#but using them on another device made me realise how bad it is lol

[voidpunker]

waow i keep forgetting that having little bass is an issue w the audio card im using on my pc and not these headphones

[falselyprofound]

excuse me, how's creepy castle's lore so batshit, that it isn't well-documented in the wiki?.

(In regards to this post)

Creepy Castle's the sort of game that doesn't sound terribly batshit on paper (especially not compared to some of the other stuff I blog about, e.g. Sam & Max), but playing it blind socked me in the guts emotionally.

It's been a good five years since I played this game but let me see if I can sum up the weird yet effective genre drifting it does.

Creepy Castle is initially straightforward. Moth, a plucky young knight, hears that an evil king is planning to steal all the capacity for love from the world using a device called The Heartbreaker. Moth sets out to stop him.

Chapter 1 is your standard quirky indie RPG. Earthbound-inspired enemies, a lot of silly notes, medieval dungeon crawling… just generally silly nonsense.

While traversing the castle, Moth is repeatedly challenged by other weirdo adventurers who all believe only they have the ability to take down the king. One of them is an asexual aromantic archer, who - even though he has no interest in love himself - is repulsed that Darking would want to rob people's agency.

I bring this up for a couple of reasons, but in the short run I just need you to know his name is Arrow Ace.

Fucking lol. You have no idea how happy this made me.

The most relevant rival is Ant Queen, who - four hours into epic fantasy adventure - suddenly reveals she's an alien from another universe. That Heartbreaker Darking made to steal everyone's emotions? Yeah it's not magic, it's powered by a part of her spaceship that broke off when she crash landed in the castle. And she needs it back.

...Sure! Moving on.

Moth confronts Darking in the throne room and fights to save the world, until Darking starts having a wee bit of a breakdown. No, he doesn't want to destroy the concept of love. He wants to destroy emotion, period. Darking knows his people are suffering, and wants to guarantee that nobody will ever suffer heartbreak ever again.

And if the only way to do that is by stealing every emotion, good or bad? Well, so be it.

Moth is fairly young and naive, the sort of hero who was raised on a very black-and-white approach to morality. Having to beat up someone with good intent to save the world? Knowing that he can't stab societal problems?

...It gradually takes a toll.

Darking is eventually knocked out, and Ant Queen assures Moth he did the right thing.

But again, the world's not that simple.

Destroying the Heartbreaker has prevented people from being permanently locked into apathy, but has not fixed anything else. Darking is right - Dopterra's people are still suffering en masse, and by failing to eliminate negative emotions the gods themselves realise the planet is fated to collapse into despair and tear itself apart.

So, in response to Darking's defeat, the gods send down a demon known as the Possessor to save everyone some time and destroy it early. Minimise suffering, as it were, by going scorched earth.

The demon kills Darking and possesses his corpse, much to Moth's terror. Ant Queen is forced to step in, using the power of friendship and this gun she found.

Incidentally the gun doesn't shoot bullets, demons are immune to those. She shoots and kills the guy by opening a space/time rift right through his stomach.

Sorry you had to see that Moth but you gotta admit that's a sick way to go out.

Later, the same demon tries his shit again and gets beat up by a transgender butterfly. Long story. I'll put it in the footnotes.

Finally the Possessor goes fuck this shit, decides to stop possessing people, and possesses a meteor and hurls it at planet Dopterra.

Ant Queen takes over the role of protagonist, and sets off across the universe in her spaceship to stop Moth's planet from getting nuked to shit. Creepy Castle: where the castle is optional.

Ant Queen's got a three step plan:

Find out who the Possessor is, and that he was a weapon made by the gods. (See above.)

Figure out where the gods live while avoiding Pinky, Ant Queen's abusive mother figure. (Another long story, but Pinky is a mad scientist type who bioengineers sentient creatures with free will - specifically so she can have fun enslaving them. Ant Queen is one of her creations, but she got too strong and ran away.)

Show up at the gods' doorstep, call them a bitch, and make them call Possessor off.

Unfortunately the gods aren't home and their doorman is incapable of intervening. Ant Queen has the horrible realisation that this might all be futile.

With only a few hours left before the Possessor's meteor is set to destroy the planet, everyone starts getting desperate. I can't find footage of it but I could've sworn Ant Queen blackmails the leader of the space mafia into getting as many people off Dopterra as possible before the meteor hits.

There's another part where Ant Queen's crew discuss getting Pinky to help - even if it means all the people she'd "rescue" from the planet would be converted into slaves. I don't think they go through with it, but the fact it was on the table made for one of the most harrowing conversations I've seen in a family friendly video game.

Ant Queen rolls up her nonexistent sleeves and decides to go down to the meteor and beat the elder death deity up her own fucking self.

She succeeds, saving the planet from death by giant rock. But in the end, she doesn't fault the Possessor for what he was trying to do.

At the end of the day, he was screwed over by his parents even more than she was. At least she had free will, and a chance to make friends.

My memories get pretty hazy after that. I think it's implied the gods are dead, and the world trucks on towards its prophesied doom, and it's unknown if anything can be done about it. Particularly as the squad just killed the only tools the gods left behind. iirc it was a bit of a setup to a second "season", but five years down the track and nothing has materialised.

Regardless, there you have it. That's how a tiny little game about a Moth knight seeking out an evil king turns into elder gods, free will, nature vs. nurture, and a sprinkling of moth depression.

Speaking of that last one, I had to leave a lot of character arcs out of the above explanation for the sake of flow, but here's some stuff worth mentioning:

Moth is traumatised from his fight with Darking (not to mention causing his double-death AND being told by Possessor that he triggered a slow apocalypse in the process), and quits being a hero for a while. He disappears into the depths of the castle and I think gets possessed for a bit? Until the aformentioned transgender Butterfly shows up to rescue him and help him through it all. I don't remember this chapter terribly well because it was three in the morning when I played it. Somebody please clue me in, all I remember is the fleshy hell hallway.

There's an optional chapter where Butterfly's grandparent does an archeological expedition to discover lore about the Architects (gods). I never finished this one, but I did find the corpse of one Architect in a jail cell several miles below ground. I would love to know what the fuck that's about.

Darking's head knight is called Monsoon. He's initially portrayed as a standard loyal evil knight, but after Darking's defeat he's firmly on the side of the heroes. He's such a dorky old man and I love him. He cannot work skype to save his life

Northernlion is a playable character for some reason and will die in one hit

One of the first boss fights in Ant Queen's chapter is against a bat who attacks you... by turning the combat interface into choose your own adventure text prompts. If you get his questions wrong he writes fanfiction about how annoyed AQ is at the situation. It's great

[redvanillabee]

Peggysous Rec List Part II

(Rec List part I)

On the one hand, I’ve been waiting to do this list for ages. There are so many good fics! (This list is gonna be long.) But on the other hand, this made me realise I’m 2/3 of the way through the whole Peggysous tag on AO3. What will I do when I run out ;A;

This list takes us through the fics from some time pre-Endgame to some months after S2. 

You think I don't love you? Oh, but I do. by mariebittersea. Extended cut of the 2x10 kiss from Daniel’s POV. Very sweet.

Our own steps by irisdouglasiana. Post-S2 sickfic. Do you know how hard it is to find a Peggy sickfic. This is very soft and fluffy, just some gentle feelings. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy :)

Homecoming by irisdouglasiana. Short multi-chapter. Vignettes from pre-S1 to post-S2 established relationship. Very lovely to see two people ending up together after going through hell.

we survive (that is our curse) by TolkienGirl. S1E1 pre-relationship ficlet. Short, mildly angsty reflection on the war. I like how this fic establishes their bond from early on.  

Fairy God-something by LadyKes. Married Peggysous with Team Carter…chaotic energy. Peggy and Daniel arrive home to find their front door unlocked.

The Pen is Mightier by truth_renowned. Peggysous and Jack, featuring some very interesting and rather risque novelty stationery. (I was reading this in a cafe and it took all my energy not to just lol.)

Counting by thosepoorsouls. Pre or early S1 pre-relationship. Daniel is the biggest pining disaster (but that’s why we love him right?)

No (wo)man is an island by irisdouglasiana. Peggysous honeymoon ft. Jack Thompson the gate crasher. Because of course these two can’t even have a normal honeymoon.

Holy. by a_wonderingmind. Post S1E7 introspection. Daniel reflects on Peggy’s accusations in the interrogation room. Happy ending.

Opia by blueincandescence. Another Post S1E7 introspection. A shade more angsty, a shade more pining.

Feint by muscatmusic18. Set during Christmas, but it’s not necessarily a FestiveTM fic if that’s not your cup of tea. Peggy has a bad(?) habit that doesn’t escape Daniel’s notice. Ft. some ingenious prosthetic tech.

Renegades by inkdust. 45k-word multi-chapter. Post-S2 case fic, set against early established relationship. A good handling with work life intersecting with personal lives, and really good discussions about their personal and relationship insecurities.

Grade Under Pressure by sheron. 20k-word multi-chapter. Team Carter with background Peggysous. Daniel finds out about Okinawa. (I almost hesitate to put this in a PS rec list, since the relationship is quite background. But it’s tagged so, and this fic is really good. So.)

Agent by CaptainStevieGraceRogers. 3k-word multi-chapter, unfinished. Genderbent Peggysous. Pre-S1. This honestly hurts to read because now Sousa gets the double whammy of shitty behaviour in the SSR, but I haven’t read genderbend in YEARS and this is interesting.

The Game, series by truth_renowned. Some rather hot smut fics.

Rivers in Time by geekruminations and truth_renowned. 16k-word multi-chapter, AC x AOS crossover. A mysterious device sends Coulson, May, and Jemma back in time. All I can say is, if you like the dynamics in AOS 7x03 and 7x04, and also like Agent Carter and Peggysous, READ THIS.

Coming in from the Cold by Sholio. Borrowing the original summary: “It's Christmas 1955, and Peggy and Daniel get an unexpected visitor.” (AOS, I love you, but you can pry 1955 from this fic’s cold dead hands.)

A Change by HobbitatHogwarts. 2x08, slight AU. Smut. Where Daniel Sousa should go to horny jail.

Trip Wire by Sholio. Team Carter with Peggysous. Borrowing the original summary: “Daniel knows bombs, but it's a little different when it's Peggy's life at stake, and he's having to talk Jack through defusing the bomb over the radio.”

The First Time for the Rest of Our Lives by Kar98k. Smut. Virgin!Peggy. This might be the first virgin Peggy fic I’ve seen...ever. This is a really sweet (and hot) fic, and I really appreciate the break from the fandom norms.

Dreams Are What You Make of Them by truth_renowned. Humour with a smut epilogue. Pre-S2. Peggy has a dream and Angie is a little shit.

a daisy by any other name by searchingforserendipity. Language of flowers, developing relationship. Short and sweet

A Lady of Value by Eienvine. 148k-word multi-chapter. REGENCY AU. Ohmygod. I maintain that every ship must have their own Regency/P&P AU, and this one is marvellous (pun intended). Largely adapted from AC S1, featuring S2 cameos, fake relationship, and these two being the oblivious and pining idiots that we love. Could not put this down at all. Incredible research, a lot of great references, definitely reads like a regency novel. Wonderful work.

[prose-for-hire]

Supernatural Activity

Pairing: Rupert Giles x reader

Request: omgggg „dont mess with the cat“ and its the baby monitor“ and giles, maybe? that would be amaaazing

Requested by: Anon

Warning: swearing. 

c/n = cat’s name lol. I didn’t wanna assign a name you can do that! The cat is a boy though (sorry idk why I can change it if u want) 🖤🦇

You and Giles had moved in together. You had taken a while to find the perfect place, especially considering that you lived on top of a Hellmouth. A lot of properties were ridiculously good value because a surprising amount of suspicious deaths happened here. You had offered to move into the house he already lived in, but he insisted that you should have a house you could share that would be yours together.

You finally found one that was perfect, or what you had thought was perfect. 

You had been relaxing one Autumn evening, in front of the fire that Giles had just got going. Your cat was relaxing on your lap as Giles slid into the seat beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You closed your eyes, inhaling his familiar scent that enveloped you with his hug. 

You cosied up in front of the fire, wrapping your arms around his torso. You had more chance to relax around this time of year, Halloween was usually quiet and the younger people you usually helped out were busy going to parties and struggling with their social lives over the supernatural at the moment.

Giles had kissed the top of your head from the position you were in, now resting against his chest. You had been watching the television, or relaxing together with the tv on in the background. Except suddenly you heard this horrible noise. This crackling and popping. It was feedback. From some kind of device. A baby crying. Wailing for someone. 

You squinted around, starting to get freaked out. Something wasn;t right. The room felt cold, despite your body curled up beside Giles with the roaring fire. You looked up at him and he didn’t appear phased. You sat up properly, looking around. Squinting.

“Giles…” You say slowly. Giles had stayed in the same position, looking towards the television feigning boredom but he appeared to be into whatever it was taht was on. You had to take the remote and mute the sound, “Giles can you hear that?”

“Oh, it’s just the baby monitor” Giles muttered after listening a moment, cleaning his glasses and smiling at you as if this were the natural conclusion. You squinted at him, looking around in confusion.

“Giles… we don’t have a baby” You say slowly. This made him jump into action. Of course - you didn’t have a baby! He panicked, walking towards the noise.

You, against your better judgement, went with Giles to look around the house to check where the noise was coming from. C/n weaved between both of your legs, coming too. But he stopped on the landing, hissing and running off in the opposite direction.

It got louder as you walked towards the spare room. You tensed, taking Giles’ sleeve and tugging him back. You were scared, you didn’t want him to get hurt. He nodded reassuringly, sliding his hand into yours and clasping it tight. The door opened slowly, it revealed... nothing.

There was no movement. No noise and definitely no baby.

You exchanged a look, silently agreeing to just leave that room alone from then on. You didn’t speak much for the rest of the evening, still hyperaware of any noises in the house. You went to sleep earlier than usual, clinging to Giles as you tried in vain to get some sleep.

You had managed some brief sleep, however you had a bad feeling which woke you up. Then came a strangled noise and a crash. You ran out of bed, with Giles close behind, in time to see your cat starting to float in mid-air while it thrashed against whatever it was. His tail was bushy and standing on end with his sharp teeth exposed whilst he hissed at the invisible force.

You reached and scooped your cat and pulled him into you, scowling around at the room.

“I’m fucking warning you!” You point at the ceiling as if the spirit were floating there, “Don’t mess with the cat!” You shouted, hugging the little fluff ball closer to your chest to make sure you were protecting him. You had seen movies like this - the pet was usually the first to go. Not on your watch.

“Y/n is it really necessary to use that language?”

“Oh I’m sorry did you want me to invite the poltergeist into the kitchen for a cup of tea!?”

“No, of course not. It just isn’t wise to… rile it up” He said gently, knowing how protective you were of the cat. You had expressed more than once that it felt like a little family, with you, the cat and Giles. Which he had adored when you had revealed this to him. He really did love you. He nodded once in understanding, pressing a kiss against the side of your head. You softened, melting into it a little, before snapping your eyes back open and shouting, “It’s Halloween tomorrow aren’t you meant to have the day off?!” scowling up at the ceiling again.

The movement seemed to disappear. So you eventually padded back to your shared bed, setting your cat at the end of the bed to ensure he was safe. You both slipped back into bed and huddled together as you tried to get some sleep. Your anger dissipating with every soft touch Giles gave you in the safety of your shared bed. 

“We have to do something, sweetheart” You sigh, cuddling up to him. You weren’t fond of being haunted, it appeared.

“Let’s just, see what the spirit wants and see if we can, ah, assist. I will look up some books tomorrow” He muttered, stroking the back of your head softly. You nodded, well aware of his tendency to say a more polite version of what he really wanted to say.

“Can I bring c/n? please?” You whispered into his ear as you began to fall asleep nestled against his side.

The next morning was Halloween, a very busy day for you and Giles in the store you owned together. You usually enjoyed the day, but you were tired this morning and you snapped at Xander too many times so he threatened to walk.

This lead to you having to buy donuts to keep him sweet, which appeared to make him instantly your friend again. You explained yours and Giles’ predicament between the rush of customers and heard their suggestions which, although well-meaning, were entirely unhelpful. Your cat weaved between each customer, giving them a little entertainment whilst they waited in the long queues.

“Maybe you should get a priest?” Willow asked, using what appeared to be an entire roll of tape on a customers gift wrap. You were too busy reading a book on possession to supervise her properly so Anya snatched it from her and started to wrap it correctly.

“Yeah, you wanna go full-Exorcist. It is Halloween, G-man” Xander piped up and you let it slide with a mere eyeroll, seeing as you had snapped at him so much already today and Giles let him off with just a withering look.

You and Giles did a little more researching and decided the best way forwards was a ritual to reveal who you were dealing with and then one to cast out the spirit. You had everything lined up and you even colour coded the ritual into sections for him - you knew he loved it when you did that. 

