#if so then what a goddamn monkey's paw that is

[abyssal-soul]

I know everyone is probably talking about the new obligatory waifu in the 6.3 pictures but all I have eyes for is the dungeon gear????????????? Is it finally time to get the dyeable diabolic stuff of my dreams??????????????? EXCEPT THE TANK IN THE SCREENSHOT SEEMS TO WEARING THE MAIMING VERSION?????????????????????????????????????

[vaugarde]

i got shirley jackson’s dark tales for christmas and ough short horror stories my beloved

[annamariedarkholmes]

me if anna’s rogue and halle’s storm and lana’s jubilee are brought back for the mcu secret wars multiverse stuff only to stay supporting background fodder while that instant oatmeal-ass love triangle, both xaviers, and both magnetos suck up all the screentime yet again

[panderbearwolf]

TMA/TMAP Orignal VS Somewhere else

OK, So….

I’m new here. Take anything and everything I say here with a MASSIVE PILE of salt.

I don’t think that TMAGP takes place in an alternate universe. I think this is the world they left behind, and the fears are making their way back in for some reason.

Now, I know that this is not what most people expect. A lot of what I’ve seen is people thinking this is “somewhere else”, that Jon and Martin made it somewhere else in this sort of monkey’s paw sort of way.

But I don’t think so. I think this is the TMA universe. And the fears are coming back in. That’s why all the artifacts were coming back in from Hilltop.  I think Jon and Martin and the extra got caught in the web and dragged into the last semblance of the fears that stayed behind—the web, because it connects everything and wasn’t going to wholly leave its home world because it knows that it’s home is useful and filled with a source of fear—so it left itself a way back in. We know that Annabelle is not wholly trustworthy from Jon’s last statement in TMA 200.

I think that as the fears come back, Jon starts to get more power again, as well. This is why he’s now reaching out to people via e-mail. He’s also probably trying to stop Fear-pocalypse 2, no fun for anyone. Because if the fears are coming back so quickly after leaving, there’s something else driving them back. And they’ll want to feed again.

It would also explain why the ruins of the Magnus Institute exist in this world. Why would a world that never had to deal with  the 14  15 cosmic soup of the fears have a ruined Magnus institute? While the fears are a universal thing—or so it seems from how they left in TMA—the specific landmarks and people who are coming through make me think that there wasn’t a somewhere else for Jon and Martin to land.

Now I do understand why people think that this has to be somewhere else. The world of TMA should have been in ruins after the fears took over. And I agree, you’d think. But at the very, very end of TMA we do get Georgie and Basira talking. And it seems like the world just ‘snapped’ back to normal and it seems like everyone is pretending it was just a mass hallucination that everyone suffered. (I don’t want to imagine the generational PTSD, though. Yikes.) It seems like this is the TMA world, a few years down the line after everything righted itself.

That’s why Celia is there. I’ve seen a lot of people saying that she must have made the jump with Martin and Jon, but I don’t see how. (If you have an idea, please, please PLEASE tell me. I would LOVE to be wrong here.) She wasn’t an avatar. She wasn’t even an acolyte outside of being a victim herself. I guess I could see that since she lost her identity that she sort of qualified as a emissary of the stranger, but she’s the only one we’ve met thus far who is might be. And if I’m right, there should be a TON of people who are. Although, I guess people probably wouldn’t talk about their experiences in the fear-world. So maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know.

Anyway, I wanted to ask about something I hadn’t seen many people talking about from TMAP 7: The fact that a ‘security’ force burned down Hilltop Road Consignment shop. It almost seems like the security force knew what was going on, what it meant and why it needed to be stopped. Almost like it was a splinter cell of the original Magnus Institute that recognized what the hell was going on and was trying to stop it. I haven’t seen anyone geeking out about this part as much—mostly because OMG THERE’S SO MUCH to be excited about and theorizing about—but I was hoping someone else thought the same?

I was kind of wondering if there are any descendants from those who survived the TMA series—Basira/Georgie/Melanie—who may have started a watch-group or something because they knew the fears could return.

Anyway.

Happy “I’m losing my goddamned mind” day. I look forward to next Thursday where we somehow find a scrap of sanity left to lose it when TMAP 8 rolls out.

[goodluckclove]

How Clove Gardener Writes (an Overview)

I definitely told myself when I started this blog a billion years ago, at the dawn of human civilization, that I wouldn't make any attempt to tell you how to write. You know - other than saying just do it do the thing write it close the blog open the document type type three sentences bam look you did it good job i love you now go get yourself a treat.

But I've spoken to a few writers who seem to benefit from the insight of me just explaining how I write. So I thought I'd give a little peek into my own mindset. I cannot stress enough that this is what works for me. It's a methodology that I've built up over the course of like fifteen years of trying different things, keeping what works, and throwing the rest right out the goddamned window.

If any of this seems new and appealing give it a try. If it doesn't help I'm wrong and bad as a person (no I'm kidding but seriously if it doesn't work that's fine and we're both fine). If it helps you owe me a picture of a frog drawn from memory.

Let's see how long I ramble. Follow me under the read more!

Okay, so let's get this out of the way. I've never taken a writing class. No, that's not true. I took one when I was thirteen and another one in high school and I don't remember anything either of them taught me. Oh and I took an online creative writing class in college, but I also didn't retain anything and the next year I dropped out of college. So I also don't have a degree in jack shit.

What else? I don't outline. I've written upwards of 15 novels (13-15, I honestly can't remember) and I did not outline any of them. This includes character sheets and worldbuilding lore. My first published novel Blind Trust was born from the concept of the Lover's Knot, which is just like some witchy magic lore. I thought it would be cool so I was like "who could maybe be some guys" and then I introduced some guys and then bam 180k later it was Scott and Edgar.

I do virtually no preparation to write a novel other than the vaguest premise and maybe like one cool scene. I did not have a cool scene for Blind Trust, but I do have one for Migration Patterns. What I don't have is an ending. I don't think I've ever written a novel knowing how it ends.

Literally here's what I do. This is all I do. I sit down and I write until I don't know what's going to happen next, at which point I step away and I listen to some music or I go to the museum or I take a nap until I decide how to continue. That's it.

