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g00d--m0urning · 3 months

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Unnamed Pt. 2 (Daryl Dixon x AFAB!reader)

Yippie, part two!!

Part one

TW/CW: vomiting, gore and violence (not super descriptive, dw), reader is pregnant so obvi AFAB but no gendered descriptors, ex-cop!reader, swearing, no use of Y/N, grammar mistakes

WC: 3942

A/N: I promise it'll pick up speed :'( I'm definitely not doing an episode by episode rewrite. And Daryl and Reader will finally reunite next part, so I'm looking forward to writing that.

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A car swerves off the road, trying to avoid scrambling pedestrians, straight towards you; you jump over the hood of a car nearby, narrowly avoiding the car as it bursts into flame. You rush back around, checking on the driver; who is nonexistent apparently, there’s nobody in there. “What the fuck!?” you breathe out, jogging over to your car and getting it started. You get the radio on, switching to the emergency channel, wishing you had your police scanner with you as you get onto the road, heading in direction to the precinct.

If there’s one place you’ll be safe it should be a police station, right? There’s at least guns for whatever the hell is going on. Sirens flash in your rearview, trying to get you to pull over--you swear, but do so anyhow. “Do you know why I--Shit! Greenie?” you recognize the voice, it’s officer Cameron. He leans into your open window pulling his sunglasses down. “Heading down to the precinct?”

“Yeah. Do you know what the hell is going on?” you ask, turning the radio down and surveying both Cameron and behind him. It’s like some sort of apocalypse, but that’s far fetched, you think.

He shakes his head, “Nah, nah; I don’t, there’s too much going on. We’re getting calls left and right, whole damn city’s going into panic.” he answers, scratching at his stereotypical cop-stache. His walkie blares, unintelligible words coming through. “Hey, be safe, get off the roads soon.”

He pats your shoulder, walking off quickly as he speeds off. That was no help at all, you knew all of that already. You groan, pulling back onto the road and getting to your destination.

Cops are flooding in and out of the building, paramedics and firefighters all gathered there; behind you there’s black SUV’s pulling in, FBI you assume. What in the shit is going on? You sprint into the building, watching the chief dole out guns to anyone in reach, the news is blaring, radios screeching, people yelling, you can barely hear anything. “Greenie, here! Take this, and get home, youngin’. Stay safe, stay indoors.” the chief orders, shoving a glock and a few boxes of ammo into your arms and practically shoving you out the door. You flounder slightly, confused and in need of answers, opening your mouth to speak but you’re cut off, “No time to explain, too much to do, just keep that kid of yours safe.” You gape, throwing your arms in the air. In your confusion you remember Daryl, crap; Daryl, is he ok? You imagine he should be, the man can survive anything, but still. You pull out your phone and dial his number and he doesn’t answer, of course. Fucking, fuck, fuckity fuck, whatever.

The drive back home is insane, fires and dead people--Dead people? You slam on your brakes, just barely stopping before the body in the middle of the street. You could puke; you’ve seen dead bodies, but never like this. Nothing like this is normal, the body is missing chunks from her arms and neck, like some freako cannibal case.

The body twitches, just a cadaveric spasm (you learned that in school, you spent years looking at dead bodies, after death spasms are just remaining nerves working, it’s normal). She twitches again, and again and she’s up. You stare at the body in disgust and confusion and shock, you could've swore she was just dead. The undead reaches for you, jaws snapping at your ankles and glazed eyes staring at you. A scream garbles itself from your throat as you stagger back, nearly tripping over the car in the process. You fumble with the door handle, reaching over the center console to grab your gun; the thing manages to grab at your ankle in the time, making you kick out, trying to shake it off.

You manage to get the gun and get two bullets into the crazed person. Bile rises in your throat as you look at the dead body, watching to see if she comes back again; thankfully she doesn’t and you can puke. You look at her, the bullet holes in her head, the rotting bite marks in her skin; it’s horrid, nothing you’ve seen before. God.

The car ride home is intense, fires left and right, screaming people--more bitten people, you realize when you look closer at a few of them--and the radio is no help, reports of deaths, murders, and traffic jams. You pull into the parking garage for your apartment, parking in a far corner and tossing a tarp over it to hopefully keep it in better condition and out of view.

You can barely get to your apartment with all the people rushing to and fro throughout the building; some are leaving, packing their stuff into their cars, others are barricading themselves in their apartments. Fortunately you get into your apartment without being trampled, locking both the deadlock and door chain.

Rushing around your apartment is next, filling empty water jugs and bottles with water--who knows how long the water will be on--getting perishables cooked, and inventorying things like batteries, nonperishables, first-aid, anything one needs for an apocalypse.

You thank whatever god that does or doesn’t exist that you went shopping a few days ago; it was a big trip too, you were running low on pretty much everything. So, you don’t need to go try and conquer the shit show that is the shops, which were clearly being raided already. Getting the door barricaded shut was easy enough--bungee cords tied to the door handle and kitchen counter post, chair tucked under the knob (you had to learn quickly how to keep a door shut with Daryl’s old trailer, considering Merle had walked in on the two of you on multiple occasions).

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A month passes by very slowly. You never realized how boring it could get without modernity. Normal TV stopped playing a week in, even the emergency signal stopped broadcasting after that. Phones and utilities went week two, something about needing to horde supplies for the military who started setting up camps around that time.

You had the vague thought of going to one, figuring it’d be safe and helpful with your pregnancy, but quickly learned otherwise over the radio. Infected managed to sneak into the one closest to you, killing most people, so you dodged that bullet. Which means, you’ve just been entertaining yourself with coloring, and light workouts, reading and people watching or--Zombie watching, you suppose.

The fire escape provides a nice safe vantage point and you pretty much see the whole town--you tried the hall one time and it was overrun, almost didn’t make it back in--and the infected roaming the streets. A few people have passed through, most of them were raiders, passerby, but some were local, those who stayed; officer Cameron stayed, your ultrasound tech, she left a few days ago though.

You’ve been thinking of doing the same as of late. You don’t know what you’d do if you did, head back to Georgia to find Daryl? Wander until you find a safezone or hell, even just a group so you’re not alone anymore.

Your head rests in your hands as you contemplate the risks of leaving the apartment; with the zombies flooding the halls and the unknown number of them in the parking garage and who knows what could happen on the drive.

You roll your eyes, leaning back in the desk chair, “Fuck me, man.” you groan, running a hand down your face as you stand up from the chair, grabbing a backpack out of the closet.

