#you kill people and shove them in the freezer

[blaacknoir]

"Pat Bateman" this, "Light Yagami" that.

I think we're ready to let another member into the "misogynistic killer club." Meet Mr. Jack Sophistication:

[daenysthedreamersblog]

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

~

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

Oh

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

[avocado-writing]

8 anon here! Could I request a short fic where poly Logan and Wade angered gn s/o because they had to fight a supervillain alone as both of them argued with each other so their punishment for both men is to spank them please? They made sure to asked for consent & took good care of them later though!

18+. minors dni.

Wade is naked and laid out across your lap, and Logan’s cock is twitching in interest.

A couple of months ago he’d have written anything like this off as the fantasy of a dirty old man. Never thought he’d be in a relationship again, let alone one with two other partners, especially with one of those partners being Wade fucking Wilson.

Fate is strange. 

“Will you hurry up?” Wade sighs as your hand traces the peach of his ass. You cock an eyebrow.

“You’re meant to be getting punished.”

“It’s not a punishment when it feels so good, baby, you know that. I can get off from anything.”

“Hmm. Maybe I should take off my underwear, shove ‘em in your mouth. Make you shut up for a little bit.”

As demonstration you dip your fingers between his lips, pressing his tongue down flat. Wade moans around them and starts to suck.  

You smile at Logan from across his body. Logan huffs as if he’s irritated, and not incredibly turned on.

Another fight, another instance of getting down and dirty with some fucker who wanted to hurt people. Luckily the three of you are far better at that particular task… usually. Wade had said something stupid which had set off his short fuse and rather than working together to stop the real threat, they’d got distracted with trying to fucking kill each other. 

Leaving you to have to work it alone.

You’d done it, because you’re fantastic, but your face was full of thunder when the three of you had got back to the apartment. Logan pulled a katana out of his kidney. Wade was regrowing the fingers that claws had sliced off. You’d pulled a packet of peas out of the freezer and held them to a bruised eye.

“I’m not fucking happy, boys.”

“Pookie, we’re—” Wade begins, but a raised hand silences him.

“I think you’d better go to the bedroom.”

There was a steeliness in your voice Logan hadn’t heard before, but from the way Wade whipped off his mask, he definitely had.

“Oh shit? Now?”

You’d cocked your head towards the bedroom and he’d been off like a shot, leaving his suit strewn across the apartment floor. You’d turned to Logan.

“C’mon. You’re in trouble, too.”

He’d been interested enough to follow.

Your hand traces over the Wade’s ass as Logan watches from the chair in the corner of the bedroom - “sit in the cuck chair, old man, and enjoy the show!” “Wade, don’t call it the ‘cuck chair’, my grandpa bought us that.” “Your grandpa is a freak babe, dunno what to tell you.” - before striking down so hard that the slap echoes. Wade moans around the fingers still stuffed in his mouth. You do it again with more power, and Logan watches the way he humps into your leg in response. You smile. You’re striking with such force that it would probably be way too much for a normal man… but Wade isn’t normal. He likes the pain and he can take it.

And take it he does. 

Your hand comes down over and over again, making the man in your lap devolve into more and more of a mess. Garbled groans turn into little mewls of pleasure that you tear from his throat, his cock making a mess onto the bedding beneath you, and Logan stares transfixed. He’s hard in his jeans. He can’t tear his eyes away. He feels like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be even when it’s blatantly on display, and it’s never made him feel so hungry in his life. When you watch him reach to adjust his aching cock, you point an accusatory finger his way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em, Howlett. This is a punishment.”

He obeys. He doesn’t have to, but there’s something in your voice which doesn’t bear arguing with. Arousal runs through his blood hot and heavy. You turn your attention back to Wade who is desperate for it, and after a couple more strikes he cums all over your leg. You’ve not even touched his cock.

“Good boy,” you whisper, moving him so you’re able to kiss him soft and slow, hand which was so vicious now gently stroking the area you’ve left bright red.

“Holy… holy shit…” Wade breathes, blissed out and miles away.

“I’ll grab you some water, honey. You did so well, huh? You can be so well-behaved when you want to be, hmm?” 

You fix Logan with a smile.

“Then afterwards, it’s your turn.”

Logan’s cock throbs at the promise.

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw1 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk

[thethingsweneversaid]

Am I crazy or did I just crack the mystery of the monologue scene????

Why did they lose against Vecna in season 4? What were they missing?

They lost the race against time. Time was obviously significant this season (The grandfather clock, Vecna's obsession with time, the UD being frozen in time). The time was simply up, they were too late. Who’s to blame? Mike Wheeler. 

Okay, let me explain, haha.

Throughout the whole series we all know Mike being late, or almost late to things is recurring. Every season in fact. S1: Mike’s campaign was too long, and he tried to get the party to stay past their curfew. S2: Mike was trying to get in contact with El on his walkie, almost making him late to the arcade. S3: Mike was almost late to the cinema because he was with El, making them almost miss the beginning of the movie. S4: Mike was reading El’s letter, almost making him and Nancy late for school... He begins every season with a race against time. Also worth noting that El was the reason for him being late in s2, s3 and s4. Also ALSO worth noting that in season 1, Mike begs his parents to let the party stay longer. The campaign took two weeks to plan! They need to finish it. He has no rush. While in all the other seasons (when he was late because of El), we get a "Shit! Shit! I'm going to be late"-version of Mike. He's stressed out and rushed. Not sure where I'm going with this last point, but I'm sure it means something and that it'll make sense in s5. The point is, Mike gets distracted by El.

Now for the monologue. This time, it's not Mike getting distracted by El. It's him distracting El.

Jason was obviously a key reason for them being too late as well. The scenes switch between Lucas fighting him and Mike’s monologue, comparing the two. Jason destroys Max’s walkman, destroying her connection to Lucas and the world outside her mind. Mike tries to get El to wake up by lifting her out of the freezer, taking off her glasses, Will shoves the radio away. They’re trying to get her out of Max’s mind and into the real world again. But El doesn't want to wake up. She is ready to fight for Max. The boys obviously tried to help because who knows what would’ve happened if they didn’t? They thought El was dying. When Mike begins his monologue, El looked away from Max and up “towards Mike’s voice”. She was listening to him now. Getting distracted. El continuously tells people throughout the series to be quiet when going into her “trance”. People talking distracts her, and she needs to concentrate. Mike also reminds the audience of the importance of the sensory deprivation tank. "It helps her calm down and focus on her powers". With Mike removing all the aids that help her concentrate (the glasses, the tank, the radio), while also talking to her, we can only assume that now, El isn’t only fighting to save Max, but also to stay in Max’s mind, further slowing her down.

At the end of the monologue, Mike reminds her she has to fight, and El’s eyes snap back to Max. That’s when she breaks loose from the vines. Whether you think El believes what Mike is saying and utilizes his loving words for strength or not, it’s still a distraction. I’ve seen a lot of people say that they felt impatient while watching this scene. Like «get on with it! Vecna is literally killing Max RIGHT NOW». And we're probably right to feel impatient! That's probably what the writers were going for! The audience was supposed to feel like that. El lost valuable time because of it. Mike is making them late this time too.

Will is also kinda to blame in this (I don't blame any of them, it's just an unfortunate set of events and they all did what they thought was best, but you get what I mean) Because in a way, Mike is distracted too. Distracted from the truth. That happened when Will lied to him in the van, disguising his own feelings for Mike, using El as a distraction for Mike to focus on instead. Will's guiding Mike towards a lie. He convinced Mike that El was feeling a certain way, which she WAS NOT. (For example: "You make her feel like she’s not a mistake at all, like she’s better for being different." cue Mike and El’s fight where she accuses him of thinking she’s a monster too, like everyone else.) (This also contrasts Will singling Mike out as the only person that doesn't treat him differently in season 2 in that scene with Will and Jonathan.) Mike doesn’t make El feel the way Will portrayed it in the van, though Mike is led to believe that she does.

Therefore, making the feelings that was the foundation for the monologue a lie. Both to Mike and El. It isn’t authentic. This doesn't apply to them. which brings me to my next point. 

 "A paladin swears to uphold justice and righteousness, to stand with the good things of the world against the encroaching darkness, and to hunt the forces of evil wherever they lurk. Different paladins focus on various aspects of the cause of righteousness (honesty=righteousness and honor for Mike), but all are bound by the oaths (promises, “friends don’t lie”) that grant them power to do their sacred work. Oaths, honor, and rigid rules define a paladin's everyday actions. Breaking these oaths (by lying) means their deity will revoke their powers."