You decided you should probably do it as soon as possible. You presented your plan to the group after you finally closed up and the tired Scoobies listened. Their faces twisting into panic as they realised it sounded like a group event.

“Do we, uh, all have to be there?” Buffy asked, looking around and trying to silently come up with an excuse with the others. You caught this and winked at her.

“Well, we could use all of the help that we can get” Giles said solemnly, well aware of the horrified faces of the young people around him. He was about to launch into a long speech about duty.

“No. You can go to your Halloween party! Giles, there are some things that have to be dealt with alone, it’s our responsibility. We can do it just fine” You looped your arms around his neck and left a few soft kisses against his slightly parted mouth, in case he was still trying to protest. The Scoobies all took this as their cue to get up and run out of the door before Giles could change his mind. Dawn had taken your cat in the carrier, so that he was safe while you spent your Halloween dealing with whatever it was that had moved into your house (or maybe you had moved into its house?).

You made it home, wincing slightly as you saw the state of your kitchen. All of the cupboards were open. Cutlery was littering the floor. All of them had been paired with another, forming upside down crosses all over the floor. You smelt something and your eyes widened in horror. The gas was on. You ran over to turn  it off and when you looked back around you saw that the teapot was cracked and in pieces in the centre of the wooden dining table. Clearly, the ghost wasn’t a fan of tea. Maybe it was a good job you didn’t offer it any.

You both cleared up, Giles staying quiet as you ranted through the tidying. You slammed the cutlery back in place. Crashing the cupboard doors closed. The teapot which you had really liked had to go straight into the bin.

When you finally finished, collapsing into the chairs in your living room. You felt exhausted. You weren’t sure if you had the energy to do this. You held onto the cross that Buffy had kindly gifted you and Giles earlier in the day.

A loud smash echoed through the house, making Giles jump and scatter your handwritten notes on the rituals you would have to perform all over the

You both rushed to pick them up before any poltergeist saw them and started to attack you before you could begin your plan. You then ran in to see what had happened, the noise having come from the kitchen. But this time, nothing was out of place. In fact, it was eerily clean. Spotless. 

You decided you did have the energy. You wanted this entity gone. You couldn’t even relax in your home for a second anymore. This was further evident when you heard a loud scoff and a thud.

You rushed in, expecting to see Giles wrestling with a ghost, but instead you saw him glaring at the book case in the living room.

“For the love of all that is- will you please cease with the ridiculous organisation of my bookshelves! I cannot find a bloody thing!” He shouted at mid-air. It had been the one thing through all of this that had gotten a reaction.

“Now, now is that language really necessary, sweetie?” You giggle as he turned to face you, his temper still frayed.

“I cannot stand to live beside this-this-!” He looked around, as if he could have seen if the poltergeist was listening in, but obviously wasn’t able to see anything, “The books, y/n! the books!” He started to get worked up until your hand slid lightly up his chest, rubbing soothingly.

“I know, that’s why we’re doing a- doing what we’re doing- on Halloween night” You hinted, not wanting the entity to know what you planned. You kissed him on the cheek and nestled into him, hoping he could feel your love and comfort coursing through him like blood. He appeared to calm as he held you to him, but he was still frowning around him and towards the bookcase.

It was finally time. It was almost midnight and you started to paint the pentagram on one of the small, circular hardwood tables as Giles shook his head and muttered under his breath. He had given his blessing to use one of the tables he had brought with him into your home from England, but it didn’t mean he was pleased about it. You both set up, places crystals on each point of the pentagram. You also lit candles and brushing up pronunciation of Latin phrases before you began. 

You nodded at each other, he closed the space between you to press a chaste kiss against your lips. For luck. Or courage. You both held hands and started reciting the words. Asking the spirit to reveal itself. Asking for its purpose. Things started to shake, books started to fly out of the shelves and litter the floor. Giles had to do everything in his power to stay focused. 

The crystals flew at you both, scattering on the floor at your feet. You knew what this meant. It wanted you. It wanted to inhabit one of you. Possess you.

Giles didn’t even pause. He couldn’t have anything jeopardising his home. His love. He never wanted to be apart from you and so he started shouted that the spirit was being cast out. Cast from this home and back to where it came from. Nothing was happening except you were angering the demon. It had started to shriek. Blood curdling, squawks of terror that made you shiver.

The table was starting to shake, threatening to be thrown across the room and you panicked. Giles started to chant louder and you saw something from the corner of your eye. Giles was trying to contain the spirit within the confines of the pentagram at least - trying to cease the destruction of your shared home. A home that had held so much love and warmth being destroyed into nothing made him mad. He had memories in every room, he had told you of his love for you on the sofa that was now almost ripped in two.

You had seen a doll. You had picked it up from a fair, or a flea market. It was hideous. You don’t even remember why you bought it, it was oversized and had a blank stare that meant you had hidden it in a cupboard so you didn’t have to look at it. That now had been flung open with the contents littering the floor.

You panicked, having to move from the circle to grab the doll before placing it hurriedly into the centre of the pentagram. Giles said the final syllable and it happened. Everything suddenly went quiet. The room dull and empty. Littered with you entire lives surrounding you.

You had made it so the spirit passed into there. The doll. You winced as the doll started to shake and a horrible light filled the room. It was so bright it felt as if it was behind your eyes, inside your skull. A terrible scream felt as if it were exploding your eardrums before a cold silence fell again.

It was instinct. It had been dangerous, but you both agreed there would have been no other way. You stared around you at the mess and decided you needed to worry about the doll first.

You took the doll straight to the Magic Box and locked it up until you knew what to do with it.

You held hands as you stepped back over the threshold of your shared home, peering around corners and holding your breath before entering rooms. But it was okay. It was all back to normal. 

Nothing was out of place. It was as if the activity had been something you had made up. Something of a shared dream. But you knew that wasn’t the case, and thought better than ever mentioning it out loud.

You turned and almost knocked Giles over in your haste to celebrate with the biggest hug. He quickly recovered and held you close. It was over, you both sighed as the first rays of the sunrise peaked from behind your blinds. Everything was going to be okay.

The details of this story were based on true events.

Y/n and Giles went on to save the world several times since the events of this fic. They assisted the Slayer at the final battle of Sunnydale and both survived.

The doll was sent to the care of Wolfram & Hart. The whereabouts of the doll is currently unknown.

[undergrounddweller89]

(look you don't have to like this, I'm not expecting anyone to, I just needed to write and if there's the possibility that even one person was hoping I'd write more and enjoys it then that's cool, just don't be a dick about it, it's more house mate au stuff, don't hope for continuity by that I mean it's just all over the place and nothing makes sense , just expect what ever came to my head at the time lol)

Walter was sat at his work table, fiddling with one of his new devices working on to perfect it, no I can't think of anything specific so I'll let you fill in that with your imagination.

The day had been long, his lab assistant Timothy Lawrence (Yea that Timothy if you know him because reasons) had been pretty quiet but done as told so at least that made it easier.

He was tired as the day had gone on his mood had sunk, what was he doing teasing Killian like that, honestly spanking him with the hair brush, he knew some of the things Killian had been up to.

But it was more likely a sign of marking territory or just because he had needs right and it was exciting to do things where you shouldn't.

The blade he was handling slipped and ran across the pad of his index finger, he hissed in pain, seeing the blood smear under the blue latex, pooling to drip, focusing on the red colour he hadn't even noticed Timothy running to fetch the first aid kit.

Pulling his gloves off he discarded them and popped open the box that had been set on the table.

"Thanks Timmy."

Walter smiled a little as he tended to his finger, he hated how the skin felt parting every time he flexed his finger.

Cleaning up and applying what was needed, thankful it wouldn't need stitches.

He wondered what Killian was up to, watching TV, reading maybe, did he eat, did he have enough to drink, was he in a depressive mood, was he mad that hed spanked him, he really should send a message.

Pulling his phone from his lab pocket he texted him.

'Hope you're day has been good, hope you're well, sorry if I upset you this morning.'

He shifted and rubbed a shoulder, he didn't realise how stiff his back had gone, being in charge of a division meant he'd somewhat lost track of self care making sure to do his stretches.

Timothy stood here watching his boss, lot better than the last one, this one was kind and genuine, always looking out for people, honestly Beckett made him feel safe and relaxed, he wasn't looking for anything serious but even he could see that furrowed bow and the lean that spelt hey I'm exhausted let me die.

Walking around and behind him he slowly massaged his shoulders, they were small and rather petite for someone Walter's age but it was more lean muscle and just body build, he just hadn't seen many men like Walter where he'd come from, he was rather pretty.

Walter had considered telling him to stop but when his fingers pressed into that one perfect spot in his shoulder blades he melted, ooooh that just felt so damn good and shit when was the last time he'd had contact, had someone be closer to him...he liked Killian...wondered if they could be more, but he didn't believe for one second that they could be lovers or bed fellows for one moment...not that he wouldn't be interested in finding out but Killian had been there a month, like he wasn't going to make him uncomfortable and feel like that the only way he could stay was if he dated him.

(I keep forgetting times or how many days set shrugs just don't expect like decent continuity, I write these because I need to just write things and moments)

Walter leaned forward arms folded and face buried in them

"Sorry sir, am I doing that badly?"

Timothy's enquired nervously, his hands going still.

"No, please don't stop, I literally didn't realise how stiff I was, you have good hands, I'm just so tired Timothy, I could really use it if you don't mind that is."

"Not at all sir."

Tim smiled happy to know he was helping, yes much nicer than his last boss, Walter was smart but he was also fragile, like him he loved his mother and when he'd heard Walters mother had died when he was small he wanted to scoop him up and just hug him.

A talk with Lance at one point and he'd learned that was a natural reaction for anyone with a heart around Walter who didn't have their head up their ass.

Which had practically been the last tech department Beckett had worked in, that totally wasn't cool that they'd done that to such a brilliant mind, it was so much fun working on items that didn't kill people and actually helped them!

Walter was imagining the fingers loosening the knots in his back were Killian, wondered what that would feel like with those pretty metal claws, but he never forgot it was Timothy, after all Timothy deserved more respect than that.

Looking over his shoulder at him, auburn hair flopping off to one side, Tim's hands on his waist he noticed the subtle blush.

"You wanna go grab some dinner or something in a minute there's a corner café I know, makes steak sandwiches and baked potatoes with a perfect crispy skin, a warm meal sounds pretty nice don't you think?"

Tim in the angle he was in was trying not to think about how suggestive this looked, he would absolutely lean down and kiss Walter if he thought it was an option, it really was a casual thing he felt, but Walter just looked so pretty and like he needed someone to carry him right now.

Continuing to rub his back Timothy nodded

"Yeah that sounds pretty nice actually."

---

At home Killian had found plenty to do, he'd read, watched tv, all in Walters bed of course, just to feel close to him as he could, he did wonder after handling himself, if Walter could see him as anything more than a friend, someone more than a few passing jokes between the other...turning his head and taking in his scent as he buried his face into a pillow again, looking forward to seeing those blue eyes...he should really get out of Walter's bed and get the covers washed.

Beckett brought comfort to his mind after his years of suffering, the sunrise after the storm.

He'd talked to Lovey, wondering if she could understand him, she was surprisingly responsive to his rambling as he worked on his arm, updating the tech and keeping up with maintenence.

Living here with Walter and slowly working past things with Lance and seeing he had genuinely started changes of his own, it made it easier with how Walter talked about him on the job, that he considered all options before violence and discussed the situations with him...it was good to know Beckett had helped Lance to.

He was glad to know Walter's field partner was a good one, though his lab partner, this Timothy Lawrence seemed to be pretty chummy didn't he, he'd seen a picture, thick brown hair, heterochromia eyes, blue and green to be exact and a chiseled jaw, in other words a damn pretty boy and he didn't want him around Walter.

He huffed folding his arms, yes he was jealous he was going to be pouty, before his injury he had thick black hair and had been known to be a very handsome man, now he looked like he'd been put through a grinder when he took off his holo mask and this Timothy Lawrence just had to be Walter's lab partner, he'd be around him alot and-

His phone buzzed, it'd been put on the side table and he read the text that'd come through and there was another one.

'Going out to dinner with Timothy, don't know what time I'll be back, have fun you probably need a break from me anyway lol 😂'

Killian's eye twitched, he nearly threw the damn phone, but how would he explain that, honestly he couldn't, Tristan sighed, shoulders drooping a little and answered his questions

'It's been a relaxing day, did work on the arm, Lovey' s surprisingly easy to talk to, watched a little television but perhaps you could suggest something to watch, it's rather hard deciding with all these options and no Walter you didn't upset me, though you left in a hurry, you do not need to avoid me. You're not a bother. Are you alright?'

'I'm so happy you're warming up to her! That's awesome! Also it's good you have time to relax, ten years of hectic stress you're more than overdue! I...well I was more embarrassed than anything, I reacted on instinct, last boyfriend liked that well that's probably more than you needed to know, but yeah I'll help you pick something to watch see you later!'

Last boyfriend? Spanking, Walter had, he had...Killian shifted well the blankets were starting to tent, the idea of being put over Walters petite lap and being told he was a very bad man came to mind.

He liked it.

A lot.

He looked at his phone as it pinged again.

'And god damn it, make sure you eat something for dinner, don't just go picking out the cupboard!'

Killian snickered and replied

'Yes Daddy, I'll make sure to eat something.'

After sending the text he realised what he'd written and wished he could take back that text, wincing as he managed to look at the response

'Behave, eat dinner or I'll put you over my knee young man.'

Killian stared and stared at that answer, he knew Walter was just teasing but, his cheeks were warm and he was...was he blushing.

----

"You all set to go Timothy?"

Walter smiled, his back was feeling a hundred times better after Timothy had dug into the knots, it wasn't a surprise that he was good with his hands, you had to have nimble ones to work with the tech they used here.

"Yeah, just coming boss!"

He pulled his satchel over his shoulder after pulling on his old brown leather jacket

"Please Timothy don't call me that, call me daddy."

Walter laughed at how silly that sounded

"I'm sorry, pfffft don't call me that god please, no, Walter's just fine."

Tim had paused a moment a slight fear he might have a streak like his last boss after all but that laugh was too warm and giggly and just shook his head with a smile

"Wouldn't dream of it Walter, you're more of a kitten anyway."

Timmy felt his insides tighten a little and there was that hint of Jack Dna surfacing.

"So shall we go?"

Beckett enquired looking up at him, huh he kinda looked like Killian, just a little.

"Ready when you are."

And with that they were off.

(Alright end of this ramble, Timothy has been thrown in because I needed the gasp drama of prolongation and shit and didn't have the energy to create an oc and honestly I'll mash anything from anywhere if it's convenient bleh)

[ii-kanjiiiii]

A Crazy Day at Miku Expo

A Vocaloid shitpost story

Warnings: swearing, contains Kaito x Meiko

Chapter 1

It was a normal day in the Cryptonloid household, like always. It was 12pm and Meiko was already up because she’s a normal person.

“GET UP YOU IDIOTS WE HAVE TO LEAVE FOR MIKU EXPOOO!!!!” she woke the rest of the Cryptonloids up as she was a thoughtful person.

“OH SHIT I FORGOT!!” Miku screamed. Her hair looked like Chuckie Finster from Rugrats but had a much larger mass.

“WAIT WHAT THE FUCK WE’RE PERFORMING TONIGHT?!!? PLS NOOOOO I HAVE A PIMPLE!!!” Len cried.

Miraculously, all of them had somehow forgotten that they had a Miku Expo concert in the mystical country of Hajarputa that night. Except for Meiko, because she was a responsible person.

Once they were done packing and getting ready, they went into their private Miku jet which was covered with Miku faces and had big words that said “HATSUNE MIKU” because Miku is the best and owns the world.

Inside, ‘World is Mine’ was playing on loop and the wall was covered in Miku wallpaper and posters. Meiko sat on a Miku couch at the front, because Meiko is queen and is obviously the sexiest one. Kaito, being the simp that he is, sat next to her.

Luka went all the way to the back of the Miku jet and sat in a Miku chair in the corner, away from everyone else as she was tired of everyone’s bullshit.

Miku and the demonic twins were in the middle, just jumping around and throwing shit everywhere as they were still high as fUCK from the FRUIT loops they ate for breakfast.

Suddenly, ‘World is Mine’ stopped playing, and the pilot made an announcement through the plane intercom. Or whatever it’s called lmao I don’t know.

“Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Welcome onboard Flight Miku. We will be taking off from Sapporo to Hajarputa. I am Sonic the Hedgehog and I am your pilot for today. Just kidding bitch, my name is actually うんち(‘Jonathan Harris’ in Japanese). We are expected to reach Hajarputa in about 22 hours. I swear to God, PLEASE put on your seatbelts or you’re gonna fucking die. We also ask that you ensure your seats are in the upright position for take-off, if not you’ll fucking die. Please turn off all personal electronic devices, if not you’ll fucking die as well. Don’t smoke too, cause you’ll get lung cancer and fucking die. Thank you for choosing Miku Airlines. Enjoy your flight. I definitely will not crash this plane. I swear.”