You busy yourself with packing the bag precariously: a few changes of clothes, your first aid kit, a book and notebook, food and water, the few boxes of ammo you have, a knife, a lighter, and in the last bit of space you shove a sleeping bag.

“Yeah, yeah, that should be everything.” you murmur to yourself as you tuck your gun and pocket knife into your belt.

As you get a foot out of the window something catches your eye, making you pause and hurry back inside. You take the sonogram into your hands, staring at the black and white picture before gently placing it in the side pocket before finally slipping out the window.

You curse at the creaky fire escape as a few heads turn your ways, breathing a sigh of relief as they quickly get distracted. Just to be safe, you toss the plant you had long let die onto the street, watching as the undead shuffle to the noise in hopes of a meal. It’s unsettling, the way they move like puppets on a string, but you file that to the back of your mind and make quick work of the stairs.

Slinking down the alley and sneaking across the street is surprisingly easy--they’re genuinely so brain dead, there’s absolutely no semblance of the person they were before; it’s depressing if you think too hard of it. An involuntary sigh of relief pulls from your lips at the sight of your baby still sitting pretty in the garage. Silently you pull the gray tarp off the car, folding it over itself a few times and tossing it in the backseat along with your backpack into the passenger seat.

“Hello, my beautiful girl, I missed you, baby.” you coo at the car, running a hand over the slick, black roof. You dip back into the passenger seat, popping the glove box open and grabbing the map Daryl had insisted you keep in there.

It’d been annoying back then, but it makes you smile today; guess you really did need it. You unfold the map over the hood of your car, tapping the pencil you had wrapped up in the paper against it. Suddenly reading a map seems like a much more important skill as you stare at the lines representing roads, and rivers, and landmarks. Technically, you do know how to read one, but barely, it’s not like you were in a scouts troop as a kid.

There’s a few old markings on the map from Daryl--just a few words, circles to help direct you--it almost makes you cry. You chalk it up to pregnancy hormones as you swallow thickly, marking up the map for your trip. If you remember correctly, it took about twelve hours--including stops--to get to Virginia from Georgia.

So, you should get there in a flash; what traffic is going to be stopping you? Well, the roads might be blocked, you guess you’ll find out. You trace a couple different routes, just in case before the annoyingly familiar groans of the undead echo across the concrete building.

Folding the map up you sigh, “Let's get this show on the road.” You tap Baby’s hood twice before getting into the car, propping the map up against your backpack in the passenger seat.

The drive is…surprisingly nice, you popped in an old mix tape into the stereo, tapping the wheel in beat to every song. Only downside is the traffic--and people aren’t even alive, you’d think that’d be the one good thing about the apocalypse, but no! Roads are clogged with cars, some crashed and others just stopped, like everyone just disappeared. Back roads aren’t too horrible though, it’s nice seeing something alive, even if it’s just flora.

Nature comes a-calling around the fourth hour of the drive, pulling off at an old mom&pop looking gas station. The bell hanging from a sparkly ribbon jingles as you slowly push the door open, waiting in the entrance for anything, dead or alive.

Nothing comes after a minute or two, so you continue in, looking around the small building; it’s in shockingly good condition. It’s pretty cleaned out, but everything is intact. Something bumps against your foot as you walk through the aisles, making you yelp. It’s just a soda can, you learn when you look down, letting out a shaky chuckle.

“Phew, we’re good,” you exhale aloud, squatting down with a groan to pick up the can. You run a hand over your bump when you stand back, smiling when she kicks against your hand.

To your dismay, the bathrooms are locked and you’d really prefer not to pop a squat in a bush. After a bit of searching, you find the key attached to a fly swatter behind the counter and finally get to do your do.

You confiscate a bottle of hand sanitizer on your way out, slathering your hands in the liquid. As you pass the gas pump you figure it wouldn’t hurt to top off your tank, maybe fill a few cans; you just hope the damn things still have gas.

“Moment of truth…” you mutter as you stick the nozzle into the fuel door, pulling the lever and hoping like hell. Gas starts flowing and you’re elated, bouncing between your feet as you go grab gas cans.

“On the road again, I just can’t wait to get on the road again,” you hum as you start driving again, feeling pretty good about everything.

The sun is shining, backroads are clear, gas tank is full, what isn’t there to feel good about?

Eventually you have to get back onto the highway, but that high and mighty feeling still stays strong through the last five and a half hours of the drive--It doesn’t when you get to Atlanta. If you thought other cities were bad, then you don’t have a clue what to consider Atlanta.

The sun had already set hours ago, so you decide it’s best to just pull over, get some sleep and try to brave the mess that once was Interstate 85. Sleep comes easy, considering; it’s a warm summer night, muggy as all hell though, but you got a good few hours before the sound of horse hooves awoke you--Horse hooves?

You sit up hastily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you look out the window to try and identify where the clopping is coming from. You get eyes on the horse and realize it’s definitely not wild, it’s got a rider.

A guy, you think, adorned with a cowboy hat and a bag of something slung over his shoulder. His head turns and you shrink into the backseat, hoping he didn’t see you. He did, if the way the horse’s footsteps seem come closer with every passing moment; maybe he’s just passing by--He’s not.

Something metal taps against the car window (a gun, it’s a gun, oh no, he’s gonna shoot you), “Hey, I can see you in there; I don’t mean harm,” says a faint country accent.

You have a half thought of reaching for your gun, which stupidly still lays in the front seat, you’d be dead before you grabbed it, so you can be reasonable. You tilt your head up, meet with a man wearing a sheriffs--not a cowboy, okie dokie--hat, something of a hesitant, sheepish smile revealing pearly teeth.

“I’m going to sit up, and turn around.” you inform him, raising hands in surrender as you very slowly sit up. He may’ve said he doesn’t mean harm, but you don’t want to risk any sudden movements.

He watches tentatively and you do the same, staring at each other for a solid minute--maybe he is a cowboy, you swear this could be a scene out of an old western. His eyes rove over you, searching for weapons or you assume. A protective hand instinctively goes to your stomach, shielding your baby from his scorching glare.

“You’re pregnant?” are the next words out of his mouth; they’re quiet, almost worried, you could barely make them out through the glass. It takes you a second to answer, it’s not like you thought nobody would notice, you’re five months pregnant, but you hoped it wouldn’t be super obvious.

“No, I’m just super fat,” you retort, scowling as you roll the window down, “What'd you want, cowboy?”

That makes him snort, shaking his head slightly, “Cowboy? Nah, my name’s Sheriff Rick Grimes, you?”