For me it's going to the zoo every day and seeing the monkeys. And every day they're doing something different. Sometimes they're sleeping, or they're pawing at each other, or they're gathering sticks. I can call out to them and offer to show them a card trick or share my Bugles with them, and they might come up to the wall of the enclosure to see what I'm doing. Or they might not. I do not really have control of the situation, but it doesn't matter because they aren't fully aware of me.

At some point either I have to leave the zoo for some reason. Maybe I'm tired, or maybe the monkeys have been pulled in to be fed their lunch (it's bananas and peanuts). Either way I add that day's behavior to the pile and then come back tomorrow.

Once I find an ending I go back and I read through the book again and trim any fat that's in the wrong places while adding flesh to some naked bones. Then I wait a week or more (usually I can only wait a week) and go back and do it again. By that point it's ready to hopefully have someone read it, after which I make small edits and tweaks.

That's how I do it. Or at least, that's how I do it for longform prose projects that I plan to publish. I've written plenty of novels that just stayed first drafts because I didn't feel like revising them and then I moved on to the next one. I don't regret that. I don't consider it a waste of time.

I would never consider a trip to the zoo a waste of time.

Anyways, that's what works for me. I don't know if all of this will apply to other brains. I don't know if any of it will. I figure it might just be useful to get an in-depth look at what I personally vibe with.

I'm so down to talk writing at any time, by the way. I love to do it. Tell me why you aren't writing and I would be happy to listen and try to help. Or just brainstorm. Seriously, my DMs and inbox are perpetually open. Talking about writing is one of my favorite things to do.

Let's go look at some monkeys together.

[geneticcarnage]

Dib's Impromptu Lesson in Irken Medicine

ZaDE (mostly), 3.2k, some gore, hopeful ending.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. Zim’s blood was magenta and cold and there was so damn much of it. The ground refused to soak it up, so it pooled and poured and formed tributaries and Dib didn’t know how much more he could possibly lose. He couldn’t hear anything, could barely see—had the explosion deafened him? Had the incandescence of Zim’s last failure burned his retinas away? The kid wasn’t having fun anymore. He’d thought things with Zim were never fun in the first place—staying up until the smallest hours obsessing, spying, theorizing, writhing under the weight of this incompetent planet, bearing witness to every atrocity against humanity and no one, no one, no one believing him—it wasn’t fun. So when the finger on the monkey’s paw curled, Dib knew he’d wished for exactly this. But, apparently, he didn’t actually want it, because here he was. When every rational thing in his soul should have been screaming with victory, here he was having a goddamn panic attack, on his hands and knees in the blood of someone he thought he wanted dead, and the corpse was sparking, of all things for a corpse to do, and the undiluted horror of a life-changing fuck up crushed his heart into nothing. For a moment, unconscious and bone-deep, he did not want to live in a world in which this was reality. Fire raged, roaring and cackling all around them, the trees all screaming and creatures fleeing, and Dib got the strange urge to curl around Zim’s side and close his eyes. (He’d always had this gut feeling that they would die together. Was this what adults meant when they talked about self-fulfilling prophecies?) Then, the corpse twitched.

Read the rest on Ao3!

[crimsonxe]

Do people legit just intentionally ignore details nowadays? Like how Barb when talking about RWBY's funding states they're STILL looking to other ways of getting the necessary funds for the show. In other words, they haven't written it off or are saying its not going to happen. They're still actively looking for ways to offset some of the cost. It isn't new that they're lowering costs across the board and seeking out partnerships, this has been stated since the CR deal. So why its somehow shocking people I don't know. In fact I'd wonder if this isn't why Barb felt comfortable mentioning it, because its already news that out.

Also I've mentioned it before, but it needs mentioning again to those rooting for another company to grab the show: "Genlock s2" be careful what monkey paw your ass leans on.

As to anyone talking about RT's finances, funny how pirating + soapbox hypocrits that seek destruction over change will have that effect. They're just as bad as the homophobic bigot incel/dudebro side of things.

Shit like this is when I start tuning out people in the FNDM cause its always a new thing that is dooming the company or the show. If you're that damn worried then:

hand out First memberships to people or if you really need a roundabout to do so you can also do it through Twitch via Tier 2 subs on the technically RT channel but really currently its the Inside Gaming channel as they're the main ones that use it. Cause Tier 2 or above sub = a First membership. Also the IG crew (Blizz, BK, and Jack w/ honorable mention to Griff) are fantastic, so deserving the eyes and subbing.

watch the content w/ ads since the ad revenue goes to RT w/o YT taking a portion of it

promote the shows

if in the one crowd get off the bullshit morality soapbox that is only applied to RT vs. any number of other equally or worse companies. And don't think for a second that I've forgotten either, when s2 of Arcane arrives if I see certain people posting love and praise for it without also making sure to drag up Riot's issues with sexism, homophobia, racism, crunch, etc I will be calling that shit out.

These are active in-audience hands things, which honestly should've already been being done.

So goddamn migraine inducing.

[11x13kyle]

Like not to be That Guy about it, but i think the points they try to make on sp go completely missed by upwards of 95% of the viewership bc they average person isnt sitting down with a cold glass of cokey coley going “oh boy i wonder what societal commentary they have prepared THIS week!”

And it doesnt help that they package their flimsy at best political/social stances with the most abysmal blue humor possible. To be clear this is more of Their monkey paw than anything, they’ve brought this fanbase and reputation on themselves and the consequences of that. But they’re so goddamn rich is doesnt matter personally.

And this isnt to say that watching it critically makes it unfunny, obviously not here we all are yk? But now theres this weird old guard/new guard of fans and both are the most obnoxious people imaginable

south park is the world’s first apolitical political satire because so many of the points they make are immediately counteracted by the fact that they like to pretend they’re not making any points

[sapphire-weapon]

you brought about the self-importance of some shippers and you hit it on the head with that. the amount of times i've seen some boasting their ship is the "biggest" romance in RE and some even using the top ships on A03,petitions, and any polls really trying to get Capcom's attention that this is "what fandom wants". Those numbers and percentages are small potatoes to Capcom, that's not incentive enough to get them to make a ship canon. I'm not against romance but these methods don't work!

resident evil fandom needs to get in touch with final fantasy 7 fandom and ask them how well it worked out for them when tetsuya nomura read a whole lot of fanfiction before and while he wrote advent children.

it's like the horrible sin that all of us old guard carry with us and rarely speak of. why is cloud Like That in AC, the new fans wonder? why is reno reduced to comic relief? why is AC leaning so hard on the Old Man Vincent gag all of a sudden? how did this happen?

and we old folks just look to the side and nervously tug at our collars and try not to make eye contact. we wished on a monkey's paw, and that curse still haunts the series to this day.

take it from us, kids

you do not want game developers reading your fanfiction for ideas for future canon.

