes: narratively sound, incredibly pleasing to look at, funny, and capable of handling serious topics despite being a Kid's Movie.

The Minecraft Movie... does none of that. There are no well placed homages or tributes to a loving community that has been built up for well over a decade. There are no callbacks to Minecraft animations, to any of the Minecraft covers that were a staple of early Minecraft, no references or respects paid to anybody that has been a big name in the community. For fuck's sake, they didn't even put Herobrine is. Herobrine is, to be frank, the most basic Minecraft reference they could have input into this movie as a subtle nod to the community that almost everyone would have understood, and I remain disappointed.

The art style isn't respectful of Minecraft animators at all, instead vaguely resembling AI slop where they tasked it to make Minecraft in real life with realistic shader packs as the references. To be quite frank, it is a spit in the face of almost every creative person in the community. It's disrespectful to the animators, the parody creators, the modpack creators (highly unlikely but I really hope they get in deep shit for using some of them as references, because it's almost uncanny how similar they look), the Minecraft content creationists, everybody. I know they let a scant few Minecraft youtubers on set, but still.... no well hidden easter eggs? No CaptainSparklez logo? No Yogscast? No EthosLab tnt slab? Not even any of the newer youtubers that have made the Minecraft scene up for the past several years. (Not talking about the green guy, god, no, I'm very grateful for that in fact. But nobody at all? Seriously?) I get that it's a MINECRAFT movie, not a Minecraft youtuber movie, and is supposed to be well-digestible for the average audience that isn't familiar with Minecraft, but there are very easy ways to implement this. Most people would at the very least be happy to see a couple seconds of community references, regardless of what they were. Again, NO HEROBRINE? What the fuck are the Warner Bros doing.

There appears to be no strong structural narrative that ties into the base game either, despite there being a... relatively straightforward way to implement one? Look, man, the game literally has objectives for you, despite being relatively sandbox. You spawn in, you chop wood, mine for diamonds, and fight monsters, you go to the Nether, you beat the dragon. The piglins as an element outside of the Nether don't make sense as gameplay wise they zombify, which has been mentioned a lot, true, but I haven't seen ANYONE mention that they could just... I don't know... Go to the fucking Nether!? Why is the plot line being pulled from Minecraft Legends, a game that everyone thought was boring and forgot about instantly? Why are Mojang and Microsoft trying so hard to branch out from base game Minecraft? So far it looks to just be a bullshit poorly carried out isekai movie with a bunch of big name actors, one liners, shitty quips and "he's right behind me isn't he"s. There's no SERIOUS plot beat at all, not even getting a feeling that this might be any more than "uh oh, they're stuck in Minecraft and piglins are trying to kill them!"

The CGI is terrible. Just incredibly poorly implemented. The people look gigantic at the start and it's not immersed at all, it genuinely looks like some of the worst green screen work I've ever seen. They look like they're standing on a rug.

I don't know. It just makes me incredibly angry. There's a deep lack of understanding and appreciation for the game, and that sounds childish, but I think it is decently imperative to at least understand the basics of Minecraft before you make a game on it. Most people under the age of 30 understand at least a little bit about Minecraft, and if they don't, it is your job to make it enjoyable for them! You can make a story about a man that washes up in a strange world and goes to kill a dragon. Everyone can understand that. That's a very basic story that we've been milking for literally hundreds of fucking years. Nothing in the trailer resembles Minecraft at ALL, it was genuinely unrecognizable and alien to me when I first saw it. The trailers don't have a strong resemblance to Minecraft either, but it's there, and they could have honestly just based it off mostly the trailers and that would have been better? Making the movie fully animated would have given it charm and appealed to kids in the same way, and they could have pulled a Lego Movie and done an in person sequence with Jack Black at some point. I don't know. I don't understand a single cinematic decision in making this film.

A lot of people wanted a deep somber animated film about Steve exploring the loneliness and solitude of the world he's in, trying to thrive and create in spite of that, and while I agree that would be incredible, there is just no universe where that would happen in. But that doesn't mean this is excusable. There are so many better ways to execute and implement the ideas that would do well in big theater for a kid's game and it looks like they spat on those ideas and put them in a blender. It's almost comical how bad the movie is: and such a huge, SAD fucking jump from Warner Bros blowing it out of the water with the Barbie Movie last year. My young cousin finds the pink sheep scary and wanted me to turn it off when we showed it to her. There is truly no audience that I feel this appeals to in a meaningful way, and I hope it flops like Morbius. I hope Microsoft and Warner Bros go bankrupt from this.

All in all, it's a terrible example of a game that has been near and dear to a lot of people's hearts and a significant portion of a lot of people's childhoods and makes a mockery of the people that enjoy it, I feel. It's like if The Mario Movie and Jumanji had a terrible, terrible baby. Unless their plan was to get so much negative attention that hoardes of people go to hate watch it, I have no fucking idea who the hell let any of this be released to the public.

Don't go watch it. Don't give these people your money. Demand better for your community and your fans. Hold Microsoft and Warner Bros accountable for bad quality. Microsoft has been a fucking nightmare since... forever, really, but Mojang has really suffered under their iron fist rule for a long time now. Microsoft has been trying to push Mojang to other games and Mojang, due to Microsoft's restrictions, is unable to function as it's own entity anymore. Any drama with updates? Updates too long? Missing out on content from certain updates? Caused by the copyright being owned by Microsoft. Make no mistake, I'm not defending Mojang, they aren't a small little indie company like they say they are- they're owned by one of the biggest goddamn companies in the world. Microsoft has been working on this movie for a goddamn decade and has been working on this concept specifically for almost four years, and this is what they came up with? It's nightmarish. Knowing them they'll try and push it onto the people that actually play the game too, god forbid.

Don't let them ruin our game. Don't give them your money. Watch something worth your time.

[delicatebluebirdruins]

Lockwood and Co episode six

why is watching the glorfied salt shaker do it's thing so pretty though?

I love Mr Barnes being so concerned about them (Don't think of the Empty Grave scene where he worries about them)

This bit with the Carver's death glow and Lockwood looking at the door hurts

Love the ghost lamp into the logo all of it looks so pretty to be honest

"Well done, me" love George

Window looks silly here *smash*

welcome to the George and Lockwood anxiety fest

still wish we got the "give us back our bones" (watch this space)

hey it's the lockwood slide

Love Flo's knife and Camber sands is a real place in Sussex

George and Flo my beloved

Lockwood reading the invite and Lucy looking at him as the definition of hearteyes

I love this outfit and the awkwardness of Kipps asking her out still makes me want to die (and the twitchy curtain from Lockwood makes me laugh)

I love Pamala though it was so cute "all the books and kung pao chicken I could carry"

I love the necklace! the description of it in the books (especially the chain) makes me think of the one under the read more (I got a bit rambly and emotional in the explanation)

George trusting Pam for five hundred

love the party outfit the billowy sleeves are great

"famous legacy" I adore the way Cameron said this

love Tears Run Dry song and I wonder where The Butcher Boy is?

I want to know what happened with Jacobs? This conversation with Penelope is so interesting and I love it (and I wonder how it would have changed with the The Empty Grave revelations?)

Lockwood is so nervous talking to Lucy about Fittes

What's in the box? and the eyeliner is on point... Kat looks great

glorified salt shaker electric boogaloo... it's so pretty atrocious lighting (gifmakers you are the real ones and I commend you) but pretty

this necklace with the interlocked (not sure that's the right word) chain and the pale icy blue stone in the pendent is one that belonged to my Gran when she was alive. Like all the jewellry pieces in her box left to me and my sister this was one where the story is not obvious and we will never learn them... some had stories that were obvious (gold wedding rings) and we remembered the pieces we gave to her as gifts (like the dragonfly brooch) and this is one the pieces that I knew right away that I wanted.

[frozenjokes]

After years of thinking... I finally want to know what is CUBGUY and his boyfriend's MBTI aka the 16 personalities

You’ve opened Pandora’s box with this one my man because I am a psych major that HATES personality tests however that did not stop me from taking the test three times (this one which I hate specifically because the commercialization of personality tests to measure worth is evil BECAUSE THEY DONT WORK. THEY ARE NOT A GOOD MEASURE OF PERSONALITY OR WORTH AND HAVING TO TAKE THIS FUCKING FOR LITERALY JOB APPLICATIONS INSTEAD OF IT JUST BEING A FUN THING TODO IN YOUR FREE TIME IS FUCKING AURYRHEUSHDHUDUSHDJSHSJAHSUSUSJ KILLING BITING MAIMING GRAGAGSHGEHWDGSHHS I HATE. HER.) anyway. I can be normal about this subject I promise.

normal elsa: haha hey guys! I took the personality test for my ocs! yippeee!!! from left to right we have Cub, Scar, and Grian. thanks for the ask! this was fun!

but it’s not about having fun is it

so anyway I took notes. So you may have noticed some things don’t look quite right here. I mean, Cub looks fine! That’s pretty accurate even! Scar too, look at him go! … wait a minute. Grian’s not nice!!!! Or poetic!!!!!!! Is altruism even real????????????? (It is and I feel strongly about this but altruistic as an adjective to describe a person i believe is doing a disservice to the definition because what they MEAN is ‘selfless’ not altruistic but while we’re on the topic of selflessness Grian is fucking NOT)

So why did this happen. I don’t really care that the personality test got someone wrong, but I am interested in Why that happened, and why a test like this will never get a character like Grian correct.

Put simply, the answer is that this test wants to make you Feel Good. Now, having fun isn’t a crime and oftentimes personality tests are there to have fun, but the danger of something like this is that the MBTI isn’t presented as a low stakes fun activity, it’s presented as fact. Look. This is you! This is a good, objective measure of your personality, aren’t you great? You’re awesome :)! Here’s a list of vague-enough sentiments that probably apply to you based on the questions we asked. Yippee! its a really clever and extremely affective trick.

While the little blurb for Scar describes him relatively well, nearly every description of his ‘personality’ besides extroversion read pretty inaccurately, and that’s because the focus is so positive. The thing is, Grian and Scar are largely very self serving people (/neutral tone). They are often more worried about themselves than others, they’re impulsive, and that’s not all they are, but it’s pretty impossible to get at someone’s actual personality without recognizing what makes people flawed.

The closest I think the MBTI test gets to probing at this idea of potential selfishness are questions that are meant to test thinking versus feeling. Do you consider someone’s sensitivities in if they conflict with reason? Are you more concerned with facts or emotion? Logos versus pathos. That kinda stuff. But ultimately the MBTI test doesn’t really care about selfishness, it doesn’t care about flaws, it just cares about making you feel good baybe! So these neutral questions don’t really come back in any meaningful way. The MBTI is concerned about making caricatures of people, not accurately measuring their personality and that Matters because its so often treated as scientific, at least good enough to be used in consideration for jobs and work and school and all sorts of stuff.

And I could go on but the problem with modern personality tests goes so so so much deeper, even in more controlled, more science oriented fields like psychiatry. The system for diagnosing personality disorders is somewhat similar to a personality tests are at the very least aided by them, falling on a straight lined spectrum of Openness, Consciousness, Extroversion, Agreeableness, and Neuroticism. But this system Sucks and everyone knows it sucks because comorbidity between clusters (A, B, C) of personality disorders is Insanely High. I wish I had the exact percentages, but I can’t quite find the information I’m looking for, but the point is that if the rate of comorbidity between different disorders is So High, how do you know these disorders are correctly defined at all? If a person more often than not has Disorder A and Disorder B at the same time, who’s to say they’re all that different at all? In general, a lot of the criteria for diagnosing a personality disorders is Really similar, so in general it’s a section of the DSM that needs a pretty massive overhaul.

I don’t envy personality psychologists man their job is Tough (and in my opinion, kind of impossible. there’s too many roadblocks in making an objective test. It is. Eugh.)

TLDR: the MBTI test is about as decisive as a fortune cookie and it literally can’t be anything more because then you would realize its lying to you. amen

[mable-stitchpunk]

Going Home in a Box: Chapter 89 Teaser

This was a huge mistake. She knew it, she knew it was a bad idea, and yet here it was. Here she stood in the dark with a flimsy flashlight in her hand that barely lit the pile of junk laying in front of her.