'World is Mine’ was back playing on loop again.

“Well that was comforting,” Meiko said, being a sarcastic piece of shit.

“Lol what? I don’t remember hiring this man,” Miku said. “Lol, whatever,” she shrugged.

Some time after the Miku Jet took off, Kaito and Meiko started fighting over what they would name their non-existent kid that they would never have.

“If she’s a girl, Sakura is the best name!! It represents beauty and optimism,” Kaito said.

“It also represents death,” Meiko argued. “And who the fuck names their kid after a plant? Enaado is the best name!!”

“The fuck kinda name is Enaado?” Len, who was seated far away from them, muttered to himself. Meiko, who was somehow able to hear him, pulled a super soaker gun out of nowhere and squirted him all the way from the other end of the plane.

Some hours later, the vocaloids were bored as heck and ‘World is Mine’ playing on loop was driving them to insanity(except for Miku of course).

“Can you turn that shit off, Miku? I swear to God, if I hear “sekai de ichiban ohime-sama” one more damn time, my internal organs are going to explode,” Luka said, smashing her head against the wall.

“Geez, fine, Luka! You don’t have to be so mean about it, it’s not my fault you don’t know how to appreciate good art,” Miku rolled her eyes, then she changed the song to ‘Popipo’ on loop, which was probably 100x worse.

“YOU’RE my sekai de ichiban ohime-sama, Me-chan~<3” Kaito UwU-ed. She smacked him with a magazine.

Another time skip, Miku wanted to play truth or dare lmao. Luka, Miku and the twins sat in a circle and started playing.

“Oh yeah, by the way, Mei-nee and Kai-nii are in the game too,” Miku said.

“Wtf no thanks,” Meiko immediately said, not looking up from her magazine about self control & anger management.

“No, you can’t escape, Mei-nee,” Miku replied, staring intensely into her soul. She then got a piece of rope out of nowhere and tied Meiko and Kaito to their chairs.

“TRUTH OR DARE, MEI-NEE?” Miku asked, her eye twitching.

“Ugh, fine. Truth,” Meiko replied, as she had no other choice.

Meanwhile, Kaito was having Vietnam war flashbacks as Miku tying him to the chair reminded him of that one time he got kidnapped by Sonic the Hedgehog. (An event that happened in my other fanfic that I’m not going to post.)

“Do you want to make out with Kai-nii?” Miku asked with a stupid shitty grin on her face.

“What the fuck? Oh, HELL NO. I think I already know how this is gonna go,” Meiko muttered.

“AnSwEr tHe qUeStiOn!!!” Miku yelled impatiently, flipping the fucking table.

“Dare!” Meiko quickly said, sweating.

“I dare you to make out with Kai-nii,” Miku said, raising her eyebrows up and down like fucking Mr. Bean.

Upon hearing this, Kaito’s attention was caught and he snapped out of his Vietnam war flashbacks.

“GODDAMN IT!!” Meiko cursed.

“Oh my GOD, Kaito. Don’t give me THAT look,” Meiko said, terrified for her life as she noticed Kaito looking at her with considerable interest.

“Why the hell did you give that dare, Miku? Literally NO ONE wants to see that shit,” Len said, staring judgingly at Miku. He definitely did not have to see his parents smashing their faces together.

“Yeah, Len’s right,” Luka said. “Aight, Imma head out. Bye bitches,” she flipped her fabulous long hair and strolled out elegantly. Once she reached her seat at the far corner of the plane, she opened her laptop and looked at images of the Gingerbread Man from Shrek.

“Shut up Len and just watch the show!” Rin, who was just as delusional as Miku, scolded.

“MEIKOUT MEIKOUT MEIKOUT MEIKOUT MEIKOUT” the crazy girls started chanting.

I’m so sorry

I really have no idea where this shitty fanfic is going

TIME SKIP LOL

It was nighttime and the Cryptonloids were sleeping in their beds with Miku blankets and ‘Popipo’ was still playing on loop. Suddenly, the Miku Jet started shaking really hard, then everyone flew out of their beds and hit their heads on the ceiling. After a few seconds, the Miku Jet stopped shaking and everyone fell back to the ground.

“Heh heh, sorry folks. Just a little air turbulence is all,” Pilot うんち announced.

“What the actual FUCK?? “A ‘liTtLE’ aIR tUrBuLeNcE” he said!! I don’t think we should be entrusting that guy with our LIVES!!” Meiko seethed. “I’m going to have a word with him.” she stormed off to the Pilot’s cabin.

“Wait Me-chan, I’ll come too,” Kaito said, and tagged along with her for extra support because he was a good boyfriend.

Once they reached the Pilot’s cabin, she slid open the door and shouted “LISTEN UP, MISTER, DO YOUR DAMN JOB PROPERLY!!”

“Oh, Meiko-san, hello!” the pilot spun his chair around and smiled. “Oh, Kaito, you’re here too! How’s it going, buddy? Has Sonic been bothering you any more?”

Meiko and Kaito’s eyes widened as they realised who the pilot was.

“FUKASE??!!!!” they screamed in shock. His Ronald Mcdonald hair was unmistakable.

“No, I’m うんち. Who the hell is Fukase?” うんち/Fukase said.

“WHY ARE YOU FLYING A PLANE, FUKASE??!! AREN’T YOU LIKE, FOURTEEN?!??!!!” Meiko screamed.

“Uh, no, I’m fifteen. Also, the age of consent in Japan is thirteen, sooo I don’t see any problem with it,” he replied.

“WHAT THE HELL DOES AGE OF CONSENT HAVE TO DO WITH FLYING A PLANE???!!” Meiko screamed, ripping her hair out. I really need to stop using scream.

"Umm… with all due respect, Fukase, are you even qualified for this?” Kaito spoke up.

“Yeah, DUH. I’ve had years worth of flight experience from Microsoft Flight Simulator on the Xbox!” he replied. “What kinda dumb shit would hire someone who ISN’T qualified??”

“oH mAN OH GOD OUR LIVES ARE IN THE HANDS OF THAT DUMB KID OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD-“ Meiko was hyperventilating in the corner and hugging her legs, sweat pouring down her face. It was unlike her to freak out like this, she was usually calm and kept her cool. However, this is Fukase we’re talking about, and any rational person would be freaking out and fearing for their lives.

“Breathe, Me-chan, breathe,” Kaito attempted to calm her down. “Don’t worry, okay? Everything’s gonna be just fine. Nothing bad will happen. Everything is okay,” he assured her, hugging her tightly.

“How would YOU know that???” she asked.

“I don’t,” he replied. “When things get rough, denial is all we have,” he said, giving his Stupid Bakaito Grin™.

TO BE CONTINUED MAYBE???1??1

[peachebunnys]

Pain, with love

pairing: Horacio Carrillo x reader

summary: Arranged marriages are tough, but add that with having to deal with a drug lord on the loose? Horacio Carrillo can only imagine what’s coming for him.  

warnings: non canon compliance? reader doesn’t appear much in this part, bad writing lol

a/n: I’d like to thank @angelicpascal​ for proofreading this chapter, they’re a literal gem <3 This is my first time writing x reader fics, especially for something that’s non-kpop related. This will be a mini-series that I hope you will enjoy :)  

3.02k words

Chapter One; 

Horacio steadies his hand on the steering wheel, feeling the cool leather texture under his skin as he grips it tighter. The air was becoming cooler, water droplets dripping from the roof of the car onto his arm that was resting on the wind down window panel. The slight drizzle was starting to fog up the windows, and despite the cool breeze, the humid interior of the car was starting to make Horacio sweat. 

Tick Tock. Tick Tock. 

The relentless ticking from his wrist watch echoed through the car, and his heavy breathing was a close second to being the loudest thing in the vehicle at that moment. The silence between him and the rest of the passengers was almost suffocating but Horacio was always a man of few words, opting to remain silent and not engage in small talk. 

The warm orange street lights reflected off the water droplets, casting shadows of all shapes and sizes onto the dashboard. Horacio looked out the window lazily, looking at the silver wedding band on his ring finger. It reflected the moonlight that was casting down on the streets of Bogota, the row of tiny diamonds sparkling like stars in the night sky. The radio was alive again, a mixture of English and Spanish from his men as they updated their status and whereabouts throughout the streets of Bogota. 

“Fuck!” 

Horacio glances over slowly, staring at the man next to him who had a cigarette held loosely between his lips, digging through his pocket for something that Horacio could only guess was a lighter. Horacio removes his left hand from the window and fishes for his own lighter, shoving it in front of the brunette who let out an appreciative hum. However, just as he was about to keep the lighter back in his pocket, the man next to him grips his wrist tightly, studying his ring closely. 

“Peña,” he warned.

“You’re married? When?” Javier looks at him shocked, eyes filled with pure disbelief, “Could’ve sworn you didn’t have it on last week.”

Horacio sucks in a deep breath, shifting in his seat to look at the DEA agent better, “It was arranged, last Saturday.”

Javier removes the cigarette from his lips, offering the other man the stick as he continues, “Arranged? Saturday? I thought we were close enough that you would tell me about these things, hell, even invite me for the reception at least.” He gives a mock hurt expression, taking another puff when Horacio declined his offer. 

Horacio simply shrugged, eyes looking out at the lights coming from neighbouring houses, “It was a small event, family only - couldn’t get you on the guest list even if I tried.”

Javier laughed at the remark, turning to look at Horacio with curious eyes, “so… arranged, huh? How’s she like?”

Horacio rolled his eyes at the question, knowing that despite the fact he didn’t want to answer, there was nothing else he could do except wait and kill time. The rain was starting to lessen, the sky becoming slightly clearer, showcasing the beautiful moon that shined with all its might. The weather was becoming unpredictable these days, and just as you thought the skies would get clearer, it starts to rain again. 

“She’s...” He hesitated, god what was she like? He thought about it for a moment, unsure of what to say to Javier. Ever since the wedding and after they moved in together, Horacio hadn’t been home much, spending his nights in the office to draft plans for the raid that they were currently stuck in now. “She’s nice.” 

“Nice?” Javier scoffs, “Is that all you’ve got to say? That she’s nice?”

The realisation that he hasn’t quite talked to her much, nor gotten to know her, dawned on him. Shame fills his entire being as he realises he must’ve seem like a complete dick to her over the past few days. Yes, getting married wasn’t what he wanted, but neither did she. The last thing he should be doing was distance himself from her, and not putting in effort to make this relationship work. 

And so he decides to call her, in the midst of this dull conversation he was stuck in with Javier. 

The least he could do now was to inform her he would be back late, not that she would say anything about it. He reaches out to the backseat of the car, taking the phone in his hand and dialing his house line quickly, hoping to catch her before she went to bed. 

One ring. 

Two rings. 

Three rings. 

The line picks up, the recipient responding with a hoarse ’hello?’ that makes Horacio suck in his breath again. What was it about her, or this relationship, that made him so nervous? Horacio Carrillo feared only a handful of things, and for some reason, the uncertainty of how this relationship would go was one of them. 

“Hello? Y/N?” he asks, “Did I wake you up?”

Your eyes shot open as you heard your husband on the other end of the line, confused as to why he would call at such a late hour. “Horacio? Is everything alright?” You knew he was working late this past week, but who could blame him? He was the leader of the Search Bloc, and you knew that by marrying him, things like that would be bound to happen. You lean against the dining table, eyeing the packed dinner you had kept aside for him to eat when he returns. 

For the past few nights, you’ve been keeping aside leftovers from dinner, only to find them completely finished when you woke up the next morning. It pleased you slightly, seeing that your husband was not a picky eater, adding this to the small list of things you knew about him. 

“Y/N,” he called out again, “I - uh, wanted to let you know that I will be home late tonight. I’m sorry for not telling you the past few nights.” 

You could tell that he was struggling to find words to say, both of you equally unsure of what to tell each other. 

“Thank you for keeping dinner aside for me, by the way.” He pauses, “They’re- they’re delicious”

You giggle at the awkwardness of it all, smiling at how sincere yet embarrassed he sounded over the phone. 

“It’s alright, I know you’re a busy man. And thank you,” you laugh, “what kind of wife would I be if I were to let my husband starve after he’s been cooped up in his office all day?”

You hear a faint chuckle from the other end, feeling your heart beat faster at how good that voice sounded. It was deep and genuine, and in turn, made you crack a smile too.

“I’ll see you later, goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Horacio,” you whisper before hanging up the phone, and with gentle footsteps back to your bedroom, you went back to sleep. 

Horacio, on the other hand, looks out the window, phone in his hand and resting on his chest. He looks back at Javier who was now leaning against the window panel, bored to his wit’s end at how dreadfully slow this mission was going. Intel had mentioned that Gacha would be on his way here - his safehouse, at around ten thirty. But as Horacio stared at his watch longer, seeing the clock strike eleven-thirty - he could only guess that there was either a delay in plans or that intel had simply fed them the wrong information. 

With a heavy sigh, Horacio reached out to his radio, fingers running over the buttons with the intention of calling off the raid. It was a long night for all of them, a long uneventful night, Horacio thought. Just as he was about to push the large button, he heard it. The signal. 

“Gacha’s men in cars on 7th street, no sight of Gacha yet.” 

The message sounded shaky on some parts, with Horacio almost missing it entirely. He slammed the device down and started the car, glancing over to Javier who was tightening the straps to his bulletproof vest on him. With the intention of not looking suspicious, Horacio drove the unmarked police car slowly around the bend, entering the general area of the safehouse to be in position. With the house barely two hundred meters away from them, Horacio called all his units to get into position, waiting for the moment that Gacha shows up. 

The safehouse was dimly lit, with only some lights turned on inside. The harshly lit porch had illuminated the front of the house slightly, showing off the pristine white walls that decorated the exterior of the place. It looked like any ordinary family home, and Horacio was sure that they would’ve never suspected this beautiful property to be housing one of the world’s deadliest narcos. 

For months now, the Search Bloc, with the help of DEA agents Javier and Steve, have been tirelessly tracking down Gacha’s whereabouts, determined to take him down once and for all. Gacha had made it no easy feat, covering his tracks whenever he was on the move, making it close to impossible to ever pinpoint his exact location. Gacha, as Steve would describe him, was one slippery bastard. The man was always somehow wriggling out of their grasps just as they’ve almost got him. They were lucky though, that this time they’ve had an “informant”, one of Gacha’s ex men, that came straight to them with the information about his new safehouse. And they were sure as hell going to make use of that information in every way they could. 

Horacio ducks his head slightly, narrowly missing the street light shining on his face as a series of cars drove past him. 

One. Two. Three. Four. 

Leaning his head against the cool window panel, Horacio squinted his eyes slightly, trying to count the number of men in each vehicle. With the poor visibility from the rain, which was evidently getting heavier, he could only guess how many men there were. But that was never good enough. Horacio couldn’t afford any guesses, especially on a raid mission like this. He quickly fished out the radio again and called to one of his men, “Trujillo, how many men did you manage to see?”

Without a second to lose, Trujillo responded , “about four in each car, that means we have twelve men including Gacha. All armed.”

Javier cocked his gun and placed it in his holster, straining his neck to look out through the windscreen, “Everyone’s in position?”

Horacio simply nodded, radio inches away from his mouth as he radioed in to his men again, “I want everyone in position, now. Once I give the signal, all units close in onto the safehouse. Surround them.”

As the cars were parked outside the property, Gacha’s men had all swamped to seek shelter in the beautiful house, with a few men taking cautionary glances around them. All of them were soaked from the rain, and wore an exhausted look on their faces - which made Horacio hope that this was something they could use against them. The heavy downpour was starting to lessen, and Horacio knew he had to act quick if he wanted to use the poor visibility to his advantage. 

Once he was sure that it was the perfect time to strike, he gave the signal and exited the car, crouching a bit as he held the rifle out in his hands. He walked swiftly towards the safehouse, senses heightened to catch anything out of the ordinary. There were two men guarding the entrance of the house, both of which were too caught up in drying themselves to notice the Search Bloc men closing in on them and knocking them out cold. 

With Javier and Horacio standing on either side of the entrance, they took a quick glance at each other, guns firmly held in their palms and nodded. A swift strong kick was enough to break the door open, and the sudden impact had startled the men that were all in the midst of talking to each other. 

Guns cocked, shots fired. The bullets whizz past Horacio’s face, missing him by a few inches. His rifle started burning up quickly, like heated glass, while he fired at the nameless men that scattered throughout the room. His bulletproof vest hugged him snuggly as he hid behind the wall by the entrance, reloading his gun, panting heavily as he glanced at Javier who was doing the same. 

“From the back?”

Horacio turned his head to peek into the living room, catching a glance of Gatcha running out the back door. He signaled to Javier to head to the back, only for the radio to come alive again, informing that Gatcha had in fact already gotten away in his red pickup truck. 