YOU DO NOT WANT THIS

I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD MAN I'M SERIOUS

GODDAMN IT LISTEN TO ME--

[fair-night-starry-tears]

Okay here’s sad cosmic being officially breaking up with their ex, finished stuff gets their bio after this mess

——————————————————————————

How many years were these two together? They don’t know. But long when they first started working their jobs. Fresh new workers.

Asteria, fresh new and vibrant wish maker, and Jericho, serious and stern auditor, they were new to the business. New to their own work. Literally. Being formed by their creator. They were, special. Asteria was the luckier ones to be a wish master. Their physical form are put to slumber for thousands aeons, while Jericho. He was different. He was a strict and reasonable man, he was much the opposite of Asteria extroverted and excited energy. He was, introverted, calm, and riddler for the rules and law. When Jericho actually saw Asteria wish master form, he was smitten to their looks. And same for Asteria to Jericho charismatic and noble looks. The fact the two ever hit it off was like a surprising tale. The office was surprise as well. Shocked looks when they announce to be together were the strangest. They do show each other their places, and share each other keys to each other houses. But sadly…..

Unique love, always flattens by someone greed.

——————————————————————————

Asteria was just sitting at their empty wish making room. Just an empty yellows room with only a giant screen and hot tub. Asteria sighed as they hover around. Their long beautiful pink hair flowing like water, they used their special unique remote to summon their jar of pickles. Asteria opened the jar until they pause hearing a knock, they open the cube entrances as they were gleaming to see Jericho. “Oh babe! Hey! Didn’t get your message. Uhhh, it’s like 00730000 in the hour. Why the visit?” They ask. “No time for talk. Just going to chill in your time room.” That’s right. Asteria showed Jericho their time room, the creation and beauty of time and space. “Oh….. uhhh….. do you want something to eat? I could order.” They responded.

“You pick.” He said. Asteria sighed, “what about pizza today? I’m gonna watch the multiverse. Wanna join?” They asked. “Ew. Pizza. Can’t we have something else? We ate that junk last week.” Jericho responded, as he enter the few staircases underground to make way to the tile room. With Asteria following and hovering. “oh yeah but like. You always do that. I offer, you say you don’t mind, but when I say something you shoot it down and we always don’t eat. Then I always watch the multiverse without you again. Come on babe. Just for the day. Please…..?” They asked. “And it’s always my time room. It’s not like you’re just staying with me for it. Right?” They asked. As Jericho paused and glared at them. “Are you accusing me of such things?” He asked. “U-uhhh uhhh…. I mean…. It’s always my time room after I showed you-” Asteria pause. As a stinging pain slapped them across the face. “Honestly Asteria. To accuse me of that, that’s absurd. Be better.”

This was the same thing too. Their relationship became rocky. They break up, get back together, and rinse repeat. They are thousands of years old together. But now. It doesn’t feel like the same guy Asteria fell for years ago. “Jericho please, relax. I’m sorry! It’s just, you stop hanging out with me.” They responded. “Being an auditor is tough work. Finding lowly criminals and egging them to capsulation is tough work. Unlike yours just lazing ‘bout and granting wishes.” He shot to the cosmic figments toon. “Hey, my wishes are like monkeys paws. There’s always a catch to each wish.” But Jericho rolled his eyes and found the time room. “Sometimes I wish you just leave me alone.” He said as he made his way to the door. Asteria rushed over it. “And I wish you answer my question better. We’ve been together for so long! I sensed your heart! You jolted! You only jolt for our boss or being interrogated!” They shouted. “Answer me! Answer me if you’re just actually staying with me for my goddamn time room!” They shouted, their face glowing red and tears peaking from their eyes. Jericho scoffed, and finally spoke. “Yes.” The dreaded weight crashed onto Asteria. “Was it…. Since the day I showed you the room?” They asked. “No….. when we first started working.” He said. Asteria gasped. “When I heard your job, you had it easy.” Jericho answered.

“You laze around, you grant wishes, you’re not in physical form and you’re creating dimensions and universes by your own will. I. Was. Jealous.” He said. “I only said yes to you, is because I wanted to see it all. Everything! You’re just sad, and pathetic…..” Asteria was stunned. They were shocked. They were…. Betrayed. By the person they love…. Correction, LOVED. “….. out….” They mumbled. “What was that?” Jericho rudely spoke. “I said….. get OUTTTTTTT!!!” As Asteria beautiful and shimmering pink hair turned into a darken black. Their blue eyes turned to of black with the sclera turning red. Jericho knew this look, he seen it so much when Asteria looses their mind. Asteria pulled out their remote, and zapped Jericho to their place. Then they calmed down, and immediately began to sob and feel on their knees to the ground. They used the remote to send all of Jericho junk back to his place. And Asteria could son knowing the truth. They did an immediate lock down. Closing all entrances to the inside of the cube. They went back up stairs, grabbing their phone and texted their boyfriend.

StellarFiend: it’s over. We are officially down. Like, shove a fork. Through! Don’t ever visit me. Don’t look at me. Don’t ever talk to me! You cheesebag!

And the boy cosmic being bawled their eyes, sitting at the center of the empty room, as it feels lonely. They kept Jericho, because they are really alone. They haven’t had visitors for a while. It was just sad. They guess they tolerated their partner behavior, just because to ignore their weight of loneliness. But, it feels better knowing then being used. Asteria just wished for someone, just someone. To finally love them without seeing them as a useful tool. But that day will never come. It’s just a sad cycle for them.

And it always been that way. For aeons.

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire @luxstring

Rip Asteria. Poor fella bf just straight up betrayed and used them. And also abused the fact Asteria spent alone in the wish making cube for aeons.