You continue scrutinizing the man, a deep frown pulling at your lips. He looks friendly enough, looks can be deceiving though. You lean into the front seat, popping open your glove compartment and grab your ID, passing it to--Rick, apparently.

“You’re an officer too?” oh yeah, you forgot you keep your badge in your wallet. You nod slightly, snatching the wallet from his grip, deciding he’s had more than enough time with it.

“Was, an officer.” you correct, watching him just laugh at you like this is a perfectly normal interaction, water cooler chat. “In case you haven’t noticed, the world’s gone to shit, I’m not an officer anymore, you’re not a sheriff, we’re survivors, that’s it.”

“Ain’t you a ray of sunshine?” he quips, raising his hands in mock surrender as he catches sight of your unamused expression. “Well, sunshine, need a ride into the city?”

You go to say ‘no,’ but pause for a moment. A horse is probably easier, fits between cars better, quieter, it’s not a bad idea. Trusting him though? Could be. You could kill him, take the horse, but that’s a little bit much, you reckon.

“Ugh--yeah, a ride would be, huuugh, nice.” you concede, deciding if he were to kill you, it’d be a better way to go than to have your flesh torn from your skin. You wave your hand out the window, getting him to move so you open the car door.

Joints pop as you exit the car, crackling when you stretch and walk over to the passenger side to grab your bag. You tick a mental checklist as you gather your belongings--knife, in your belt, gun, on the other side of your belt, bag, over your shoulder, yep. You’ve got everything.

The metal of the car is warm as you caress her, “I’ll be back, Baby, I promise,” is what you mumble to the car whilst you press a kiss to the roof.

Rick’s eyebrow raises slightly, clearing not understanding the deep bond between a person and their beloved car. All he gets in return is a glare whilst you hike your bag higher onto your shoulder, shuffling over to his horse.

“Well? Let’s go, cowboy, we’re losing daylight!” you nag, causing the sheriff to hurry over, clicking his tongue.

“You’re impatient, anyone ever told you that?” he questions rhetorically as he pulls himself onto the horse, sticking a hand out to help you up.

Your, seemingly permanent, glower is directed at his hand, like it’s a piece of filth as you hoist yourself onto the horse. The animal nickers and starts trotting once more; instinctively your hands go to Rick’s shoulders to keep from falling off the horse.

“Sooo… What’re hoping to find in Atlanta?” Rick asks, looking over his shoulder to look at you. All you do is shrug, not wishing to speak to him--even if you did, you don’t know what you’re hoping to find.

He nods slowly at your non-answer, “I’m tryin’ find my wife, Lori, and my son, Carl,” he informs you, making you feel bad at the fact that he’s opening up.

You blame pregnancy hormones for the guilty feeling, “You having a boy or girl or do you even know?” is the next thing you register from his mouth.

You decide to answer this one, “A girl, found out the day this shit started.” you reveal, throwing him a bone with the extra tidbit. His head bobs along with your words, trying to keep an eye both on you and the busy road.

“I always wanted a little girl. Give Carl someone to protect when he gets older, y’know?”

“Yeah, that makes sense. How old is he--Carl, I mean.”

“‘Bout eleven; shit, by now he’s probably twelve.”

“How’d you get separated from your wife and kid?”

That makes Rick pause, and you start backtracking. It’s none of your business, you shouldn’t have asked. He snickers at your stammering, shaking his head.

“It’s ok, don’t worry; I was just trying to figure out how to word it.” he explains, scratching the back of his neck, “I got shot on duty--none of us realized there was a third guy--sent me into a coma. Next thing I knew I woke up and half the world was dead and my house was cleared out.”

You wince slightly. Damn, that must suck, you didn’t have any friends when this started, so you didn't have anyone to worry about. You couldn’t imagine being in a coma for months then waking up and the world’s ended and your family’s gone.

“Ooh, that’s shitty, man. Really. Hope you find them.” you apologize, awkwardly patting his shoulder.

“That makes two of us.” he agrees, falling into focus as you hit the city limit.

The streets are clearer in the city, apparently nobody made it into the city. You look around, tightening your grip on Rick’s shoulder in worry as you turn the corner. Suddenly the horse is bucking upwards, tossing both of you off of her. It takes a moment to realize why you’re on the floor, but the second you see the horde you're panicking.

“Rick, hey man, up! We’ve gotta go.” you yell, grabbing at his shoulder. Unlike yourself--who luckily landed on your bag--Rick got knocked on his ass, clearly winded as he only stares in horror.

Undead start growling, getting distracted from the now dead horse, stumbling towards fresh meat. It’s cruel, but you leave. You spin, looking for somewhere to run, eyes snagging on a tank. It’s a short sprint to the military vehicle, but a vague struggle to climb up, barreling down the hatch and yanking it shut.

You can barely catch your breath before growling fills your ears, a zombie soldier crawling towards you. Before you can even try to scream, a shot rings out followed by arguably the most painful ringing noise.

Your head whips around, finding Rick holding his ears, gun in one hand. If you could hear yourself think, you’d yell at him. What kind of idiot shoots a gun in a tank? A metal box? He could’ve blown our eardrums out! He also saved your life, so he gets a pass.

“Thanks.” you gasp when the ringing finally subsides, rubbing furiously at your temple. He presents you with a shaky thumbs up, against the opposite wall you’re leaning on. “Sorry for leaving you out there,” you whisper, peeking an eye open to look at him.

“You’re good, I would've done the same if I could’ve--no offense.” he admits, lazily waving a hand through the air.

You chuckle, shaking your head, “Trust me, none taken.”

You’re ready to just pass out here in the tank, yet Rick still seems loaded, drawing the peek-a-boo hatch open, staring at the scene outside. He mutters something you can’t quite hear, relocking the hatch and sliding back down.

“The weapons bag…my walkie…” are the few distraught words you manage to catch, shutting your eyes.

It’s silence between the two of you for a long stretch until the radio crackles. You think you’re hearing things since Rick didn’t seem to hear anything, but it crackles again. Rick hears it this time, nearly getting whiplash with the speed he turned his head.

He looks at you for confirmation, to make sure he’s not crazy. He’s not, unless you’re both hearing things and going insane. You nod, wiggling over to kneel next to him in front of the radio when it crackles a third time; a voice comes through this time.

“Hey, you two. Dumbasses. Y’all in the tank. You guys cozy in there?”

#daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead x you #the walking dead x reader #twd daryl dixon #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x gn!reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon x you #Unnamed

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mrpuzzlessimp420 · 4 months

Text

Mario Simulator (Joke Fic)

Chapter 2

Warnings: Mention of Lobotomy, Blackmailing, Kidnapping, Plotting Murder (none of these are taken seriously)

Ships: Marware, SMG34, BatteryAcid (Mr Puzzles x Orange Juice)-Mentioned

An idea popped into Mario's head, quite surprising as he probably didn't have any braincells left.

A very... unique idea.

You see, there was something actually... unnormal about Mario.

He was what you would call...

A yandere.

Now Mario wasn't your Ayano Aishi "I've never felt ANY emotions before Senpai!" yandere, he was your "though emotionally stunted still had emotions" yandere.

His entire life he had never felt strong emotions before which wasn't questioned by literally anyone as they just thought it was just because he was you know Mario or because he had been implied to be lobotomized in that one episode.

It also wasn't questioned when he started acting coo-coo crazy over Mr Puzzles as they just cracked it up to just be Mario being Mario.

So hiding this fact about himself from others was as easy as forcing your friends to kiss for a tiktok trend.

But like any yandere (insert-literally-any-character) fanfic, Mario had some roadblocks that stopped him from being with his one and only true loves...

Rivals.

Now Mario was used to having rivals, love related or not but Orange Juice was a special case.

Unlike the others, Orange Juice was actually dating Mr Puzzles which meant that if he just straight up murdered him, Mr Puzzles would be depressed, wear grey/black hoodies all the time and be emo and Mario couldn't have that! Being emo was the greatest sin of humanity!

He'd had to think of a plan to get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up or for Orange Juice to be extremely toxic so when he goes to kill him, Puzzles wouldn't be a sad depressed babygirl!

Unluckily for him, Mario was a number 1 lazy boy and didn't want to go through all the effort of figuring something out so he thought of the next best option: get someone to figure it out for him!

Now how would be his unwilling victim?

Saiko?

No she has had to much character development that she would drop kick him into the sun if he asked her to revert back to the days she was crazily obsessing over Boopkins (really though, Boopkins??)

Luigi?

No he was weird in his own way that Mario didn't want to deal with.

SMG3?

Maybe.

He'd probably need some sort of blackmail though.

Luckily for Mario, he always kept a copy of SMG3's gay little diary on hand, just in case.

A loud rigging bell went that snapped Mario out of his thoughts, it was the end of break!

And he didn't get to eat his spaghetti-flavoured apple :(.

Moving on from that, Mario knew what his next move was. At lunch he would kidnap SMG3, blackmail him to make a plan that would get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up, force him to help in the actual plan himself and make him promise to never tell anyone about the situation ever.

Yeah that seemed like a solid plan, what could possibly go wrong?

The next two lessons went by like SMG4 and SMG3's will-they-won't-they relationship that will probably never be canonized because of half of the fandom's homophobicness and their insistence that their brothers.

Right as Mario was considering drowning a random girl in a bucket of full of acid because of how clingy she was being, the bell went signalling it was lunch.

He ran out of the classroom with no time to lose, not even caring that the teacher yelled at him that "the bell doesn't dismiss him, she does" or whatever that crap was.

After searching for what felt like weeks, he finally found SMG3 packing up his stuff in a classroom that was now empty. His face slightly smiling at a image on his emo skull phone.

It was now his chance!

Mario grabbed a black bag out of thin air and, without SMG3 noticing, put it on SMG3's head and tightened it.

Now all he needed to do was find a dark, empty room that no-one would dare walk near to.

The broom closet! (DID YOU GET THE BROOM CLOSET ENDING? THE BROOM CLOSET- The author is then choked to death because they referenced another piece of media)

Dragging SMG3's lifeless body that definitely was losing oxygen by the second and not at all trying to hide himself, waving to others whenever they passed who just chalked it up to be Mario being Mario. When he finally reached the broom closet, he dumped the poor man in it, locking himself and SMG3 inside.

After finding a chair that definitely looked out of place in a broom closet that only held brooms, he placed SMG3 on it and tied his hands behind the chair with some spare rope.

Realising he needed SMG3 to talk during this blackmailing, Mario finally took the black bag off of SMG3's head.

"What the hell Mario?" SMG3 shouted after panting for oxygen for 4 minutes straight, his voice not being heard from the outside as the closet was noise cancelling.

"Mario wants you do to something for him." Mario said sinisterly, which was hard to tell due to his voice only being voice clips.

"Hell no I'll do something for you! Last time I did so I was humiliated on the internet!" SMG3 argued, not wanting anything to do with Mario.

"Well.. Mario has your gay diary sooo.. :D" Mario said, grabbing the copy of SMG3's notebook out of his skirt that has pockets.

SMG3 immediately freezed up, a pink blush spreading around his checks.

"Y-you wouldn't leak that would you?" SMG3 asked, sounding extremely nervous. No one could see his deepest and darkest thoughts and know about his massive crush on SMG4.

"I won't if you do this for me.." Mario stated as menacingly as he could, leaning down to SMG3.

The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife...

"Fine... I'll do it..." He said, giving in to Mario's demands.

"Yippeee!!" Mario squeaked, though he was sad he didn't get to use his brand new cringe memes machine to torture SMG3 with but he could use it at another time.

"What do you want me to do then? Make spaghetti for you? Force me to a dumb challenge? Humiliate myself on camera?" SMG3 asked.

"Help me commit murder." Mario said blankly.

"Yeah sure why not." SMG3 stated, he selled bombs on the black market for a living, murder wasn't that extreme that he wouldn't do it. "Who is it and what's the plan?"

"Actually I wanted you to make a plan for me" Mario rubbed the back of his head, pulling a silly face while doing so.

"Of course you did.." He said, not surprised at all.

"Well to be honest, I need your help to get Orange Juice and Mr Puzzles to break up so I can go kill Orange Juice." Mario stated, extremely casually.

"Honestly wouldn't take you for a yandere type of guy"

"The author's friend thought it be funny."

"Well, I've already thought of some ideas so let's plan this!"

30 minutes later and they had already made a Plan A, a Plan B for if it goes wrong, a Plan C etc. Now all they needed to do was set it into motion...

(part 3 coming whenever I feel like it babieee-)

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flightfoot · 1 year

Note

What would you consider the worst case of "Saltinette" you've read?

The one where, as far as I remember, all the class had actually done was be dismissive of Saltinette's allegations that Lila was a liar, and Adrien had advised her that it wasn't a big deal that Lila was lying since she wasn't hurting anyone, so it was best to just let it go.