This is why his monologue didn’t work. It was a lie (And Mike knowingly or unknowingly portrayed that lie to El). Without his honesty, Mike the paladin loses his powers. He couldn’t save them. 

Will’s selfless attempt to save their relationship sadly turned out to be counter-productive in every way, hindering all of them from seeing the truth. Will was also the one that told Mike not to stop, when in reality, maybe stopping and letting El be was exactly what he should've done. He's the heart. But he's Will's heart. That's what Will would've wanted Mike to do, seeing as Mike has saved him/snapped him out of his episodes multiple times by speaking to him: Of course Will thinks that's the right thing to do! Mike's doing what Will would've needed, not El.

It adds a new layer to El being upset with Mike in the cabin by the end of s4, because it isn't as simple as "she knows Mike is lying" or "She's just upset because they lost". She's upset because once again Mike doesn't trust that she knows her own limits (This being a huge reason for conflict in s3 between El/Mike/Max.) Mike worries because he cares of course, but it isn't what El needs ("Mike, I need you to trust me.") When Mike tries to help her, she fails. But she "redeems herself" when she's making her own decision, without outside influences other than love for her friends. She pushes her limits further than ever before, bringing Max back to life, trusting herself and her powers, without Mike knowing.

Mike is the heart, yes. The problem was - the heart was in the wrong place. They all got it wrong this time. They got confused and misunderstood each other. That’s why they lost. In the next season, I believe Mike and El are going to realize that they’ve both been focusing on the wrong things, and that is how they’re going to win. Still using love as their weapon - just a different kind of love that’s not distracting them from what they really need, not slowing them down. El coming fully into her own, reaching her full potential and using her powers the way she knows best, with the support of her loved ones making her stronger - not under the influence of Mike trying to stop her out of worry. And Mike’s heart being in the right place. With Will. 

I've seen other people talk about this next part, but I'm adding it in because it further proves the point.

Another indication that proves to me that at least SOME of the monologue is a blatant lie is the Romeo and Juliet parallel, with the word "Montague" spelled out behind Mike, and the "love at first sight"-refrence. "I knew right then and there, in that moment, that I loved you." That. is. a. lie. and there's just no going around it. Romeo and Juliet's romance wasn't actually real love, just infatuation. The Duffers also said they don't believe in love at first sight. For them to use that trope wouldn't just be wierd and cliché, but also contradicts everything we were shown in season 1. Are we just supposed to believe that Mike loved her, decpite them showing us otherwise?

More on the Romeo and Juliet thing in this post.

Conclusion: The Duffers are geniuses I’m never getting over this show.

[cuntressgoingdigital]

I BET ON LOSING DOGS | johnny slaughter x reader

notes: i was listening to mitski at work and was gifted with the vision that is this short fic. i feel like i never see people explore how pathetic a relationship (that term is used loosely) with johnny would be. wrote this while at work so it might not be the best but i still wanted to post it!

lmk yall's thoughts! :)

cw: 18+ content MDNI, stockholm syndrome, brief sexual content (nothing too nasty), bloodplay (sorta?), praise, hair pulling, canon typical violence (vaguely mentioned), angst!, no happy ending

word count: 1.4k

the blood of another woman was smeared across your collarbone as he placed tender kisses along your skin. these were the only times he was ever gentle with you. he breathed life into you after cutting some unsuspecting girl’s short. 

at first the thought made you ill. the way he sought your affection (validation?) after a kill. it took you witnessing a few screaming matches between him and his other family members for the pieces to fall into place. the only time you had ever heard them sing his praises was when he brought home another body to be shoved unceremoniously into the cold room freezer. johnny had mentioned his past to you only once.

it had happened after a particularly ugly argument with his mother. nancy had made her usual remarks about wanting you dead.

“what do you think you’re gonna do with that girl? run off and marry her? you think she loves you? she doesn’t and she never will! put her out of her misery!” she screamed. “all you need is yer mama. blood runs thicker than water, boy. remember that.”

that was the only time you had watched him retreat with his tail between his legs. he sought out a bottle of whiskey he kept tucked away between the cushions of the peeling leather couch in his shack. the shack you had accidentally began to think of as home. he took two big swigs and leaned back against the cushion.

“ya know …i hate her. i wish she was dead. every day i wake up and hope i would finally be rid of her.” 

whenever he would get like this, you knew it wasn’t an invitation to speak. you were a diary of sorts. one he didn’t need to know how to read or write to maintain. 

“sometimes i wonder what my real mama was like. what she looked like. the sound of her voice. what she smelled like.” he took another big swig.

that night he had snuck you into the guest room in nancy’s house and fucked you so hard you felt sore in the morning. his hand clasped over your mouth so as to not disturb his mother in the room next door. he held you extra tight that night. perhaps afraid that in that moment you’d finally try and run again. not tonight. he wouldn’t be able to take that tonight. after a few hours of sleep he snuck you downstairs and back into his shack like you were two teenagers fooling around.

the next morning it felt like everyone stared at you a few moments longer than usual, inspecting the bruised bite marks along your neck and hickeys that decorated your chest. 

when sissy called you out to the garden to help pick flowers for her powders you immediately perked up. she was the only one who spoke to you outside of ordering you around. it seemed like she needed a friend as well. 

“can i ask you something? and can you promise you won’t tell johnny i asked?” you whispered, looking over your shoulder ensuring you didn’t have an audience.

“sure, dear. what’s on yer mind?” her honeyed texan accent always made you smile.

“about johnny  …” you explained the conversation you overheard and johnny’s private musings (omitting the part about him wanting nancy dead).

“oh, darlin’ ya didn’t know? johnny ain’t blood. nancy adopted him when he was young.” her voice lowered. “let’s just say it weren’t no formal adoption and leave it at that.” 

you nodded and thanked her for the information. after that the two of you carried on chatting about trivial things. how sissy should cut her hair, what color dress she should buy, and so on. 

you were the only normal thing johnny had (as normal as this arrangement could be). now when he held your chin and forced you to look into his eyes, you saw the poor child snatched from his mama’s arms before he could even remember her face. on one occasion you let a few tears fall before you could push the thought from your mind

“why are you cryin’?” his brow furrowed in bewilderment. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know.” was all you could choke out. he used his thumb to swipe the tears away. that small, likely empty, gesture was all he could afford you as consolation. soon after, it became obvious that he was uncomfortable with the energy in the room. you watched him throw on a shirt and swipe his pack of cigarettes and lighter off the countertop. he slipped outside, letting the shack door slam shut behind him. some time passed and you followed him outside. judging by the numerous cigarette butts decorating the porch, he had spent that time chain smoking. 

“can i have one?” you meekly request. sharing a cigarette with him was one of the few activities you two bonded over. 

he pulled a fresh cigarette out of the pack and placed the filter between your lips. he leaned down and touched the cherry of his cigarette to the end of yours. you inhaled and let the warm feeling creep into your throat and down into your lungs. 

and now here you were, hours later. one blood covered hand stationed on your right breast, playing with the sensitive bud, and the other stroking your cheek. he always dirtied your body with blood from a fresh kill as an excuse to bring you into the shower with him. he would roughly fuck you from behind into the tile walls that nancy always kept in pristine condition and whisper sweet nothings in your ear.

“good girl”

“you take me so well”

“you look so beautiful like this”

you stopped breathing. he had never called you beautiful before. such a delicate word had never fallen from his lips in reference to you. a rough tug at your hair ripped you away from the thought. he turned you to face him, making sure his cock never left its space between your legs, and kissed you roughly. your back was flush against the cool tile as he positioned your legs around his waist. the kiss was nothing short of hungry and animalistic. he sloppily fucked up into you, only breaking the kiss to take a few breaths every so often. this time when he finished, he came inside you. he loved to smear the white hot liquid against your skin as if he were marking his territory. tonight was different. you had long since learned not to try and guess what he was thinking and you didn’t dare ask any variation of “why?” it always irritated him.

he wrapped you in a towel and led you to the guest room to lay down. nancy be damned.

the moonlight illuminated his dark eyes and shone off his still wet dark hair. you ran your fingers through his hair, an intimate act that always kept him docile. you needed this moment to last as long as possible. 

“yer never leaving me.” he never asked. he always commanded.