——————————————————————————

Aleistar

Age: 25000+

Occupation: wish master (kinda wish they were normal but they are stuck their)

Gender: gender fluid but mainly uses they/them pronouns

Pre break up: happy and delight

Post break up: depressed and just alone

Jericho

Age: same as Aleistar

Occupation: god auditor/basically capturing criminals of time and space law into eggs capsules

Gender: male (he/him)

Pre greedy: just actually pretty nice and decent

Post greedy for time room: absolutely dickbutt and jerkwad to Asteria and not considering their relationship

[300iqprower]

who are your hopes for Summer 8 characters?

At this point it's more like "who do i hope doesn't get their character butchered this summer"

Well aside form the obvious GIVE US MALE SWIMSUITS YOU FCKING COWARDS - I guess Abs Hassan? Can't really go downhill when they never did anything with her at all. *monkey's paw twitches* But lets be real they never fcking pass up a chance to screw her over in order to prop up Serenity so if we get a swimsuit hassan it'll definitely be her....

Maybe summer Penthesilia who's actually a proper adult and not the weird shit they did to her existing iteration? Unlikely for reasons I've gone over.

Oh i know Summer Semitruck. Would be great to have a chance at her since she's (stupidly) a limited SSR and she's just a generally really fun character in events from what i've experienced.

Ryouma also proves welfares can get alts so Summer Kagetora? Lord knows Kagetora has enough material to be a dozen classes and it sounds fun seeing her go full scathach during "relaxing" activities like volleyball or surfing or whatever. Also she deserves to be SSR.

Summer Mary Anning is a natural fit since...well, she's literally a marine paleontologist. And there several benefits to being a marine paleontologist.

Avenger Boudica you sons of bitches where is she unlike Avenger Medea you guys can't possibly fuck her character up any more than you already have so at least fulfill that goddamn promise from summer 2.

[tyrannosaurus-trainwreck]

I’m halfway through a goddamn Katya/Sofia fic thanks to this stupid meme edit and I feel like I made a wish on the monkey’s paw. >:(

Katya had been maybe sixteen when she realized that most men wouldn’t waste an opportunity to explain something--anything--to her.  She knew why, of course.  Her mother had been practical about Katya’s beauty.

“We’re all brothers and sisters under Stalin--” You never knew who was listening, even at home. “--but you have a chance to get a seat closer to the head of the table, if you marry well.”

Explaining things gave even nervous and shy men an opportunity to demand her attention, to keep talking to her.

It had been the thing that first set Goncharov apart, when she’d met him.  He’d been ambitious, even then.  Cosmopolitan, clever, driven.  The import business was lucrative, but dangerous.  Give the wrong person too small a bribe, smuggle too much of the wrong thing, come back a little too comfortable with capitalist decadence... there were many ways to fall, doing what Goncharov did.  You had to have balls and brains both, and from what she knew he was doing it well. She’d thought he could be a useful contact to cultivate.

“Do you really need me to tell you?” he’d asked, when she’d feigned ignorance about something. “Or is it that you want me to tell you?”

It hadn’t been a transparent ruse; she hadn’t wanted him to think her an idiot.  But he’d been watching her as she’d been watching the rest of the room, seen her weighing up her options, charting her course.  Their positions had been reversed enough times in the years since--he’d known what she was up to because he’d been up to the same thing.  She could see him even now, in her mind’s eye, looking at her and thinking what a pretty, fashionable, social-climbing wife could do for a man in his position.

Katya had been older when she’d recognized, with a startled flash of gratitude, that it worked with women, too.  There’d been a freedom in the exercise of that power that she reveled in, a freedom that wasn’t there when she talked to men.  She’d felt like a god, like a hypnotist, like a witch from a fairy tale.  When it was another woman, she could give anything, take anything, and the next day, it would all be like it had happened in a dream.

It was a technique that worked even better in sun-drenched Naples.  Katya barely had to thicken her accent, to make her phrasing a little more stilted, and men would believe practically anything.  She could point to a fishing boat and say, “And what is that?” and they would trip over themselves explaining the ocean to her, as if perhaps they didn’t have maps and ships in Russia.  It had paid dividends so far around her husband’s new associates--they were careless of the things they said to each other in front of her, provided they said them in Italian.

Sofia was not careless, and Sofia wasn’t in a great hurry to explain anything to Katya, and when the day’s business was done and Katya had a moment to herself, she found that it made her want to tear her hair out.  Or perhaps Sofia’s hair. 

That would at least break the glacial calm on that porcelain face, bring some expression into those dark eyes.  And it would be very satisfying, getting a great fistful of those raven curls and giving them a good hard pull.  Sofia might even make some noise, if she did that.

Katya had met commissars with less self-possession than Sofia.  If the Italians hadn’t proven themselves inveterate chauvinists time and again, she’d have suspected Sofia of being one of Ambrosini’s assassins, though Goncharov had told her they did things differently here.

“They have a system,” he’d said, when she’d told him she didn’t trust Andrey around him. “Like a machine.  If a man wants you dead, the word passes from one man to another until it gets to a man he’s never met, and you’ve never met.  That’s the man who kills you--a stranger.”

It was uncivilized, apparently, to kill your own enemies.  Katya wondered if they made love the same way.

Katya thought of giving someone a kiss, letting it pass from mouth to mouth until it came to Sofia from a stranger.

“How do they know why a man is dead?” she’d asked. “How do they know who ordered it?”

Goncharov had spread his hands and shrugged, mimicking Andrey’s response whenever someone brought up too many specifics for his taste. “They simply know.”

There was an art to it, in Russia.  The giving of absurd alibis, the witnesses who were mistaken.  Everyone saw a man or his right hand walk into the home of his enemy, but then when the police came no one had seen it after all.  Enough money was paid, and then the police stopped asking.  People knew to take you seriously, that you weren’t someone to slight or to cross.  People knew there was fire in your blood, that you’d come for them.  They knew what it was over, too--after that, they stayed away from your woman, or your money, or your family.

The Italian way seemed little better than putting it in the hands of their fickle god.  She might as well go into one of the cathedrals and pray for Sofia to kiss her.

“You’re sulking,” Goncharov told her one morning.  She hadn’t been sulking, but she still didn’t trust Andrey, and he was coming over after breakfast.  Goncharov forgot sometimes that she could watch him, too. “I’ll call Mario and have him send Sofia over.  She can drive you to the market.”