The dump. The junkyard. The so-called prowling grounds of the Hurricane Clown.

But she wasn’t alone. Thankfully, elsewise she would be incredibly nervous standing in the middle of this dump.

Back when the clown and bear incident happened, Millie didn’t have a friend in the world. Now she had three.

First was Abigail, called Abby by her friends. Abby was as smart as a whip and the type who’d do extra credit work without the extra credit. The typical ‘nerd’ stereotype perhaps but she had a good heart, she was very outspoken, and she had an interest in the environment that Millie could get behind. She was a skeptic, a realist, but otherwise was much more optimistic than Millie tended to be.

Abby had neat braids that went to her shoulders and wore gold frames glasses. She was currently wearing an oversized dark grey jacket with the hood up in an attempt to disguise herself in case someone caught them. Though Millie didn’t know why. Sure, wandering around the dump in the middle of the night was sketchy, but she didn’t remember it being illegal. Maybe she was worried her parents would find out.

Then there was Sarah. Sarah was nice but a little quiet and withdrawn. Largely because she was so self-conscious of herself. Anyone could see it, with how often she was attempting various beauty techniques or spouting off things she read from magazines. She was the sort of person the old Millie would’ve found shallow and self-absorbed, but now she saw past that. She saw someone who was lonely and wanted friends.

Millie understood that feeling well. She wasn’t going to let either of them fall into that same trap. All it did was help get you alone, and then people would take advantage of you.

Sarah was also wearing a hoodie, but instead of for a disguise it was a hoodie she usually wore. It was a baggy dark fuchsia one that she often wore to hide herself in. Along with a pair of baggy jeans. Her hair was shoulder-length brown and unremarkable, as per Sarah’s own words on it.

Finally, there was Mandy. Many was the oldest of the group and only just became part of it. She was new to their high school and because of that she didn’t know anyone or have any friends, and that wasn’t helped by her colorful personality.

Apparently, Mandy had come from some sort of stifling preparatory school, one of those kinds with uniforms and strict decorum. Somehow, she got away with dying her hair and even now still dyed it. She was excitable, outspoken- the type to walk around with a three-ring binder with a tie dye alien throwing a piece sign and not caring when people told her it looked tacky.

Her hair was currently dyed a somewhat uneven turquoise color and was pulled up into a high ponytail before they left the car. She was wearing a simple red t-shirt and jean shorts over plaid leggings along with a thick pair of brown boots. She was definitely not dressed to be out here.

Millie looked down at her t-shirt of a logo for a rock band she had never heard of that just happened to have a disturbing grinning clown on the front of it. That made two of them.

Now, it was Mandy who spearheaded coming down here, not Millie. She aspired to be a would-be journalist and the idea of catching video footage of this supposed Hurricane Clown was too good to pass up. Even if they were all sort of sure it was a hoax.

Abby thought it was a rumor meant to creep people out, Sarah thought it was a running joke, and Mandy was convinced that there was a guy actually dressing like a clown who was running around freaking people out.

Millie was the only one who knew the clown was real, that he was the one she saw at the fair, that he was the one who pulled her from the bear, and that it had to be him that was said to crawl around the junkyard.

She also knew it was a stupid idea to look for him, but she found herself a little too eager to agree.

She hadn’t told many people about her experience with the clown and even her closest friends got an abridged version.

Days trapped inside of a tight coffin with a snide voice laughing at her suffering, telling her about all the things he could’ve done to her. What was her favorite method of execution? She looked like the type of girl who died a long time ago, he said. Up until she got inside that bear, she believed that too. That was part of the reason she was dumb enough to climb into that thing in the first place.

The hunger, the thirst, the humiliation of it all. The thought that she would die there, alone, with nobody the wiser to where she had gone. She was sure of it.

And then the clown came.

This clown- this clown who sort of sounded like the bear and then ripped it apart and pulled her out. She had been so out of it, but she remembered that clown, she remembered his face and his voice. It was like a robot, it had a white mask with a red nose, and glowing blue and yellow eyes.

In that moment it was like seeing a real-life Leprechaun, and then having it drop a pot of gold in her lap.

She had been frightened and confused. It wasn’t until the days following in the hospital that she really processed what had happened and who had helped her. It was crazy, she should’ve been even more traumatized, but she wasn’t. She was curious, intrigued.

Then she heard the rumors of the Hurricane Clown. It had to be him. She had been rescued by Utah’s version of Bigfoot apparently.

Since then, things had changed. She had attempted a new lease on life. Which really meant to stop shoving people away. So, when she returned to school, overshadowed by the rumors swirling about what happened to her, and it was Abby and Sarah- two virtual strangers- who approached her with concern and care, she didn’t shrug them off. Then when Abby suggested the offer a hand to Mandy, she didn’t shrug that off either.

How insane that it almost took dying to get to that point.

She wanted to see him again, to prove it wasn’t a hallucination from dehydration. To prove to herself that something so unexplained existed somewhere out there.

“Ugh, this place is gross,” Sarah mumbled.

“And a breeding ground for tetanus and dysentery,” Abby agreed.

“We should come here more often,” Millie added sardonically.

“Hey, is this your clown?” Mandy called.

Millie shined her light around to look for her and spotted the top of her head, then carefully walked around the trash to reach her. Sarah and Abby following in a single file line to make sure it was safe.

They came around the corner of an old car to see Mandy shining her flashlight down on what looked to be a body. Millie’s eyes widened and she hastily rushed over, only to quickly be disappointed.

It wasn’t even really a clown, but some kind of old mannequin looking thing. The material of it was plasticky and sort of slick, likely having picked up oil or grease from the garbage around it. Its ‘skin’ was stark white, if a little dirty, and it had faded round pink cheeks and a delicately painted but faded pink lips.

It had red hair pulled up into two pigtails. What was odd was that while the body looked old, paint worn, and even the plastic rubbed down along the joints, the hair looked to be in pristine condition. Almost like it had gotten a new wig just before getting tossed into the dumpster.

It had a long neck that led to a slender body that was rigidly straight. Its only clothing was a pink tutu around its waist- one that looked small for even it, like a child would wear. Its feet were shaped like wide wedge heels and the pink on them too was scuffed and fading.

The only thing of value on it seemed to be a silver heart shaped pendant resting on its chest. There was a shiny blue jewel on it, but the design made it look like it could be costume jewelry, and it probably was.

Sarah stared at it with wide eyes. Millie looked on with disappointment.

“No.”

Mandy pulled it up onto its feet with a heave. It was heavier than it looked, but she managed to balance it on the uneven ground. She hooked an arm around it to hold it up and popped a hand on her hip.

“You know what this looks like? Have you ever seen those life-sized dolls that kids dress up and do their hair and stuff?” Mandy asked.

Abby and Sarah both agreed. It certainly looked like that. If a little tall, being taller than even Mandy, the tallest one there.

Millie had another idea. She took one look at those pigtails and knew who it reminded her of.

“I think that’s Circus Baby.”

“Who?”

“There used to be a place like Freddy’s called Circus Baby’s Pizza World that closed down like Freddy’s did. Circus Baby had pigtails just like that, except she was small and looked like a kid,” Millie explained. She sized up the doll. “On second thought, never mind.”

“You might want to put that down,” Abby pointed out.

Mandy was about to when Sarah stepped forward and, seeing her interest, she let her take a closer look.

“It’s actually kinda pretty in a weird way,” Sarah said. “…You know what? I think I’m going to take it home.”

“No, really?” Abby said with aghast instead of sarcasm. “A big doll? No, scratch that. Some kind of… animatronic, maybe?”

“Animatronic, eh?” Mandy said thoughtfully.

“I don’t know, I kind of like it. Maybe we could clean it up and make her look good again. It seems like a major waste just leaving it here.”

Millie gave a derogatory sound and nudged its leg with her foot. It wasn’t responding to any of their movements, though the bear hadn’t either until she was in it.

“You know who’d probably know about how to fix her up?” Mandy declared. “Shelly’s brother.”

“Who?” Millie asked flatly.

“Pickle,” Abigail replied just as flatly.

Oh, Pickle.

Pickle was one of the smartest kids at their high school. That is, book smarts. He could read a dozen books and understand every word, but he couldn’t read a room if his life depended on it. Of course they’d get stuck hanging with Pickle.

But Sarah was determined. It just had such a pretty face. It was a shame to see it go to waste.

So, with that resolve, they took the doll with them. Sarah and Mandy having to work together to carry it to the car. Millie stayed behind to keep looking around for a little while, with Abby following at her heels.

There was no clown.

Disappointed but unsurprised, Millie eventually decided it was time to leave. But she knew she would be back.

[brighttears]

Battery

Joel Miller x f!reader

Series masterlist

No physical description

Summary: You met Tess in the Boston QZ because you have a battery for her car. She introduces you to her sidekick Joel, the handsome, hardass who looks like he wants to kill you. You’re leaving Boston with them in the morning. 

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: deals in Boston with unfriendly characters, drinking, Joel takes sleeping pills

A/n: Wrote this is one sitting with very minimal editing heehee. Obviously screaming for more parts but I just decided to put this out and see what happens with it

—

You sit on a rusty metal folding chair in the musty basement you’ve come to know well, sitting next from your new friends Tess—the person you’ve come here to sort of compromise with, someone who promises a car to give a home to the battery you’ve come here to score in the first place. You met her at work, rolling paint over Firefly logos. You don’t usually chit–chat with your ‘coworkers’, and Tess said the same thing to you when you started talking, but you did, and it was maybe the most pleasant experience you’ve had in your year in the Boston QZ. Somehow, you clicked, and now, you guess you could say you’re something like friends. You even laughed once. More importantly, you both decided you could put a little trust into each other. The paramount detail, however, is that she’s looking for a car battery, and you know someone who has one, and you were going to speak with him the next day anyway. Finally, you both might have a way out of this hellhole. 

She did tell you that her other friend, Joel, is “kind of a piece of work, a real hard head who will look like he wants to kill you”, but goddamn did she mean that. He’s currently glaring at you from across the table, trying to size you up, looking like he’s trying to make you explode with his mind despite the fact that you’re here to do him a huge fucking favor. Next to him is your dealer, a poorly built man who can handle a lot more than he looks like he can, and a man who has plenty of people to back him up for what he can’t. He’s the King Rat, dirty and only seen in basements, but a kingpin just the same. He has a couple of his men around the room with him now, standing by the door with their hands clasped like ex-marines, doing their job at creating an atmosphere of static danger, telling you that he is the person that decides when and if you leave this room. However, your fear is on the backburner. You have become somewhat of a regular in King Rat’s basement—his actual name, the one you address him as, being Wojciech—for deals, trades more like it, but all of it being a forerunner for this right meeting right now. 

“Now, you know I like you,” he says to you, lazily raising a finger with something like a smile, “but I do not know either of you.” He waves his finger at Joel and Tess.

“I like them,” you tell him, a white lie, “that’s why I brought them here. I thought you’d want to know the whole deal here.”

“And we would both like to be here to see that the goods are real.” Tess says, face stoney. 

The static in the air picks up, though no one moves. 

Wojciech grows a slow grin, looking her right in the eyes. You watch them, trying to determine if this is about to get nasty, trying to read what you might be able to do to calm it down. He is a person to learn. Tess, apparently, is someone who doesn’t really give a fuck. Some may think she’s stupid to be so curt, but you can tell that she can hold the fuck her own. Plus, Joel looks like he could rip someone's throat out with ease. Still, you tense. 

“Aah,” he drawls, “smart woman. I can understand that. Yes, very smart. Well,” he flicks his hand out to a man behind him who then produces the battery onto the table, “it is very real. And it can be all yours,” he looks at you now, still grinning, “at the agreed price.” You then unload from your bag onto the table a fat stack of ration cards, a metal box full of various kinds of bullets, and a large plastic bag full to the brim of fat white pills. 

Wojciech’s eyes widen and he licks his lips as if you’ve just placed a freshly cooked Thanksgiving style turkey on the table.