“i won’t. i promise.” you reassured him, just like any other time.

no matter how hard you tried, you would never fix him. the damage nancy had done was irreparable. all the love in the world couldn’t excuse his actions. even though you tried to silence the thoughts, your heart was too soft. as sick as it is, you love him. 

but, he would never love you. he couldn’t. he needs you in a way he doesn’t quite understand, but it was nowhere near the love you felt for him. he’s gone the last twenty something years without tapping into that emotion. why would he start with you?

you often imagined a life away from nancy. a life where he was never corrupted by her evil. maybe you two would meet at the counter in a diner. he would ask about your university of texas sweatshirt and you would happily tell him about your studies. he would scrawl down his phone number on a napkin and tell you to call him. you would date until you graduated college and run off to get married. coastal california always sounded nice to you. 

anywhere but newt, texas. anywhere but here. 

maybe in that life he’d say “i love you”. 

until you learn how to rewind time, you’d continue to bet on the losing dog that is johnny slaughter. 

[indiemedley]

Ice-E's P'E'ZZA Secret Boss: Greas-E

Time for a new Deltarune secret boss, this time for Ice-E's! The lovely art was done by the splendorous @zootyplex (commission her, her art rocks) and the fabulous @creepa-b0t-inc for the sprite renditions!

Now then, for the boss himself. Greas-E hails from the Corporate World of Ice-E's, run by the head C'E'O. In days long past, Greas-E served as the C'E'O's top enforcer, the one he contacted to get shit done, through violent means if necessary. Greas-E was fiercely loyal to his boss, being a part of the Family Menu in the upper echelon. He new the job came with a lot of risks, a lot of downsides, but he didn't care. He served his duty well.

One day, however, a haphazard Darkner spotted him in the middle of his less than moral activities, word of which did take very little time to spread throughout the Dark World. The C'E'O was certainly not happy to hear this, as he sought to maintain his profits with a proper family friendly image. As much as it killed him, he had to banish Greas-E, remove him from the menu in order to save face. As such, he was banished to the Icy Shelf, and left to be forgotten.

It was here that he came to meet a special someone among the tundra, one who showed him capabilities he never knew he even had. Powers that linked him to a grandiose machinated giant that lay dormant in the ice. He was ready to Supersize, all he needed was the right group of schmucks to help him finish the last minute prep time "That Weird Guy" got him on track for.

As for his Light World origins, his story is slightly more complicated than the average Light World Darkner backstory.

Greas-E was originally the benign pompadour type mascot for an item on the Ice-E's menu, part of the corporate attempt to make more of a cast for Ice-E, so they could market more toys and boost their funds. He was meant to advertise and sell the Super Mega Pizza Burger Triple Patty Greasemaster Deluxe, which was even more unhealthy than it sounds.

Of course, this terrible menu item led to some serious health concerns for the public, inevitably leading to its removal from the menu. However, the franchise had jumped the gun by a significant margin and had already begun construction on a line of animatronic entertainers for the Hometown location. They were intended to be half machine and half organic material from whatever product they were supposed to represent, that way, they could Serv-o Up Smiles!

This was an all around terrible idea.

Greas-E's animatronic was the first one to be put into production, and subsequently the first to be canned. However, they couldn't get rid of it, so, they just shoved it in the back of the freezer at the restaurant alongside the last unsold Super Mega Pizza Burger Triple Patty Greasemaster Deluxe patties.

It was here he was to stay. Here he was to rot. Mold and mildew slowly overtaking the meat on his body, but his hate still remains. His desire to get back on the menu and prove to his boss he can still be useful burns just as bright as it did before. And he'll serve up a 2-for-1 deal on pain along the way.

"What? What? Youse single serving punks tink you got ANYTHING on da Greasemaster? Tink again, Cornball!"

"We all pass our best-by dates, cornball, even the freshest meats expire!"

As for his general deal, Greas-E is a dirtbag sleazeball mafioso. He's a dick to most people, except his boss who he holds in the utmost regard. He speaks with an Italian American accent, much like a stereotypical mobster. He also consistently refers to himself in the third person as Greas-E or the Greasemaster. During his speech, he also sprinkles in a variety of food service references into his speech pattern. After meeting Kris, he tends to refer to them as Cornball or Order Reference Number M040N, or moron.

[polizwrites]

Cutting the Strings

This is a fill for today's @fictober-event prompt: "No, you won't understand, ever."  (tweaked slightly), along with my @bingowinteriron Unreliable Narrator and @buckybarnesbingo Never the Fall that Kills You squares.

Fanfic - Fandom: MCU/Marvel Rating: General Pairing: Steve & Bucky, Tony & Bucky Tags/Warning: Post CA:WS canon divergence, Avengers Tower unreliable narrator, psychological manipulation Thanks to @rebelmeg, @somesortofitalianroast and Meg in the BBB Discord server for the brainstorming help!

Tony knew what manipulation looked like  – after all, it had been happening to him all his life.   First Howard,  who couldn’t stand the idea of having a son more brilliant and talented than him and had therefore  picked apart every effort of Tony’s, magnifying any flaw and dismissing any creative effort.

Next came Obadiah, who had groomed his best friend’s son to be selfish and shallow,  caring only about himself – and damn it if he didn’t nearly succeed.  Natasha came along later - pretending to be his assistant and confidante, only to stab him in the neck.   

Fury wasn’t any better, of course - even if he was skilled at staying one step removed from the day to day, hands on work.  Some days Tony wondered about the film clip from the trunk Old One Eye had handed over;  whether it had somehow been edited or manipulated and in reality, Howard was talking about something - or someone - completely different.  

This all meant that  when he saw how Steve alternated between treating Barnes like glass and going into interrogation mode –  peppering him with reminders of the way things used to be between them  –  well, it got under Tony’s skin.     

“Barnes,  how about you come down to the workshop with me?”  Tony broke in, tired of hearing Steve say “Don’t you remember, Buck?”  for at least the third time that evening.  

“Why?” Steve asked with a frown.

Tony resisted the impulse to roll his eyes;  “I want to take a look at that shiny, shiny arm of his.”  It wasn’t a lie;  Tony had been fascinated by Barnes’  prosthesis since Steve brought  him back to the Tower three months after the shitshow in DC.   

Steve’s frown deepened, “Tony, I warned you –”  he said sternly.

“I don’t mind,”  Barnes interrupted.  “In fact, it hasn’t been working quite right since … well …  you know.” 

 “Aw, Bucky,” Steve replied, voice tinged with guilt,  “why didn’t you say something?” 

Because you don’t let him get a word in edgewise,  Tony ached to reply, but wisely bit the words back.  He watched instead as Bucky shrugged, then winced.    “Dunno.  Guess I’m not used to speaking up.”  

Tony bit back a grin at Barnes’ reply; given Steve’s hangdog expression, it would have only made things worse.    Instead, he made a gesture towards the elevator.    “After you, sunshine.” 

Barnes raised an eyebrow at the moniker, but stood up, saying “See you in a bit, Steve.”  

 They entered the elevator together, and as soon as the doors closed,  Tony said,  “He’s not going to understand what you’ve been through.   Not ever, I don’t think.”

Barnes’ lips twisted wryly.  “And you do?”

“Not to the same extent,”  Tony answered, “I mean, I didn’t have someone sending 1.21 gigawatts of electricity through my brain when I started asking questions about my mission,  or shoving me into a freezer when they were done with me, but I do know a little bit about being  shaped and wielded for other people’s purposes.”   

Tony grinned at  Barnes’  snort of surprised laughter.  “That was pretty damned blunt,  Stark.”  

Tony spread his hands in mock-surrender. “Figured you were tired of all the tiptoeing.”   The doors to the elevator opened, and they both stepped out into Tony’s sanctuary.   

“Steve means well,”  Barnes sighed,  “and from what I do remember, he’s always been like this.”  

“I haven’t known him as long as you,” Tony replied,  “but I gotta agree.  And it’s probably none of my business,  but it feels sometimes  like he’s trying to mold you into the buddy he remembers from way back when - whether that’s who you want to be or not.”  

Barnes looked away for a moment. “I guess it’s like they say, ‘it’s never the fall that kills you, it’s the sudden stop at the end’.” 

“That sounds like some sort of Russian proverb to me.”

“Probably.”  Barnes huffed in frustration.  “ I’m still not sure how much of what’s up here,”  he tapped his temple,  “is really mine.  And there’s plenty I don’t really want to remember, for that matter.” 

“A team at SI is working on something that might help with cutting those strings,” Tony replied.    “Binarily Augmented Retro-Framing - basically taking a traumatic memory and replaying it in real time  so you can make it come out a little different.”  

Barnes gave him a small smile.  “Sounds like something out of a sci-fi pulp magazine.” 

Tony gestured around,  “Welcome to the future, my friend.”  

[tonberry-yoda]

Pineapple Flip Flops - A One Piece Modern AU - Chapter 2

notes - Here's chapter 2!!! I had a lot of fun writing this one because Ace is my canon boyfriend and I get to brag about him through my writing tee hee. Also, Luffy is 19 in this AU :) word count - 818 summary - Luffy wakes up to his brother Ace and they make food together while considering college.