“And get what?” she asked.  She was sulking now, just a little bit, because she didn’t like being accused of sulking when she wasn’t, and because she didn’t like the eddy of excitement and disappointment swirling in her belly.  She could ride in the back while Sofia drove and look her fill.  She could make Sofia carry her bags and translate for the merchants at the stalls.  She couldn’t make Sofia pay attention to her.  She couldn’t make Sofia look back.

“Whatever you want.” His gaze went to the flowers in their vase at the center of the table, bright, beautiful things unthinkable this time of year back home. “Something you’ll remember, if we can’t come back again.  Something to write your mother about.”

Katya stopped sulking.  Goncharov was right to keep the possibility of being recalled in mind.  There were others who wanted what they had, and it was easier to bend an ear when you were there in person instead of basking in the Mediterranean sun.  The Italians had a fickle God; she and Goncharov had a fickle Party.

“Fine.”

By the time she had finished dressing, Sofia was waiting on the front steps.  Andrey couldn’t help but stare at Katya when she swept past, that thing she didn’t trust pulling his eyes tight under his thick brows as Goncharov kissed her cheeks.  Andrey clasped her hands lightly, a combined greeting and farewell, and the band of her wedding ring shifted under his grasp.

Sofia checked her watch instead of staring when Katya came to the door, and Katya wished petulantly that she could show the same level of detachment.  Sofia was dressed well but not extravagantly, and Katya couldn’t help but let her eyes trace the shift of Sofia’s muscles, the sway of her curves, the toss of her hair.  Katya had dressed well and extravagantly, all reds and golds against the bright white of her dress, and Sofia found the scratched glass face of her wristwatch just as compelling.

It was infuriating.  If Sofia had been Russian, she’d have understood what she was doing.  Katya could have done something about it, if Sofia at least understood.  They could have fought in the street.  Katya could have slapped her and torn her braid and called her something indecent in front of everyone.  Katya could have made Sofia hate her, if nothing else. 

But no--the Italians did things differently.  Katya would just look like a barbarian, and Goncharov would have to smooth things over if they wanted to keep the rubles flowing back to Novorossiysk, and it would either be like it hadn’t happened or retribution would come out of the blue, from nowhere.  To not even have the luxury of Sofia’s anger--it was intolerable.

Katya envied the wind that tousled Sofia’s hair on the drive to the market.  She should stop making a hell of paradise and tell Goncharov to ask Mario for a different driver.  Mario had insisted, when they’d taken the house.  The roads in Naples weren’t like Russian roads, he’d said.  They needed an experienced hand at the wheel.  And it was better for business to make sure the driver was discreet.  Mario would arrange for drivers, as their friend. 

Katya thought that he sent Sofia to drive them because Mario hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her that first night when they’d met over dinner, and he thought that what he couldn’t do, no man could do.  Mario didn’t want trouble, not the unpredictable kind of trouble.  Not over a driver.  Katya didn’t know if it was because Italian women didn’t know how to love or if it was because Italian men ignored love affairs between women the same way Russian men did.  Or maybe Mario just knew Sofia.

The market was drowsy and quiet when they arrived, and Katya tried to imagine what the streets in Leningrad looked like now.  It had been such a long time since she’d been home.  There wouldn’t be flowers now, she was certain of that.  Her gaze fell on a patch of vivid red.  Or pomegranates. 

She remembered the first time her mother had given her one.  She hadn’t known the trick for opening them yet, but she’d wanted the seeds so badly.  She’d ripped it open with her hands, precious tart juice staining her nails and running down her arms.  Her father had laughed and called her his little lioness before giving her a knife to do it properly.

Katya hesitated, hand resting on the plumpest one in the pile.  There had to be limits to even Sofia’s stoicism.

“What sort of apple is this?” she asked, picking it up and turning it over.

“Apple?” Sofia asked slowly.  She was probably trying to decide if Katya had said the wrong word or if Katya was playing a joke on her.

A joke, of sorts, but Katya would never admit it. “Da.  What sort of apple?  The skin is so thick.  Do you need a special knife to pare it, as you do with your cheeses?”

“It’s not an apple.”

“Then what, if not an apple?” Katya tossed it in her hand, demonstrating its firmness.  A persimmon of the same hardness would be vile, completely inedible.  Her gold bracelet flashed on her wrist as her hand moved.

“It’s a pomegranate.”

“A what?”

“A pomegranate,” Sofia repeated, irritation creeping into her voice.

“What do you do with them?”

“You cut them open and eat the seeds.”

Katya picked out a half dozen and paid the boy minding the stall.  After that it was easy enough to keep going.  She knew what Goncharov would like.  Fresh white bread.  Some sort of exotic hard cheese ripened in caves by the sea, made with the milk of goats fed on herbs and sweet grasses by the same family since the time of the Romans.  Jam from fruit that you couldn’t get in Moscow, wine that tasted like herbs grown in the sun, flowers that could fill a room with their perfume. 

Time was fleeting, and fortune was more mercurial even than God or the Party.  What point was there in denying yourself when someday the memory of past pleasures would be all you had left?  She and Goncharov understood each other in that respect.  They understood, too, that there were things a person could do to put a thumb on the scale and maybe keep fortune by their side longer.

“What sort of wine does Signore Ambrosini like?”

“I don’t know.” Sofia shrugged around the bags. “He doesn’t drink when he’s conducting business.”

Katya had a moment to think that it was perhaps Sofia’s turn to play the game, then dismissed the thought.  Sofia’s attention was already on the next stall.

“Not even when things are concluded?”

“No.”

Katya tried to imagine it.  It was a bad idea to get too drunk, even once things were agreed on and the papers were signed.  Tempers could get out of hand, words misunderstood.  But not drinking at all would be like spitting in a man’s face.

“Doesn’t that get in the way of doing business?” she asked.  How could a man trust a business partner who wouldn’t even drink with him?  A man who thought he was too good to share your vodka would never honor a bargain with you.

“Not that I’ve seen.  It’s more professional.” Sofia shrugged again, paper rustling at the movement. “He doesn’t say anything he doesn’t mean to say.  Keeps his temper.”