“Good girl,” he says, still drooling over the payment, “what a sight, what a sight. You are a good girl, you know,” he looks up at you, his hands absentmindedly flexing. You try to smile, although his words make you want to gag. He is a person to learn, and also a person to swallow your bile for. This is just how he talks, and he’s never actually tried to lay a hand on you, so you can put up with it. Besides, once this deal is done, you'll never have to see him again. Just as his mouth is probably salivating for what's on the table right now, so is yours. You force yourself to keep Wojciech’s gaze instead of staring at the car battery. 

Still, though, you can see Joel’s eyes on you, still looking at you like you don’t belong here, like he hates you. So far, you really don’t like him, but it’s not him you care about, it’s the car he has. 

“You know, I will miss you, you and your sneaky ways. I don’t know how you did this, but I will never ask, because I don’t care as long as you get it onto my table.” He laughs heartily, leaning back in his chair with his hands still flexing, the sounds ending in squeaks, as they always do, which has added to the sticking nickname of Rat King. 

You got this stuff by saving, scraping, working a lot, and, yes, some stealing, along with making ‘friends’ with some guards who will never get the chance to get in your pants, though flirting was your main method of essentially manipulating them. It was hard work, never honest, but worth it. And now, finally, it is about to pay off.

“Well, seems we’re done here now, right?” Tess says.

Wojciech’s eyes roll to hers, relaxing back in his chair, still with his somewhat disquieting half grin. 

“Down to business. I like that. I like you, too, miss missy. Too bad you’ll be taking this battery and then be far gone right?”

Tess says nothing, which is smart.

Rat King finally gives in, “Aah”ing as he slides the battery across the table while one of his men bags up the other items on the table. 

You take the battery in your hands, sliding it over to yourself, then standing to set your now empty bag on the table next to it. It barely fits, but it does. 

Everyone else raises to their feet as you do, concluding the meeting. Wojciech is grinning at you again, wide, thin, full of small teeth, his eyes squinting with it. 

“Once again, very nice doing business with you,” you say to him, reaching out your hand for him to shake and hoping the grimace doesn’t show in your smile. 

“Yes, yes, as always, I really will miss you, you know.” He tells you as he shakes your hand, sweaty and tight. 

You say nothing. You try to say as little as you can with him, just be polite as possible; get in, get out. 

He lets go of your hand and then nods, signaling permission for your departure. You lead Tess and Joel out, all filing up the narrow staircase back into the sunlight. The bag hurts your shoulders, but you need to hide the weight, make it look like nothing important as you walk down the streets. 

“Alright, golden girl,” Tess says to you, now in stride next to you with Joel on the other side of her, “smartest way to do this is you stay with us tonight, and then you leave with us in the morning. Sound good to you?”

You nod, “Sounds good to me.”

“You got any shit to pick up at your place or are you good?”

“I’ve got everything I own on me.”

“Really?” She screws her face up with her question.

“Yup. Clothes, two loaded guns, and two knives.”

“No food?”

“Nope. Sorry I have nothing to offer on that front, but, that’s part of how we got this big thing on my back.” You pull the strap of your bag more securely on your shoulder.

“So, what,” Joel grumbles, “we just s’spossed to supply that for you?” He asks, mostly rhetorically. Really, he’s saying fuck you, who do you think you are?

Before you can snap anything back, Tess says, giving him a warning look, “Well, I think it’s a pretty fair fucking trade, seeing as she is the reason that we’re finally getting the fuck out of here.”

Joel stares at her for a moment, glowering, then looks back down the road, grumbling under his breath. 

Tess switches her gaze to you, “We’ve got shit saved up, don’t worry about it.” You nod, grateful. 

The rest of the walk is silent, all the way up to their apartment. Once at the door, Tess tells you, “Stay out here for a second, we gotta talk.” You nod, and she closes the door. You stay still, listening in on their private conversation. 

“I don’t like this.” Comes Joel’s muffled voice, “I do not want to add another person into our lives.”

“Well, this is how it’s gonna go. She has a battery, we don’t. We need her. She’s solid.”

“And how do you know that? You just met ‘er.” Joel snaps back. 

“Because I know, Joel. Look, do you trust me? Good. So, trust me. I understand you’re worried, I know you think this will complicate things, but we need her, and I trust her, ok?”

“It’s stupid to trust someone you barely know. I don’t like ‘er, I don’t like that prick Wojciech, I don’t like any of this. We can find another battery, alone.”

“No, we can’t. Who knows how long that will take? We have one right in front of us. This is our chance, Joel. To get out of here. Go find Tommy.”

There’s a pause, a shuffle of feet, and then Tess’s voice again, barely audible, “There’s just something about this chic. Okay? I like her. I really think she’s worth keeping around.” 

Joel says nothing. 

“Alright?”

He says nothing again. 

“Good. Now, be nice.”

You smile. You’re starting to really like Tess; the unspoken command she has over his angry bear of a man, this authority she holds over seemingly the air itself, instantly knocks up your respect for her. Thank god you like at least one of the people you’re about to travel with, to wherever they’re going. 

She opens the door then with a slight, polite smile, “Come on in. Get that thing off your shoulders. I’m sure they’re bruised by now.” As you enter, she adds, kind of offhandedly, “We need to talk.”

You offer a matching smile back, walking in and finding the table to set down your heavy bag before joining her on the couch. Joel sits in a chair in the corner, still looking annoyingly murderous. You stare right back, blankly, challenging him. He scares you just as much as half of the people in Boston, so it doesn’t really hit like it used to. He’s not gonna hurt you, he just wants you to feel like he will. You almost sigh, tired of shit like this. 

He looks pissed as fuck, but, eventually, he looks to the ground, submitting to Tess’s request of ‘being nice’.

Joel is almost like a puppy, well, more like a dog, a guard dog, who sits in the corner, watching and glaring as much as a dog can, who eventually huffs, defeated, and plods over to lay at your feet. He reminds you of an old, tired, Saint Bernard. Tess is unquestionably his owner, known this dog for years, able to command him with one word or even just her eyes. 

“Look,” Tess interrupts your musing, her eyes demanding your attention, sitting next to you with her hands clasped over spread knees. “Him and I, we are not good people. We are here to get what we want, and go.”

Something about Tess makes you think that she may have been a mother at some point. You like it.

She continues, “I think we can help each other out. You wanna get outta here, too, right?”

You nod, “As soon as possible.”

She half chuckles, “Well, we’re on the same page, then. Joel here has a brother somewhere out in—”

“Tess,” Joel suddenly hisses, not even looking at you when he addresses you, “she does not need to know that.”

Tess barely gives him a look before she looks back to you, continuing on, “Somewhere out in Wyoming.”

“She did not need to know that.” Joel repeats, firmer. 

Tess turns to him then, pausing. “Look. We all have the same goal, now. Get the fuck out of Boston. And that’s where we’re headed, and she’s coming along, so, yes, she does need to know that. It’s as much her business as it is ours.”

“Who the fuck says she’s comin’ along? We’re gettin’ her out of Boston, an’ that’s it.”

Deciding you have a right to say something on the matter, you interject, “I want to get as far away from Boston as I can. I’ll go as far as you can take me. And for what it’s worth, I’m not gonna rob you, I’m not gonna kill you, I just want—”

“That’s worth nothin’.” Joel snaps, glaring at you again. 

You huff, glaring back. “I get it. I’m a stranger. So are you. But I’m coming with you, because it’s my fucking battery. I busted my ass getting that thing. And if we’re getting this car, we’re gonna be stuck in close quarters for a while, so you might as well get used to me, and I might as well get used to you. We’re helping each other out here, ok? I’m not just cargo. I am a fucking asset. That should be apparent enough now. That Wojciech guy is not easy to fucking work with, you’re lucky you got to be in the room to begin with. Because I got him to trust me. Cause I can get my hands on things others cannot. I know shit. I know how to talk to people. And I have shit out there. I know what to do, where to go. I’ve only been in Boston for a year. I was out there for years. I have shit stashed, and I know where it is. And I can show you. And we can share it. I’m not a child, I’m not useless, and I’m not stupid. So be nice, ok?”

Joel just stares back, glowering, grinding his teeth.

“What is this,” Tess speaks up, “a staring contest? Look, we don’t have time for this. We’re leaving in the morning, and she’s right, you need to get used to each other. I don’t have the patience to deal with this shit, ok?”

You’re not exactly sure who she’s addressing while you’re still steady with Joel’s gaze. If this is a staring contest, you are way too stubborn to lose, especially after how he’s been treating you. 

After a moment, Joel finally submits, casting his eyes to the floor before he gets up and goes to the kitchen where he digs a large, thick glass bottle out from the top shelf of a cabinet, a quarter of the way full with golden, what you assume to be, liquor. He doggedly retrieves two, then three, cups. He holds all three in one hand, a finger in each, with the bottle in his other hand. He comes to the table before the couch, moving slow, resistantly, like he’s trying to rub it in how much he does not want to be setting the glasses down to pour one for Tess, but then also one for you. He keeps his gaze down as he does and then pours his own glass, not even bothering to set the bottle down so that he can immediately pour himself another after downing the first. You watch as he pulls a bag out of his pocket and takes two big, fat, white pills—the same kind you just passed hundreds of over to Wojciech—to swallow down with his alcohol. He pauses, turns, and tosses the bag to you. You catch it, look at it in your palm, and then set it on the table. 

Joel glances over at it, “T’s not laced.” There’s taut irritation in his voice, “I jus’ took one.” You dumbass is easily heard, though he doesn’t say it, instead taking a sip and trying to hide the grimace it gives him. 

“I don’t want one.” You tell him, “I prefer less sleep. ‘Few hours keep me sharp.” You don’t take your eyes off of him, though he only keeps you in his peripheral. 

The alcohol is harsh on your tongue, a mixture of every type of alcohol to exist, probably, and not watered down like you’re used to. You polish the glass off in one gulp, unintentionally slamming the glass back down on the table with a wince. Tess chuckles and gulps hers down as well. 

She sets her glass down almost as hard as you had, then says to you, “Alright, you get the couch. I’ll see you in the morning.” With that, she gets up and goes into the next room over. 

Joel stays standing, glass and bottle still in hand, not looking at you. He pours himself another one, then plods closer to pour you another as well. He abandons the bottle on the table then and sits in the chair in the corner in a way that ages him. The setting sun crosses orange over his chest and lights up his face; he’s rough, and handsome. More handsome than you want him to be. 

His flits his eyes around, considering, then submitting again with a sigh. 

“So, you said you got stuff stashed around?” He says, finally looking at you. 

You nod as you sip, trying to mute a grimace. 

“Where?”

“Few miles from here. Pretty much a straight shot from the gates. Then some more a few miles further.”

“You know how to get us there?”

“Yes.” You answer, annoyed. 

He sighs, then grimaces with his sip. He pauses again, looking absentmindedly at the seat next to you on the couch, then speaks again, “So you said you only been here a year?” You nod. “Why’d you come?” 

“For a break.” 

“A break,” he nearly chuckles.

“I know, not much of one. That’s why I’m ready to leave.”

“You got a destination in mind?”

“No.” 

“Good.”

There's a pause. You want to know more about him, the reasoning you assign to being for the safety of your own travels. 

“So, brother?” You inquire. 

Joel takes a slow sip, answering with a grimace probably both from the taste and the decision to answer, “Yes.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

Joel considers the walls before he answers, “We had a disagreement.”

“About what?”

“Morals. You gonna finish that?”

You keep eye contact as you down the dregs of your drink. He keeps the gaze as well, examining you as he licks his teeth behind his lips. He sighs, then looks through the window. 

“You gonna watch me as I sleep?” You quip. He turns back to you, eyes looking you over again. 

“No.” With that, he gets up, walks to the table to set his glass down, and leaves into the next room over. 

When he’s gone, you sigh. What an introduction. Tess seems solid, but Joel is fucking exhausting. You hope to god he lets up on his go fuck yourself air about him soon enough, but you can’t tell if that’s a possibility. You have to admit, it’s a bit winsome, and definitely intriguing. He’s a nut you’d love to crack, and if things do work out, you should have plenty of time. 