“Hey, doof-ass, wake up.” Ace smacked Luffy’s forehead with a rolled up magazine and Luffy woke right up, sucking in a line of drool.

“Huh?” Luffy looked around the apartment in confusion, but his face lit up when he saw his brother in front of him. “Yo! Ace, Ace, look!” He shoved his foot in Ace’s face and Ace just laughed, pushing his foot away.

“Nice foot, Luffy.” Ace rolled his eyes with a laugh and walked to the kitchen.

“No, no, look!” Luffy ran after him and slipped off his flip flops, which made him trip over his own feet and fall onto the floor. That didn't stop him though and he was able to show Ace the design on his new shoes.

Ace squinted and then laughed out loud. “Are those new?”

“Uh-huh! I lost my pineapple ones today.”

“Damn, bud, that sucks. Those were my favorite ones.”

“Me too.” Luffy pouted and sat at the dining room table, splaying his arms in front of him.

“Well, I dig the rubber ducks.” Ace stared in the freezer. “Want pizza?”

“PIZZA!” Luffy threw his arms in the air.

“Pizza it is.” He pulled out two frozen pizzas and laid them on the counter, preheating the oven. “Really sucks that Sabo isn't here. Neither of us can cook actual food.”

“Yeah,” Luffy chuckled. “You always almost burn the house down.”

“Shut up.” Ace laughed and sat across from Luffy.

The two sat in short silence for a little while just randomly scrolling on their phones. But Luffy got bored pretty quickly and started drumming on the table. He just wanted the pizza right then and there and was hoping to kill at least a little bit of time.

Ace looked up from his phone and smiled. “What did you do today, Luff?” he asked. “Other than lose your shoes.”

“Just rode my bike all day.” He laid his head down on the table and turned it over, making his cheek squish and voice muffle. “You?”

“Just work. I helped with some field trip for another school and then started doing after school activities again.”

“Where was the field trip?” Luffy asked hopefully.

“Just some little pool. It was crowded as hell.”

“Lame.”

“It was fun though. And no one drowned,” Ace chuckled. “So that was good.”

The oven was done preheating, so Ace got up and put the pizzas in there. He then leaned against the counter and stretched, doing some overdramatic yawn. “When are you planning on going to college, Luffy?” he asked mid-yawn.

Luffy looked at Ace in the kitchen with disgust. “Never.”

“You can't mow lawns forever.” Ace scoffed.

“I know. But I am not going to college. Shanks didn't, and he’s doing really good.”

“I know, buddy.” Ace sighed and walked back to the dining room. “But you’re Luffy, not Shanks.” He poked Luffy’s chest. “There’s still time to apply if you wanna. Plus, I think you’d like my major.”

“But I don't wanna have to take a math class!” Luffy groaned.

Ace laughed. “Neither do I.”

Ace majored in outdoor activities where he got the opportunity to learn a lot and travel a lot. The things he got to do were always fun: rock climbing, hiking, nutrition, etc. But – as said earlier – there were its boring parts, like having to take math in order to graduate, but that's what Sabo was for whenever he was around.

Ace had only been in college for a year, but he would always come home with a smile and a story. Luffy loved these stories – even getting jealous some of the time – so Ace figured that Luffy would love college. But he insisted he would rather explore the world on his own and figure the rest out himself.

Ace understood Luffy, but as his older brother, he couldn't help but worry a little also. The world wasn't built for people like them and that sucked big time. It was surprising they even made it out of high school.

The timer on Ace’s phone went off, signaling that the pizzas were ready, and Luffy jumped up with a smile.

The two brothers ran to the kitchen and collected their pizzas, sighing knowing that they had to wait for them to cool.

“Speaking of college,” Ace said, trying to cool down his pizza by fanning it with his hand. “I have to go get some financial aid stuff figured out tomorrow before classes start in the next couple weeks. Wanna come with?”

“Only if I get food.” Luffy said with a mouthful of pizza already.

“Yeah, we’ll go get some lunch.”

“Then sure, I'm not doin’ anything better.”

Ace smiled and ate his own pizza, just barely burning his tongue in the process.

It was getting lonely without Sabo, but it was nice to know that Ace was going to have a day out with his favorite little brother.

~~~~~

one piece masterlist | one piece modern AU masterlist | pinned post | ko-fi

2023 @tonberry-yoda– do not repost or claim ANY of my work as your own! likes, reblogs, and comments are not only welcome, but appreciated

~~~~~

[stillfertile]

Dewey’s + Luck for your game!-@carouselstars

Um. this has to go below the cut

I've has assassin aus on the mind, so I thought... what if the deweys were partners for years, were both sent to separate agencies, then years later got each other as an assignment :3c

Connor is certain Brandon has seen him. He's certain. So when he sees Brandon stand up from his table across the busy restaurant and walk toward the kitchen, Connor takes notice. He excuses himself to the strangers at his table, random rich people he doesn't give a fuck about, and makes his way toward the kitchen as well.

He swings the door open, and Brandon tackles him immediately. He's shoved backward into a cart, the waiter that's pushing it yelps. Connor kicks Brandon off of him, grabs a plate from the cart, and throws it at Brandon's face. Brandon ducks, and the plate shatters somewhere behind him. He looks Connor in the eye, face full of shock, then sprints toward the counters.

The cooks are finally taking notice of the fight. They yell and rush out of the kitchen. In the chaos, Connor can't keep a good eye on Brandon, before he's shoved backward onto a counter.

Brandon hovers above him with a hand on his chest and a large serrated knife in the other.

He's hesitating, as Connor suspected. His eyes are wide open, bloodshot, in a mix of focus and fear. Connor hasn't been this close to him in years, physically so, but when it comes to their relationship, even farther. Connor would like to stare longer, study the new haircut he's never seen, but also Brandon has a knife and is aiming at his chest, so he slips his gun out of his holder and shoots up without looking.

Luckily, he's a good shot, and the fire sprinkler above them goes off, startling Brandon long enough for Connor to push him off.

He circles around the kitchen island to make distance. To make more time, he opens a drawer and grabs a handful of utensils, then lobs them at Brandon, showering him in silver.

He sprints toward the freezer door and turns around just in time to see Brandon charging him. In a split second, Connor opens the freezer door, grabs Brandon's shirt, pushes him inside, and closes them both in.

He closed them both in.

Well… that wasn't how that move was supposed to go.

Connor aims his gun at Brandon. Not as a threat, just a warning. There's nothing else he can do. He wants more time. Brandon is sprawled out on the freezer floor, hair in his eyes, an assortment of food stains on his suit jacket, and no weapons in hand. It's the perfect opportunity, and yet he wants more time.

"Are we really doing this?" Brandon yells into the tiny closet.

Connor grits his teeth and lets his arm go limp, but keeps an iron grip on his gun. "Fuck!" he yells. "Do you think this is just bad luck? That we got assigned to each other? This is a test from our agencies, Brandon."

"I didn't bring a gun, I didn't want to kill you." Brandon says with a stone face. It makes Connor's heart ache.

"Do you really think that's a possibility? We can't walk away from our jobs and live in some beach house in fucking—fucking Florida. That isn't an option for us." Connor ignores the shakiness in his own voice. In nonsensical rage, he throws his gun at the wall and watches it clatter to the ground. "Fuck!"

Brandon stands up and walks closer to Connor. His lip is out in a shadow of a pout, a face that Connor knows well. Brandon steps closer, tentative, and yet Connor bites back.

"No! No." He yells, and shoves at Brandon's chest and arms, but Brandon is bigger, always has been, and pulls Connor into a hug. It's unimaginably warm. The tears Connor was holding back escape his eyes. He melts into his arms.

"I've missed you," Brandon croaks.

[baronessblixen]

(Prompt if you take them): You wanted someone to force you to write, so I am simply relaying a strongly worded memo from Scully. She wants you to write about Mulder having such a normal crazy day that is as unbelievable as any X File.

Took me only 9 months to reply to this! The fic baby born from this prompt is very, very sweet. Here be fluff.

Fictober Day 10 | Tagging @today-in-fic @xffictober2022 | Wc: 932

(Not So) Ordinary Days

Any second now the world is going to end. That’s the only explanation for how this day has been going. Or not been going, rather. Mulder didn’t oversleep, he didn’t spill coffee on himself or anyone else, he didn’t get stuck in an elevator, run into people he didn’t want to see, wasn’t reprimanded by Skinner, Kersh, or anyone else.