Katya shook her head at that.  Perhaps being bred in the peninsula’s warmth let the people cultivate a certain cold-bloodedness.  If they tried it in Russia, they’d freeze solid and break apart like a sheet of ice on a window pane.

[nocturne-pisces]

DILF/Best friend’s dad!Steve Rogers! You’ve always been close with Eliana, you were over at her house so often that her father the Steve Rogers, often joked you knew their home better than they did. You’re as rocked by the divorce as she is, and after being invited to stay for the summer, you take the opportunity to comfort your friend, even if the sight of her father gives you goosebumps. You’re older now, wiser. And besides, what’s a little harmless flirting between family friends, right?

😈

Fabric Softener

Dark!BestFriendsDad!Steve x PlusSize!Reader x Dark!Neighbor!Bucky

warnings: noncon, threats of violence, mean!steve, meaner!bucky. i am not responsible for your media consumption.

Series Masterlist

notes: this is for @boxofbonesfic 7k Monkey’s Paw Challenge. you deserve each and every follower, thank you for letting me participate.

wc: 1.2k

thank you to @branded--with--a--j for beta’ing 💚

You were just trying to help him with the laundry, lifted up on your tip toes and explaining which detergent wouldn’t bleach the blues out of his favorite t-shirt when his fingers tangled into the hair at the base of your skull.

“Y’know, I’ve really gotta thank El for having such good taste in friends.”

His hips pinned yours against the washer, the steely length of him pressing into your ass cheek.

“Mr. Rogers, please—“

“Baby, I told you, call me Steve. We’ve only known each other since you and El met in high school. I even helped you unpack your dorm, I’d say we’re pretty close at this point.”

“Steve, don’t do this-“

He pulls your body ever tighter against his own, close enough for him to lean in and whisper into your ear.

“Don’t do what, sweetness?” The hand that wasn’t anchored to your scalp snaked its way around your waist, dipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties. “You think I don’t see how you look at me? You think I haven’t noticed how you gotta rub those soft fuckin’ thighs together every time I get close?” His middle finger slips between your folds, finding your clit and circling it slowly.

“Eliana will hear and she’ll come looking for me, you won’t get away with it.” Despite your threat your knees threatened to give out, your legs shaking from the building tension between your thighs. You feel him laugh more than you hear it, the contractions in his chest reminding you how much muscle he could use against you, much more than he was currently.

“Eliana took her Ambien twenty minutes ago. She hasn’t been sleeping so well since Sharon left. Come to think of it, neither have I.” Your whole body tensed as his tongue left a stripe of cooling saliva up your neck, stopping right below your ear.

“Mr. Rogers, please just let me go, I won’t tell anyone.” His finger stopped its ministrations against your clit, diving deeper to find the already primed entrance of your empty cunt waiting for him.

“I know you won’t tell, sweetheart, because you know what I’m capable of.”

He untangles his fingers from your hair and slams you forward by the back of your neck, a yelp escaping your throat as your face met the washer lid. You felt him bend over you, laying his weight across your back as he ruts himself against your clothed ass.

“You won’t tell anyone because you know all I would have to do is squeeze and you’d be done for.” You felt the tears slip over the bridge of your nose, collecting in a small puddle on the metal under you.

He holds you down with one hand, the other jerking your shorts down to web between your thighs. “Open those legs for me,” he cooed. You did as you were told, widening your stance as much as you could. “Goddamn, such a pretty pussy.”

You thought he was just looking, that he would be content to get a glimpse and let you go- but the sudden burning stretch of him plunging into you jolted you out of your pipe dream. He gave you no time to adjust, no time to get accustomed to his girth. “Oh, fuck, that’s tight.”

“Steve-“ you plead, your arms bracing against the washer as you try to push up.

“Be good for me, I don’t want to dig up the backyard tonight.”

You drop your weight back onto the washer, the burning in your chest from your sobs confusing as the pain morphs into a sick pleasure. You can feel your own wetness around him, feel how your cunt has betrayed you as your lunch crawls up your esophagus.

A rap on the garage door has you scrambling up and trying to get away, but Steve’s iron grip keeps you locked against him, your pussy fluttering around his length.

“Come on in, Buck,” he calls, his hips rutting erratically and making you whimper.The door swings open to reveal his best friend and next door neighbor, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth as he takes in your soft form held against Steve’s.

“Aw, buddy, you started without me? I’m wounded.” He and Steve share a look, dark and consuming, predator appreciating predator.

Bucky takes a step closer to you, his hand coming up to pinch your chin, turning your gaze to meet his. “Mr. Barnes, please help me.” Your face crumbles, your last ditch effort to appeal for sympathy dashed as he mocks your desperate expression.

“I don’t like it when they talk, I just wanna hear you choke.” You force your eyes shut, will your psyche to crack and take you far away from here, but a sudden sharp, burning pain to your cheek makes them fly open again. “Eyes on me,” Bucky commands, letting his belt hit the floor before he pulls his jeans and boxers down to the middle of his thighs.

He’s already rock hard, his cock jutted out and bobbing when he hops up to sit on the washer. Your head is wrenched back again, Steve spitting words down into your ear as you tremble. “No teeth, sweetness, or I’ll remove ‘em myself.”

You barely have time to register what he means before he’s positioning your face over Bucky’s lap. Steve pins your elbows to your ribs on either side and lets his best friend take hold of your hair, pushing you down on his cock until he hits the back of your throat. Immediately your body tenses up with a gag, a low groan coming from behind you.

“Shit, Buck, do that again. This pussy is gonna choke the life outta me.” And he does, this time pushing down hard enough that the head of him pops into your throat. It burns, makes your thighs clench together with restraint, and both men moan out. “She clamps down every time you fuck her mouth,” Steve says, a chuckle rising from his chest as he pulls out only to slam back into you- making your head dive deeper onto Bucky’s length.

Both of your arms are tugged behind your back, Steve’s free hand snaking back to your front to apply pressure to your already throbbing clit. Bucky leans back against the cabinet, guiding your mouth around him every time Steve pushes you forward. You try to wriggle away from Steve’s exploratory fingers but you only succeed in pushing back into him, the lack of oxygen from Bucky fucking your throat making you dizzy and sensitive.