“Peña! Red pickup truck, Chevy!” Horacio yelled from across the door, “let’s go!”

The two of them separated from the rest of the Search Bloc, hopping back into their unmarked Police jeep in hopes to catch up with Gatcha before he gets away for good. 

It’s true, isn’t it? These narcos are never as dangerous till you’ve almost got them?

Horacio grips the leather steering wheel tightly, stepping on the accelerator as hard as he could, barely missing all the other vehicles on the road as he drove past them. The cool breeze was a stark contrast to the heated weapon on his lap. The vehicle was in sight, with only a few meters away from their own car. 

Horacio could hear Javier call in to available units, indicating where the car was and where to corner it at. As Horacio continued speeding through the streets of Bogota, there was a sudden influx of bullets being shot towards them, some of which damaging the windscreen in its wake. With the screen shattered and rain clouding their visibility, Horacio rammed his vehicle straight into the pickup truck’s boot, sending it spiraling into a nearby streetlight. 

The other police vehicles arrived soon after, cornering the truck which made it impossible for Gatcha to escape this time. The men stayed behind their vehicle doors, opting to use it as a shield for when Gatcha finally came out of the vehicle- in which he did after a few minutes. Head bleeding, shirt torn and mouth in a downward snarl, Gatcha held out his pistol at Horacio, screaming a string of curses before pulling the trigger. 

Empty. 

The Search Bloc men started closing in to him, slowly and cautiously eyeing the drug lord with each step they took. Gatcha’s truck had slight smoke emitting from the hood, and Horacio knew that if anyone were to take a shot at it, it’d blow up instantly. 

“Nobody shoot!”

 Horacio held out his rifle towards Gatcha, biceps flexed at how hard he was gripping the weapon. “Gatcha! It’s over, lay down your weapon and we’ll take you in safely.”

The tension in the air was thick, with only the sound of nearby cars buzzing through the air. The streetlights weren’t very bright in this part of the city, but Horacio could see that Gatcha was reaching for something from the back of the vehicle. With his eyes trained on the short man barely a dozen meters in front of him, he soon realises what Gatcha was reaching out for.

His rocket launcher. 

“Everyone, get down!” 

He barely had time to register Gatcha blasting the heavyweight weapon at him, dropping down on the floor as the car behind him shot up in flames. The ringing in his ears was intolerable, and Horacio almost thought he was dead from the way his breathing slowed down instantly. He slowly turned his head behind, seeing the now burnt car behind him and how the windows had shattered next to him, with some pieces cutting deep into his skin. 

He turned back, to look at Gatcha who was now knocked down by Javier with the base of his gun, groaning loudly as he clutched his bleeding nose. The way he wriggled on the floor in pain resembled a worm, unable to move anywhere with all the guns pointed in his direction. Horacio placed his hands on the uneven ground, pushing himself up with determination and limped his way to Javier.

He could feel the pain from his injuries wash over his body, but he stared back at Gatcha with a look of determination. Finally, he thought, fucking finally. The sight before him was nothing like how he imagined it to be, and the sense of victory did not wash over him like how he thought it would.

The man that was on the ground, staring at him with stone cold eyes, was shorter than expected, and looked nothing like the demon that Horacio had thought of him to be. Just a simple man that laid on the cold wet roads of Bogota, looking like he was about to pass out any minute.

“Gatcha,” he breathed heavily, “you’re arrested, you son of a bitch. And I hope you rot in prison for the rest of your miserable life.”

The Search Bloc’s men soon came in and cuffed Gatcha’s hands, pushing him roughly into one of the cars. Horacio did feel a sense of relief though, that all their hard work thus far has finally paid off. A part of him was hopeful that when they interrogated him in prison in the next few days, that they might, just might, be able to finally get a lead on Pablo Escobar. 

Javier patted Horacio’s shoulder gently, a silent gesture to ask if he was alright. Horacio, in turn, nodded, letting out a huge sigh as he eyed his now destroyed ride back home. 

“Come on,” Javier reached out, “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

Horacio waves his hand dismissively, carefully brushing off the dirt on his uniform,  “just send me home, Peña. I’ll be able to patch myself up there instead.”  

“Alright then, let’s go.” Javier starts the car, smirking as he watches Horacio slump back in the passenger seat, “wouldn’t want to keep your wife waiting now, do we?”

[2018shawn]

baking in paris | sm

warnings: mentions of smut etc etc possibly swearing?? I also have NOT proof read don't come for me. should probably mention this is an au lol

word count: 2k ish

Summer in Paris was dreamy. The balance of the bright sun beaming down onto vibrant bodies mixed with the soft breeze that forced leaves to scatter down the street was the perfect setting and it was everything you dreamed of and more. Your thin, flimsy blinds were the only thing blocking the heated rays from filtering into your room, mostly because you didn’t want Gabriel across the road seeing your ta-ta’s in process of getting dressed.

Your apartment was simple, a beige and white colour pallet flowing throughout with a touch of fresh flowers ever so often from the local florist down the road from your café. The acoustic playlist was the soundtrack to your early morning, the smell of lemon drizzle cake filling your senses as you washed the dishes, the baking area currently looking like a flour explosion had gone off. The one thing that immediately sold this apartment to you was the double oven and large kitchen island that was more than ample for your baking experiments.

Today was your day off, which was very much needed because running a café in the height of tourist season was extremely tiring, but you wouldn’t change it for the world. As much as you needed the day off, waking up and baking a fresh batch of cakes for the café was your number one priority, because your shop didn’t get its reputation for nothing. It was almost mid-morning by the time you’d finish decorating both cakes, much precision and care going into each. Who said days off were for relaxing, right?

A knock on the door sounded, and you assumed it would just be the little old lady, Camille, across the hallway, who always moaned you played music too loud in a morning. You wiped your hands on the apron that covered your high waisted denim shorts as you padded over to the door, shouting at your device for the music to go down to volume two.

The other side of the door, Shawn stood with a loaf of baking parchment in one hand, his other shoved into his pocket after knocking on the door to number 10. When you swung the door open and stared into his chest, because you expected it to be Camille who was dramatically shorter than Shawn, he laughed and tucked his fingers under your chin, dragging your face upwards.

“Shawn…” You breathed, more than shocked at his presence. “Hi. What… How… Why aren’t you at the bakery?” You asked, because more often than not he did the morning shift in the bakery next to your café, setting up for his boss and making sure the savoury breakfasts were ready to fill tourists’ belly’s.

“My boss came in and it was ridiculously quiet, so I worked on some new stuff and he said I can take a break for a few hours.” He wafted the item he was holding, the smell of fresh, doughy bread overpowering the lemon drizzle coming from your kitchen. “And I would like a professional opinion.”

You offered him to come him, suddenly feeling nervous that he’d only been here twice before and both time you had drunkenly hooked up. He didn’t realise how authentic your small apartment was, but he remembered the balcony in your bedroom and how he’d fucked you over it late one night. You and Shawn were friends, you think, maybe something slightly more but nothing dramatic. Friends with benefits is what you would use to suit your relationship best, although you could count the amount of times you’ve been physically together on one hand. He was a real sweetheart, who moved over here for a breath of fresh air, just like you and that’s how the friendship started. It blossomed furthermore when he got job at the bakery next to your café, which was a bonus for him because it meant he didn’t have to fly straight back home after running out of money, and more so, it was a bonus for you because you got to see him almost every day and you’ve seen a lot worse views in your time.

He complimented the smell of your baking and you suddenly felt bad that he was bringing you goods and you had nothing to offer, so you gave him the bowl of left excess cake sponge to which he happily picked at. He sat down his parcel, perching himself on the bar stool at the kitchen island as you hoped up onto the island itself, your legs swinging over the edge.

“This looks insane!” You exclaimed, pulling open the baking paper to reveal a twisted bread dough, still warm and golden from a fresh bake. “Caramelised onion?”

“And brie.” He smiled, popping a chunk of lemon drizzle sponge in his mouth, enjoying every mouthful. Shawn loved how much you loved food and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make him want to be better baker. He pestered you non-stop for a tutorial on your secret cakes and sweets, but if you told him that you’d have to kill him, obviously.

“My favourite.” You smiled, grabbing the two plates and knife you pulled out the cupboard.

“I know,” he took the knife from you, cutting into the bread softly, the outer layer cracking with a crunch but inside softly slicing perfectly. Your mouth juiced as your stomach growled and you became suddenly aware that you were too busy in the thought of feeding everyone else that you had not fed yourself this morning.

“Someone’s hungry” He laughed, standing up from the bar stool and walking in front of you, tapping your knee to usher you to open your legs wider. Once open, he slotted snuggly in between them and your breath hitched at the new contact of your thighs hugging someones hips - not just any hips either, Shawn’s hips. He picked up a slice of bread, which was light work for his massive hands, and brought it up to your lips. You wondered if he noticed your breathing was deeper since he’d moved in between you or if he noticed that you were biting your lip as you adored every small feature on his face.

Truth be told, he didn’t notice; only because he was too busy trying not to act like a complete loser in front of you, even though you’d seen him be a complete dork on many occasions. That’s what made him more endearing, you thought. The simple fact that someone can be so completely nerdy but so incredibly attractive at the same time and you had to remind yourself that he was just here for the summer. Attachment was not an option.

When you bit into the pillowy bread, your eyes closed shut, noting all the small little flavours that he’d added to the loaf, making the experience much more enjoyable than your normal breakfast routine. “Oh my god, Shawn. It’s amazing!”

“You think?”

“Uh, yeah!” you slapped his arm with the back of your hand, opening your mouth again to which he happily obliged, and fed you another bite. “Seriously, I don’t know why you don’t come work for me and we can take over the world.”

Shawn had to bite his tongue; they couldn’t take over the world, he was going home in less that 2 months and as much as he wanted to stay, he needed his home too. He innocently smiled, placing the bread back down on the plate which you stuck your bottom lip out at, feeling hungrier now you’d had a couple of bites. You leant back on your hands, forgetting about the covering of flour on the island behind you, instantly feeling the powdery ingredient under your touch. Your breasts stuck out as you leant backwards, Shawn using every inch of his willpower to not bring his lips down to them, your white bardot shirt revealing the upper half of your chest and contrasting against your tanned, summer skin. Underneath your apron lower down, he could see a slither of denim, and he knew how well you pulled of those exact shorts, even if he hadn’t seen you in them fully today. “Ooo, the thought of me working for you....” he laughed, arms reaching around and resting on the lower of your back in a bid to feel closer to you again. “Telling me what to doooooo...” He sang, pulling his mouth into a suggestive smirk.

“You’re such a sub, Shawn Mendes.” You laughed, throwing your head back, making a brief statement to your sex life and of course, he knew that. He wasn’t submissive, per se. In fact, there’d been a couple of time’s where he’d roughed you around that much you didn’t know if you were sleeping with the same guy. But truthfully, he’d be on his knees for you before you even had to ask and he’d never met anyone who had this effect on him.

He threw his hands up in defensive, only briefly removing them from your body before they returned to behind you. This time, you felt his hands put more pressure onto your body, your denim shorts sliding along the smooth island surface as he pulled you a touch closer. “Can you blame me? Have you seen yourself?”

“Pfft, have you seen yourself?!” You raised your eyebrows, instantly biting your lip to stop yourself from spilling anymore affection.

He stared into your eyes, trying to hold back a smile, “did you just compliment me?” he brought his palm to your forehead, switching in between the palm and back of his hand, “are you feeling okay? what did I put in that bread?!”

You used your body to help you lean your weight foreword, bringing one of your arms around and smacking him in the chest, a smoke of flour filling the air in between you. You had forgotten (kinda), and tried your best to act apologetic, gritting your teeth together as he switched his eyes in between the hand shaped, flour print on his black t-shirt and your -now- barely flour covered palm. Having no time to react at all, he reached behind you and scooped up and left over flour he could see before bringing his hand up to your face, cupping which despite the fact he was messing you up, you leaned into, squirming as he tickled the side of your neck. “You’re an ass, mine was an accident!” you squealed, trying your best to move away from him but his grasp too tight.

“Oh yeah?” he smirked, too concentrated on staring into your eyes to realise you were reaching back round for more flour. With a swift movement you brought your hands in front of you, blowing quickly at the ingredient in your palm. His eyes squinted closed and he screwed up and blew his lips, trying to get any taste out of his mouth.

“Yeah” You innocently shrugged, wiping your hands down your apron for probably the 60th time of today.

Moving closer to you, you laughed at his powdery face, although admired how pretty he still looked. You knew you’d get hell later when he tried to shower the flour out of his perfectly spiralled curls, but it was worth it. His lips hovered over yours, waiting to gauge a reaction from you and although you didn’t give him one, he pressed down onto you, letting out a breath of relief as your features locked. Your bodies were a mess of tangled, floury limbs and whimpering noises as you worked on each other, grabbing at whatever piece of each other you could. You pulled at his black t-shirt, aware you’d already messed it up and he tugged at the string of your apron, letting it fall loose besides your hips. You couldn’t help but think that Camille would soon be banging on your door, complaining of the noise that wasn’t from the music.

—

taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls @mendesficsxbombay

[kittensjonsa]

When you watch something (not telling you what it is) and it screams Jonsa and won't let you rest until you let it out.. another sub/Dom jonsa fic with Sansa holding the whip this time.

Summary: Sansa has deep seated issues she needs to work on thanks to a recent trauma from being mugged in an alley. But sometimes, it takes more than just therapy. BDSM-ish.

One-shot, I leave the rest to your imagination because I think.. we all have different versions how this could go.. 💦 and unfortunately, I am not a good enough writer to explore these visions and putting them into words lol.

Safe Word

Dove.

Little bird. Those are the words that spring to mind as Sansa sees the forms before her. It is strange, having to fill out forms and giving strangers a piece of her life before she gives all of herself to another. Well, almost.

He did come highly recommended. Sansa looks out the window from the lounge sofa she finds too comfortable to be filling out forms in.

Also, this is a sex club.

“You will keep my details private, right? I mean, I'm here because.. you know,” Sansa's voice trails off, wondering if she should explain at all. The lady with bright purple hair and blonde streaks looks up from Sansa's forms, only to smile at her, subtly hinting how she has encountered many a red-faced first timers like Sansa. Only thing, this time it's different. I'm different. Not like the rest, Sansa mumbles in a small voice in her mind.

“Miss Stark, I can assure you have our strictest confidence. Besides, your therapist made a call earlier this week to let us know about… your case. Don't worry, she didn't say anything, she just asked for Jon to help you. And that's enough for us to know. And, yes this is only between you and us,” the lady assures, the piercing on her lower lip quivering as she smiles again at Sansa.

Oh right, yes. My case.

Sansa nods and glances at the black tinted glass doors behind the counter. Sansa wonders what awaits her, come the day when it beckons.

“We'll give you a call once we've set up your appointment. You'll hear from us in a few days.”

Sansa heaves a sigh of relief and manages a polite grin. “Right, thank you. I'll.. wait for your call then, Miss Val,” Sansa addresses her after a quick glance at the name plate. Val nods and waves her goodbye and calls for the next one in line. Sansa gathers herself and leaves, regretting what fresh hell she had gotten herself into.

The hours ticked by at first when Sansa found herself in bed and staring at the ceiling. When sleep finally came, the nightmares took over. Sansa had tried everything from herbs, to tinctures and sleeping aids. None helped, because none of these, not even the anti-anxiety medication gave her the peace that was robbed from her, one fateful night in an alley. There were so many things Sansa realised, in retrospect, how the night could have gone differently. If she had taken the train instead of walking to the bus stop, if she went home on time instead of staying back an hour later, if she hadn't answered that goddamned phone call from her ex. But it only wrecked her inside and turned her stomach into knots every time she walks down that particular memory lane. Six months later, Sansa still finds herself in her nightmares, crawling in that alley, bruised, battered and mugged.

Seeing a therapist was the last resort. Describing and reliving the experience again was painful but gradually it eased, no longer was Sansa sobbing at the end of a session, thanks to Dr Carr, her therapist whom had provided an outlet Sansa didn't know she needed. Slowly, the sessions grew less arduous. The nightmares lessened somewhat though haven't ceased completely. Perhaps it was only thing that caused great concern, seeing what little sleep she'd been getting. Six months since a deep, restful sleep, Sansa recalls.

“There's a deep anger that needs to be resolved. Pure rage that I feel needs to be addressed here, Sansa. As someone, I think, who rarely expresses such an emotion, I can imagine this must be quite difficult for you,” Dr Carr suggests, tapping the end of her pen onto her notepad. Sansa sighed as she brushes off some imaginary fluff from her skirt.

“Might I suggest something? You might think this is quite strange but I feel it can be freeing for you. It's.. an acquired taste and you don't have to if you don't want to but perhaps you may want to consider letting all this anger out? On someone.. who is willing?”

Sansa raises her eyebrow at the 'willing' part. “You mean find someone to beat up?”