There was no report he forgot to write and hand in, no case taking them out of the office, or perpetrators trying to kill them. He went to work, got the job done, and then went home. And that’s it. That is all that has happened today: nothing. Which is why he’s waiting, now. Clearly something is amiss. Days like these don’t happen to him.

“Scully, it’s me.” If anyone can make sense of this, it’s her.

“Mulder, is everything all right?” Immediately she sounds worried, probably thinking he hurt himself or wants her to meet him for some inane reason.

“Yes, everything is all right,” he says. “Or maybe not. That’s why I called you. Did today seem strange to you?”

“Strange? In what way?”

“Nothing happened,” he says.

“Did you want anything to happen?” Scully asks him, amusement slipping into her voice. There’s rustling on the other end of the line and he imagines her getting comfortable on her couch. He wonders what she’s wearing, if she’s already in her pajamas, maybe noshing on something sweet while reading, or watching TV. He’s so lost in his daydream about Scully that he almost forgets that he’s on the phone with her.

“No, I-… it was just so, so…” He can’t find the right word for what today has been.

“Normal?” Scully suggests.

“Too normal.”

“What does that even mean?” She asks him and he can hear her stifle a chuckle. He wants to hear her chuckle, he finds. Maybe the day has been normal – downright boring even – but talking to Scully, whether on the phone or in person is anything but. No matter how much they talk, it’s always a privilege. Hearing her voice in his ear, knowing she listens to him, and cares about him, is special. That’s not normal, not ordinary at all. Not to him, anyway.

“I don’t know,” he admits sheepishly. “I just thought it was weird.”

“Is that why you called me?”

“I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” Gone is his daydream about Scully sitting on the couch, eating ice cream, half waiting for a call from him. She might be getting ready for a date. Or the date is already in her apartment. Jealousy rears its ugly head, but Mulder shoves it down again, waiting for her reply.

“Hmm, I was going to start a movie.”

“By yourself?”

“Am I not allowed to watch a movie by myself?”

“Of course you are,” he says, trying not to sound too joyful about her being all alone. “What movie are you watching?” He asks, picking up his own remote control. “Maybe we can watch together.” The silence on Scully’s end is loud and Mulder is about to apologize when she does speak.

“You want to come over?” She asks him.

“I-” That hadn’t even occurred to him. All he thought was that they could stay on the phone and watch the movie together that way. “I-”

“Do you? I can put the ice cream back in the freezer so it won’t be melted when you get here.”

“I- you wouldn’t mind me coming over?”

“No,” she says and to his ears, she sounds almost shy. “Actually I think I’d really like that. We haven’t watched a movie together in a while.” The last time was on a case, forced to share a room together, and Mulder unable to sleep. They left the TV on all night and Scully fell asleep during The Maltese Falcon. Mulder had been up for a few more hours, torn between watching the TV screen and his sleeping partner.

“I’d love to come over. You sure you’re okay with that? We have work tomorrow.” But he’s already up from his couch, the phone tucked between his ear and his shoulder.

“Bring your overnight bag, just in case.”

He stops dead in his tracks. Is Scully propositioning him? And here he thought this day was eerily normal. There’s nothing normal about any of this after all. Maybe the world really is ending. Any second now she’s going to admit all of this was a joke, and that no, she doesn’t want to watch a movie with him. Except his Scully isn’t cruel. She doesn’t lie to him. She doesn’t use and abuse him.

“Mulder? Are you still there?”

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “Just thinking about what I’m going to wear tomorrow.”

“Don’t think too long about it,” she says. “See you in half an hour?” Those are the most beautiful words in the world, Mulder decides.

“See you in half an hour,” he confirms. They hang up the phone without saying goodbye, knowing they will see each other. Soon. Mulder tries to be quick and practical about it. Pack a suit, a toothbrush and… a t-shirt to sleep in? Scully said not to think too long about it. He throws in his yellow pajama pants and an old t-shirt. That will have to do. It’s all just in case. Isn’t it?

Just in case, he feeds his fish and switches off all the lights. He picks up his overnight bag, realizing he’s grinning. What an ordinary day this has been. But the night? That has the potential to be out of this world.

[byunbhyunz]

Hyungwon - “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

Pairing: Hyungwon/Reader

Genre: fluff, terriblecookerreaderandhyungwon!au

Word count: 1,019

Prompt: “I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

It all started with Hyungwon having enough of instant food and it eventually ended in chaos. Also, with a kitchen you had to wipe clean, and magically get rid of the smell of burnt meat.

When Hyungwon arrived home and caught you getting out a suspiciously flat box out of the freezer, he simply said:

“I’m not eating frozen pizza for the third time this week.”

“But you love it.” You tried to convince him or seduce him with the promise of trashy food, which he rarely turned down.

“Third time this week, Y/N. It’s only Wednesday today.”

You groaned, hearing the finality in his voice. His face softened upon seeing you pout and put the frozen pizza back to its original place. He quickly shuffled out of his shoes, which he forgot to took off as he only stepped in the apartment when he caught you in your actions. What a relief that the front door was directly looking at the kitchen!

Feeling his arms sneak around your waist, he pressed a kiss on the top of your head and you melted into his hold, forgetting to shut the freezer. He reached out with a scoff, shutting it, then hugging you even tighter.

“What can I say? You make me lose my mind completely,” you tried to save your ass with some cheesy words, that he loved to hear, but would never admit.

“You don’t need me for that to happen,” he replied with a snark comment, but his plump lips pulled into a smile as he dragged them along your jaw. You sighed at the sensation, already feeling your legs weak from what was about to come.

“So what are we gonna have for dinner if not pizza?” You ask with a sigh falling from your lips. He kisses your skin right below your ear, knowing well what he does to you.

“We could cook. I saw some chicken in the freezer the other day.”

“You did?”

“Mm-hm. It’s hiding right behind that pizza you were tempting me with.”

You could barely pay attention to what he was saying, only got lost in the feeling of his lips drawing a line from your ear to your lips with wet kisses. God, he could be such a tease!

“What do we do with it? It takes hours for it to unfreeze.”

“Put it in the microwave.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Why? People always do this kind of stuff. They even post it on Youtube as cooking hacks. If it works for them, it will for us too.”

You could only agree to whatever he was saying.

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of your shoulder, then his plush lips soothed the remaining pain. Then his body retreated from yours, getting things into his own hands by grabbing the chicken, unwrapping it from its package, putting it on a plate, and shoving it into the microwave altogether. He played for a while with the settings, not really knowing what would be the best solution for a quicker unfreezing method.

After setting it, his needy hands were on you again; mouth whispering words into your skin.

“It will take time to unfreeze anyway, so what do you think about spending it useful?”

You chuckled at the lame phrasing of his want, but sighed when his fingers slipped under the hem of your shirt. An expert tease, that’s what he was.

“I try not to think about you just referring to sex as ‘spending time useful’. Never heard anything that mood killer from you in a long time.”

His pout was obvious when he kissed you, but the expected snarky reply didn’t came. Instead, he put his mouth to a good use, which made you quiver for the next thirty minutes or more so.

The chicken was long forgotten, your mind only filled with anything related to Hyungwon: his scent, the softness in his eyes when he looked down at you as he moved his hips in a loving but satisfying way. You were overwhelmed by him, and you loved it.

“What did you say about me killing the mood, hm?” He nudged your collarbone with his nose after he collapsed on you, and refused to move. He would never say it, but he loved to lay on you, in your embrace after making love.

“Nothing. But sometimes your mouth can be really…”

“Sexy? Sweet? What? Finish what you started to say.”

“Annoying.” You smirked as he looked up at you with mocking disbelief on his face. His dark orbs glinted with mischief, but you were already occupied with something else. More accurately, with the weird, bitter smell that was slowly filling the bedroom. “Do you feel it too?”

“Already, baby? We literally just finished, you should give me at least a few minutes to regain my…”

“No, not that! It’s like… like something is burning.”

That grabbed Hyungwon’s attention too. Lazily pulling himself up, he sniffed in the air, then frowned in confusion. Lost in thoughts realization washed over his features. He looked at you with wide eyes.

“The chicken.”

You were faster; tossing the sheets aside, you ran to the kitchen completely naked. There was smoke coming out of the microwave, making you cough immediately.

Hyungwon followed you. He had decency to put on some pants, and upon seeing the state of your dinner-supposed-to-be, he sighed and went to the hallway for the fire-extinguisher, although there was no signs of fire. But where there’s smoke…

“So, should I put the pizza in the oven now or you want to help cleaning first?” You asked Hyungwon smugly, when you put on some clothes and opened every single window in your apartment.

“Let’s just order something,” he grumbled back, then added a little sheepishly: “I’ll try to bribe Kihyun hyung into cooking us something for the rest of the week.”