So, sane person that she was, she decided to make the class WANT to see through Lila's lies by abusing her power as class rep to get some individual classmate to help Lila all the time, until they got tired of being taken advantage of and started gathering evidence of Lila's lies to present to Saltinette.

At which point she gaslit them about how they were targeting poor, disabled Lila, and pressured them to keep silent about their suspicions.

She then repeated this for everyone in class, until they all hated Lila and hated being taken advantage of, but stayed silent due to Saltinette's manipulations, all for Saltinette's personal satisfaction at seeing them suffer.

Of course this didn't apply to Adrien, so she did something different with him. She once again abused her power as class rep, seating him next to Lila all the time, so that Lila could touch him and sexually harass him, and Saltinette could enjoy watching him suffer at Lila's hands, knowing that he wouldn't speak up.

Yeaaaah, this was the fic (or ficlet more like, I think it was more of an outline of a fic than an actual one), that broke any sort of consideration I may have given to Saltinette having a point. Because if THIS was what was considered the good, "true" version of Marinette, the ideal version, what the show SHOULD be doing with her, then I want no part of it. I had to rewatch the show and remind myself that Marinette and Saltinette were entirely different characters, because this kind of crap with Saltinette made Saltinette into a worse person than Lila was. At least Lila's not this self-righteous and hypocritical.

If Marinette was actually the type of person to do things like this, then she'd fully deserve to have all her friends desert her.

#ask #ml fandom salt

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wishbonedean · 5 months

Text

One thing of note is Dean's conversation with Jo.

JO Shut up. You carry all kinds of crap you don't have to, Dean. It kinda gets clearer when you're dead. DEAN Well, in that case, you should be able to see that I am 90%... crap. I get rid of that, what then? JO You really want to die not knowing?

Dean rarely gives himself the opportunity to be self-reflective except, often, when he or another is about to die. He's self-aware. He knows he's performing, and what gets me is that he doesn't even know what he's covering up, and he literally does not know *what* he's missing out on, and he's prepared to die not knowing (bc he feels guilty enough to think he doesn't even deserve the opportunity to get to know himself on a deeper level). I love that Jo calls him out on this and encourages him to let go of the "crap" - including a clear acknowledgement that she does not blame him at all for her death - so he can experience himself without all of that weighing him down. His is spending 90% of the time playing this role that has mostly been cultivated for him by John, and Jo prompts him to recognize he is living a half life - how can you know what's missing if you never knew what was there, you never were brave enough to look?

This conversation highlights that Dean has *not* achieved his final form - far from it, he's admitted he's 90% performative bs. He is *not* the Dean we see on screen for nearly half the run-time of the show, or at least he doesn't feel like it, bc while he definitely *is* that Dean, it's not the complete picture, we only see the 10% of him that manages to shine through. And thanks to all the wonderful Jacting Joices, we know that Dean has *plenty* of feelings that he doesn't let on to even those closest to him - there's never *time* to navigate his own feelings bc the hits keep coming relentlessly, not to mention he's on the heels of season 6 where literally all of his closest loved ones have lied to and belittled him, and made choices on his behalf without his say so. So he takes the path of least resistance and locks up his identity/exploration behind a persona he can be safe in, but in taking the path of least resistance, he resigns himself to living a life *of* resistance, the mask *must* be maintained, and he can *not* explore until it is safe to do so (but how can he ever know if it's safe?). It just break my heart to see Dean *aware* that he has barely scratched the surface of who he really is - he mentions never getting to be a kid in this episode as well - and yet he's ready to accept such a painfully short and unfulfilled life as though he doesn't deserve his life. He is not okay, not at all.

Also (not necessarily related to the above), Sam tells Dean that his time in Hell helps him to not feel guilty because he's paid for it already. But the difference in their hell experiences is that Sam never tortured anyone. In this episode, it doesn't *matter* of Dean is guilty or not, it's about whether *he* thinks he's guilty, and there's no way this guy can treat his time in hell as penance when he "chose" to torture others to spare himself. He is not sold on this and jokes with Sam a bit about it, but we end the episode with him not really achieving any sort of respite. He continues to lie to Sam about killing Amy in the previous episode, the most recent kill he feels most guilty about, and unlike Jo and Sam whose deaths he could acknowledge weren't necessarily on his head, there was no working around Amy's death - he killed her, *in front of her child*. I have my own opinions about Amy, but regardless, Dean feels guilty and that's all that really matters.

#spn 7x4 #a couple of queers watch supernatural #that's my emotional support fictional character #dean is bi #spn 07x04 #Dean winchester character study #supernatural #spn rewatch #>?[#?_ ][@/

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saintheartwing · 1 year

Text

So. The "Lois being mad at Clark for Not Admitting He's Superman" Thing Got Resolved and...

Okay, I'm glad Lois and Clark made up, but they didn't REALLY address the hypocrisy issue. I had a feeling they wouldn't. Otherwise, I enjoyed the episode quite a bit, especially finding out Jimmy's known all this time. Now...

FULL SPOILERS BELOW. BEWARE.

...

...you ready?

Good.

The episode begins with them realizing Jimmy is just plain GONE. Clark swept the campsite. The forest. No sign. He's not answering their phone calls. Lois agrees to go help find him, but NOT cuz she wants to be around Clark. But because Jimmy needs them. During it, she reveals she knows a ton about tracking people through the woods cuz her dad took her on wilderness survival weekends.

If you know anything about the comics, you'll know what this is leading up to. Her dad wasn't just being all super prepared...her dad wasn't just military. He's General Lane. He's the bad guy in charge of Task Force X.

They find his phone and...holy crap! Bigfoot is real and it kidnapped Jimmy! Well...not exactly. It's Monsieur Mallah and the Brain.

Jimmy however is actually super psyched that he's gonna be killed by a talking French gorilla and a brain-robot thing that can hover. Mallah and him bond, Jimmy getting to look around the laboratory the two came from. The Brain was a human, Mallah an ordinary gorilla, and they were in Cadmus's research lab, designed not around big fancy weapons, but around more "make cool stuff" in that regard, like mutants, or analyzing portals to other worlds, and of course in Mallah's case...creating superintelligent gorillas. Task Force X however came in and tried to shut it all down, a black hole sort of went off and it destroyed the Brain's body, but Mallah saved his...well...brain.

Meanwhile, Clark and Lois find a graveyard of dead soldiers. They tried to get in and failed miserably. And why? Well...see...that alien tech that keeps popping up got left behind. And it activates when Clark accidentally bumps over it with his foot. Worse still, Mallah and the Brain have been shielding themselves, keeping hidden with a red sun energy generator...which means Clark's powers aren't working well.