You lay back on the couch and close your eyes. You feel almost like a kid on Christmas Eve, so much so that you consider the bag of sleeping pills on the table, but you’ve never touched them and you don’t plan on starting now. That would be stupid. Maybe by now, however long he’s been here, Joel is used to going to sleep in a bed and being sure he’ll be fine until he wakes up in the morning, but you are not. It is an idea that’s nice to have in your head, allowing you maybe a few hours more sleep than you used to get, but that all ends tomorrow. You’re not upset about that, though; sometimes, it feels like out there is your natural habitat. You have no qualms with leaving these walls. So, you try your best to welcome sleep, to get the next few hours over with so you can start the next chapter.

[wobbling-wideloads]

"Ok but... isn't this junk snack food? Why would I be doing an endorsement for it?" Becca stood in the studio looking towards the myriad of cameras and the operators and stage crew behind them. Both in her hand and next to her on a table were boxes of cookies, the product she was here to film an advertisement for. Turning the box in her hand, she grimaced reading the label scrawled across the front. The first half written in what she could only describe as a flowery, girly cursive was "Passion Patties~". The second half though was the confusing portion to her, this half, written in bold block text the resembled metal blocks bolted onto the logo read, "SPORTS BULK EDITION." Why this snack food company was now trying to break into the sports world Becca didn't know, all she knew is she felt weird doing this.

Still, she stood there on the set, in her track uniform posing as they snapped pictures for print ads while they got ready for the video ad. One final time, she rolled her eyes and looked towards her manager. "Do I really have to eat these? I mean you've seen the people who eat them right..." She trailed off, not wanting to be overtly rude but it was common knowledge that Passion Patties were purchased exclusively by the overweight. "Yes, it's in your contract now hurry up and get in position they're ready to roll." Her manager snapped, hurrying away behind the set to take another phone call. With a sigh, Becca tilted the open box and popped a cookie into her hand and gave her best fake smile to the camera. "Hey everyone! Becca from Bay Beach Waves track team here! Working out and practicing takes up a lot of my time and making sure I get the proteins and nutrients I need for being at the top of my field can be challenging. However, now with Passion Patties: SBE, I get all of that and they're wonderful classic flavor! Because don't forget, we're all passionate about something." With that she tossed the cookie into her mouth and swallowed. "CUT! Great, ok let's roll it back for take 2..."

---

"Yes... yes I know it wasn't a great performance. At least it was just an exhibition and not a real meet so it's a big deal. Hey I still finished second didn't I?" It was a struggle to not shout while she drove, her phone's audio playing through her car's speakers as she drove. For once she was happy there was noise suppression on her microphone, reducing the rustling of the box and the crunching from the cookies she was snacking on. It had been a week and a half since her Passion Patties ad, and it was rare that anyone spotted her without a box in her hand. "What do you mean I DIDN'T finish second? Ok ok, yes WITH the penalties from the knocked over hurdles I was 13th, but that still put TWO people behind me! And I still MOSTLY bear the rest of them!"

During that week and a half, she had also been steadily ballooning in weight. She'd more than doubled her weight, having started at 136 pounds she was now about 303 pounds. This, had obviously hurdling a much harder activity, something that her team mates in other disciplines had been more than vocal about with her. Sure there were eight hurdles in the three hundred meter race she did, and sure she knocked over seven of them. She still finished the race! And she was faster than the others still too! She just... couldn't really move for almost half an hour afterwards and immediately began to stuff her face once she could move again. Nobody wanted to be rude, but they were certain that they could see her gut pressing further against the waistband of her shorts as she ate and walked away.

---

This was so demeaning, she couldn't believe she was doing this. She was a track star not a wrestler! Not that she had anything against the sport, she respected all of her fellow athletes but there was a massive difference between the fields. Sure, it was a month and a half later, and she was hovering at 605 pounds and she couldn't walk for more than a few minutes without getting winded, but she still had her pride in all the hard work she had put in during high school and college! Still her manage seemed to be right, shifting to a local area Sumo League did seem to be the way she could stay in sports right now that was professional eating and there was no way she was resorting to that.

Taking to the ring in her bright orange mawashi, once again sponsored by the wonderful people at Passion Patties, she forced a smile and waved to the crowd. Her opponent would follow suit and after a brief greeting the match would begin. The matches were never long, sure they had a limit of four minutes, but they were usually over in a few seconds this. While this one would be no exception, she came far closer to getting ringed out than she would've liked to admit. Still though, she was able to plant her feet down and push back, gripping her opponent firmly and shoving them clear out of the ring.

"That's right! I win again! Remember everyone, I'm passionate about winning and you can all be passionate about something too!" Becca gloated before walking out of the ring back to her locker room. That was close, too close even. She needed to think about this, maybe she'd need to bulk up more...

[writingintheshadowsforever]

Imagine Finding Out Riri is Ironheart

Ma is it okay if I pick you up tonight?

I want to take out

Y/N please

I'm sorry for missing dinner last night

This is getting ridiculous I apologized like ten times already

Babe just answer me you know I don't do silent treatment

Its going to be real funny when I flip the script

Ma please I want to show you something okay it will explain everything, isn't that what you asked for last night the truth right

Your phone was on constant vibration with the pace Riri was sending the messages. It made harder for you to ignore and instead focus on the plan for your next mission. Eventually you just gave up deciding to see what tactic your girlfriend was going to use this time to get out of the doghouse.

You rose an eyebrow at the first few messages. Of course she would start off with the typical make-up date. It took months to secure a dinner reservation at the particular restaurant. Riri was supposed to meet you at last night at ten.

You waited an extra forty-five minutes for her to show up, before putting in an order to-go. The waiter spent the entire time asking if you were sure you didn't want to go ahead and eat? The air of sympathy coming from him and anyone else who was sitting near you, or just happened to pass by was unbearable. Especially with the waiter as it was obvious he had been through the routine quite a few times.

What made so much worse was she didn't bother to text or call with an explanation. You had to show up at her dorm showing off your the nice dress with a bag in hand. At first Riri looked confused trying to figure out why you were all dressed up, but then her eyes landed on the bag's logo. She closed her eyes and released a sigh of guilt.

"Babe-"

You didn't want to hear it pushing past her into the room. The only reason you were even here was because one no matter how upset you were with her, you still wanted to make sure she was okay. And two you were tired and your feet was killing you, so you really didn't feel like making the drive to your apartment thirty minutes away.

Riri watched as you plopped down on her bed, dug the to-go box out of the bag, and started eating. The sound of her stomach growling reached your ears, and for a split second you thought about letting her starve. Of course you didn't telling her to come over to eat. You shared the food, and fell asleep in her bed alone for the first few minutes. While she tinkered with some robotic part for a class project.

Those actions lured Riri into a false sense of security making her think. She was off the hook for missing the date, only to wake up this morning to you not acknowledging her existence at all. Let alone talking to her.

In the beginning Riri refused to play your game and just went about her day. If you didn't want to talk to her that was fine. Until it wasn't and finally she realized she was the one in the wrong, and you had every right to be angry with her. This is a recurring thing with her.

That was when the texts started coming in it was around four 'o' clock. Riri just got out of her last class for the day, and usually you would be waiting for her in her dorm unless otherwise was already planned.

You didn't care if she scored court side tickets to a Celtics game. She wasn't going to fix things this time with a last-minute thrown together date. Letting her side all those other times with the tactic is what created the problem.

The text about her not doing the silent treatment did strike a nerve with you. It was almost like she was challenging to keep ignoring her, and you were tempted to do just that by silencing your phone altogether before putting it back down. But then your fingers kept scrolling and you saw the last message she sent. Your heart skipped a beat as you read it over and over.

Last night before turning over to face the wall you had asked her to tell you the truth. You went into a sleepy monologue about how much Riri had changed in the past few months, and all you wanted to do was understand. But you couldn't understand what she didn't tell you. Riri was keeping secrets, and while you definitely had yours. One thing you always made sure of was that they never came between your relationship with Riri.

Because you loved her more than anyone else in the world, and the thought of losing her made you want to jump off a cliff. It wasn't something you could take which is why you continued to give her so many chances.

Now here she was offering to give you exactly what you wanted. The only problem was the mission was supposed to go down tonight, if your partner came through that is.

On cue a pair of strong hands clapped you on the shoulder from behind shaking you a bit. "Y/N my girl guess what I have for you?"

Devin walked around to take a seat at the table placing a brown file folder down on the table. He was tall with an average build, light brown hair styled into a buzz cut, and blue eyes. Devin was a mixed kid with parents that came from opposite side of the tracks, but against all the odds still found love, and made it through the darkest times. Tragically though he lost both of them during the Snap after he fell victim to Thanos's plans. Neither of his parents could handle life without their precious baby, and soon enough his mother took her own life losing her battle to survivor’s guilt.

Losing his son and his wife in such a short time period led to his father turning to the bottle. The man had a drinking problem in his teenage years, it was his wife who helped him overcome the alcoholism. She gave up liquor and even wine herself, so he would never be tempted again. But with her gone and no one else in his life left to check up on him. His father gave in wanting the pain and loneliness to go away, the bottle would take his life.

Devin came back five years later to discover his parents were gone, and his entire life was turned upside down. He started going down a dark path but then he met you, making all the difference.

With huge grin he slide the file over to you and settled back in the chair. "Go ahead take a peek."

You sent Riri a quick reply telling her to let you think. Leaving her on read would just drive her more crazy, and have her come looking for you. Riri knew your routine like the back of her hand with you being a creature of habit. There was only one cafe you hung out just ten minutes away from your place. They had the best coffee and cookies in town in your opinion. She would check here first.

You opened the file to find numerous photos of a dark room, and upon taking a closer look you realized it was the inside of a vault. As you went through them the pictures got a lot clearer letting you see the details of this vault, and the door. "Are these...?" Your voice trailed off as you looked up at Devin with disbelief.

He nodded with pride leaning forward so no one else could hear him. "I know you wanted to hold off on this job for a bit longer, but that was because you didn't think I could get you the layout for the vault. But I worked my ass off and we got them."

"How?"

"My mom had an account with them, so I just went in acting all desperate asking if it was still open, and was there money in it. There was the dude in there working the counter checking me out. I got his number and viola" he explained.

"So this dude is okay with his crush being a hardened criminal" You replied in an accusing tone. While you were happy he got the pictures it didn't change the fact. He broke one of your biggest rules.

Don't ever get other people involved with the jobs especially if they weren't properly vetted by you.

Devin frowned "you say that like I've been to jail or something. I'm not exactly hardened you know, and I did have to pay him you know."

"How much?"

"3,500" he answered with a shrug. That amount of money was nothing to him considering the last job was a big score, and just two weeks ago.

"No how much of a cut does he want?" You asked firmer this time fixing him with a hard stare.

"He doesn't wan-"

You let out a impatient groan. "Don't play dumb Devin there's no way this guy risked his job and livelihood by taking these pictures for puppy-love. He knows you're planning to rob it and the second we do this job. He's going to hit up asking for some of it, if he hasn't already."

"Fine he wants a small percentage" he admitted slapping the table. "But it'll be worth it and it's not like we have a big crew it's just the two of us. Bringing in a third person won't break us you know plus we needed an insi-"

"No we didn't I had a plan and if you stayed patient like I told you to. This job would've been going down in a few more weeks without a hitch, but no now we have to be cautious, and share the profit." You seethed closing the folder and pushing it back to him.

"A few weeks isn't good enough for me y/n. I need the money now"

"That's why we were hitting the jewelr-"

Devin shook his head growling in frustration. "You don't get it I'm set to lose the house in a week. My parent's home or did you forget I was trying to buy it back from the bank. The owner and the bank finally reached a deal, so I have seven days to come up with two-hundred fifty thousand dollars, or I'm going to lose it."

The fight and anger left your body at his revelation his childhood home was his safe haven. He always told you that being in the house made him feel connected to his deceased folks. Now you knew why he had been so pushy on the endgame job.

"Devin why didn't you say something sooner?"