“I’m sure he will take pity on us if you tell him what happened tonight.”

His sigh probably could be heard on the streets too as he called a take-out place, and glanced over the kitchen waiting to be cleaned.

[supa101]

The Amazing Story ( Chapter 9 )

*Supa Falls out the freezer*

Supa : Hey guys! I'm Back!

Mike : SUPA!

Passion : SOMEONE IS CALLING YOU YOU!

Supa : Who is it?

Passion : SOMEONE NAMED THEA. THEA!

*he takes the phone*

Supa : Thea! Hi Its been a while since we spoke!

Thea : Do you renember me? Who I was in you're life?

Supa : Y-yes! you are my sister And Not too many memory's because we had got split up.

Thea : Okay... Have you got a name?

Supa : Yeah my name is supa! don't you renember mom and dad naming me?

Thea : Errrrr... I am Unsure about.. THEM. But No they ditched you and me and yeah.

Supa : So... Holy shit I don't have parents.

Thea : Well We do but they just left us in the dust. How have you been though? I want to know it all and we can meet up at some point I missed you SOOOOOOO much

Supa : sheesh Lots have happened So One person likes me. In a gay way but I am like " Friend zone but you are a maybe man " And I am unsure about this girl. I tell you that when we meet up! Also this Diffrent universe me Liked me and we dated... then she kidnapped me. Her name is val...

Thea : Val?! like that school shooter that you Killed?

Supa : YOU HEARD ABOUT THAT?! I thought you would not find out!

Thea : Is that a bad thing?

Supa : NONONONONO NO its not bad Not bad at all!

Person : Hi supa! who are you talking too?

Supa : Friend

Person : Oh okay!

Thea : was that the person that liked you?

Supa : No that is person. Blue likes me Well Not like activly flirting but like "like me When he knows he can"

Thea : Blue... does he wear a blue scarf?

Supa : Yup! How'd you know?

Thea : we used to date. we broke up not because cheating or not type. we decided there are other people in the world. Sooo yeah

Supa : So the person that I might in might in the slightest date is the person that dated you? that might make things weird...

Thea : Any questions?

Supa : How many siblings are there still out there or do I have

Thea : You have The genders of the siblings is also gonna be said

Supa : Oki

Thea : three girls and two boys

Supa : Who there names?

Thea : Tell you when we meet up... Where should we meet up?

Supa : Do you know where scribble land is?

Thea : no... Can we meet at the entrance of Scribble land?

Supa : its down south In like a ditch too a pipe for like the sewer. once you walk in hold you're hand on the left side of the pipe because... No no Just walk into the pipe And you should be teleported to scribble land.

Thea : Don't let anyone follow right?

Supa : Yup!

Thea : So saturday?

Supa : I will be waiting in the ditch for you on saturday morning If you come late Its fine

Thea : K I'm gonna hang up see you then lil thing

*she hangs up*

Blue : You got a nother crush?

Supa : ... FUCK YOU'RESELF I DON'T GOT A NOTHER CRUSH!

*supa shove's blue*

Blue : What's wrong with him

Person : No clue He is serious He does not got a crush so Don't follow him tommarow he is meeting up with someone

Blue : Okay can do

[wolffyluna]

[INFINITE SCREAMING ON INFINITE EARTHS]

I have been through several rounds of "whew, finally got all the clothes moths out of my wool stash" -> haha fuck you -> "noooo, my wool! And it's going to be so much effort to try and save it! Welp, better get started then." -> "whew, finally got all the clothes moths out of my wool stash"

Guess what I found today. A day where I'm only going to be spending an afternoon and a night at my apartment before disappearing for several months, probably.

Go on. Guess.

I have sorted all my yarn into natural and unnatural fibres. I have put all the natural fibres into shopping bags and shoved them into my freezer. (I have thrown out perfectly good frozen food to make room, because it will be less financially and emotionally costly to replace than the yarn.) I have propped my ironing board against the freezer so the fucker can't open.

Hopefully that will at least slow the damage, if not kill the moth larva.

And when I get back. I am hand washing e everything. And then. Because it's only me in this apartment. No cats. No immune compromised people.

I AM DOUSING EVERYTHING IN PYRETHRUM

LETS GET THERMONUCLEAR IN THIS BITCH

[nancypullen]

Hump Day

The mister gets up before me.  He wakes in the dark and goes downstairs where he eats breakfast and watches YouTube videos on building fences and processing photographs.  He has taken it upon himself to unload the dishwasher every morning, which makes me very happy.  Once less chore for me.   While he’s doing that I lie in bed and turn on my heating pad.  I shove it under my lower back and then play Wordle and a few other games on my phone while I do my sciatica stretches. It works. That’s usually when he comes in and without fail greets me with, “Good morning, Honeylicious!” or “Good morning, my beautiful bride!”  This, combined with the empty dishwasher, makes him my favorite person on Earth.  Mostly because I’m propped up on my pillow with bed hair, doing my old lady PT, and there’s usually a cat draped across my chest.  I’m 100% sure that I look like I should be locked up in Cloverbottom. Pretty sure this is what he sees.

After he wishes me a good morning he puts on his shoes and goes for his daily walk. He spends an hour walking all over Denton.  I get up and start my day. 

 This morning I got up, made the bed, scooped the cat litter, folded the laundry that I left in the dryer yesterday and then started a new load.  I squirted cleaner in both upstairs toilets and gave them a swirl just for kicks.  I washed my face and patted on some hyaluronic acid, then braided my crazy hair off my face. I pulled on some yoga pants and a sweatshirt and headed downstairs.  I preheated the oven to 325 and grabbed six eggs.  This is how I cook eggs for Mickey.

  He likes to have a hard boiled egg every morning with some fruit and maybe a slice of toast. Save yourself a ton of trouble and preheat your oven to 325 and pop some eggs in for 30 minutes. Once they’re cooked, plunge them into a bowl of ice water for about 10 minutes so they’ll be easy to peel.  Perfect hardboiled eggs every time.  Great way to make egg salad too. While the eggs cooked I swept the floors, put his bowl and knife from breakfast into the dishwasher, wiped out the microwave, spotted some dusty baseboards and wiped those too, took ground turkey out of the freezer for tonight’s taco bowls, and chopped up some celery and put it in an airtight container for my snacks later.  The timer dinged for the eggs so I scooped a bowl of ice and ran some water into it and plopped the eggs right in.  Setting another timer for 10 minutes gave me time to go out the back door and fill the bird bath so the song birds will hang around.  I checked on my baby Zinnias, Morning Glories, and sunflowers while I was out there and the results delighted me. We’ll have flowers! Back inside I took the eggs out of their ice bath and put them into a bowl in the frig. At this point I made myself a little snack and turned on Court TV because I like a side of murder with my meals. While eating I started jotting down my meal planning and grocery list for the coming week.  This is when the mister returned from his walk and asked something like, “What are you going to do today?”   I’d already completed 6 or 7 chores and put nearly 3,000 steps on my FitBit.  This is how men get killed.  The invisible work that maintains a household is a thankless job.  In his defense, he really just wanted to know what I had going on because he’s in demand in Denton as a photographer and is always running off to snap an event or a special spot.  Yesterday he had a meeting with the Parks and Rec people to lay the groundwork for teaching a photography class. But, that was not today’s reason for asking. He was itching to get started on the fence. The weather this week has been kind of gross.  We thought we’d get the fence up on Monday - rain.  It was supposed to clear up on Tuesday - drizzle. Surely Wednesday would offer sunshine - damp and chilly.  It only rained briefly this morning and it was more misting than raining.  When the mister came back from his walk he remarked that the wind and lack of sun made for cold hands.  Cold hands are not good for fence building, so we waited again.  But around 4:30 he declared that it had warmed up (it hadn’t) and the sun was out (it wasn’t) and we should get started on the fence.  Because I already feel guilty that I nagged him into building this fence in the first place, I agreed.  Geez. In the short time before I had to get dinner started we put up two sections.  I say “we”, but he was the one sinking posts, pounding stuff, measuring stuff, checking the level, etc.  I did a lot of holding things while he pounded them and sorting pickets by size.  I was also very handy every time he lost something...”It’s right there”...”It’s in your pocket”...”You’re standing on it”, and so on. Tomorrow’s weather should be better, and hopefully we’ll knock out the other seven sections.  Cross your fingers. As I made dinner tonight I found myself peeking at the partial fence and admiring how tidy it will make everything look back there.