But Lois wants to know why Clark has never even told JIMMY the truth, when Jimmy's known even longer after Clark admits he's told Lois more about himself than anyone. She asks "Were your feelings towards me a lie" and he asks how she can think that...juuuuuuust before the robot swarms show up to get them.

They manage to barely get away but Clark takes an onslaught of lasers to his chest, blowing his clothing off except his pants and...

Well...hot damn. Super abs on display.

Seeing this, Lois is obviously concerned. She asks how he knew he was bulletproof and he says "I didn't. I just knew YOU weren't". Lois is now, obviously, feeling guilty about doubting what Clark had told her before and all that.

Through all this, Jimmy's been finding more and more secrets of the Brain and Mallah. They had said the black hole generator there had been shut down...but they kiiiinda sorta set it off to begin with to fake their deaths and cover their escape, and they've got it working again to try and stabilize it, so they can go to another dimension where they can live in peace.

So they've sort of...kiiiinda lied a LITTLE about the circumstances of how they ended up here. But hey, as long as the power stays on-

Theeeeen the power fluctuates as Clark barely manages to get the big steel front doors open. At first it looks like Mallah and the Brain are gonna fight, but then Jimmy insists they talk it out. Clark and Lois apologize for ignoring Jimmy and not going on the camping trip with him and Clark's about to tell him the truth of him being Superman, but Jimmy is like "I KNOW you're Superman, you tore the handle off our door at college, I've known all this time". And he's also mad that Lois was told before he was. Though technically Lois wasn't "told", she found out. But Clark says they have robots chasing them, can they discuss this later?

They all try to fight them off, and we learn they're "OMACS", the head fighting force of Task Force X, which attacked Mallah and Brain years ago. Things look bad cuz Clark's powers are on the fritz and during the firefight Jimmy and Lois ask why Clark didn't just tell the truth and he says he was scared.

"All I've ever wanted was to be normal...I don't want you to treat me like an alien. I just want to be your friend."

Jimmy tells him he doesn't have to worry, they're friends with him cuz of WHO he is, not WHAT. And Lois says she just wants him to be open with them. This...gives Mallah an idea. "Open"! They've got to get the black hole open to stabilize it...and they open it enough to suck in the robots, and Clark's JUST able to hold on long enough to keep them steady while the black hole is then stabilized.

With the robots gone, Mallah and Brain decide they have to leave and it's clear Lois and Clark have patched their relationship up as they hold hands. Brain brings up how the tech, the red sun radiation field, the robots...all of it reacted to HIM. Cadmus set up shop there around 22 years ago...the same time Clark landed on Earth. All of this has to do with him, and this means the head of Task Force X is gunning for him, and he's a super patriot who would blot the sun out if he thought it would help his nation. He's got to be careful.

Not long after, General Lane shows up, realizing the place was recently vacated. SOMEBODY'S been there...and not long ago. But there's still a bunch of tech lying around and he wants Dr. Ivo, his prisoner, to work on putting it to use...to destroy Superman.

Heyyy, wait a minute, this guy's hair was all gone last time we saw him. How'd he get it back?

Still...I liked the episode a lot. I was a bit annoyed they never addressed the whole hypocrisy argument, but as long as Lois doesn't KEEP doing things like stealing people's IDs to sneak into places or the like, aka, lying to get a story, AFTER promising Clark no more lies, then it should be fine.

#my adventures with superman #Superman #Lois #Clark #jimmy olsen #cartoons #dc comics

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littleoddwriter · 6 months

Text

Update:

it's been a little over 3 weeks and... I had to quit the clinic/leave early. which obviously derails the plans I've had completely. which is annoying and very frustrating and elicited feelings & thoughts I hate to have. but it was the right decision. this clinic was horrible for me and only made me more unstable with every day that I was there (didn't think that was possible, lol).

(details and a bit of a rant under the cut)

while, usually, it makes sense for things to get a little worse first before it gets better, this was not the case here. I didn't feel comfortable with the staff. the doctors and therapists seemed very dismissive and hectic to me. the organisation and communication were crap. (like... how the fuck do I have five doctors/therapists in a room with me, discussing what meds to give me, only for them to not have a single clue about that a week later (after not giving me the meds because they Forgot...) and not believe me when I repeated what THEY told me. only for the meds to have lactose in them (I'm lactose intolerant) and so of course I reacted (they KNEW I had an issue with lactose and still gave them to me. I wouldn't even have known what was in them if I hadn't looked up the package insert online...) like what the actual fucking fuck). I've been to 2 clinics before and it was far better there, which is great and I'm glad I had something to compare my experience there to because sometimes I thought I might be overreacting, but I explained it to both of my social workers independently and they both agreed that it was Not Good. I already felt that way on my very first day there, but decided to give them the benefit of the doubt and just wait and see for two weeks at least. but alas, it only got worse for me. I also sat down with one of the doctors and one of the therapists and my social worker last week to talk my issues and my fears through with them; but again, they just didn't even try to help. (basically, what that talk came down to was that "[they] can't do more than what [they're] doing already (virtually Nothing) and it's solely on me to make the best of it or quit otherwise". obviously, I know that myself. I was looking for some guidance and help. some sort of advice. maybe a recommendation for someplace else. just... something. i explicitly asked for it, too. and I would have gotten that at those two other clinics I went to before because they actually cared about helping me. just for comparison's sake. instead, I was busy explaining my issues (more than I listed here, and I didn't exactly say that I had issues with the staff because duh but y'know, there were enough other issues that came up anyway) three times to make them somewhat 'understand' and have my social worker reiterate how badly I've been doing and how much help I need and that I'm feeling very helpless and alone; even while I'm there.)

for anyone that ever considers going to a mental health clinic: you should feel like you can actually talk to somebody if needed. you should feel safe. you should feel like you'll be caught when falling. you should never feel like you have to manage on your own completely. mental hospitals are for support and management. the staff should be a shoulder to lean on, a listening ear, a guiding hand, a safe haven that you can practice in/with. if that is not what you encounter at the hospital, you should look for a different one (if possible).

anyway. I've been debating with myself for over a week whether or not I should actually quit and I couldn't really decide until this Tuesday. that was the first day I was back at the clinic after five whole days off (because of the holidays), and it was like Hell on earth. it only showed me that if I had to do this every day for 3 to 5 more weeks, I'd break down completely and can go to a closed psychiatry right after, which is exactly what I've been trying to prevent with this clinic, of course. that's how bad it'd been for me there.