"Because I didn't want to rush this job anymore than you did. I thought I could convince the bank to give me more time. Heartless bastards" he muttered at the end.

"Fine make sure your boy isn't going to rat, and if you think he is just let me know. I'll handle it but I'm still going to need a day or two map out the entire plan, and deal with any holes alright. This has to be executed with perfection." You told him smiling as his eyes teared up.

Devin was afraid you were going to say no, or worse be done with him. He held his hand out for you to slap then bumped his fist to yours.

"I'll look over the pictures and get back to you in sometime tomorrow." You packed your bag and got up to leave.

"Wait what about tonight?" He asked

"Well we don't need to hit the jewelry store if we're doing this one so soon, and your girl got a date so just take it easy yeah. Take your friend out or somethin."

"So I can be tied down and whipped like you no thank you" Devin called out playfully watching you leave.

You gave him the middle finger over your shoulder as the door swung shut.

Three Hours Later

Riri insisted on taking you out for dinner no matter how much you protested. She couldn't secure another reservation at the same restaurant, but did manage to find one just as nice and more low-key meaning no reservations needed.

The two of you sat at a table outside on a deck with little lights strung along the clear roof. It took a few minutes but Riri broke the ice with a joke that had you in tears. After that it was if you and her weren't even at odds as the two of you talked about your day.

Once dinner was over Riri took over driving, and you let her without argument. Settling back in your seat watching the night stars pass by in a blur as she drove. About twenty minutes later the car came to a stop, and Riri was getting out.

You waited for her to come around and open your door. Knowing from past situations trying to open your own door whenever she was around was a no-no. Your car door was opened and you stepped outside into a empty parking lot surrounded by small garage-like buildings.

"Um babe where are we?" You asked looking around for any sign of life.

Riri pecked your lips with a smile. "Calm down ain't nobody trying to kidnap you. This is my spot you know where I work on all my super secret projects as you like to call them."

"Well you never let me see anything, and this is your first time bringing me here" You shot back.

"I know I know and I'm sorry but this place is like a safe space, and I don't really own it I fixed up this guy's car so he lets me work out of it. I don't want to lose it."

"I get it." It sucked not having a space of your own and having to rely, on people who could just take it all away with a snap of their fingers.

"Come on let's get inside" Riri said taking you by the land to lead you over to the garage. The car was parked in front of.

She let you walk in first coming right behind you hitting the lights. It was a more-than decent size workspace. On the left was a huge desk set up with desktop computers and papers spread out everywhere. A giant whiteboard with multiple blueprints was next to it. On the right side was her white motorbike, and not too faraway the shape of a car hiding up a forest green blanket.

"So this is where you're hiding out all the time?"

"Hey now don't do that I'm opening up to you here." Riri whined coming up behind you wrapping her arms around your waist, and placed her chin on your shoulder.

You leaned your head back to look into her warm brown eyes. She took the opportunity to pull you into a heated kiss. For a second you forgot why you were here as your lips moved in sync with hers. You turned around in her arms to lock your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. Her grip on your waist tightened as she tilted her head to deepened the kiss.

Your legs started moving on their own towards the work area until your back hit the desk. You whirled around lifting Riri up onto the desk, and your lips left her lips to trail down her neck.

"Ma I have dreamed of this moment every since I got this place, but we need to take a breather." Riri panted holding back a moan.

You pulled away in slight frustration. "Fine what is you want to show me so bad."

Riri hoped down from the desk and walked over to a drawer rummaging around in it. "Promise we can pick up where we left off if you still want to. After all this is over."

You frowned "Riri it can't be that bad can it?"

She turned around to face you with a remote in hand, and with a solemn expression. "Its not bad but it is a lot and I don't really know how you're going to react. Just know that ma I love you, and I want to keep you safe.

"Riri-" You tried to ask her what was going on, but then a loud whirring noise filled the air, drowning out your voice. Your gaze drifted up to see a small platform descending from the ceiling. You took a few steps back so you were standing next to Riri.

"I left a lot out when I told about Wakanda okay, but in my defense there is some stuff that went down. I really can't talk about without getting in serious trouble alright, but before I left I was working on a suit. It was coming along real good before it got destroyed." Her story came to a pause as the platform was done lowering to the ground. There was something on it but it was hidden by a black blanket.

Riri walked over to take a hold on it. "Having the Princess of Wakanda in your corner comes with a lot of perks, and I was able to get my hands on some pretty strong material. Its not vibranium but its the next best thing making rebuilding my suit a lot easier and even better. After it was done I started to take it out for a test run which kind of let to me saving some people."

"I don't understand" You murmured in confusion.

"Yeah I'ma just rip the bandaid off" Riri said yanking the blanket off to reveal. A purple-yellow metal suit with black on the front part. It modeled a Iron-man suit remake just made for a smaller person.

Your eyes widened in shock, and you leaned back on the desk behind for support. Your hands gripping it so tight your knuckles were turning white. Riri was talking again but her voice was just background noise at this point. As you tried to process the fact that your girlfriend was Ironheart.

Riri Williams was Ironheart. This shouldn't be a bad thing, you should be filling joy right now. She wasn't cheating or growing bored of you. She missed those dates because she was out saving people. There shouldn't be a problem with that, but there was.

Because this was last time you saw this suit was in action. When Ironheart faced off with you and Devin during a risky robbery just a few weeks ago. And the time before that when the hero just happened to be patrolling while you were scouting out the place. You always managed to escape your encounters with the hero.

But what were going to do now because there was no escaping the way you felt about her. Your big endgame job just a lot more complicated.

Taglist: @alistair-mooncrest @unsatisfiedanddisappointed @justariellove @greek-freak101 @mbakuetshurisprincess @deliciousfestsalad @zayswriting @tchhairbandhere @6-noir @rhayanm @letitias-fav @ajawasblog @izzyorzua24 @shinsousliya @ilacknames

[smolghostbot]

Battle Against A Real Threat (Part 1/2)

Part 2 Here

A Non-canon AU where Contralto’s neighbor wasn’t Clay, but the worst possible person it could be. A vent piece/character study of sorts. Part 2 will be posted later today, heads-up that this ends on a low note.

Word Count: 3.8k Content warnings: Whump, tiny whump, kidnapping, injuries, threats, alcoholic whumper, snapping Contralto’s psyche like a glowstick.

======

Chapter 1: Showtime

Finally, Contralto had made her way to the apartment downstairs. The one that would be the start of her heroic journey, to slay all humans so that sprites could rightfully live without fear! She just… needed to get outside the wall. Wait, perfect! An exit! Based on her apartment, this should lead to the kitchen. Not an ideal place for a heroic speech, but she could try to get somewhere higher up once she’s inside.

Messy is the first word that came to mind as Contralto entered the apartment. Several full-to-bursting trash bags were in the corner of the little kitchen, and boxes were all over the counter with a variety of logos that the sprite couldn't read. The floor wasn’t dirty, but clearly hadn’t been swept in a while, and the area under the cabinets that Contralto had found herself in was especially dusty. As Contralto looked around, she shuddered a bit at the sight of a mousetrap, which is thankfully still primed and ready. Humans… more proof that they’re monsters, the sprite thought to herself as she made her way through the apartment. It was dark, as planned, but her night vision made it a trivial trek to the living room, which was equally as disorganized as the kitchen was. Whoever lives here seemed like… not the most proactive person. This could work in her favor, as if all goes to plan they’ll be an easy target.

Finally, with some effort, she climbed up to the top of a bookcase in the corner, using a power cable to assist her. Of course, the top was covered in dust, but she quickly tried to clean up enough of an area to rest and eventually give her big speech without being covered in dust.

This apartment was… very different from her home. No posters of brave heroes, or statues in their honor… just blank walls, some simple furniture, and mess. There was a game system plugged into the TV at least. As Contralto waited, she idly wondered if they played the same games as her human… not that it mattered much, considering they’ll be slain soon.

After a quick nap and a few hours, the apartment started to become lit by morning light. Contralto jumped up, awaiting the human… who didn’t leave their bedroom. She had heard noise in the night coming from there, clearly somebody was home.

Finally, after a few impatient hours, she decided to climb down from the bookcase and make her way into the bedroom itself. Normally, this was taboo for sprites, but what does privacy matter if they were going to die soon anyways?

However, it wasn’t long after she hit the floor that a creaking noise was heard as the door to the bedroom door opened. With nowhere to go, Contralto climbed up the nearest furniture, being the coffee table in the center of the room. Not the height advantage she hoped for, but it would do. She closed her eyes quickly and took a few deep breaths as she rehearsed her speech. Finally, the human walked into the room, and their bleary, deep blue eyes met with the lime eyes of the little hero. It was showtime.

“Human-”, the little sprite started to say, before being instantly interrupted by a very blunt “What the fuck?” as the wide-eyed human stared at her.

“Ahem,” Contralto said, clearing her throat, “I was saying… Human, prepare yourself for a fight! For centuries, sprites have lived in the darkness, fearing your kind. Well no more! Today is when that changes! That's why it is my goal to eliminate all humans, starting with you! Now, draw your weapon, human! And prepare as I, Contralto, Hero of the Sprites, Defender of the Helpless, the Hero Who Never Gives Up, will defeat you and free my people! Prepare to be struck down by the combined hopes and dreams of all of spritekind!”

As Contralto shouted her speech, which she had rehearsed for days, she noticed the human was slowly moving, first to the kitchen and then getting closer to her. She paid it no mind at first, but after she finished, she noticed the human was particularly close to the table, leaning down over it, their hands behind their back. Were they… planning something? She’d have to be on guard for them to draw a weapon.

“Contralto… a sprite, you called yourself?” The human finally said, their voice slightly alluring to the little hero.

“That’s what I said! You stand before Contralto, Hero of the Sprites, Defender of the Helpless, The Hero Who Never Gives Up!”

“Fascinating… so, tell me, little hero, have you come here alone?” The human replied, tilting their head inquisitively. This question seemed to confuse Contralto, who took a second before responding.

“Um… Yes, it is the way of the hero to travel alone… most of the time. If I find a mage or a good enough thief I’ll reconsider…” she started to say, before snapping back into her bold persona. “But that’s of no consequence to you, human!”

“Of course, of course, excuse me for prying, I just… wanted to know what I was up against… a little hero, who thinks she’s going to defeat the big bad humans… breaking into my apartment, alone…” Their sapphire-blue eyes seemed to glimmer for a second, as if they had an idea.

“I don’t just think so, I am! Now, are you ready to fight?” shouted Contralto as she struck a heroic pose.

“Hm…” the human said, before flashing a grin that instantly made Contralto nervous. “No, I don’t think so.”

And with that, the human quickly slammed down the plastic container they were holding behind their hands, trapping Contralto underneath it.

“Wh-hey! This is cheating! Let me go!” cried the muffled voice of the hero, as the human slid the container to the edge of the table, flipping the container over and trapping Contralto inside by putting the lid on three of the sides, leaving just enough of an opening for air.

“H-hey! Stop it! This isn’t how this is supposed to go!” The sprite cried out. “I’m a hero! You’re supposed to fight me!”

“Oh, why would I want to fight something like you? No, I think we’ll have a lot more fun instead, little Connie.”

“That’s not my name! It’s Contralto! Hero of the Sprites! Defender of the Helpless! The Hero Who Never G-” she started to exclaim, before the container was roughly shaken from side to side, throwing Contralto against the walls.

“Sorry, I think I missed that. Care to repeat it?”, said the human with a smile as they stared into the container.

“I… I said I’m Contralto, Hero of the Sprites, Defender of-”, Contralto started, before the container was jostled again, this time with a bit more force.

“Ooh, I think you got cut off there, try one more time?” The human said, still with a smile on their face.

There was a moment of silence and stillness before Contralto began to shout. “You dare mock me?! I’m Contralto, Hero of-”, she started, but this time the container was moved vertically, slamming Contralto against the lid before she was thrown back to the bottom of the container. The human simply smiled at her, blinking blankly as if they had done no wrong, as Contralto felt her nose starting to bleed from one of the impacts.