A wistful tilt of the head tells Sansa only one thing. “I don't recommend this method to anyone but I feel that you, Sansa, will find that it helps. I'll write down the address so you can decide for yourself. Now, before you say anything, I'd like you to approach this with an open mind. As open as you can possibly be.”

“What is it that you suggest, Dr Carr? I'm all ears.”

An address with a name. Jon Snow. Château Noir. Sansa answers back with a questioning glance. Sounds mysterious. Another therapist? Am I that hopeless?

“He's highly recommended. I heard of him from someone in my circle. He does… very particular work. And he has helped one of my former patients it seems, last I heard. So, moving forward.. I think you might want to try him.”

To do what exactly? This is uncharted territory. Sansa's mind wanders off to the darkest bits she was brave enough to muster.

“He's.. a provider of services for a small part of the community, whom I suppose require an outlet for their.. inclinations.”

Sansa's eyes widens at the statement and Dr Carr quickly adds, “Please, bear in mind that I do not in any way think that you have such inclinations but rather, been pushed against your own free will to a corner you no longer have space to move in. And it is affecting you more than you can cope. Am I right to say that? And I think one of the ways we can break out of that space.. is to face it head on, in a safe and controlled environment. I heard he's very professional. Would you at least think about it?”

Seven o'clock. As always, she is on the dot. Sansa fidgets with her jacket, hoping she was properly dressed for .. her meeting. A good sized room filled with contraptions Sansa thought she'd only seen in movies. The kind with mediaeval torture segments. Sansa quickly realises how this was probably a bad idea. But she had paid for it, that and also not wanting to face a disappointed Dr Carr, after the arrangements she had made.

Together, they both had made good progress; this is just a step further, she thinks. Still, torture devices aside, it was a cozy room otherwise for conversation if nothing happens. If she doesn't want anything to happen, that is. Sansa finds some small comfort how the lighted candles seem to brighten up the otherwise dim room, and a soft scent lingers in the air. Sandalwood? Rose? Sansa tries to guess, occupying herself while waiting.

The door creaks. A head of inky black curls and a boyish smile greets her. Sansa gasps. He isn't at all like how she imagined. And good-looking. Dr Carr didn’t mention that. 

“You must be Sansa Stark. From Dr Carr's office?”

Sansa nods and gingerly reaches out to meet his hand. She quickly looks away, out of courtesy. Perhaps also out of shyness and embarrassment. Quite the impression, and straight to business.

The harness strapped across his broad sinewy shoulders and chest made her jaw drop. And the crotchless leather trousers. Good thing he has briefs on, as Sansa's eyes dart back to the floor.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Jon Snow. And I'll be your sub tonight. At your service, whatever you need.”

Sansa sucks in a deep breath and blinks at the sight before her. All right no conversations then. Willing party. For fuck's sake, get over yourself and get it over with.

“Umm.. okay. Right.. oh, do you have.. a safe word?” Sansa remembers to ask, putting her bag down and removing her stifling jacket. He smiles again, his eyes shining in the poor light of the room. They gleam with anticipation. Somehow, Sansa had a feeling he had been waiting for her arrival, the moment she stepped into his lair. His castle. Strangely, not an ounce of fear filled her body, but something else entirely. Something hot and heady, as her breathing quickens.

“Well, thank you for asking. I do have one. It's.. crow.”

Sansa watches him slide across the room to a standing handle bar that stood chest high. A pair of shackles sit ominously on the handle, waiting to clamp on the next poor soul.

“Okay. But.. hold on. Don't you want to ask me questions? Sorry this is my first time, I don't know how this works,” Sansa apologizes as Jon stands behind the handle bar.

“Ahh, yes of course. But later, if you'd like. Sometimes, thinking about it, hampers.. the process. I know it is your first time. Don't worry, I'll lead you into it. Just.. tell me what you want to do, how do you feel and why you're here. At least that gets the ball rolling, no?”

“Well.. well-I'm here because I need to let some anger out,” Sansa stammers, suddenly feeling very large, self-conscious and awkward.

“Okay.. and why are you angry? Did someone take something from you?” Jon prods, his voice and tone as soothing as Dr Carr's.

“Yes.. yes. And he hurt me... He beat me. He left me for dead in an alley.. I had to crawl home, no one helped me..”

Jon keeps quiet as he watches Sansa, his heart slightly heavy. Poor girl. All the more she needs this, he thinks.

Sansa stops, the rage Dr Carr was talking about had finally reared its head. Ugly and snarling and all Sansa wanted to do was to smash its head in. Indeed, this is exactly what she needs.

“Well then, Mistress. Shall we begin?”

Sansa looks up from the floor and sees Jon already shackled to the handle bar.

And a loosely coiled whip hanging at one end.

---

Note: Dr Wendy Carr is a character who is a psychologist on Mindhunter and I adore her (and aspire to be like her one day). So much so that she deserves a place in my fics lol. Sorry, she's not an oc 😂 if you're wondering.

[cinaed]

Red vs Blue Season 3 Rewatch

Slowly making my way through my DVD collection of Red vs Blue!

"You can't die! I'm bored!" Donut is so ruthless in the earlier seasons and I love it. 

We really needed more Tex and Sheila girltime, talking about gender inequality and workplace harassment. 

Simmons actually calling himself Simmons 2.0 manages to be both hilarious and sad.

Yes, Sarge and Caboose team up! Season 3 has some of my favorite odd couples, and Sarge and Caboose is one of my favorites. Sarge being furious that Doc has a higher body count than he does, Caboose's dedication to nap time. 

I love Caboose's moral boost! He's great at compliments even if Sarge doesn't appreciate them. 

I know these zealots were like a mostly one-off joke, but also like...they could be a creepy potential experiment in making soldiers that can't die, which I wouldn't put past anyone in the Halo universe. 

I love the blame game of who came up with the plan that ended up with everyone scattered across the galaxy. Sarge: "My only choice is to blame Grif, for coming up with such a flawed plan. Stupid, stupid Grif." Grif: "I should have never listened to Donut's stupid fucking plan." 

Church and Grif in jail is one of my all-time favorite things. 

Simmons is such a tech savvy guy, reworking the teleporters to make them communication devices as well! He just wants some love and support.

Caboose getting angry. I mean, who wouldn't get angry at kittens with spikes that you couldn't cuddle?

"Simmons, you get an F in efficiency. But I have to give you an A+ in dramatic timing."

I do love O'Malley and Doc's dynamic. The Do Not Call list!

I love Tex's half-truths about the Freelancers. 

Also love Sarge calling Caboose a little rascal and Simmons just seething with jealousy. And he's also jealous about Donut! 

Church: There's no "I" in team, Grif. Grif: Yeah, there's no "U" either. So I guess if I'm not on the team, and you're not on the team, nobody's on the God damn team. The team sucks!

I may or may not quote that to myself on a weekly basis. 

Again, just Church and Grif together in that prison cell is sheer perfection. As is Church going "Wait, the people outside sound like they're winning, that can't be our teams."

Tucker likes Sheila so much! And she packed them food! Well, the AI equivalent of food, but it's the thought that counts! Just the sheer affection in Tucker's voice as he promises her they'll be back gave me emotions. 

And another good moment of Simmons being the one to suggest they track down Grif, because no one else was going to. 

In retrospect, Grif has clearly watched some prison pornos. Like... Buddy.

Wyoming calling Tex Allison has so many interesting implications. 

Simmons re-engineers stuff, Sarge makes a weather control device. Where's the AU where Sarge is a mad scientist.

Simmons asking Grif if he's okay after prison. Just loving the slow build of friendship between them.

Also big parallels of Church's "Misery loves company" and his willingness to let the bomb blow them all up together to later seasons stuff.

I still love that everyone's go-to explanation for stuff is "time travel."

Donut is too thin-skinned about criticism for his play. He'd never survive on Broadway, lol. But I love everything about the time travel show.

How is Tucker the smartest person in this group? But also Tucker being so worried about Church. I am having a lot of Tucker feelings this season. 

I love Grif's devotion to cheesy disaster movies. 

Caboose: Look what I found. Donut: I found it! Caboose: Look at what I took credit for finding.

Poor Donut! A grenade to the head and now his hand got chopped up.

Grif: Hey, what're you doing? Simmons: What does it look like I'm doing, I'm getting in the jeep. Grif: What're we, on a date? Get in the back. Simmons: Oh you're so insecure.

I would've watched an entire season of Doc and O'Malley and Lopez's Lair Improvements. And when Doc mentions a real estate agent all I can think of is an AU where Doc meets Kai because she's running her business on the side while in the military. But also Doc's motivational powers in the living room, O'Malley's belief that the cat won't hang on until Friday, it's great.

The iconic jeep conversation is still good now as it was back then. Re-enacting Dukes of Hazzard! "I can tell you what we weren't doing." 

Grif's mind immediately going to gay stuff as a favor from Tex. Between this and his prison conversation with Church, someone is protesting way too much.

Sarge's plans are so amazingly terrible. I love them.

Grif getting choked up over hating Blue Team and Tucker and missing the days where they all just stood around and talked a lot.

Tex sounding genuinely concerned when Tucker falls into the hall. Luckily he gets a cool sword out of it!

Tex's conversation with Simmons about shooting Lopez's head is a great example of an eloquent helmet look. Tex doesn't even say a word and you can feel the disbelief and rage when Simmons implies she may have missed.

Church: Caboose, I know you're there. I'm leaving this message from two thousand years in the past. Whatever you do, don't, touch, anything. Apparently you're this culture's version of the apocalypse. You're going to destroy this building, and somehow bring about doom for their entire race. Caboose: Mmmmmmnooo... that doesn't sound like me. I like people. And buildings also.

Time for some actual time travel or at least a simulation. But I do love Butch Flowers, haha. Whose greatest enemy is apathy! Love watching Church just make his own life worse. Also love the bit about Sheila having been made in Mexico. 

"Man... First I kill myself, then I realise I'm a honkin' dork. Not a very good day to be me."

Church: I learned a very valuable lesson in my travels, Tucker. No matter how bad things might seem- Caboose: They could be worse. Church: Nope, no matter how bad they seem, they can't be any better, and they can't be any worse, because that's the way things fucking are, and you better get used to it Nancy. Quit yer bitching.

Grif and Simmons and Sarge talking about the Blues, and Simmons saying he's not looking for friends and doesn't like his current crop AKA he just accidentally admitted Grif is his friend. Grif just didn't realize it.

Between the warthog and monkeying about discussions, Church and Grif really are on the same wavelength. 

I love the scheming versus plotting conversation.

Ugh, the arrival of Andy. I hate him so much.

Haha, Simmons lying about his math skills is great.

Uuuugh, Andy. :/ Freckles is SUCH a step up as Caboose's AI murder buddy.

"Do we really have to seize destiny? Can't we just invite it to join our online circle of friends?"

I love Lopez's little rebellion-- he might be under O'Malley's control, but he's also going to sabotage O'Malley as much as possible. And tricking O'Malley into insulting himself in Spanish.

I really forgot that Tex straight up tried to steal Tucker's sword. 

Military law is very clear in regard to the "not it" methodology for making decisions. Sorry, Donut. 

I forgot that Donut can speak Spanish. In fairness, so did the show. 

Hello, Crunchbite! 

Next up, the PSAs! 

Some of these have aged poorly... Like, uh, jokes about 2004 politics do not land well in 2020. And uh jokes about colds and flus. ...Okay, the Christmas PSA where Church destroys the Reds' Christmas tree, tells Caboose the truth about Santa Claus, gives everyone knock-off coal, convinces Church that Santa is now wearing blue and working only for the Blues, and scams Tucker out of a $350 gift is pretty funny though.  

I enjoyed Burnie playing himself in the outtakes by putting words he can't pronounce in his own script. And Grif singing Happy Birthday to Church in prison. Also poor Geoff being told to adlib and immediately having Grif start to tell Church "You're looking buff, man, have you been working--" and being immediately booed by everyone, and someone says they'll use it for an outtake and Geoff is like "It's funny! And I didn't even get to finish!" And everyone trying to figure out Tucker's sword and him accidentally killing everyone in various outtakes. And in the deleted scenes Tex keeps making fun of O'Malley's plans to rule the universe, haha. Also the deleted scene that's just another Simmons' self-insert fanfiction, just as a video instead of a fake game in the Fan Guide.

It also gave us character profiles! I'm sure a lot of this has since been contradicted in canon, but interesting that we got specific hometowns for a few people: Donut in Leggatt Plains, Iowa, which doesn't seem to be a real place; Moscow, Iowa for Sarge, which actually does; Tucker's from Detroit, and Delta Commune for Doc. Oh, is this where we get Caboose grew up on the moon, with his hometown being labeled as Low G Colony, Moon? And hey, I always had him be a middle child, I like that this one did too. Tex likes money and scars and dislikes Donut. Okay I know that's definitely not real, but the idea of Allison growing up in an orphanage hurts me a little. Okay, and I know for sure that Simmons would die of happiness at the fact that Sarge's likes are battles, fringe science, and Simmons. Lopez likes oil and unions, and hates capitalism. My kind of guy. Last but not least, I actually really like Simmons as the son of a bunch of right-hand stooges (who probably wanted power for themselves).

[daeneryswhitehorse]

I try to get back in the Lost fandom, and after about a hour they make me remember why I left it. 

I hate season 6. I didn’t like how the character developpement went , if there was even any in the last season, really. The female character ( and Jin) were all trap in this mother/pregancy plot that went nowhere. Wich I found disgusting, because that was their only involvement in the mysteries of the show. By the way, If the theory about Juliet being the one who made the Island deadly for pregant woman is true than it disgusting. She didn’t deserve that. She was kidnapped on the Island for her medical talent, force to watch for about 3 year woman dying in childbirth, when she is told she is the only one who can save them. All of that so we can be told she is actually responsible for their death anyway. For trying to blow a N-bomb in a plot she was forced to participate anyway. That’s disgusting! And I don’t like how the fandom eat it up, because they think it’s tragic and poetic irony or some shit like that. 

How many insane mother trope existed in this show? Bitch be crazy just for the drama and looking creepy. It sexist and ableist, there is even a character who just exist to be name Mother, and abuse her kids. And poor Claire! I was waiting for an episode that explain what happen to her during the 3 year of being trap alone in the Island, but she just became a crazy mom plot device,  who Kate want to force raise her biological child because she feel guilty of having adopting him. 

Charlie’s death was emotional but make no sense, and Ana Lucia, Shanon and Lybie death was just sexist. Michael writing was racist. You made a black man entire plot to get his son back a meme in s2. Then, in s4 you turn force him into becoming a servant to a bunch of rich white man, the bad guy of the show, where he play the role of the janitor of another group of bad guy’s boat, where he is force to create a bomb to save his friend in the island. And at the end, he end up sacrifying himself to save his friend again, but before this, another white baddie basicaly tell him his life isn’t needed anymore. Great. There was another black man whose character existed  just to look scary and mysterious and then he die randomly. At least we had Mr Eko, but the actor didn’t want to stay after s3.

  And Sayid, our handsome iraqi, he was a murderer in s5,  a murderer in s6, and die like a terrorist in the same season. Thats all he did, and then he realised his great love was Shanon, because the writer blame his past action on his obssession over his dead wife, but being with the white woman made him better or something. Even through when this one die, like with Nadya, he started torturing and killing during his revenge quest. It’s kind of like his problem are within himself, and not link to with the character he is having sex with. 

 Jin and Sun death was so dumb. And honestly, their death had no impact on me because I could see them alive in the flashsideway. Watching the character we know living a normal life in Limbo cut any feeling I could have about them dying on the Island. Because they are all dead anyway. That and all the random slaughter that happen this season does not make me believe life is meaningful unless your a main character.

I don’t care about Lucifer and War being brother, who are so bored of the Island  they started playing games with human lives to see who will survive and help them, because Lucifer want a successor and War want to get laid. Like I seriously just wanted Sam and Dean to came out and kill them, it would have made the show a hundred times better! Or Jack realizing they are all in the bad place since the begining, and War and Lucifer just lauging at their face because they are just gonna reboot everything, and they will be force to revive this hell again, lol. 100% better!

Watching season 5, I was really expecting a showdown between the established villain of the story, Benjamin and Widemore. But nope, we get to random dude with godlike abilities telling us about the purpose of the story and the character. Making everything black and white. Having  themes spell out to us, like we didn’t know. Ok writer...

Charlotte should have live!

[stories-mostly]

Stark's Bug

Tony Stark x Son!reader

=Masterlist=

Sorry that it took so long, I cannot promise anything regular lol. Anyways we're slowly making our way through Iron man 2 and I think the next one or two chapters will be the last playing in said movie :)

Warnings: none

Words: 1846

Chapter 17

Your dad's birthday was coming up. Actually, it was tomorrow, so you were busy with the construction of a paper mache figure of an Iron man suit to really pay attention to the happenings around you.