You feel your impending orgasm creeping up on you, the knot in your tummy tightening. You try to tell them to wait, that you don’t want this- but you only manage to gurgle around Bucky, his hips lifting to meet your face as his rhythm becomes sloppy. His grip on your hair tightens and you lose the ability to control your breathing, the edges of your vision darkening as your orgasm hits you.

“Are you cumming, sweetness?” His tone is incredulous, amused that your body has given in to him so completely. You only have time to register Bucky spilling down your throat before the darkness overtakes you, your body limp in their hold.

When you wake up on the couch, a blanket draped over you, you can hear them talking from the kitchen.

“So, Sharon is picking up Eliana tomorrow?” It’s Bucky’s voice, coming from a bar stool at the kitchen island.

“Yeah, but sweetness over there told her parents she was staying all summer.”

[ralfmaximus]

Monkey’s Fist

Gather round, gents and I’ll tells ya a story. I calls it, The Monkey’s Fist!

You mean "The Monkey’s Paw" don’t you? The one where the old couple gets a cursed monkey’s paw with three wishes, and they wish for money and--

Jesus Christ, who’s telling this thing? If I said it’s a fist it’s a goddamn fist!

Whatever.

So anyhoo, this old couple, see, they get a cursed monkey’s fist—

Paw.

FIST. And it’s cursed, see. It grants the owners three wishes. So for their first wish, they choose a million bucks!

That’s not much money in today’s market.

Christ, okay. They wish for a billion dollars.

Still, if I had a cursed monkey paw—

Fist.

Whatever. If I had one of those, I’d wish for 50 trillion, at least. Enough to—

Oh goddamn it, fine. They wish for 50 trillion bucks! And kazaam! They’re suddenly hip deep in money!

What, in hundreds? Do you even know how much that is? If they got it in thousand dollar bills, it’d probably fill an oil tanker.

Just go with it, okay? Geez. So they get their loot. But see, there’s a catch… the money’s a payout on their son’s life insurance policy! He fell into a machine and was mangled to death at the factory where he works!

Okay, couple of points. First off, who writes insurance policies for 50 trillion dollars?

Hey, YOU were the one who—

Secondly, if they’re an "old couple" what’re they doing with a son living at home? He’s gotta be, what? 50 years old at least.

Oh, give it a rest!

And he’s working at a factory? 50 years old, living at home, and working at a factory. And they insured his ass for 50 trillion dollars.

It’s a story. Just lemme tell it. So anyway, he’s dead, and the monkey paw… fist, I mean. The monkey fist did it! Their first wish killed him!

I get it, I get it. Moving on…?

Yeah, so, just as the old man and his wife are jumping around and whooping it up, throwing thousand dollar bills in the air, the phone rings. It’s the cops, and they tell the wife her son’s been mutilated in an accident and he’s dead!

And she uses the monkey’s paw to wish him back to life.

Exactly! She grabs that horrible old gnarled thing and wishes him back to life! And you know what happened next?

Lay it on me.

There comes a dreadful, slow knocking at the door! The wife freaks out because she just knows it’s her baby boy, returned to life again! Praise Jesus! So she runs and grabs the doorknob, but before she can open it.............

What? Finish it. Or you want me to?

I’m building suspense.

Whatever. Okay, so the old man realizes it’s their dead son back from the grave, horribly disfigured, and he’s pounding on the door. Before the wife can let him in, the old guy grabs the paw and uses their final wish to undo the wife’s second wish. They open the door and there’s nobody there. All the wishes are gone. And while they got a lot of money, it cost them their son. Am I close?

Not exactly. See, the wife flings open the door and there’s this GODDAMN HUGE MONKEY WITH ONLY ONE PAW! And boy, is he pissed!

Wow. That’s… wow. Didn’t see that coming. What happened next?

How the hell should I know? Probably beat the living crap out of ‘em and took his fist back. They sure as hell didn’t sit around drinking coffee.

Makes sense. Know any others?

Sure. I gots a million of ‘em, my boy, a million of ‘em. Lemme tell you about the Princess and the Pee…

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Classic Giovanni

"Oh god, it’s Ash.  Why are they putting him in the game?  I didn’t ask for this.  And they’re hinting at a free unit next month now?  Gee, I wonder who that could be!  Ugh, I wish it weren’t Ash.  Please, anything but Ash...”

*finger on the monkey’s paw curls*

Classic Giovanni and Persian is a support, and man, I wish you were a BP pair.  I know this is me doing it to myself, but these limited event things don’t feel fair to call F2P, since they aren’t actually available for free any time.  It just feels shitty to tell someone “Here’s an F2P solution to something!” and then pull out an option they have no availability for.  If he were a BP unit, then I’d feel a bit better about it.  But he doesn’t, and it sucks, because I actually really like this for F2P, if nothing else.

The thing people lose their minds over is the usual thing that drives people nuts: Dire Hit All+.  Which is a great skill, but you want a bit more.  In this case, it’s a 1MP move that boosts both offenses by 3.  Which means that Classic Giovanni...is the first F2P aligned unit that can cap out special attack and crit.  I’ve waited ages for this trait to be on an F2P budget...and it’s on a damned Giovanni alt.  The monkey’s paw is kicking my ass today.

“But it’s 1MP and only by +3?”  Listen.  On grid, there’s Berserker Bunch and All Ramped Up, to turn it to +4.  Anyone with an X item can cap their offenses with him in three turns, guaranteed.  But even for units that can buff nothing?  He can do it.  Because the first move you click is his trainer move, and if you get that MPR, congrats; Giovanni caps your offenses in four turns.  He is faster than Falkner at this role.  If he had gotten Aggravation 2 on Bite, he’d literally just be a better Falkner.  Oh, and Slippery on grid means using it twice is also +2 evasion!  So now he’s harder to hit, with gradual healing, First Aid 4, and even has Safety Tether!  WHAT?!