“I’m Contralto… Hero of-”

Thump.

“I’m… Contralto, Hero of th-”

Thump.

“I… I… y-you heard it before! You know who I am!” cried the sprite, not wanting to repeat this little “game”.

“Of course, Connie. Now, if you’re done trying to fight me, I think we have some things to do. After all, I’m assuming you don’t want to stay in this container.” said the human, with an almost cooing tone to their voice.

Chapter 2: New Home

It had been a few hours since Contralto’s capture. After their little ‘game’, the human had left the container on the counter as they left their apartment. Contralto had struggled to escape for a while, attempting to use her needles to remove the lid to no avail, and then throwing herself into the sides of the container in an attempt to push it off the counter, but after a while she had grown sore, and was now laying on the bottom of the container, tired and defeated. Was this how it ended? No, this was the part of the story where the hero was at their lowest… right?

Eventually, the human returned, holding a suspiciously large box. Contralto eyed it curiously as the human greeted her. “I’m back, Connie. Did you miss me?”

“I promise you my blades won’t miss once I’m let out of here!” spat the indignant borrower.

“Oh, Connie, there’s no need for that. You’ll learn that I’m a friend soon enough,” they said as they opened the boxes to reveal a hamster cage, to Contralto’s growing horror. She knew the rumors… the risks… this was why she became a hero, after all.

“I… you’ll never get away with this, villain!” cried Contralto, as the human put a hand over their heart in mock pain.

“Oh, you know, it hurts to be called a villain, after I bought you this nice new house and everything. Here I am, just wanting to take care of a lost little hero like you…”

“You… you dare try to put me in a cage? I’m a hero, I’m going to defeat you and save the world!” cried Contralto.

“Of course you are, Connie. Now, it’s time for you to get moved into your new home. Are we going to do this the easy way, or the hard way?”

Contralto drew her blades, staring daggers at the human, who only chuckled before replying. “Ah, I see you’re still doing things the hard way. I guess we’ll have to work on that.”

The human approached the container, picking it up and removing the lid, before giving it a little shake to disarm Contralto as she fell to the ground again. The sprite quickly went to reach for her weapons, before the container was tilted over, sending her tumbling into the hamster cage before the door was quickly shut. As the human began to carry the cage into their bedroom, they spoke to their enraged captive, who was trying her best to climb the bars and stab at their hands.

“There we go, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it Connie?” cooed the human, to Contralto’s growing rage.

“I… I swear, when I’m out of here, you’ll pay for this, human!”

“You know, I’m not so sure I’m a fan of being called ‘human’ all the time… but I suppose I’ll have plenty of time to think of a new title for you to call me, hm?”

Contralto’s cage was placed on the human’s dresser as the sprite took in the room. If the rest of the human’s house was messy, this room was downright sloppy. Clothes lay scattered everywhere, and the bed sat unmade with even more clothes on the end of it. Contralto’s eyes turned behind her to the nearby window, which the cage was in front of. She made a note that the window could be a good escape option, although they were pretty high up in this apartment, even to a human. Her thoughts were interrupted by the human, who seemed unusually lost in thought.

“Now then, let me ask you something. What do sprites eat? Since you’re my guest and all. After all, we have to keep a little hero in tip-top shape, right?”

Contralto weighed her options here. On one hand, she doesn’t want to sound like she’s submitting to the human. On the other hand… she will need food eventually. Finally, she spoke, still trying her best to keep up her hero persona.

“I… I’ll have you know that we sprites don’t eat meat, unlike you heartless humans. Not that I’ll accept any food from you, you monster!”

“Hm… that won’t be too difficult… I guess the hamster cage was more fitting than I thought… Okay, Connie, I'll be sure to get a little hero like you plenty of greens so you can grow up big and strong! Well… a bit bigger, I suppose,” the human mused, to Contralto’s growing frustration.

“You… you…” Contralto started to say in rage, her fists clenched and trembling as she stared at the human.

“Yes, me, me. Now, is there anything else I should know about taking care of a little helpless sprite?” The human said, once again using that soft, infantilizing voice that Contralto had grown to loathe.

“You should know that I’m going to destroy you when I get out of here, human!” shouted the sprite.

“My, you really do have quite the temper. We’ll have to work on that, Connie,” they said with another smirk. “But for now, I still have to go to work this afternoon, so let me get you some water before I leave.”

The human walked out, returning with some much-needed water in a bottle cap. “Now then, are you going to be good and let me put this inside your new home? Because otherwise you’ll just have to go without water.”

It was an offer Contralto couldn’t refuse… it had been a day or so since she last had anything to drink. The sprite snarled at the human as she responded, hand on one of her sheathed blades. “Fine. But if you so much as touch me…”

“Why, I wouldn’t dream of it, Connie. After all, we’re still getting to know each other. Now then,” the human said, as they opened the door and placed the bottle cap inside. True to her word, Contralto stood still until the door closed, but she wouldn’t be caught dead drinking out of it while the human was looking over her.

“Why, you’re such a good sprite, not trying to make a run for it!” cooed the human, clearly trying and succeeding in mocking Contralto. “Well, I’ll see you in a few hours. Take care, Connie!” The human cheerfully exclaimed as they walked out of the room, barely catching Contralto’s murmured death wishes.

Chapter 3: Rage Against the Machine

It had been a few days since her capture, and things were beginning to fall into a routine. The human would wake up and banter with Contralto for a bit, always with that same condescending tone. If Contralto behaved, she was given food and water, usually in the form of shredded lettuce, seeds, and other foods that Contralto recognized as feed for something like a pet. Another form of mocking her, she supposed.

Today, though, she had a plan. As the human opened the cage door to put her bottle cap of water in, Contralto lunged forward, stabbing at the human’s finger with her blades. As the human shouted in shock, Contralto made a run for the door, only to get quickly grabbed by the human’s other hand. “You-!” was all the human could shout as they stared at the sprite in their hands.

“Oh… you’re feeling feisty today, aren’t you?”, the human stated, as Contralto began to panic.

“Let go of me! Let go! Put me down! I’ll kill you!”

“You little… you’re lucky that I don’t crush you right now, you little pest! This is how you repay me for giving you food and shelter?!”

“Food and shelter? You trapped me in a cage, you monster!” cried Contralto, still squirming in the human’s grasp. The human adjusted their grip of the sprite, such that her arms were at her sides, barely gripping onto her blades. With their other hand, they grabbed the blades out of her hands, before roughly throwing her back in the cage.

“I should have taken these from you sooner,” said the human, voice free of even the mock kindness they had used previously. “A broken sewing needle… of course you were running around with trash before meeting me.” Contralto, meanwhile, was staring at the blades in the human’s hand in shock.

“No! No, you can’t! Give those back! Th-those are special! You can’t just throw them out! I… please! Please!”

The human’s eyebrows raised as they stared at Contralto, clearly mulling something over. Finally, their face returned to a neutral expression, and they spoke again with a bit more composure.

“Oh, it’s important to you, huh? Well then… maybe I’ll hold onto them after all. You can have them back… once you prove that you won’t redo this little stunt.” said the human as they put the blades into their nightstand drawer, despite Contralto’s pleas.

“Now then, I’m leaving for work. And since you chose to be naughty today, you can just wait until tomorrow for some more food and water, how about that?” the human said, not waiting for a reply as they began to turn and leave with a simple “See you later, Connie.”

-

Contralto was at a new low. Her blades were gone, she was trapped in a cage, she was hungry, thirsty, and weak, and she had been forced to beg her captor.

She almost thought that her situation couldn’t possibly get any worse, until she heard the sounds of the human returning from work. For some reason, they were louder and more aggressive than they had been in the prior days. Finally, the human came into the bedroom, holding a can of something. They seemed to ignore Contralto entirely, until they looked over at her, blue eyes showing pure anger.

“Well, if it isn’t my little sprite. How are we doing with no food and water?”, they said, their calm voice clearly contrasting their expression.

“I’m doing… just fine! No thanks to you, human!” spat Contralto. The human’s face seemed to twist into a snarl for a split second before returning to its prior expression.

“I’d watch your tone, little hero, today isn’t the day for your antics. Unlike you, some of us have actual problems.”

Contralto just rolled her eyes at that, before shouting in response, “Oh, I’m sure that a monster like you has so many problems in their life. The other humans can probably tell that you’re especially evil!”

“All right, that’s it!” shouted the human as they walked over to the cage, placing the can on the dresser nearby. As they jostled the cage, sending Contralto off-balance, they opened the door and quickly grabbed the defiant sprite. “I think it’s high time that little Connie learned a little respect.”

Contralto immediately started to panic again, very much fearing this human’s grasp. “H-hey! Put me down!”

“Oh, I’ll put you down… once you learn to respect me,” the human said, anger in their voice, and as Contralto could now note, a particularly strong smell of what she recognized as alcohol in their breath. She hardly had time to process, however, before the human began to fidget with her in their grip, positioning her such that they were holding one of her arms uncomfortably far backwards with two of their fingers..

“Now… I want to hear a thank you,” they said simply.

“Thank you? For capturing me? I’ll never thank you, you-” Contralto started, before shouting in pain as her arm was moved just a bit too far backwards.

“That wasn’t a thank you.”

“Hah… you think you can get me to give in? I’m… the Hero Who Never Gives Up!” Contralto defiantly shouted, before her arm was once again pushed just a bit too far backwards, causing her to shout in pain.

“That was a lot of words, but still not a thank you. Are you really going to make me be the bad guy here?”

“You are the bad guy, you mons-” Contralto started, before screaming in pain as her arm was moved even farther back.

“That still wasn’t a thank you, little Connie,”

“That’s… not my name! It’s Contralto, Hero of the Sprites, Defender of the-” Contralto started, before the human jerked her arm backwards forcefully, causing her to scream in pain again.

“Oh, little Connie… we’ve been over this. I don’t want your little speeches, what I want is a thank you, for taking care of you. Why do you have to make this so difficult?”

Contralto was struggling to breathe from the pain. She could feel a burning in her shoulder, it was probably close to dislocated, but she was the Hero Who Never Gives Up, after all. “I’ll… never thank you…” she muttered, bracing herself for another surge of pain, which was received as the human pulled her arm forward this time.

“Oh, but I think you will. I’ve got tomorrow off, after all. We have all the time in the world.”

True to their word, the human kept up their little training session for another hour before it finally came to an end.

“Are you finally ready to just say thank you?” they asked, holding the battered and bruised sprite in their hand. Her shoulder was swollen, and something was clearly wrong as even small movements caused the sprite to shriek in pain.

“N-never…”, Contralto said, having lost the will to speak in full sentences a while back. However, despite her pain, and her face streaked with tears, she truly refused to give up.

“A shame. You know, I feel like we’re not getting anywhere here…” they said, before pulling Contralto’s arm far behind her, such that her elbow started to move in an unnatural direction with a painful-sounding noise. Contralto’s vision instantly filled with stars and auras, and the human could tell that she had become unfocused.

“Come on, just say it and this will be all over, Connie. It’s only two words… thank you. Is that so hard?”

Once Contralto was able to return to the consciousness she was barely clinging to, she decided to collect herself to try to speak. “I’ll… say it… if you stop…”

“Of course, Connie. Do you think I’m a liar?”

Contralto didn’t answer, until the human gripped her arm again. “Do you think I’m a liar?”, they repeated. Contralto tried to shake her head, but her neck muscles hurt so badly that she could only speak it instead.

“No…”

“Well then, you know the deal. Just say thank you for all I’ve done for you, and I’ll let you go.”

There was a tense silence between the two of them, before Contralto finally broke.

“... Thank you…”

“Oh, why, you’re so welcome!” The human replied in a chipper tone, as they immediately went to place the defeated sprite back in her cage. “You know, I loved to hear that. I think you should get in the habit of saying it more often.”

Contralto couldn’t respond, as she simply fell down onto the opposite side of her now-broken shoulder and began to sob.

[seashellisinmyheart]

Analyzing the hell out of Striker's digs here because I've got nothing better to do.

It's kind of cute noting that he crudely added his name to that saloon sign. That placard with his name painted on looks to be one of the few things he actually made whereas everything else looks like it was acquired else where.