And you were gonna sleep over at Happys house tommorow because you had missed him and he just came back from vacation. So you had to be finished the day before the birthday, and that day is today so you were working high speed on painting the hardened human figure as accurately as possible. You were looking at 3d models of the suit on the screen in the lab while coloring the tiny figure. You had kicked Tony out since you couldn't work on his present infront of him.

Finished you placed it to dry on the desk in your room and went to go pack a bag for the sleepover.

"Jarvis? What do I need for a sleepover?" you asked pulling your favorite backpack out of your closet.

"I'd say you will need a change of clothing, your Pyjamas, and toiletries, sir. Of course, you can also pack some toys if you want to. And don't forget your school supplies." Jarvis informed and you asked for a list which he gave. Instructing you where to put what before placing it in a convenient order into your bag.

"Thank you, Jarvis!" you said putting your backpack beside your bed so you couldn't miss it as soon as you woke up. Even though Happy would only pick you up in the afternoon.

At bedtime, you were knocked out within a minute. The stress of not being finished with the figure having worn you out pretty good.

"Daddy! Happy Birthday, I have something for you!" you half shouted holding the present behind your back as you ran into the lab.

"Thank you, Bug. What is it?" Your dad said in a tired tone. He had probably been awake all night.

"Which hand?" you made him guess not dulling your great mood.

"Left," he said and you shook your head and showed him the empty hand.

"Ta-da!" you said pulling the figure from behind your back and presented it to your father.

"I've made you an Iron man! Now we can play together!" you said.

"Aw, thank you so much, Bug. I love it. Let's play together before lunch okay?" he suggested and you nodded excitedly.

The day went by slowly but your father did as promised and played with you for a little while.

"I guess now I have to make you an action figure as well, huh?" He joked but your eyes lit up and Tony realised that you were keen on that idea.

"Can you do that!? That would be so cool!"

The day passed by quickly and lunch today was a small birthday cake. It tasted nice and was full of colours on the inside.

Pepper, Natalie, and of course Happy all walked into the living room while you were watching TV not all that long after lunch and a play session with your dad.

"HAPPY!" You screeched in excitement and flung yourself at the man. "I missed you." You hugged him and were put back onto your feet just after.

"Missed you too, you little koala." He ruffled your hair.

"Can we go now?"

"Let me say hello to your dad first," you took his hand and followed him into the kitchen where your dad was more arguing than talking with the two women that had been brought over by Happy.

Happy said his hello, received a hug, and was told to just go already by you. You ran to get dressed and get your backpack while Happy waited in the living room.

"Everything ready?"

"Yep."

"Then go say goodbye to Tony and the others." He said and took your backpack as you skipped over hugging everyone goodbye and told them goodnight in advance. Even Natalie received a hug despite you not knowing her very well. You liked and trusted her to be a nice enough person.

Happy lived in a rather nice apartment close to the city centre. It was well lived in and felt very much like a home. It also had that distinct Happy-smell. Just like when you hugged him real close.

"So any idea what we're gonna do all night?" He asked as you wandered around his living space inspecting everything.

"Ooh can we play with your Playstation?" You asked right after spotting the device.

"Do you know how to play?"

You shook your head. While some of your friends had one you didn't. You did however own a gameboy, the ones you can flip open and shut, with tons of games on it, and a Wii that you barely used. How different can a playstation really be?

"Let's see. What game do you wanna play? I've got tons, come look." Happy said rather cheerfully and pulled out a bunch of what he deemed child friendly enough games for you to look at.

"This one looks cool." You said and grabbed one named 'Portal'. It was still in the plastic wrapping.

"Sure. I guess well have to learn together then." He took off the plastic and read a little bit on the back. "But we can't play it together though."

"That's okay." You said and grabbed the case. While you were opening the case and getting out the disk, your uncle was turning both TV and console on, taking out the game he had left in it.

Both of you played the game taking turns for about two hours. Well, closer to one and a half but who's keeping track. You liked the fact that you were a robot. You didn't like the fact that you and Happy got stuck pretty often. Not quite knowing what to do to finish a level. In the end you didn't get very far. But Happy also had racing games so you played those instead. You were bad with the controls at first, but with a little help and encouragement you actually passed Happy a few times.

The both of you went from one game to another and back. Ultimately ending up in a boxing game. It was technically for older kids but you could deal with it. It wasn't all that bad.

"This is nothing like the real deal." Happy complained a little as you K.O.ed him once more by just spamming random buttons.

"How would you know?" You teased.

"Because I was a boxer once."

Happy was saying this like it was obvious. You on the other hand were shocked.

"What!?" Why didn't anybody ever tell you that? Happy frowned and turned to you after pausing the game.

"You didn't know?"

"No. Since when?"

"Before I worked for your dad. How did you not know? I box with Tony on a regular basis." He was just as flabbergasted as you but for other reasons, obviously.

"I thought you were just playing."

He couldn't say anything to follow that up. Was it really not obvious that he was once a pro?

"Did you win?" You asked now very much intrigued.

"Win what?"

"The matches, did you win in the boxing matches?"

"Yeah. Yeah of course. You wanna see my trophies?"

"You have trophies!?" Your eyes widened as you jumped up in excitement. Hell yeah you wanted to see trophies!

Happy showed you a bunch of golden boxer trophies. Most were of men in boxing gear, other were just boxing gloves, and some didn't have anything statue like at all.

It was rad.

This was just like finding out Happys real name wasn't Happy all over again. You were 5 and almost cried at the revelation. You did cry when Pepper chimed in and said her name wasn't Pepper either.

And the gears in your head started turning. Nickname, boxing, most trophies had his nickname on them but a few very old ones didn't.

"So this is why we call you Happy?" You pointed almost accusingly at the plates on the nearest trophy.

"Yeah."

"Woah."

After cooking and eating and then leaving the dishes in the sink you got yourself ready for bed. You called your dad to wish him goodnight and watched random movies with Happy until you were sound asleep.

The next morning you woke up first. Happy was snoring on the couch as you wandered through his apartment before going to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

After your uncle woke up and you guys had breakfast you made your way to school which is where you told everyone about your uncle being a professional Boxer and having trophies in his house. Your friends were really impressed.

To your surprise it wasn't anyone you expected picking you up. In the usual black car sat Natalie smiling at you. The teacher already knew her so you were allowed to go with her.

"Why are you picking me up?" You asked standing in the legroom in the back and leaning over the seat infront of you.

"Your dad's grounded and everyone else was busy dealing with that."

"Grounded? But he's an adult. Do you mean house arrest? Did he do a crime?"

"Not in particular." She smiled and told you to buckle up. On the ride home you chatted with her about what you found out yesterday. She was smiling and told you that she already knew that.

Nat parked the car in front of the house and you skipped into your home not expecting it to be torn to shreds.

You saw your dad sitting in one of your see through chairs. Next to him was Fury, you hadn't seen him since last year. Ignoring the big shattered window you ran over to him and let yourself fall onto his lap.

"I'm back!"

"Welcome back, bugger." He said and ruffled your hair.

"Hi Mr Fury." You grinned at the man who returned your greeting with a nod.

Two agents carried in a case of something and Fury stood up saying he had "a two o'clock" whatever that is supposed to mean you don't know.

Your dad didn't know what he was supposed to get and argued a bit about it.

"Natasha will remain a floater at Stark industries with her cover intact. And you remember Agent Coulson, right?"

"Yeah."

"Oh, and Tony, I got my eye on you." Fury and your dad looked at each other for a short while before Fury left.

Natasha said there was no communication with the outside world and left. Wait, Natasha? What is going on? Phil said something about Supernanny? What? Was he threatening your dad?

As he also turned away you finally had a chance to speak up.

"What is going on?"

"Long story." Your dad said but that wasn't at all satisfying all the questions you had.

"What happened to the window?"

"Broke it."

"How?"

"With the suit."

"Why?"

"Was an accident."

"Why is Natalie, Natasha now? Is she a spy?"

Your dad paused, "Yes, actually."

"I knew it. And what about Mr Fury? Why was he here? And why are you Grounded? Did you do something bad?"

"Kid, stop asking questions. I don't have all the answers right now." He said in a slightly frustrated but still nice enough tone.

He looked at the box left by the agents.

"H. Stark? Your name doesn't start with H."

"Its my old man's."

"I didn't know you have dad."

"Oh my God," Tony chuckled and grabbed the box's handle, "how else would I be here if I didn't have a dad?"

"....true." you said and tried to help and push the box towards the elevator.

Tags: @shannonr2003 @art-estrange @tater-thotties @tonystanktheirondad @gaylemonshark @emilaa2001 @kindahadeschild @actualcringetm

Thanks for reading :)

[wndmxmffs]

From Insanity to Humanity // Prologue

Summary: HYDRA agent Lyra Lennox has one mission in life, to achieve more, to do bigger and better each time around. This mission is not as noble as it may sound. All Lyra wants, or more so, needs out of life is to leave a legacy, to be written about in history books and taught about in schools. Whether this is as a hero or villain is not something she particularly cares about. Lyra has got blood on her hands, blood of hundreds of people. Who they were? Why they’re gone? Again, not something she cares about. Her priorities lay with herself and herself only- after all she is the reason why the world keeps spinning and why the sun keeps rising. Her twisted view on reality could endanger the whole world’s safety. Life to Lyra is a game of chess and the people she encounters are merely pieces to help her win. Her opponent? Anyone and anything in her way. And all those who think they have control over her? They will learn how wrong they were over time. She plays people. She is cold. She has a mission. The only ones able to stop her from doing something to fatally jeopardize a mission are the ones preserving Earth’s safety, The Avengers. Will they be able to bring out the humanity buried deep inside?

Word Count: 1.6K+

Warning: get ready for a pretty dark fic babies lol. mentions of child abuse, mentions of murder, being captured, mentions of starvation, blood, also some cursing but that really doesn’t matter here lmao

A/N: okay so this is that series i was talking about. i’m soso excited about how it’s going to turn out and i just really hope that you guys will enjoy it. i know that Lyra might not seem the most likable character ever but i have so much planned out for her so stay tuned my loves. big shouout to my girl @microwaveddrabbles for writing the summary, for being an amazing proof-reader and for being here for me throughout the whole process, giving me ideas and encouraging my own ones. i love you so much baby, you deserve the world! happy reading babies! xx

The ice-cold, concrete floor of her cell wasn’t the most comfortable place for a good night’s sleep by any means, but wasn’t the worst either. She had slept on much cooler and much harder surfaces, causing her back to ache and creating overall frustration. That was one of her weaknesses- she could get very angry in a very short time. Every time something didn’t work out as she had planned, she got frustrated, furious even, which she wanted to let out as soon as possible. So, Lyra visited the nearby woods to scream until she found the relief she sought, leaving the bodies of dead birds and deer behind, making everyone who was nearby, deaf.

Her cries could tear the organs of people and animals to pieces, causing immediate death. This, however, wasn’t the deadliest thing about her- she read and analysed people all the time, digging up their most well-kept secrets by making her way into their minds carefully. She pictures their minds as though they were the hallways of a museum where she could roam around freely, with no interruption nor distraction. Most of the time, her victims weren’t aware of her actions, their unknowingness enabling her to do as she pleased. Lyra was well aware of her abilities and was never afraid to use them for her own gain, and her own gain only. Everything she did and everything she had ever done, was for her own satisfaction. She never thought about anyone or anything else. She had been left alone, to be raised by evil itself and Lyra learned the most important lesson at a very young age, ‘never trust anyone but yourself.’ This made her view on the world somewhat deranged, altering reality in all sorts of twisted ways. To Lyra, however, it didn’t matter, because she was successful, her name was known among her people and more importantly- she was feared.

Lyra was woken up by the piercing light coming in from the corridor outside, letting her know that the guard was here with yet another plate of bland food she was not going to eat. This time, it wasn’t just the guard- she had a visitor as well. She slowly pushed herself up in the corner of the miniature cell when she heard light footsteps approaching and the husky voice of a man standing by the closed door. She rubbed her eyes before lifting her head up to look at him and she couldn’t help but chuckle when she recognised Nick Fury himself.

“Aren’t you getting bored of this outfit?”, she whispered in a croaky voice. The result of refusing to talk for a whole week.

Fury slowly tucked his hands in his pockets, looking at the bony girl lying in the dusty cell. She was the complete opposite of what she looked like when they captured her- Lennox had been fiery and fierce back then; kicking, punching and even biting his agents causing them to almost lose her. And now, after what was almost a week, she appeared broken and on the verge of giving up. Fury was certain she would go as far as trying to kill herself had she been given the chance.

He turned his head towards the plates filled with untouched food, completely ignoring Lyra’s snarky comment. He looked at the guard standing on his left and asked him what that was.

“She refuses to eat, Sir. Probably trying to starve herself to death”, the guard replied, while Fury glanced at the girl who had a small smile on her face framed by her messy, dirty, brown hair. He decided to get closer to her and pulled his hands out of his pockets as they were beginning to sweat.

“If you think that we only want to keep you alive so we can torture you, you’re dead wrong. Just go ahead and eat, you already look like a sack of bones, girl”, he stated, earning an unimpressed look from Lyra, who had gotten used to the feeling of hunger since HYDRA had never been famous for its excellent cuisine.

“Your concern truly melts my heart but I’m good, Mr Fury”, the girl answered in a monotonous tone and Fury knew they had broken her. What he did not know was just how great of an actor Lyra Lennox was. It was just another show for her and she was enjoying her role. After all, she’s leading ‘the’ Nick Fury on.

Fury told the guard to get rid of the food and added that he wanted to talk to Miss Lennox alone. The guard gave a quick nod and left, closing the door once again, leaving the two of them alone. Lyra flashed a fake smile at the boss of S.H.I.E.L.D. who didn’t return the gesture. He furrowed his brows instead and looked deep into those piercing green eyes, trying to see through this girl who barely had close to no humanity in her. No one is born like this, Nick was very aware of that fact. He also knew HYDRA’s ways of breaking their agents, turning them into weapons but he had never met someone quite like her.

“How did you get here, girl?”, he asked, folding his arms against his chest, not taking his eyes away from her tired and tortured face. She wanted to stay in control and keep herself collected desperately, but even the toughest ones give up when locked away in a cell with barely any light and no sense of time.

Lyra leaned her head back against the dirty wall, thinking about everything she’d gone through in her still rather short life, which could come to an end any moment now. She was not going to give away everything about herself- she was well aware they could, and probably would, use it against her and she couldn’t put herself at such risk. She had to be in control and being an open book to her enemies wasn’t going to help her achieve that.

After a minute of silence and contemplating, she looked at Nick Fury again and started talking slowly.

“You know, it really does suck when your parents are two crazy Russians who think it’s a good idea to experiment on their infant child in an abandoned lab”, she started, looking deep into Fury’s brown eyes, not breaking the contact for even a second. “That’s how I got my powers. Or so the legend says. As a kid, it was hell learning how to control them instead of letting them take control of me. My father wasn’t that bad of a parent, you know. He spent all his time with me, taking care of me and playing with me. Dealing with my whiny self. People hated them for what they did, but he was innocent. He was brainwashed by HYDRA and they played some mind games on him during the experiments. But my mother. Oh man”, she paused there as she remembered and let out a light chuckle, shaking her head, “she was one fucking crazy bitch. She was even more of a control freak than I am. She was in charge of my training and she was the cruellest teacher you can imagine. Then, one day, she got on my nerves and I made her deaf. The end.”

Fury listened to the story with no expression on his face and he was waiting for the girl to continue, but she clearly wasn’t going to. Lyra looked around in the cell again, then her glance returned to the man and she opened her mouth once again.

“Also, why put me in a cell? You’re aware that I can make your skull explode with my mind, right?”, she questioned, earning a sarcastic smile from Fury.

“I am. But are you aware of that little device in your neck? Stops you from doing anything stupid or something you’d regret.”

“I have no regrets and you’re a fool if you think I regret anything”, she replied, spitting the words out through her teeth, growing tired of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s shitshow. For the first time this week, she felt the irresistible urge to use her powers. It had been lurking in the back of her mind all this time, but she had ignored it. She thought that if she would behave well, they would let her go sooner. That’s clearly not what happened, and the realisation hit her hard. Lyra was a caged animal at the mercy of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the idea of that had started to make her go crazy just again.

Her pupils widened as she looked around the cell over and over again, feeling like the walls were getting closer and closer to her, feeling like she would die while being captured by a fool with an eyepatch. Lyra couldn’t let that happen- she always had to be in control, otherwise all hell would break loose and she would die like all those other people with their names completely forgotten. She turned her head towards Nick and slowly pushed herself up to stand on her two feet covered in bruises and scars. Lyra was dizzy and hungry but she didn’t care about all the physical pain, she wanted to break free and she would do anything for that. She wanted to gain control all the while losing control over herself.