something that's been frustrating me most about this clinic and the dismissiveness of the staff I encountered, though, is that they were very clearly not equipped for a patient like me (somebody with severe symptoms, several different disorders, unprocessed traumas, etc.), and that they should have felt responsible enough to tell me that when I came in for a first talk in December to be put on the waiting list for a spot at the clinic. the whole point of this first talk is to assess whether or not this clinic is the right space for me, if they are equipped for somebody like me. instead they just waved me through and now I was forced to have that realisation on my own and become increasingly angry toward the staff because it's very irresponsible of them. most other patients I encountered there had depression, anxiety, and/or burn-out and were already on their way to getting better. and this clinic helped them gain back control, learn to manage better, etc. and for a lot of them it helped them. that's great and I'm happy for them! but it's very clear that that is what this clinic is truly for. not for someone like me. and they know that, in my opinion, they should know that, at least. and they should have told me to look for a different clinic instead because this wasn't the one for me. (but from what I've been told by other patients they really just let anyone in there...)

my social workers and I are working on making sure I can find something else (not a clinic for now tho). hopefully, I can get stabilised with the different approach we've been looking into, so I can do the second clinic stay (at the one I've been to before) I've mentioned in my original post.

anyway... that's the update. I wish it was a happier/more optimistic one. but alas, maybe next time!

take care! <3

#i never quit anything unless i absolutely have to because it'd kill me otherwise (not exaggerating) lol i hate it hereee #again this is mostly for myself to look back on because sometimes i do treat my blog like a journal lol #but in case somebody was actually curious about how it's been going... dhhskfdhkjhsk sorry about the rant in that case lmfao #also if anyone is reading this and wondering why i make the staff responsible for not telling me to look for sth else immediately:#i've been turned away from several clinics & therapists before for the same reasons (that they weren't equipped for me)#it IS their responsibility to assess that and tell you that upfront. at least in my experiences of the past 5 years it was...#because if they actually care about helping people they'll know their part in possibly making things worse for someone-#-if they were to be without the right care. that's the whole point after all #jesse.talks

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messbianarts · 2 years

Text

holy crap i’ve had this fic about bubbles’ arrival in snaxburg for like a month or two and completely forgot to post it??? well here it is now!!!

~~~

“Now listen, it ain’t like I got a problem with y’all comin’ in and takin’ some sauce. That’s why the dang farm is here. As long as you let me know so I know when I need t’replant, y’all can help yourselves.” Wambus spoke, arms folded against his chest. “However. Comin’ in at midnight and making a massive ruckus and throwin’ dirt all around is unacceptable. You don’t live in a barn.”

“I-“

“‘Cept for Gramble.” He rolled his eyes. “Which, speakin of, don’t think yer off my radar. These tracks are Gramble sized, and I know you sleepwalk.”

“I sleepWALK, Wambus! I don’t sleepeat or sleepdig!” Gramble huffed. “It could be anything, you know that Bugsnax go crazy for sauce.”

“Hmm… nope-its probably not a Bugsnax..” Triffany spoke, looking at the paw prints. “Those’re definitely Grumpus prints.”

“See? Maybe you should secure yo-“

“But. I don’t think its Gramble.” Triffanny shook her head.

“There’s no Bugsnax tracks… so it’s certainly not the creature from then…” Triffanny shook her head. “But there’s the front paws. Whoever this is would be able to run on all fours. Which eliminates…. Basically anyone.”

“I can run on all fours! I’ve got the core strength for it!” Chandlo blurted.

“Do you run on all fours….?” Snorpy sounded more confused than anything.

“Well… uh… no, but- I could.”

“So we have some sort of… quadrupedal Grumpus on our paws?” Floofty raised a brow.

“It’s the queen of Bugsnax!” Wiggle exclaimed. “She’s moved on from just spooking us, she’s stealing our crops! Next, she’ll nab us Grumpuses!”

“I highly doubt that.” Floofty rolled their eyes. “Remember, no Bugsnax tracks, just Grumpus ones. They are not even snakified, you ignoramus.”

“I believe we should trap it.” Snorpy said. “A simple net trap should do. Most Grumpus claws can’t get through them.”

“Not a bad idea…” Wambus nodded. “Could ya whip up one of those to catch whatever varmint is messing with the crops?”

“Mhm. If it is some sort of Grumpus coming for us, then I’d be worried… but the idea of a Bugsnax taking the form of a Grumpus is even more terrifying.” Snorpy shivered. “If its some sort of Grumpinati scheme, we should act fast.”

“Best to nip this in the bud, I guess.” Filbo spoke, as the ‘meeting’ dispersed.

~~~

Snaxburg awoke to blaring alarms.

Seems Snorpy had spared no detail in the trap…

The Grumpuses quickly rushed towards the sauce farm, freezing in shock and confusion.

Instead of a bugsnax or some sort of shapeshifer, an ornery Grumpus pup was squirming in the net. Its blue fur was matted and tangled, and a few small cuts and scrapes littered its body. However, judging by its stained paws, they’d caught their culprit.

“Holy Grump, is that a kid?” Chandlo said as Wambus brought down the net.

“Well I’ll be damned,” he opened the net, trying to pick up the little Grumpus.

However, the little one lunged for his arm and bit. Hard.

He shouted and dropped the net, giving the pup the chance to escape as Wambus shouted all kinds of profanities.

“Catch it!” Snorpy shouted, as some of the Grumpuses ran past the pup. Others decided to run towards the exits of Snaxburg to block them.

To say it was pure chaos would be an understatement.

“Cmon! Get it!"

“Ow! It bit me too!”

“Almost had it!”

“Ugh, how is it slippery?!”

“It scratched my leg!”

“I’ve got it!” Chandlo shouted. “Nope- nope, don’t bite me, lil dude. You don’t need to squirm,”

He managed to pin the little grumpuses arms to its side as he walked back to the center of town.

The others walked back, still cautious just in case it managed to escape, but escaping from one of Chandlo’s bear hugs bordered on impossible even for the strongest of Grumpuses.

As Wambus and Floofty were bandaging and disinfecting themselves from the bites, Triffanny walked forwards.

“That’s a little kid." She muttered, kneeling down to its level a little. “Hi there, I’m sorry we were a little rough with you. We just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

She gently moved the little one’s messy hair out of their eyes. “Do you have a name?”

They thought for a moment, slightly kicking their legs. “Bubbles Dinkypop. But I like just Bubbles.”

“Hi, Bubbles.” Triffanny smiled. “Welcome to Snaxburg, I’m Triffanny. This is Chandlo, Wambus, Floofty, Filbo, Gramble, Beffica, Cromblo, Wiggle, Shelda, and Snorpy.”