Once it’s complete I can do a little landscaping in front of it, position the bird bath and the feeders, and it’ll be sweet. Tomorrow will be long, but worth it.  That’s the end of this boring post and I’m heading upstairs for a long soak. I may take a piece of chocolate with me. I’ll send a wish into the universe for a sunny day tomorrow and fewer tree roots to work around.  I’m also sending out gratitude for a husband that can do math.  I would have screwed this up already.

Until tomorrow - stay safe, stay well. XOXO,

Nancy

[nataliesnews]

Netanyahu is a nothing 14.10 .2023

Subject: Fwd: The situation seems to be getting worse

If I am writing too much and anyone wants to be taken of the list just tell me.

Since last night the criticism of Netanyahu on the tv has not stopped. Private citizens, bereaved families, families of the kidnapped. And that includes Arab citizens. All say no one speaks to them. Last night, after the speech of Netanyahu......and by the way none of the religious community has said a word about the Sabbath being broken....and also that since a week ago all the politicians have disappeared....no Ben Gvir, No Smotrich, No rabbis.....nothing. Netanyahu is criticized because he did not visit the kibbutzim in the south which were attacked, he did not visit the moshaviem, he does not talk to the bereaved families, he does not explain where his sons are, he does not say if it is true that his wife got onto a private plane of one of his rich friends....who probably do not live in Israel....and is in London with her learned son. She should be visiting the families who fled  But for some reason he is not asked these questions. He says we pay a heavy price.......we pay a heavy price for having him as a leader. He tells us it is just beginning. As if we don't know it.

No one knows what lies ahead for us. I have very bad thoughts. I think that one day I may look back on these days as the good days. But what we all know is that we have no leadership. The leaders are the private citizens who are donating, who are opening war rooms in which they are packing food, clothes, medicines, everything which is needed. We are all donating. Everyone who can is helping. I heard that the young men of Bnei Akiva who are not in the army  are helping to dig the graves. It is like an escalator. One grave over the other. I thank God that my friends for the most part already have elderly children who are not in the army anymore.

Biden spoke to the bereaved families, he found the time to speak personally to some of them. Only now after last night with all the criticism hurled at him did Netanyahu visit the kibbutzim. Of course they are not his supporters so why should he have visited them before. Why in his first speech did he not ask for a moment of silence for all those whom he and his government have killed.  Why did he not address the families of those who were captured. Now Netanyahu quickly got on to the bandwagon. I wish you could see the families on the tv.

 Here in Nofim we have two families...one of whom should never have been sent here. I went in to speak to  them and they complained about the treatment here. I think there is a mentally handicapped problem. The son who looks about in his 20s does not speak and the daughter is not much better. They complained that they had not been given enough towels and bandages....the  mother has two swollen bandaged legs and that they needed the washing done. So I took it down and shoved it all into the washing machine. They asked me to bring them more towels but I only have three. I gave away all that I had when I moved here as I don't  need more.

I know this will sound ridiculous but I always get into a panic when I invite people.  I was stressed as I was in such a mess in the kitchen. I have a blender which was given to me  already not in its best days. I took out some soup from the freezer and added a box of instant noodles but  I did not realise that these were really thick and long noodles and I could see my visitors sitting and slurping them up. So I threw it into the blender which immediately started to blend.....all over the shelves and my face and the floor. I also had only got up at eight as last night even with a sleeping pill I only got to sleep at 2am. I was busy with the bottles and also got a call to open the gate for a woman going into Irit's with bottles. And the phone was ringing and I don't know if you have ever tried to answer a phone with noodles dripping off you. My advice is don't.  But I was told that the soup was excellent. God alone knows what all I threw into it. But people sat here for over three hours and said it was so good to just be together.

 Luckily   another woman took the wet stuff down  to the drying machine which I do not have. . She has been looking after them. But she asked how come they had used so many towels in one day. They should not have been sent here. They should have been sent to a place with the proper nursing facilities.

The other family is from Ashkelon and I went  up this morning to ask them if they would like to join  us for lunch.  I think the lady would but her husband wanted to stay home. I will go up tomorrow to be with them.

A horrible story of two children ....very small....who were hidden in a cupboard for hours without water or food and too terrified to come out even then the soldiers called them. It sounds like the Holocaust. A woman is speaking of the old people over 80, without medicines who will die if they are not freed soon.

You ask about Arabs...this is a letter one of them wrote: Louis Hajj, Acre:

With the revelation of the dimensions of the unimaginable sadistic horrors, of harming innocent citizens, young people, children, women, the elderly and children, I ask that you have no doubt. I want it to be clear to you and to the whole world that we Israeli Arabs, Palestinians, Palestinian Israelis, Palestinian Israelis, 48 Arabs - whatever we call it, stand as your brothers, as human beings and as citizens of the country by your side, we are with you deeply in your grief, we take it to our hearts and let it be our grief as well.

This is our banal and required, moral and human duty, to express disgust, crying out in a clear voice our participation in your crushing and disintegrating sorrow. A loud voice cries out against unimaginable crimes that will echo from the minarets of every mosque, church or house of worship until God says in amazement: "It was not in the name of human scum." Our voice will be sharp and clear, not apologetic, not hesitant, not stammering, without "but...", without symmetry and without "get it... look what's happening there...". Faced with horrors, there are no dilemmas!

As citizens of the country, our place in this dark time is to be by your side as brothers to us as partners in the same fate, to tear a garment with you and sit together for seven, ten or a year - however long it takes, to try to dull the loss even a little bit and provide solidarity and offer relief.  On top of all that I fell foul of a fake notice about a meeting to mourn our dead. I had just been asking about if we were meeting tonight and was told that a notice would be sent out. So I was easily fooled when five minutes later I got a notice. I immediately went to Gaza street by taxi only to find that it was a fake. I should have looked at the wording better. Anyhow it is rebbe geld.

A woman from Bethlehem whom I once helped at the DCO phoned to ask how I was managing. And that is enough for now.

[anatifery]

Warnings: attempted assault; references to medical violence; gun-related violence Astronomically Adrift

The preparation room was always dark perhaps to hide the stains of the failed medical experiments that had once been conducted there. Along the wall were dozens of storage compartments for cadavers. Half of them had open doors and Sara slowly dragged a body toward one of them.

“You pretentious little jerk,” she spat, heaving on the shoulders and backing up toward the freezer. “You thought you could take me because of the coma, didn't you? It’s….” She grunted, pulling it back and shoving it against one of the lower compartments.  “It’s been over a year since I woke up. You think I didn’t work out? We’re a frickin' pirate crew. I've learned self defense.”

She looked around the room at the bodies present. This one was Jonesy, a once-gorgeous man whose beauty had been thoroughly marred by what she had done to his face. His nose was missing and an eye was thoroughly destroyed. His surviving hair - once fine and well-coiffed - was matted with blood from his face and the side of his head where her killing blow had landed.

“Well we were a pirate crew, I guess.”

She sighed, collapsing against the cooler beside the body.

“You know, Jonesy, most people heard the coma child story and took pity on me. It was great for making friends. I have to assume you were some kind of psychopath, and not in the way pirates usually are. What did your parents do to you?”

Patting his leg she yawned. She was exhausted deep into her very core from the ordeal. He had come up from behind her and wrapped his arm around her neck in a tight headlock to drag her back away from the table and out of the lab. She’d instinctively slammed the back of her head into his face, stunning him before she stomped down on his right foot, the real one and not the bionic leg which she herself had replaced for him just weeks ago. That had given her the time and physical space to lean forward and grab the bottle of acid from her workstation. She’d whirled around and before he had recovered his senses she smashed it against his face. It hadn’t broken the first time so she followed him down to the ground and crushed his orbital and nose with it until the bottle shattered, driving glass deep into his soft tissue. For her part the work gloves seemed to have protected her from most of the damage though the acid had begun to eat through them and she’d been forced to fling them away from her. She was certain he’d been near death already and the acid would take him the rest of the way to his end.

It was a shame that she’d lost the acid though. It would have been good for a trade if she ever figured out how to get off this godforsaken ship.

She took his baton and his pistol from him knowing this was her chance. At no point had she ever really been onboard with the piracy but what other choice had she actually had? She’d been comatose and on life support for years on a gleaming colony ship when the pirates had raided it. Why they took her capsule exactly, she didn’t know. Likely her caretakers - if they were still alive - assumed it was for use as a pleasure slave but the pirates had never touched her in such a fashion. They’d never even tried to be honest.

The year and change had worn on her, though, and while she was always kind to the rest of the crew and to their prisoners, there was nothing she could do to change anyone’s fate. Pirates got killed going around corners and prisoners got their organs harvested for the black market or to save the lives of the ship’s own crew. And they’d made her do the harvesting. The one positive side she supposed was that she had also learned how to save lives as a result.