Also, you can kind of see the ladder on the right side of the wagon. Probably so he can either just sit up there or screw with the sign.

Can't go on enough about that little bedroom. From what we can see, it's pretty bare bones. Just a bed with a few accents tossed in. He seems to be fond of lights, considering he's got a bunch hanging over the bed as well as a neon cactus. The hides and the horns are probably there just for the Western aeshetic.

I would like to zero in on the bed. It's odd to me that it's not a one person bed. Maybe the dude just likes to sprawl out when he sleeps or maybe that was just the first bed he found. There's another possible explanation (illicit liasions), but I don't put much stock in it. Also would like to point out the bite mark in the headboard as well as the tattered bedsheets and patchwork pillows. This could either mean that the materials are just that old or that Striker is a violent sleeper.

Funny to me, that the drapes here have the same patchwork as the pillow. Can Striker sew? Plus, he's got a beer logo prominently displayed here, which could just owe to the overall 'man cave' like look or maybe he just really loves to drink beer.

I have no idea what the New Blood sign means. Maybe it's for more liquor? I also like how the wagon wheel is busted. Probably due to age rather then anything else.

I'm not sure why, but the overturned wagon really bugs me. Did Striker push it over or was it always like that? And what was inside of it? Hmmmm.

This looks like Striker's entire kitchen set up. Boy probably only knows how to make stew and other pot concoctions. No wonder the guy is so thin.

Now we come to another sign that Striker stole acquired. I'm guessing that he really vibes with the whole 'kill count' thing there. Does he like casinos? Maybe, but I doubt he's a problem gambler.

Again with the neon lights, Striker? This one is probably my favorite of his accents. It's the only reference to his snake heritage inside his lair. Now, maybe it's just a coincidence that it happens to be a snake. Maybe he just likes that brand of liquor. It's just really cool looking.

More lights! He's got them lined up around the train tracks. He probably ties up all his victims in that spot. Why, because why the hell not?

The most baffling thing Striker owns is that statue of himself with the massive B. Now, maybe he just has it due to vanity, but I have my own headcanon. Judging by all the beer signs he has, I'm guessing he gets sloshed a lot during his downtime. He might have put it up during a drunken bender. Something he thought was funny at the time and just decided to keep. Still think the massive B is only there just to hang his hat because he's too dense to think about the sexual implications.

He has one light shining on the statue just for show, as well as another neon cactus. I noticed his use of lighting is pretty haphazard.

Finally, there's his antiquated boom box. That seems to be his only real form of entertainment in his lair. It's already set to a fusion of country and rock (not bad sounding, actually). He probably drinks and listens to music when he's relaxed.

Tumblr won't let me add any more pictures, but he also has quite a few barrels floating around. Probably part Western feel and part storage unit (or maybe he just likes Cracker Barrel).

Well, that's Striker's hideout. He doesn't own much. A majority of it is just decoration. My guess is that he's used to moving around a lot and wants to travel light. I enjoy breaking this down because it's one of the few times we get to see a casual part of his personality.

[katblu42]

A Present For Scott

This little fic was sparked by a recent conversation with @amistrio and @onereyofstarlight. I hope there will be more creations that come from that discussion!

Anyway, many thanks to both of those wonderful people for the inspiration as well as lovely words encouraging me to share this with you all.

Notes: This is pre-canon/weeTracys fic (I'm picturing Alan as around 8 years old here) It's general audience rated, family fluff.

...

The little second-hand book shop on Main Street was cosy and warm, but a little disorganised.  Books of all types and shapes and sizes were stacked not only on shelves but on just about any flat surface, seemingly with no sense of order or categorisation.

None of that mattered to Alan, who browsed the titles carefully, very conscious of the five dollars burning a hole in his pocket.  It was his money, painstakingly earned over the last few weeks so he could buy his biggest brother a present for his birthday.

Everyone said turning twenty-one was a big deal, so Alan’s present had to be special.  He knew Scotty liked to read books.  Actual books, with real pages you could turn – not audio books or ebooks, but the old fashioned paper type ones.  And he’d done his research.  Well, he’d snooped around in Scott’s bedroom and taken a good look at the books on the shelf.  In any case, he had a particular kind of book in mind.

“How can anyone find anything in this place?” John asked no one in particular.  The chaotic charm of the non-existent filing system in the store was completely lost on him.  In fact, it seemed to make him a little uncomfortable.  “What kind of books are you looking for, Squirt?”

“The ones about going places.  You know, like the – um, guides?” Alan tried to remember the titles from Scott’s shelves.  “Lonely guides?”

“Oh, travel guides, like Lonely Planet.”

“Yeah, those ones!”

“Alright, let me see if I can find any kind of travel section in here.”

John crossed to the other side of the store and began scanning the spines of books on the tall shelves there, leaving Alan to flick through the books tumbling out of boxes on the table in front of him once more.

Some of the books in Scott’s room had been about aeroplanes and flying, but he seemed to have more books about travelling.  There were at least three with that Lonely Planet logo on them, so he knew if he found one of those his big brother would probably like it.  Scott’s bookshelves had contained a bunch of books that seemed to be written by people who had travelled to places the slow way – long train trips, or car journeys, or sometimes by bike or even on foot. Books that were less about the destination, and more about the journey, and the places you could stop along the way.

That had surprised Alan a little.  It seemed more Virgil’s style to go slow and admire things along the way.  Scott generally liked to get to places as fast as possible.  He figured maybe the enjoyment came from reading about the way other people explored these places so Scott didn’t have to go there himself.

It didn’t really matter why he liked them, Alan just knew he had to find a book that was about going some place exciting or different.  A travel guide, or something that had the word “tour” or "journey" in the title.  He figured he’d know it when he saw it.

A few titles with promise had caught his eye as possibilities when Vigil and Gordon came into the book shop.  Alan ignored them as Gordon excitedly showed John the gift he’d bought from the Olde Curiosity Shoppe down the street.  He knelt down and started looking through the books in the boxes beneath the table as John complained to Virgil about the books not being sorted by genre, or author, or alphabetically by title, or . . . anything.

Then he saw it.  Alan knew this was the one just from the title.  It was perfect. He was absolutely certain that Scott would love it.  Without interrupting his brothers he took the book over to the counter and handed over his money to the kind lady who put his purchase into a paper bag for him.

“We can go now,” he announced joyfully to the others.

Three sets of eyes were suddenly turned on him and the bag in his hand.

“What did you get?” Gordon asked, reaching for the bag.

Alan snatched it out of Gordon’s reach.  “I don’t want you to see until Scotty opens his present.”

There was some half-hearted arguing, mostly from Gordon, but Alan made it more than clear that he wanted it to be a surprise.  Virgil, and then John, whilst curious about the book Alan had chosen, quickly backed him up and put a stop to Gordon’s attempts to look inside the bag.  And with the shopping done, they headed home to prepare for Scott’s party.

Despite the milestone birthday, the party was a fairly simple affair.  Just family – including some family friends who were considered close enough to be family – and a few of Scott’s closest friends.  Plenty of food, some well chosen music, a few light-hearted games, cake and candles, then . . .

“Time for presents!!!” Alan announced, dragging Scott by the hand and leading him to the couch.

The coffee table was covered with an impressive array of gifts, all wrapped and tagged and begging to be opened.

“Open mine first, Scotty!”  Alan handed over a rectangular parcel wrapped in paper decorated with stripes of blue and silver. 

The beaming smile and the sparkle in those big blue eyes beneath unruly blond hair had Scott chuckling and returning a dimpled smile of his own.

“Alright, alright.”

Scott teased his littlest brother by painstakingly peeling away the tape and slowly unwrapping the paper, knowing that Alan would prefer him to just tear into the paper as fast as possible.  Once the wrapping finally came away the title of the book was finally revealed.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Scott could see the anxious expectancy written all over Alan’s face, and knew that a great deal of thought had gone into the choosing of the gift.

“Do you like it?”

“I love it.  Thanks Alan.”  He reached out and drew Alan into a hug.  It wasn’t exactly the kind of reading material Scott would have picked for himself, but he could see why Alan had chosen it.  With a title that seemed to combine the travel guides he liked with Alan’s love of space how could he resist?  “It’s perfect.”

[omniversalobservations]

Paramount+ (2024)

In a newly released ad for Paramount+—the streaming service formerly known as CBS All Access—the company continues the odd storyline that all the various characters and stars of different Paramount-owned franchises are climbing the giant mountain seen in the company’s famous logo. This time, a group consisting of Drew Barrymore, Sir Patrick Stewart, Halo’s Master Chief, Arnold, Lt. Dangle from Reno 911!, and Knuckles, among others, are trying to scale a large cliff wall to reach…I don’t know, the next commercial. Miami Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa is trying to toss a grappling hook up the cliff wall to give everyone a way up the mountain. But he can’t do it. That’s when Patrick Stewart recommends tying the rope to Arnold—who has a football-shaped head—and tossing the animated child at the mountain. At this point, Stewart takes off his jacket to reveal an old-timey football costume and helmet and tells Drew Barrymore to shut up, and Creed starts playing “Can You Take Me Higher.” Folks, I’m not making any of this up. This is a real ad. I feel like I need to step in here and remind you all of that fact. Anyway, eventually Stewart chucks Arnold, after kissing his head softly, up the mountain and…(spoilers!) fails. Arnold slams into the rockface, likely crushing every one of his cartoon bones in the process, and the group hits upon the next beloved character to attempt throwing at the cliff. Some might find this ad funny. And I’ll fully admit that Stewart is doing a bang-up job of being a weirdo old guy with a bad idea. But I also watched this trailer and felt a sense of dread. Companies today don’t see things like Star Trek or Halo as pieces of art made by creators. Instead, they are simply bits of IP that can be tossed into a blender to create some corporation’s next streaming service. Why are these characters hanging out? What do they have in common? Why is this happening? “Stop asking questions,” says Paramount’s marketing team and execs. “Instead, just be amazed and delighted by all the IP and CONTENT we own. Isn’t that rad?” I don’t think so. The continued consolidation of pop culture is actually really depressing. The reality that in 2024 a single company can own so much of our collective art is scary. It seems like 90% of film and TV are owned by Disney, Universal, Paramount, or a few other big players. And if one of them decides to consume another, as Disney did to Fox, even more of pop culture gets shoved into one box owned by one greedy company that can decide, on a whim, to cancel shows, remove movies from streaming services, or use beloved characters as pawns in their content wars. And that all sucks, even if it was funny to watch Patrick Stewart kiss Arnold on the head. Source: Kotaku

(images via YouTube)

[llittletingoddess]

WHERE THE WILD ROSES GROW 🥀

«When the night comes, the stars begin to shine and the greatest crimes begin to come into life»

part 2 of multiply

°•○ warnings: age gap, slow burn, original character, cursing, smoking, drinking, mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of abduction, manipulation, abuse, national hate, politics mention, discrimination

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

II. Too Far Gone?

Moscow, Russia

Leah sat in the dark room, watching her boss playing with papers. What was interesting in lots of documents? She always thought it was pretty boring, like bureaucracy at all. Why do they need to make everything way more complicated than it actually was? Instead of just giving an answer, your application should’ve been passed through at least three different departments. She stared at the grey-haired man signing some papers, stamping others - and giving not a single word about what he wanted from her.

“Konstantin”, Leah finally went out of her patience, kicking his table with her boot to make him pay attention to her. “Ya zhe znayu, zachem ya zdes'. Zachem ty tyanesh vremya? (I know why I'm here. Why are you wasting time?)”, she asked him with a cold tone, looking under her brows. She was a beast in a cage and he knew it. He always made her wait. Konstantin Vasiliev was too much into his friends and money than in the people who did the dirty work. Especially that stubborn American that thought she was special. Pathetic little bitch that was getting too good and too dangerous. Konstantin looked at Leah under his brows and sighed loudly, his facial expression showing all the contempt he had for her. Even if she would support everything russian and speak their language - they would still treat her like an American - an enemy, Pentagon’s spy and obviously connected to LGBTQ+. 