It bothers me so much that his trainer move is +3.  Like, that’s actually worth resetting a match for.  It’s not like it costs you anything but a bit of your time.  It’s a free action.  There’s no penalty for quitting.  The only reason to take the extra nodes to make it +4 over MPR is that you want max offenses by first sync, and your ally can handle +2 without issue.  But for units that can’t buff anything at all?  Classic Giovanni is downright optimal.  Because he’s faster than Falkner about it.  And realistically, both are reliant on the same 30% MPR rate, Falkner just gets two shots rather than Giovanni’s one.  It’s so ridiculous.  The balanced approach would’ve been acknowledging that the trainer move giving gradual healing means it’s already better and can be 1MP with just +2, and making you take both MPR and a +1 node for max buffing, giving up other tools in the process.  Instead, they made it perfect.  And they even had the balls to give him Dire Hit All+.  After all of this talk about how Roxanne and Liza can’t get Crit Squad because ooooh, premium special attack buffers would lose their value, they produce a goddamned free unit that can do it not just for special attack but physical too.  There is no reason those two had to get such awful grids if this was coming for free.  Giovanni should not have half the tools he has if that was the justification for shafting every Hoenn support so badly.  But no, god forbid Giovanni, a Kantonian, ever be made to suffer a flaw.  His only flaw is being frail.  This can hurt, if Slippery doesn’t help him dodge after using his trainer move, especially since Safety Tether can’t happen until after first sync, which is admittedly demanding.  This is the only flaw I can say for him.

Team 1: Giovanni, Gladion, Nanu/Kukui Gladion partners really well with Giovanni, who is able to cap out those offensive stats with only one X Atk.  All Gladion really needs then is someone to help debuff defenses.  With Speedy Entry 2, Giovanni’s also providing some nice gauge control for Gladion, who does appreciate the help.

Team 2: Giovanni, Hau, Volkner Hau is a great F2P option since he got his EX, and Giovanni fills all the offensive needs Hau could want.  Volkner is the obvious partner for Electric Terrain, and is pretty nice flinch rate to complement Giovanni’s lower threshold.

Team 3: Giovanni, Blaine, Gardenia If you don’t want to use Rosa, Giovanni is another option that gets Gardenia to attacking faster.  Just add in a Sun setter, and they’re ready to go in two turns.  And really, unlike 1/5 Rosa, she can drop Grand Entry, because Giovanni can buff her to cap!  Meaning you get to attacking even earlier!  Wow, it’s almost like Rosa sucks and needs an alt!

Team 4: Giovanni, Winona/Acerola, Zinniquaza Giovanni complements Zinniquaza well, because with Winona present, he can max out her offensive needs too.  Just make sure to get that MPR and look at that, both Winona and Zinniquaza are operating at peak efficiency!  Considering Zinniquaza also got Dragon Ascent, is stronger than Anni Steven, and Giovanni buffs both offenses at the same time, this is an absurdly strong core for Flying-weak stages, on an F2P budget.  I was honestly hoping for EX Kahili, but sure, this is fine.

Team 5: Giovanni, Shauntal, Erika/Lucian/Renegade Cynthia I’m just waiting for Shauntal’s grid, and this is what I do to pass the time.  Giovanni helps Shauntal cap her offensive stats fast, letting her get straight to the offense.  Erika and Vileplume have paralysis for Gauntlet gimmicks, and can debuff special defense some of the time, under an F2P budget.  Lucian is much more reliable and increases team bulk and speed.  Renegade Cynthia gives Ghost Zone, but that’s probably too much.

Team 6: Giovanni, Lance, Lucas To really hammer home the absurdity of his trainer move, I offer you this.  The actual most optimal Lance team in the entire game.  Lance cannot buff a single stat on his own, but he does have Hyper Beam, which is really high damage when supported.  Lance also has a sync nuke that has six damage tiles, but is physical instead of special.  Hmm, if only there were someone who could cap all three of attack, special attack, and crit, in short order...OH WAIT.  Giovanni gets to do that faster than literally anything in the game!  Haha, silly me!  Even more ridiculous, Lance has Potion, which means even if Giovanni’s evasion buffs don’t always work out, Lance can just...heal him.  That’s just a thing you can do.  Very normal, thank you for this.

Final Thoughts Classic Giovanni is absurd.  I don’t really like fishing for MPR on 1MP moves, but this is a rare exception.  You lose nothing, and have quite literally everything to gain.  He is the perfect offense and crit buffing machine, on an F2P budget, for some reason.  Every single common gacha whose grid suffered massively because “we can’t give them crit and special offense at the same time!” is crying right now.  His only flaw is being low on the bulk department like everyone else who pulls this stuff, but unlike them, he got Safety Tether, an EX, and the potential to boost evasion.  So like.  He’ll be fine.  Which bothers me.  It bothers me a lot.  I’m getting really annoyed with Giovanni lately.  Focus on something else for a bit, DeNA.

[kneworder]

honestly one of the reasons why the ep 5 thing makes me so goddamn frustrated is that i KNOW half the people in this fandom have zero critical thinking skills. what allison does isn't defensible in any way, but i still think she's one of the coolest fucking characters ever and the rest of her arc this season was SO deserved and a long time coming. but bc of ep 5 if i just say that without a disclaimer some brain dead idiot is going to turn around and say 'oh so u condone SA????'

it's not that it wasn't an understandable writing choice (you can very clearly see how it fits with allison's character, she stopped herself and was horrified enough for them to still justify writing a redemption arc) but it just makes me preemptively exhausted. WHY would you put that in when you KNOW people are already going to be shitty about allison being angry and black. it just gives people a reason to hate her that i can't even argue against because i agree!! that was super fucked up of her!! they wrote allison crossing a line that is understandably too far for some people to still enjoy her character despite the fact that she has SO. MUCH. WASTED. POTENTIAL. and they JUST started to scratch the surface of it!!! if it wasn't for ep 5 i would be SQUARING UP with anyone who had a problem with allison but because of one unnecessary scene she's a dangerous character to defend -- people have a valid reason to hate her and because of that hate, some people are dismissing all of that fascinating potential and acting like because of this one thing she is no longer an interesting character and that anyone who thinks so is at fault! which is the writers' fault! it isn't even character assassination i just genuinely think the writers were really fucking stupid this season! LITERALLY that's my poor little meow meow and i think she should get to yell and scream and kill like everyone else does. WHY did they have to make her indefensible with ONE SCENE when all i want to do is defend her on everything else. it's like they finally give her something to work with but on the condition that half the fandom fucking hates her now. i said i wanted allison to get to be angry and the monkey's paw heard ig.