She would have said she was at a crossroads but that made it seem like the choices were equal. In truth it was either fight her way off the ship or die trying (or, she supposed, not trying). Maybe it was all out of self-defense knowing that killing Jonesy especially in such a horrific manner would have turn the crew against her even if she had any goodwill left over with any of them. Destroying a pretty boy’s face in such a way looked like an insult on top of injury. She had no real way of knowing how it would turn out if she tried to explain herself and any chance of success there rested solely on if there was even anyone left on her side. For him to try to seize her like that… she’d probably run out of chances with them.

That was probably an impending execution, right? He was going to take her down to an airlock and toss her out with the remains of the last couple of surgeries wasn't he?

Jonesy’s sidearm was a micro-railgun pistol. She had only ever seen one of its kind and that was in the holster on Jonesy’s thigh. Even he had rarely used it though, preferring instead a standard projectile carbine for boarding actions. It was more of a status symbol than anything else; he was the executive officer and he got the fancy gun. She had seen and heard it fired once or twice before and so she grabbed some cotton balls and jammed them in her ears, taping over them to keep everything in place. It would make it easier to sneak up on her but that probably wouldn’t matter. The crew wouldn’t expect to hear the thundercrack of the weapon and would be woefully unprepared and disoriented. They wouldn’t be sneaking around.

She’d become good with a pistol in her time with the pirates. She didn’t really have to be since she was always the last in to help save anyone she could but there had been several times when they’d underestimated resistance or gone up against a tactically superior force and she’d been trapped with the dead and dying, soon to join them. Had she not practiced she certainly would have.

So, she exited the lab with the micro-railgun close to her body and pointed down the hall. First she would go to the command center. There would only be two or three people there and by cutting off the head she could ensure there was no ability for the crew to coordinate or get any understanding of what was happening and how to deal with it. She didn't encounter anyone on the way there and when she crossed into the control room's antechamber she heard the confirmation of Jonesy’s intent.

"He done spacing the twerp, yet?" The captain’s voice was muffled from the ear plugs but she could make it out well enough given his sheer volume. "I haven't seen an airlock notice."

"Is this because of the eyes?" She asked, likely too loud herself but that wasn’t an issue: it was in fact probably appropriate to the situation even if alien to her.

She had refused to remove a young man's eyes to replace those lost by two of the crew. The young man had still been alive and they wanted her to keep him that way. By the man’s own request she had botched the job so thoroughly that he passed in his sleep and the drugs she used had destroyed the most valuable parts.

She'd outlived her usefulness with a single moment of moral clarity.

The captain had turned to face her while gesturing for his comm officer to issue an alert. The officer didn’t get the chance, though. Her first shot hit him square in the chest, exploding through his back and demolishing the console behind him. Her ears were protected but she could feel the force of the shot against her throat and eyes. The shock of it made her forget to fire a quick second shot to be sure; fortunately she didn't have to.

"Peps!," he exclaimed using the nickname the crew had given her. "What are you…."

"Don't you even think about opening the intercom. Did you send your XO to kill me?"

In her head, the words seemed smooth and calm but given the hot tears streaming down her face, she probably looked and sounded unhinged; insane, even.

She didn’t remember bothering to wait for the answer. She knew already anyway. The captain lunged for a console and his speed caused her first shot to miss and hit the bulkhead. Having lost none of the energy it would have had she hit him, the round went clear through the wall. The second and third, though, painted the wall and floor with what had just a moment earlier been his insides.

The rupture in the bulkhead triggered the door to seal to prevent loss of atmosphere and she had just barely escaped back through it to avoid being trapped.

The crew had been ten-strong; nine discounting herself. That was a third of them down. The next stop was the armory. If the weapons fire had been detected then the crew would be convening there but wouldn’t be prepared yet since they would be waiting for the captain or his XO to come and unlock it or at least do so remotely from the bridge.

By the time she got there they’d gotten it open. The inability to contact the bridge probably made them panic enough to break it open. A lot of them had that skill; they were professional breakers and enterers after all. She entered the doorway and without any second of honest thought shot down the two brawlers immediately. They were the greatest threat and she had no delusions of being able to convince them to back down. Before ducking back behind the wall, she saw the remaining four huddled in the armory flipping tables to serve as cover. She couldn’t make out what they were yelling as they did so.

“I’m really sorry, guys,” she called out. “Cap was gonna space me and umm… I couldn’t let that happen. Things have gotten out of control, I know. But we can talk about it. There’s still half of us left, right? No captain to get in the way and that horrible little goblin XO is gone.”

The response came as a couple of shots out into the corridor. The rounds embedded safely in the walls. They were low-power weapons designed for boarding actions and to prevent passing through bulkheads.

“Hey now!” she yelled. “I got the railgun and it’ll go through that wall if you make me shoot back.”

She unstuck the tape over one of her ears so she could hear them talking inside.

“That’s probably why the bridge is sealed off. She probably missed a bunch. How much ammo could she possibly have left?”

Sara shook her head and said, “I’m down eight and I only need one with you guys trapped in there. Half a magazine is more than enough. Anyone want to talk to me, or what?” 

After a few moments of quietly waiting and hoping for a positive response, she added, “Hey, since I beat the captain in single combat aren’t I the captain now anyway? Or maybe I get to choose who is?”

She peeked in for just a moment to see them organizing some kind of plan. One was standing and started creeping toward the door. She ducked back behind the doorframe and took several quick steps back to give herself some space. As she did so she restuck the tape to protect her hearing. Sure enough, the man had come around the door expecting her to still be right there. When he realized that he was wrong, he tried lunging at her and so she fired twice, one shot grazing his face and splitting his cheek hoping while the second went through his chest. Graze rang down from the other end of the hallway and another alarm triggered. A bulkhead sealed. She’d punctured the hull again.

“What the hell, guys? I’m giving you a chance, what do you have against me right now? What would you have done in my position? You can’t tell me you’d just let them put you out an airlock. You mad about the eye, Abara? Look, there was no way I could save it but like… we have at least four good pairs onboard right now that don’t need to stay where they are. I can fix you without butchering some poor kid to do it.”

She hadn’t realized until a few moments after she said it that the only reason those eyes were now available was that she had killed… quite a few people now to free them up.

When they didn’t respond she changed tack. “Look, there are two holes in the ship and we’re cut off from control. There’s only four of us left and none of us are engineers so we’re on a sinking ship already nevermind if I puncture the hull again, right? Let’s get to escape pods. I will take you to the main pod. It already has supplies. You can take off and restart. I’ll get in the second pod and head in another direction. We don’t have to see each other ever again after this. Let me save us, please.”

She heard the sound of their weapons being placed on the ground though knew better than to assume it was anything other than a ruse. She kept her weapon up and distance from the doorway.

“I can’t hear very well so I’m just gonna ask that you come out into the hallway slowly, one at a time and unarmed. We can have a nice conversation while I take you to the pod. I can bring you a spare eye for transplant whenever you get to civilization, Abara. I’m sure you don’t want to trust me to put you under now.”

The three men entered the corridor one at a time, each one keeping their hands raised and visible. Sara kept the pistol aimed in their direction and took several more steps back just to ensure that she had enough distance to react to any hostility from them.

“You know where the pod is, get going. We’re all dead if we stay here,” she said, her voice cracking a little with the last bit.

They didn’t hesitate. They ran down the corridor away from Sara and toward the larger escape pod. She followed at a distance and just before they went in she called out to them, “Abara!”

Abara turned his remaining eye toward her.

“Do you want me to pack up an eye for you?” she asked. “Any medical center could put it in. You’ll probably have some explaining to do but at least you’ll have it. Or… you could decide later I guess. Trash it if it seems to suspicious”

He shook his head and turned back to the pod, yelling over his shoulder, “You’ve done enough.”

She wasn’t sure what he meant but she couldn’t ask. He probably wouldn’t have responded anyway and in any case didn’t provide the time. He ducked into the pod and they sealed the airlock. They were gone.

Sara had gathered up some remaining supplies and loaded them into the secondary pod as quickly as she could but when she began the power-up sequence there was nothing. No lights, no sounds, no indicators of any kind. The hand-cranked generator didn’t do any good after ten minutes of work on it. All it did was use up the ever-depleting oxygen.

“Shit,” she muttered.

This ship was going to be her grave after all.

But Sara was a survivor. She sank against the wall and cried for a good five or ten minutes, maybe more but who could really say. When that was done, though… when she had poured out all of the emotion she had in her, spewing it forth until the tank was completely empty and she had nothing left to give, she got to work on lengthening her life.