He left one more sign on the papers and leaned on his chair, crossing his arms and looking at Leah. “Ya ne obyazan otchytivatsya pered toboy, Leah. Tvoya zadacha - ubivat', a ne vmeshivatsya v dela tvoey kormyashchey ruki (I don't have to answer to you, Leah. Your task is to kill, not to interfere with the affairs of your feeding hand.)”, he said with a husky voice and reached for his table to take a pack of surprisingly cheap cigarettes for such a rich man - old-fashioned Soviet “Prima” in a red box. He lit it up with a way more expensive lighter - probably a gift - and leaned back on his squeaky chair, smirking to his guest. Leah hated him… she should have been obedient to a man with Soviet standards and a heavy hand. 

“The Wild Rose..”, Konstantin chuckled. He did this all the time he saw Leah in his cabinet. She didn’t understand what was so funny about her nickname. Truthfully, she loved it - it perfectly described her. Bennett was loved by her soft appearance but she has thorns that could kill someone who will reach too close. That’s why she never had a real lover. She was afraid that she would hurt her loved one with skeletons in her closet and preferred to stay alone, never letting her feelings be victorious. “It’s time”, Konstantin continued, placing a Los Angeles postcard on his desk. 

Leah gasped, looking at the colourful postcard of the west coast view. She can finally go home.. Breathe the salty air and see smiling people everywhere. She sighed in relief, pulling the postcard closer with her finger and turned it, looking for hints. In the right corner she saw a logo which made her hum. “Blackened LTD..”, she hummed, thinking what it could mean for her. Would the victim be some big boss or she’d need to destroy this business? 

“My bosses want you to kill the president of this company”, Konstantin said with a strong russian accent, lazily smoking his cigarette. He didn’t care how she would do it at all. “His name is James Hetfield and he decided to play some tricks with us. But you will show him that he better not mess with russians”, Konstantin continued, getting up from his seat. He slowly walked around Leah, watching her looking at the postcard and grabbed her neck, slightly choking her. “And it affects you too. If you’ll try to do something against the plan you will be dead with him, american bitch”, he said with a harsh voice, letting Leah’s neck off. 

Bennett coughed, rubbing her neck and stared at Konstantin with contempt. He’s not even her main boss and he hated her so much, then what The chain thought about her? If only she could’ve done something against them.. But what could she do? They stole everything from her to use her like a puppet - her documents, her life, her whole personality and they didn’t plan to stop. Leah travelled on her missions with a fake ID, each time it was different, but she couldn’t live like that. She didn’t want to have someone’s name or life, she wanted to be herself, she needed to be herself. 

Konstantin hummed in her silence, exhaling a big cloud of smoke with a smell of cheap tobacco before he sat back on his seat. “You won’t even say a word?”, he asked curiously, staring at Leah. She sighed, turning the postcard in her hands and looked at her boss with a cold look. “How much?”, she asked, laying the postcard back on Konstantine’s desk. He smirked and nodded, definitely liking Leah’s cheeky question. “Five. If you will do everything quietly and clearly they are ready to double the price. Your main task is to kill him quickly-”, “..and make everything to make tabloids think it was an accident and there is no Russia’s hand”, Bennett ended quickly instead of Vasiliev, making him chuckle. “Yes, you know everything, Leah. Do the job - and money is yours. They are believing in you, better not lose such big support on your side”, he advised her, relaxing on his chair.

Deep inside Leah knew that Konstantin didn’t care. She was just pretty useful for him and his friends, and his “advice” is nothing more than a cheap lie. After years of working under his guidance Leah learned that man. All he ever cared about was his dog, a german shepherd named Rem. He had his photo on his desk, told about his achievements and how he would kill his enemies using them. Somehow Leah found it pretty cute. “Khorosho (Alright)”, she said, taking the postcard in her bag. “When is my flight?”, she asked, watching Konstantine throwing his cigarette in the ashtray. He exhaled the smoke and sighed, coughing from the nicotine in his lungs. “Tomorrow at 4AM. You’ll get your ID in your post box”, he said emotionlessly, watching Leah get up. “You have three days for your flights and the kill, The Wild Rose”, Konstantin said with a chuckle. Bennett kept her face; Will this ever end? She sighed and nodded. “Not a big deal”, she said, walking to the door. Vasiliev held the door closed for a moment, looking at Marie with a warning look. “And don’t forget, Leah.. you’re working on Russia. Every American deserves to die, every one of them. But you’re not like this. I can guarantee Russian citizenship after this kill if you’re gonna be an obedient girl”, he said seriously, taking his hand off the door. “Do vstrechy cherez tri dnya (See you in three days)”, Leah said reluctantly, leaving her boss’ office. She took a deep breath and sighed in relief, a short smile appearing on her face. It was her chance.. One last chance to break her chains and escape this russian nightmare she spent years in. She will kill that stupid businessman and disappear from Russian radar, once and forever. She had enough money to buy herself a villa somewhere on the quiet island, far away from criminal’s eyes and start to live her life like she always wanted to. She would probably change her name, appearance and body to make everyone forget about her existence. She will never be Leah Bennett anymore.. Leah Bennett will die as a stray dog in three days and someone new will be born instead.

She walked out of the office that was hidden in the mall and sighed. Leah was so excited.. Definitely not an option that she will miss.. She put on her headphones, turned on her favourite heavy metal album and hid her smile, walking out from the building. Russians didn’t like your smile. If you’re smiling it means that you’re most likely a psychopath or under the drugs, and society will bully you easily. Bennett switched her looks with an attractive guy in the crowd and put on her hood, making herself invisible in the crowd. 

Who knows what all these people think of her.. Leah was curious - was at least one suggestion right? Probably they thought she was some hipster girl from the block or some shy girl walking from her workout? Maybe a hopeless romantic or a geek? If only they would know who Leah Bennett was.. a heartless killer who murdered her parents, hid from police, had some serious net connection with the government and was a slave for some big russian men.. Leah sighed from the thought but kept her head up. It will end in a few days.. She might not end the national hate but she will save herself from being the victim of russian nationalism. She walked down to the underground tunnel and leaned onto the wall, waiting for her train to come. Life has given her an opportunity to change something and Leah wanted to squeeze everything out of it. She was too far gone and she needed to be saved.

***

Los Angeles, California

James felt himself on cloud nine when he saw all his friends celebrating him. He was so confident after his little victory when he fooled everyone in the Russian monopoly, giving free access to their people secretly. Some promotion from russian bloggers, advertisements in the popular social networks and voila - his music platform got almost ten million new followers! And thankfully, most of them bought a premium subscription. 

Of course he would’ve made it that far! Why would he do this one clean? It was obvious that he’d go another way. Business was all about the audience and this move made James get a confident and powerful position on the Russian market. He was so damn proud and he threw a party to celebrate his success. Whilst his partners read the contract -  James already made money behind their backs, smiling them to their faces and shaking their hands. 

And what surprised him the most - there was no reaction! His actions were rough and fast, so they most likely were caught by surprise. Was it bad? James didn’t think so. Instead, it was his chance to show them that Americans aren’t that dumb as they thought they were. Turns out, the real losers here were Russians who missed such a big hit in their balls. Scary Russians aren’t that scary anymore. They are dumb. Grumpy, dumb and have no critical mind to prevent such attacks on his industry. Maybe their president had, but not the ones that were responsible for the music market. 

“Congratulations, buddy, it’s a big hit! Blackened rules the whole world now!”, Lars, his fellow buddy said. He was all the way there back in time. If it wasn’t Lars James might never make it in the business. They met each other in their teenage days, when James just tried his luck in music, teaching guitar playing and just thought about having a music market. Truthfully, it was Lars who pushed him to act. James smiled, hugging him and nodded. “It is. Ten million followers from Russia, this is incredible!”, he said, being visibly surprised by the results of his cheeky campaign. He looked around, looking for his wife and sighed, watching her flirting with some guy in the crowd. And who needs love when you have money? James made his choice and for now - he wasn’t too needy in being loved. Why would he? A couple of Benjamin’s can always solve this problem. 

Lars sipped his drink, looking in the same way James did. He didn’t say a word about what he saw, giving James some space for his personal life. “And what if they will react?”, Lars asked him, watching James’ wife sitting on the lap of the guy. Hetfield hummed with a smirk. “They better think about how to get back their audience. Our conditions are too comfortable for such a poor country as Russia. We have every big star’s music catalogues, and what do they have? Some stolen songs and demos? It’s they who have problems, not us”, James said with a sassy tone, finishing his drink in one shot. Lars hummed, watching him with a judging look. Lars might be younger than James and he wasn’t such a big man like James (in all meanings), but there was something in this man that always surprised him - and that’s his ability to think two steps earlier. 

“You’re too calm”, he said seriously, asking the waiter for another shot of whiskey. James looked at him with a questionable look whilst watching for the amber-coloured drink to be poured in the glass, covering the crystal clean ice cube. Lars grabbed his glass and turned to James, staring at him. “You might think that they are fools, but look at the political situation. They don’t hesitate to kill their own people, so you think they will stop because of a wealthy man from America?”, he asked, looking at Hetfield. “No money will save you if they will decide to have their revenge, James. Think about it”, 

James hummed, looking at his buddy. Truthfully, his words made sense at some point. He sipped his drink, gently spinning it in his glass and sighed, watching his wife coming closer to them. She took off her wedding ring from her fingers and placed it in James’ glass. “Can you keep it for me please? Thank you”, she smiled, walking back to the guy she definitely enjoyed more than James’ company. He chuckled, looking at the shiny ring in his glass, taking it away and looked at Lars. “If they would have wanted to kill me, they would’ve done it ages ago. But as you see - I’m still alive, still with you all and still the owner of the biggest music heist in history”, he said with a grin, taking a cigar from his pocket to enjoy.

“But now - it makes zero sense”, James said confidently, lighting up his cigar. “First of all, this is gonna be too suspicious for them, don’t you think so? We will announce the increase of price on our stocks and then the next day they will do something with me? They are dumb, but even Russians are clever enough to avoid such suspicious actions”, James assured his buddy with a relaxing tone, enjoying how nicotine poisoned his lungs. “It’s gonna be a big scandal if they do it. We are all approaching the third World War.. and my neutralisation is gonna be one more step to the start. I bet my wife that they won’t do anything about it”, James said with a grin, watching his significant other being caressed by the guy in the crowd.

Lars frowned, definitely disliking his friend’s point of view. He shook his head, sipping his whiskey and tapped on the glass, thinking. He was sure that James wouldn't listen to him or even won’t take his words as advice, so he needed a plan B. Just in case he will be right and James’ ass will need some protection. It happened pretty rare but sometimes he needed help, though he never admitted it. James was from that type of man that would never admit their mistakes - just like it was happening with his wife on his own eyes. He watched her cheating with a stone cold look and joked that she looked better from the side. Lars didn’t understand why he acted so light-headed with important decisions, but he knew that deep inside, under this shell of a successful man James hid his feelings from the world. 

Soon James took him back to reality with his sweet chuckle, making Lars look up at him and at the direction he looked at. “What’s up?”, he asked him with a confused tone, though he definitely was curious what could make a rich man laugh. Was he drunk? Did he meet a nice chick to spend his night with? His wife wasn’t made for this anyway.. “Have you seen how much Blackened raised in price after a new wave of customers?”, he said with a grin, pointing into the screen of his phone, on the little graph with a green line that rises up incredibly high. Lars whistled, looking at the price. “Wow. Is it after Russia?”, he questioned, making James nod. “I think we need to celebrate it. Remind me to call my assistant and organise a meeting in honour of our success. Maybe in three days? Gonna be nice”, James thought with a corporate grin he used for his diplomatic meetings. He was so damn proud of himself.. Finally, after years of hard work it took a big risky step to reach the top of this monopoly game. Was he too far gone? Oh damn he was, but how good it felt to watch everyone fail in their attempts to get as high as he was. “We need to announce the new Russian department and increase the salary of that SMM guy. He did his job really well”, James said with a happy smirk, texting his assistant. 

If only he knew how wrong he was.