“How do I know it’s not some kind of trick?”, she whispered, very much reminding Fury of a snake. He kept himself collected and cool; he’d seen much worse stuff and a crazy witch in a cell was nothing new. He never would have thought that Lyra would be able to go ahead and tear the little device out of her neck with one simple movement of her hand. Fury’s eyes widened when he saw the blood, dripping down the girl’s neck slowly and the bloody chip in hand. She didn’t cry. Lyra simply stared at her in blood covered hands and gave Nick an empty look before she collapsed into his arms, whispering something in Russian that the man couldn’t understand.

Please, leave some feedback and let me know if you want to be on the taglist for the series! 

[bedlamgames]

Q&A #100

Yes, been a hundred of this things. Totally a meaningless milestone which is one of my oldest tags on here (assuming any are left after the purge...) still I thought I’d do something for it. 

Specifically I’ve gone back over the old Q&A’s and found some favourite questions and answers which I’ll be including in this after the usual round of outstanding ones. Possibly also with some extra commentary where appropriate. 

Anonymous said: Hey. Any pair of characters connected by an Owned relationship/reputation seems to crash the game if you use either one of them on an assignment. Any chance of this being fixed?

- That should be sorted in yesterday’s update. 

Anonymous said: Got a Forest Goblin with both Dancer and Clumsy. This seems like a very strange combination, but imagining it kind of makes me want to laugh my head off.

- Agreed I think that just works due to being amusing. Less poetry in motion and more of a limerick. 

Anonymous said: In No Haven 0.871 the trait " Elementalist: Air " does not appear when using the estimate value function.

- Cheers for pointing out that oversight. Will sort.

Anonymous said: Hi sory english isn't my native langage, In No Have 0.871 TF Edition I have aquired a slaver But with a bug first i don't know how i acquire her and two she had noting , no name no perk jus a little description i will copy the full examine optin on it : - - - - ExamineName: Race: - Sex: - Status: - Reputation: Traits: Condition: 0 Will: 0 Estimated Value: 0 has a flat chest, a regular pussy, and has an unremarkable ass. She is the same size as most goblins, and .She is . 

- That looks like an empty character in all respects. I believe there was an issue with Ritual Casting where that could happen and is now sorted. If you see it happen again please let me know what you were doing when they appeared. 

Anonymous said: Hey Bedlam, watched stream where you discussed not selling slaves debuff, thing is i always imagined slavers being in this business for fun and pleasure first, and gold second. I mean why else would they agree to live in some Skyrim style, long abandoned really, hard to get to fort in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by hills and marshes(at least that how i imagine it)? So maybe you could make something like,"no new slaves, or slave training for X days, getting bored" or something like that?

- It wouldn’t be too harsh at all. Just a bit of a poke to encourage that you’re business model is based around being a slaver over the leader disappearing to the coast for a week and returning with suspiciously large amounts of gold. In that case you’ve got to think that your slavers might feel that they’re surplus to requirements :D

Anonymous said: I hope you're happy for taking so many hours of my life away from me lol. But playing this again; got a question about NH. Any plans on making some rival groups that we can interact with? Diplomacy, getting tribute, ect. It would be kinda cool to have rivals that push you along 

Glad you’re enjoying it! 

Likely yes. There’s ways currently now to set up a few ways to get tribute every so often. More groups though who are more hostile than the not-witches in the marshlands or the mistress of the Ensnared Rose are sure to be a thing sooner or later. 

doof-ex-machina said: Have you read the Gorean saga by John Nornan? If yes, did it influence your vision of the No Haven world? Gor explores a legal female-oriented slave system, yheah, but there are pretty close similarities with NH in regards to the numbers of ‘fodder’ and the ways of training. Anyway, me personally thinks your world is even better because magic and draenei/succubi boobs, duh.

I haven’t but I am aware of them in general. 

NH is a lot more equal opportunities than Gor where males doing it to females, females doing it to males, and all possible variations of that including others like futanari and sissies are likely to happen. Still high praise indeed, thanks!

And now onto some old questions starting with one from before where I realised beginning to combine these might be a good idea. 

onedrift from 2015:  Trying this again...what's your coder fuel of choice? Red bull, Monster, coffee? None of the above? Soon to be bimbofied slavemakers want to know!

- Heh, totally giving my nationality away (if it wasn’t blatantly obvious already) but the fuel of choice is copious amounts of Earl Grey tea.

Anonymous from 2015: Hiya, been a fan of your work for a long time, captions and games thanks for making them, but a question regarding whorelocks revenge, is it possible to get the tangle infection and bonds of insanity? in all my time playing them I never had either I dont think.

- Not in the current version. Basically I wasn’t happy with the implementation in terms of how they were removed so I disabled them for a bit till I can sort it out… which unfortunately has lasted quite some time.

Soon as I got this No Haven update done they’re top of my list of things to sort in Whorelocks.

(Oh zogging hell. Still not done that yet... Extenuating circumstance for sure with NH taking off and WR was still in RAGS at that point, but even so)

Anonymous from 2015: This is probably a poor place to respond to your open-ended poll question, but have you looked into Twine?

- I’ve looked at Twine and when I one day get round to Rough Landing 3 it’s definitely going to be done using it, but to me it looks like an incredibly poor fit for working on No Haven.

(Oh past me why would say such a thing even if it did make a lot of sense at the time. Let’s hope that guy was wrong)

Anonymous from Q&A #1: Title image is hype, cant wait for next update. recall you mentioned that you had enchantments planed for the update after next (or something there abouts) how far ahead have you planned ahead and any spoilers for the update after this one? :D

- Why thank you! I have several pages bullet pointed of what I have planned along with what I have in my head. For stuff not in the next update I’d say not counting more slave training assignments and options and more assignments in the other areas the big bits of content outstanding are;

Way more potions. (Still do do)

Enchantment/cursing of items system.  (Also still do do)

Crafting Devices. (Also, also still do do)

Ways to manage encampments when they get to large by sending slavers/slaves to new areas to provide ongoing gold/supplies along with the occasional assignment. (Oh dear, also, also still do do)

More stuff for you like going on every assignment, bad ends for some of them, more interactions, being enslaved and so on. Basically lots more sub and also some dom content for when you’re not managing the encampment. (Woo progress made! Bad ends for some assignments going on are indeed a thing. Still work to do as I do want to give Crossbones and Into the Depths the QAYL treatment sometime)

Special events that will occur every so often that will affect things be it for good and bad. This will include a way to get a lost slaver back though perhaps forever altered by their experiences. (Woo again this is done. Definitely could do with more done with)

Encampment reputation to reflect a slaver’s standing with how the other slaver’s see them. This will includes slavers becoming slaves and visa versa. (On a roll now as a great deal of this implemented)

More biomancy options and improving thanks to a multi-part assignment. There will also be other multi-part story based assignments. (Partially done and the biomancy multi-part assignment has been started)

And a bunch more basically but those are the priorities after this next update. Probably not all in the same update though.

Anonymous from Q&A #6: I would play the hell out of Paranoia set in No Haven.  

- Temptation to give slavers and you conflicting secret societies and agendas rising.

Y’know like…

Dire Panthers: A mottley band of young savage orcs, amazons and trolls out to raise hell by breaking stuff, setting stuff on fire and generally being a nuisance to everyone.

The Cooperative: A dedicated group of Frozen Queen cultists out to oppose the Human Empire by working together to make things better for the common people… till you know the Queen awakens and buries all the land in eternal ice.

Mage Smashers: Magic iz like wrong an’ stuff! We smash dem in dere stupid face till dey not so smart.

Fellowship-Fel: The denizens that lurk beyond our reality and infect our dreams with tainted nightmares are our friends! We must expose ourselves to as much corruption as possible to make ourselves like them. We see no flaws in this plan whatsoever, you see the chorus of whispers in our minds entirely agrees with us.

Psion: No changes need to be made whatsoever from the original version.

Trekksters: …and I think that’s enough of that, or further evidence of why I shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near RAGS or indeed tumblr when I have my old sourcebooks nearby :D

(Also apologies to most of you who have no idea what that was about!) (This is still far too much of a good idea)

Anonymous from Q&A #17: 2/2 and another hilarious one: Your succubus slave Jaeil was not looking so hot right now so Virholen just held her close and told Jaeil that everything would be alright. Jaeil was oddly quiet everytime you looked in on them and you wonder if they have resigned themselves to their fate. Condition: 45 (Change: 20) - Will: 47 (Change: 15)

After their mistreatment Jaeil sees no reason not to only care for them self as clearly no one else will leaving them hardened and even outright cruel. usc++

- You win best bug report in ages, that is beautiful :D

Anonymous from Q&A #37: Will there be other spirit races in the game besides wisps, such as undynes, gnomes, and dryads? And finally Im new to patreon. I decided to pay for the your character teir but ask for a unique because I dont really understand it. Is the “play your character” a scenario or what? And where do I go to talk with you on what I would like for it?

- True story, I had to google undyines and for ages I couldn’t work out what you were referring too as so many of the results were of that character from Undertale :D

Undines themselves would be no, but I do have a water spirit of a kind planned. (Still do!) Gnomes no, as I’m happy with Hakh Dwarven and the various Goblins as my short races. Dryads absolutely yes, and will be one of the advanced races. See the last Q&A for more details of those.

Thank you for your support! Those options are for those that want to play a specific character that isn’t available in the standard options or design a specific slaver that you can have in your encampment. If you want to see some examples of ones others have asked for before on the playable character front then Orc Wright Raptor, Lago’Mae Scholar or Goblin Underground Potioneer would be a good ones to look at to start off with.

As for the unique slavers then pretty much any of the slavers available under Strong Right Arm/Recruiter.

How much detail you want to go into is up to you. If you want to say oh I just want a Kitsune lady who likes to pole-dance then I’d put something together for your approval, or you can go full on detailing everything about them from their art, description, traits etc. and I’ll work with you to the point I’m happy having it as an option in the game. (Note: If you want an entirely new race like the Golems you need to go for the lore tier given the significantly larger amount of work involved)

For discussing please send me a message on patreon and we can take it further from there.

One thing to bare in mind is that patreon only charges at the end of the month, and so while I’m more than willing to talk it out, if you want to me to do a lot of work on your request I’m going to need to see a pledge go through first. It sucks I know, but this is the unfortunate reality of the internet that alas trust can only go so for.

I’m always happy to discuss things though, I really am, and some people have asked to pay some of their pledge upfront via paypal to get round this which is not a problem if that’s what you want to do.

valhallaimmortan from Q&A #47: I managed to get a elven smith who makes fancy armor that is usually masterwork quality, and equipped my ‘Basher’ Squad with it, the Basher’s are all Ogre’s who I recruited and I have a alchemist who seriously creeps me out with how many petrification potions he has been pumping out. I also like the Lago'mae Scholar how now the Lizard man is using her as his new project… poor Scholar… and I got to ask is it actually possible to recruit a keldan from the keldan mission in the city?

- I love this question, absolutely adore it, and you made the patron who requested the lizardman unique really happy when I mentioned it to them. If people want to send in their favourite/amusing/interesting slavers/slaves that have resulted from generation and gameplay I might do a tumblr post series on them called ‘Tell me about your Character’.

As to the question yes she should be on the critical result.

Anonymous from Q&A #61: Silly question. For clothing and armor, what in your mind is the major difference between micro, and impractical? I can’t really visualize a difference between the two when reading armor/clothing descriptions. Scandalously short is divergent enough that it creates its own image for me. The other two seem as if they would be interchangeable, but they aren’t since there is a distinction so what is it?

- Yay silly questions are always the best questions. Okay micro is where you have outfits that are recognizable bits of clothing but it’s incredibly brief so a skirt that’s more a belt than actually trying to cover anything whatsoever and/or a bikini top so teeny-weeny that it doesn’t even cover all of the nipples. Completely impractical though is the kind of clothing beloved by a certain kind of fantasy art which just doesn’t make any kind of sense whatsoever where looking good trumps any pretension of realism, and the only way it could stay on is either with copious amounts of glue or magic being involved.

Anonymous from Q&A #66: Hello again! I’m the guy who asked about the post-slave [slaver] titles. I’m going to very respectfully push the idea that ex-slaves should get unique titles. First, I honestly think having the unique titles is cooler. It’s more interesting to send a Chosen, an Acolyte, and a Hedge-Witch on an assignment than it is to send three Slavers. It’s a rarity thing, sort of? If you get a character who qualifies for one of those things, it’s a BIG DEAL. Secondly, it already changes with jobs, so…

- Alright, alright, you’ve twisted my arm :)

That should now be included for the most recent update along with a couple of new titles so that all of the more rare traits (not counting crafting ones) should have one. Let me know if there’s any issues as while it was a fairly straightforward change I didn’t get a chance to test that particular bit.

Thanks for reading and here’s to another hundred of these. 

[themyskira]

The Life of Captain Marvel - issue #4, part 1

Last time, as Sadie the Kleaning Lady closed in on the town, Carol and Marie pulled out all stops to avoid progressing the plot, throwing tantrums, chucking mysterious alien devices out the window without a second thought and melodramatically swooning into a lake.

But despite their best efforts, the plot has arrived in the form of a naked blue cyborg, forcing Marie to reveal her true identity as a Kree soldier.

This issue, we get hit with Carol’s new origin story, the sheer stupidity of which is so immense that I’m going to split this recap in two to cover it.

The issue opens with a flashback to Marie/Mari-Ell’s childhood, narrated by Marie. The POV shift is jarring and out-of-place (until this point, the entire story has been told from Carol’s perspective), but this is what happens when you spend three issues of a five-issue mini doing nothing to drive the story forward: the next twenty-odd pages are going to be all infodump.

We see a young Marie — I’m just going to keep calling her Marie, to cut down on confusion — in combat training, systematically taking down a good dozen bigger and stronger Kree teens. Marie tells us that this was her childhood, raised to be a soldier in the Kree Empire’s endless wars, taught to survive but not to live.

As she grows older, she seeks harder and harder training, pushing her body and her abilities to the limit and, fuck me, you just went ahead and stole Carol’s origin story, didn’t you?

Marie: Come on, General F’Zon! Gimme another shot at that Pain-Trainer! General: No, Mari-Ell. Marie: But I’m supposed to be seeking painful learnings, remember? General: Learn that a Level 11 Pain-Trainer will rip your suit to ribbons. Marie: Ugh! It’s my turn, I’m going! General: Mari-Ell! Wait!

Ambitious? Impatient? Forever pushing herself to go higher, further, faster, to punch holes in the sky? Look past the hacky dialogue, and this is Carol to a tee. Or it was Carol, before you went and made her an alien who didn’t need to push herself to her physical and mental limits to succeed, because she was already superior and destined for greatness.

Wait, no, I take it back, turns out Marie is just ~*special*~ too, because on the next page she tells us that she never lost a single battle and enjoyed an unbroken path of success and promotion until she was appointed the youngest captain in history of Intelligence Empress Pam’a’s Elite Guard.

Yes, Carol’s mother is Captain Mari-Ell. Captain Mari-Ell. Kill me now.

Pam’a sends Marie on a covert mission to Earth, and then we cut back to the present day, where Carol has been once again reduced to a blithering incompetent.

Carol: M-ma? Who— who are you? Marie: I’ll explain, I promise. But right now, we need to move. That thing’s a Kree Kleaner. And it’s here for me. Carol: But if you’re… you’re… Marie: A Kree soldier. Carol: …then… then I’m… Marie: You are Car-Ell, daughter of Mari-Ell, Captain First of the Supreme Protectorate, Champion of the Kree Empire, Daughter of Hala by bloodright and by starlight… Carol: Ma, stop it. This is crazy. You’re you. You… you just made me pancakes…

Oh, bullshit.

This is insulting, and I don’t just mean “Car-Ell” (CAR-ELL, FOR SHIT’S SAKE).

Carol is a soldier. She knows how to compartmentalise and she doesn’t crack easily under pressure. Her mother has just revealed herself to be an alien, and that is some personally earth-shattering stuff, but right now there’s a deadly Kree cyborg threatening innocent lives — including those of her family — so the identity crisis is gonna have to wait. She is going to get in the game, stop the bad guy, and then she’s going to have her meltdown.

Ah, but it gets better.

Marie: It’s coming. Get out of the way, Carol. Let me handle this. Carol: Ma, you can’t!

While Carol and Marie argue over who gets to punch the bad guy, Pine-o-Klean is able to get in a barrage of laser-fire. Both women dive out of the way; Carol full-on faceplants, while Marie lands in a neat crouch, saying, “Trust me, Pumpkin. I can.”

Carol is a tactician. She has commanded troops and she’s led superhero teams. She has led alien armies into war. There’s no way Carol wastes time arguing over this. Because while her heart may be crying out at her to protect her mother, the soldier in her would recognise like — would recognise a fellow officer and somebody with superior knowledge of their foe.

And, you know what, let’s assume Carol’s not at her best. She’s shaken by this revelation, and the instincts to protect her mother and to distrust this stranger with her mother’s face are both shouting at her to keep Marie out of the fight. Here’s what happens: After the initial moment of shock and ‘who are you?’, Carol forces herself to focus her mind on their attacker. She turns to Marie: ‘You said it was here for you. What is it and how do I stop it?’ Marie starts to answer, and before she reaches the ‘but’, Carol has impulsively thrown herself into the fight. She’s not prepared for it; she gets in some hits, but the villain gets the upper hand before Marie appears between them and staves it off.

This establishes the villain as a formidable threat, demonstrates Marie’s fighting prowess and sets the stage for the inevitable team-up in issue #5, all without having to throw Carol under the bus. She fails, yes, but not through abject incompetence: her actions are understandable and in character.

Anyway, yeah, none of those things happen. Instead, Carol freaks out for two pages, falls on her face, then watches helplessly while Marie fights Dishwasher single-handedly.

(lol bum)

No really though, whose idea was it to make the assassin a nudist?

Of course, it was a man. Forget I asked.

So then Marie… temporarily explodes the Janitor? Or something?

idk, it’s unclear and nobody particularly seems to care what’s happened to the homicidal naked cyborg or how quickly it might regroup or what it wants or how many ways it can kill them.

“Um, wut?”

JJ Danvers asking the question on all of our minds.

Carol: Ma? I mean… Captain? Marie: Thanks, Captain. JJ: Captain?!

JJ: Hold up, Beans. The Kree thing is contagious? You gave it to Ma? Carol: I think… she gave it to me. Right, Ma? Marie: What humans see as Kree ‘powers’ are just our biological adaptations to a life of combat. JJ: “Our”?! Marie: They’re triggered in battle, usually around adolescence. Sadly, most of us have known war by then.

So, um. Can somebody who knows more about the Kree tell me if this is even vaguely the way that their powers work? Because I am not hugely up on the Kree, but my understanding is that the usual Kree powerset is simply superhuman strength, stamina, agility and durability, and that those Kree characters with additional abilities like flight and photon blasts are the result of genetic/mutagenic manipulation, advanced technology and/or mixed parentage (e.g. Teddy is part-Skrull, Phyla-Vell and Genis-Vell are part-Eternal).

Marie is basically telling us that she — and, later, Carol — developed the powers of flight, energy absorption and photon blasts purely as a biological reaction to being hit often and hard enough.

But wait, there’s more.

Carol: Wait— So if I didn’t ‘get’ my powers when the Psyche-Magnetron [sic] exploded… Marie: You activated them. You triggered an ancient Kree defence mechanism. Not borrowed. Not a gift. Not an accident. Carol: My powers. Marie: They’re not anyone’s but yours. They never have been. Carol: I don’t… believe it. Marie: But you feel it. Light and power and speed and strength, because it’s who you are. Carol: Who we are.

YOU FUCKING WHAT.

“Not borrowed. Not a gift. Not an accident. … They’re not anyone’s but yours. They never have been.” YES AND NOBODY HAS EVER SAID OTHERWISE, YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKNOGGIN.

So, okay. Let’s pick this apart.

The assumption that the writer and editors behind this comic appear to be working from is that Carol’s pre-existing superhero origin is flawed in that it denies her power and agency within her own story.

There is an argument to be made that this is the case.

Looking strictly at the 1969 Captain Marvel #18, in which Carol first gains her powers, we see a story that casts her as a pawn in a battle between two men, a woman halfway into the refrigerator. She has been kidnapped by the villainous Yonn-Rogg, when her love interest Mar-Vell arrives to save her. Yon-Rogg shoots at Mar-Vell, but hits Carol instead, inciting Mar-Vell into a rage.

“Carol! Carol Danvers! She was struck by your wild-eyed blast... perhaps killed!”

Yon-Rogg has already been responsible for the death of one of Mar-Vell’s loves, and now he may have caused another! Mar-Vell is on the brink of killing his foe when he reels back in horror at his own actions — and suddenly realises the Psyche-Magnitron is about to explode. He grabs Carol and runs, shielding her from the blast with his body.

“WAIT! That humming... growing ever louder...! The Magnitron... it throbs with heat... light... as if to explode! And the girl... still draws a faint breath!”

In fact, it was only much later, in 1977’s Ms Marvel #2, that this was retconned as the moment in which Carol became superpowered. As written, her experience in Captain Marvel #18 truly was nothing more than a helpless damsel being rescued by the noble hero.

Ms Marvel doesn’t give Carol much more agency in her origin story: while the exploding Psyche-Magnitron is said to have given her incredible abilities, the strain on her mind was such that it split into two personas, ordinary human Carol Danvers and Kree warrior Ms Marvel. The two are initially unaware that they even share the same body, let alone that they’re actually the same person. Since each 'blacks out’ when the other assumes control of the body, for a while Carol genuinely believes she’s going crazy. It’s not until Ms Marvel #13 that the two personalities are integrated and Carol is able to fully own her superhero identity.

“Oh no... this can’t be happening. I’m in my apartment, in my bed... and I don’t know how I GOT here!”

Superhero origins are rarely static, though, and in the four decades since then Carol’s story has undergone various additions, transformations and retcons. Her background as an Air Force pilot and civilian contractor has been fleshed out to establish her as a hero and legit badass long before she became super, and some of the dodgier aspects of her backstory have either been re-interrogated (Yon-Rogg and the Psyche-Magnitron, in DeConnick’s run) or else studiously ignored (there’s a reason nobody remembers the split personality nonsense).

Nevertheless, the broad strokes of Carol’s origin — a woman caught in the middle of a confrontation between two superpowered men, an exploding alien device that imbues her with the male hero’s powers, and her subsequent adoption of the male hero’s symbol, costume and name — remain more or less unchanged. And with a movie poised to introduce the character to a new generation of readers, now is a good time for a modernised reinterpretation of the story that addresses some of the dated or sexist elements.

So if we accept that Carol’s current origin story is flawed, the next question we have to ask is, what’s the problem that needs addressing?

And this is where The Life of Captain Marvel comes undone.

Because the problem the creators identify is this: Carol gets her powers as a result of a battle between two men. She gets powers patterned after those of a male hero. She carries on the legacy of a man, and she bears the name, symbol and costume of a man. And for this reason, they conclude, Carol’s origin is Sexist™.

Based on this simplistic assumption, the creators set about displacing the male Mar-Vell in favour of a woman. They create an alien mother as the source of Carol’s powers. They give the mother a name, costume and symbol reflective of those Carol uses. And then they smugly congratulate themselves for being Feminist™, despite having only served to erode Carol’s agency further.

The real problem with Carol’s origin story, I would argue, is that she’s an entirely passive character within it. A helpless captive, she does little but yell at Yon-Rogg that he’s mad and that Captain Marvel will stop him, before being hit by a laser blast for the sole reason of making Mar-Vell sad. She collapses, semi-conscious, and is carried to safety by Mar-Vell, unaware that the radiation from the Psyche-Magnitron is transforming her.

It’s crappy by any standard, but it’s particularly egregious in the context of the hero Carol is today — one whose story has come to be defined by unerring determination, an urge to constantly push further and reach higher, and a refusal to ever back down.

Making Marie the source of Carol’s powers doesn’t repair this lack of agency — it makes it worse. Carol not only remains a passive figure in the events that (for all intents and purposes) bestowed her powers, she becomes an increasingly passive figure in her own life.

Her ambition and determination to fly, to punch holes in the sky and glimpse the other side of space? It’s no longer a personal calling that she doggedly pursues in the face of every rejection and roadblock. It’s her Kree blood calling her home, a ~destiny~ that’s written in her DNA. Her fierce grit and persistence as she pushes her body to its very limit? No longer particularly relevant; as a half-Kree, she has always been physiologically superior to humans in every way. Her successes in the Air Force and in NASA are no longer hard-won; they’re just second nature.

By contrast, consider Kelly Sue DeConnick’s early run on Captain Marvel, which revisits Carol’s origin story through a time-travel adventure. It introduces past and present female mentors in the form of Helen Cobb and Tracy Burke -- women who have supported and inspired Carol throughout her life in a way that the virtually absent Marie/Mari-Ell never does in this story. It subtly retcons the effects of the Psyche-Magnitron to underline Carol’s agency — it’s not merely a freak accident that turns her into a Kree hybrid with Mar-Vell’s powers, it’s the overloading machine responding to the force of Carol’s willpower and making her wish manifest.

“I wished... for more time, that I’d done things differently, but mostly I wished that I’d been powerful enough to stop it. That I’d been strong enough to save myself, to save my friend. The device magnified brainwaves and manifested them as tangible weaponry. It was a wishing machine, almost... but one designed for war. In its last act, it gave me what I wanted. It made me powerful.”

It enables Carol to confront her own self-doubts and affirms that, powered or not, no matter the personal stakes, she is a hero who will not quit.

Carol [narration]: I don’t go in because I’m choosing to change anything. I go because he’s hurt and I can help. I go because I’m an Avenger and that’s what we do. Carol: Mar-Vell! Mar-Vell, can you hear me? Past Carol: [reaching for Yon-Rogg’s gun with a bloodied hand and pointing it at him] Y-you’re mad. C-Captain Marvel... battles to save both his world... and my own!

And you could absolutely go further on this! Give us a retelling of Carol’s origin in which she’s not Mar-Vell’s damsel, but his equal ally. Go a step beyond the original Captain Marvel comics — in which Carol rightly suspects that ‘Walter Lawson’ (Mar-Vell’s secret alter ego) is being duplicitous and goes to great efforts to catch him in his lies — and have her actually uncover Mar-Vell’s true identity. Have them confront Yon-Rogg together, and have Mar-Vell be the one who gets shot. Have Carol — injured, outgunned and hopelessly outmatched — defy Yon-Rogg even in the face of certain defeat, and let this be the moment when the overloading Psyche-Magnitron answers her unbending will with the power to enforce it.

And yes, by all means, give Carol’s mother a more substantive role in her backstory, give her more female role models and colleagues and friends, and continue to build the diversity of the Marvel Universe! All of these things are important! But boosting women’s representation is fucking meaningless if none of those women are given any agency, and that’s what is happening in this comic.

That’s it for this time. Stay tuned for part two, when Marie reveals the story of how she came to Boston, why it’s totally not Joe’s fault that he was an abuser, and why we should overlook the hulking mountains of evidence that Marie is a terrible parent and embrace her as Carol’s One True Hero.

[arielle0808]

Re-writing challenge!

Good day/night to everyone! It's been some time since I first saw that some artists uploaded on their social media their re-doing of drawings they had made some years ago to show their improvement, and I thought that is such a cool thing to do!

Unfortunately, I am no artist, but I thought that doing it with my old pieces of writing could be nice as well :3

Thus, I decided to start a re-writing challenge, in which I will upload  fragments of old pieces of writing  every two weeks (original and fanfiction), point out the elements that I think are improvable, and a re-writing of the fragment ^^ I don't know if someone has done this before, but I think it's really positive and helpful!

So if you are a writer and you agree, I encourage you to do the same thing! If you tag me on your post and use the tag #rewritingchallenge, I will comment and/or reblog it!

I will start with not-so-old pieces and start digging up the oldest ones. Some of these will be in Spanish since that’s my native language, but I’ll try to find some of my old stuff in English (which is going to be quite embarrassing).

For today, I’ve chosen a fragment from my first fic ever, Our Story, which you can find on AO3. According to our friend Word, I started writing this story in November 2016. Let’s see what we do with it~

<<It was dawning when Saeyoung opened his eyes. The dim light entered the windows and he discovered he had fallen asleep on the sofa again. He tried to sit down, his back hurting a lot because he hasn’t been sleeping in his bed for days. It was difficult for him to sleep. Nothing bad happened really but he just couldn’t help thinking that he should find a job sooner than later. His life felt unstable now. He couldn’t say he wasn’t happy though. He had found his brother, who was finally starting to get alone with the rest of the members of RFA, and even though he wasn’t working at the moment, he had earned enough money to live quite well for the next year. The RFA was pretty active again. They had held a party after Saeran joined and Rika was sent to travel with a strange group Zen had somehow found, and they were already organising another. But still, things worried him. He was worried that the agency would inquire after him and Mary Vanderwood and find them, somehow, which would not only put at risk their lives, but also the ones of the members of RFA, especially his brother’s. And there was also the job thing. He knew he could ask Jumin and find a job in his company quite easily, but he didn’t want to put him in danger. Besides, what could he do? He felt he was only good at hacking and it wasn’t as if there were much legal jobs in that field. He felt frustrated. If he continued like that he wouldn’t be able to take care of his brother much longer, and he was not going to lose him again. Never again.

He logged into the chat room, and saw MC connected.

[…]

It was always fun talking to MC. He felt she was the only one who understood his jokes and jokes were precisely what kept him sane. He felt he could switch into the 707 persona and pretend he actually didn’t care about anything. He liked to pretend he was careless and mess around, especially with Yoosung. Yoosung was just too funny. He couldn’t help smiling every time he saw him in the chat room and trying to mess with him, which was quite easy because he was just too innocent. He knew it wasn’t fair to use him to forget his worries, but it was just too tempting. Sometimes Saeyoung felt he could only laugh sincerely when he talked to him, and that was how their relationship worked, right? He was no more than that teasing friend who was really annoying. He was okay with that. He just needed that little bit of Yoosung to feel some moments of happiness. And he didn’t deserve more than some moments of happiness.

He started chatting about some silly things with MC when Yoosung logged in.>>

So, this is the fragment I’ve chosen to work with. It comprises the first few paragraph of the first chapter, minus the conversation in the chatroom.

As you see, I’ve highlighted in different ways several things that can be improved. The typos and weird word choices are highlighted in bold, the repetitions (which don’t have any literary function) are scratched, and the weird sentence structures or grammatical mistakes, in italics.

There isn’t much to say about that, except that my use of English has improved lol (though there’s still room for improvement).

Apart from that, I don’t think this is an excessively bad introductory paragraph? It presents the RFA’s situation from Saeyoung’s perspective well enough, as well as what he believes to be his unrequited love, so there’s not much to change. The situation is a bit cliché, that’s true, but if I changed that I would be writing a whole different story, so I won’t get into that.

What I will modify, though, is the use of interior monologue since I love that device and I don’t use it much in the original version.

So this would be the final result!!

<<It was dawning when Saeyoung opened his eyes. The dim light of dawn entered the room through the windows and he realised he had fallen asleep on the sofa again. He tried to sit up, the intense pain on his back making him wonder when was the last time he had slept in a proper bed. Falling asleep had always been difficult to him. It should have become easier, though, since he had finally found his brother, who was starting to get along with the rest of the RFA members, and he had earned enough money to live quite well for the next year after working for the agency. The RFA was pretty active again, which was good as well. They had held a party after Saeran joined and Rika was sent to travel with a group Zen had found and was supposed to help her, and they were already organising another. Thus, his anxiety shouldn’t be acting as much as it was.

Despite all this, his life felt unstable. He was worried that the agency would inquire after him and Vanderwood and find them, which would not only put their lives at risk, but also those of the RFA members, especially his brother’s. He also believed he should find a job sooner than later. He knew he could ask Jumin, who would probably hire him in his company without thinking it twice, but he didn’t want to put him in danger. Besides, what could he do? He felt he was only good at hacking and there weren’t many legal jobs in that field. He felt frustrated. If he continued that way, he wouldn’t be able to take care of his brother, and he was not going to lose him again. Never, ever again.

He logged into the chat room, and saw MC online.

[…]

He smirked. Talking to MC was always fun. She was clever enough to understand his elevated sense of humour and, honestly, at that point jokes were the only thing what kept him… somehow sane. Jokes allowed him to switch into his 707 persona and that way he could feign he didn’t actually care about anything. If he pretended well enough he could make himself believe it, too. This was always the case whenever Yoosung was around. God, messing with him was so fun. He could feel a smile on his face already just thinking about pulling a prank on his innocent Yoosungie. Deep inside, he knew it wasn’t fair to use him to forget about his worries, but it was so tempting! Sometimes Saeyoung felt he could only laugh sincerely when he talked to him. Besides, if it wasn’t for their usual interactions, how would their relationship be? He was no more than that annoying tease of a friend. If he didn’t play around with him, he would be nothing to Yoosung. He was okay with that. It was all he needed to feel some moments of happiness. And he didn’t deserve more than that.

He was playing around with MC in the chat room, when Yoosung logged in.>>

So, as you can see, I decided to change the order of the elements of the first paragraph (and divide it in two, since it was so long). In the first version, I pointed out Saeyoung’s worries, how his life was going on better than before and talked about his anxieties again, so I think the new arrangement makes the ideas of the text more organised now.

The sentences in italics are some examples of interior monologue!

So, that was it! I really hope you liked it ^^

Did you agree with the changes? Would you modify something else? Did you like the first version better? You don’t like either? Love both?? Would you like me to clarify something? Want me to use a longer/shorter fragment the next time?? Feel free to let me know!!

Thanks for reading! <3

Support me on my Ko-fi <3 or visit my Patreon for more content! :3