“Tha’s…. Tha’sa lot of names.” Bubbles muttered

“Yeah, bit of a big group.” She shrugged. “But there’s safety in numbers.”

“Would- would you like to stay?" Filbo said. “I mean, you’re a little grumpus. I’m sure you’ve been doing great fending for yourself, but you don’t have to do that. We’d be happy to help you.”

“I think you staying here would be for the best. Little grumps like you aren’t supposed to be fighting for their life just to survive on a harsh island.” Triffany said. “It’ll be much easier for you here.”

“Yeah, we’d be real mean if we just made a little’un like you fend for yourself when we’ve got a cozy town,” Gramble said in agreement as he checked to see if any of his Bugsnax had gotten out during the chaos.

“Plus! I’ve been really wanting to build another hut, and making a little Grump hut is just the perfect project for that!” Chandlo grinned, patting the little Grumpus’ head.

“So, whaddaya say?”

They looked down at the ground for a minute, thinking.

“I… can really stay?”

“Of course!” Triffanny smiled. “I wouldn’t pull your leg about this. Howsabout you get some rest, alright? Think we could all use it after the hubbub.”

“M’sorry, Triff. I’m just… m’worried about takin’ this kid in.” Wambus said, leaning on the fence. Bubbles, along with the other Grumpuses, had already gone back to sleep after their injuries had been taken care of.

“She was scared, Wambus.” Triffany spoke softly, careful not to wake the others. “She was caught in a net surrounded by strange Grumpuses. Biting is a pretty normal reaction.”

“It’s… not really the biting thing.” He shrugged. “Not anymore, at least, even though it hurt like hell. Honestly, I think she could be great at fendin’ off Bugsnax from the farm.” Wambus chuckled softly, before his expression became somber again. “But… I mean, she’s a random kid, Triff. What if her parents are lookin’ for her? Or… if Lizbert comes back, and she sees a completely new Grumpus she’s probably never met-“

“If her parents are looking for her, then this is the best place for her to be.” Triffany reassured, taking off her hat to make the humid night air a bit more tolerable. “But… Lizbert always said, the more the merrier, when it came to Snaxburg. I mean, she even said if we ever had a kid, they’d be more than welcome here.”

Wambus’ face shifted. “S’pose so…” he muttered, but his voice had a clear lump in his throat.

“Are you alright, Wambus…?” Triffany gently set her paw on his.

“I… just.. I don’t know how to feel, Triffy.” He sighed. “It’s…it’s not every day a child- a child you’ve been wantin’ for years and had given up on- falls into your lap. But I guess its just- not the way I expected it to be. I dunno, it was messy, she’s probably scared a’ me… we don’t know if she’ll be able to stay..”

Triffany sighed, leaning on his shoulder. “We don’t know that. We don’t know anything. But… let’s just try to make the best of it, alright?” She smiled softly. “Even if it’s short-lived, let’s just see how things go and enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Alright, I promise.” He gently hugged her. “We’ll do our best, just like we always do.”

~~~

so yeah!! hope you liked it! this was kinda my first time writing the grumpuses and it was an absolute blast lol

#bugsnax #bugsnax oc #bugsnax wambus #bugsnax triffany #triffany lottablog #wambus troubleham #bugsnax fanfiction

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razieltwelve · 2 years

Text

Escort (Final Rose)

"How do you like your escort, kid?” Fluffy asked.

Karin glanced over at the Minister of Settlement. The uplifted cat was wearing clothing that was modified for his feline form. Like many uplifted animals, he didn’t usually bother, but uplifted animals were a rarity in the Milky Way Galaxy. It was better he distinguish himself in some way, rather than get confused with a regular cat.

“It might be a bit excessive,” she murmured.

Fluffy smirked. His tail swished lazily through the air as he hopped off one of the consoles on the bridge and settled into her lap. “Well, you are a princess, and you are technically second in line for the throne. I’d be worried you’d lost your mother’s favour if she sent anything less.”

Karin’s lips twitched. “I do suppose that this is mother’s way of looking out for me while I’m in another galaxy.”

Both she and Fluffy were aboard the super dreadnought Claw of the Yun, and they were accompanied by a full battle group that consisted of carriers, cruisers, destroyers, and frigates. It was, bluntly speaking, more than enough to subjugate the entire Systems Alliance.

Her mother had told her in no uncertain terms that wherever she went, this battle group would follow. Fluffy had later added, privately of course, that the whole battle group was under orders to sacrifice themselves to ensure her escape if necessary. In fact, he was under orders to do the same although it was unclear what exactly an uplifted cat could do if they came across a foe strong enough to fight its way through an entire battle group.

She even had her own honour guard who were to go with her whenever she left the ship. Lord Spikeborough and Nessa were both familiar with the members of that guard, and they both spoke very highly of the people her mother had dispatched to see to her safety. Her hedgehog had been particularly pleased by the deployment of Lord Quillingbast, a hedgehog who had come third behind his father and Lord Spikebatten in the quest to become her mother’s hedgehog.

“Heh.” Fluffy closed his eyes and nudged her hand until she gave him a scratch behind his ears. “Things like this have meaning, kid. The escort you get is a sign of your mother’s opinion of you. If you’d gotten a crappy escort, it would mean that your mother is mad at you. An escort of this size and with these sorts of people in it is a clear demonstration of her favour.” He chortled. “Just wait until we get to Systems Alliance territory. You’re going to be inundated with people trying to get friendly.”

Karin’s nose wrinkled, and both her hedgehog and her maid exchanged grins. “Please, don’t remind me. That is one part I’m not looking forward to.”

As thrilling as it was to visit another galaxy and get an opportunity to demonstrate her abilities, the thought of dealing with people desperate to get at her mother through her was less than pleasing. She dealt with it enough in the Empire, but her position in the Department of Settlement kept it to a minimum.

Simply put, Fluffy did not put up with crap like that, and anyone who tried was likely to get clawed. However, since she was also here as a diplomat, a certain level of that kind of behaviour was unavoidable. It was completely understandable too.

Those who had forged links with the Empire and Alliance had prospered mightily since the downfall of the Reapers. Her Dia-Farron tutor had used the case of Jane Shepard as an example. Shepard had partnered with the Dia-Farron on several initiatives, using her influence in the Systems Alliance to help her relatives do what they did best.

As a result, Shepard was quietly one of the wealthiest people within the Systems Alliance, and she could call upon any number of favours as a result of her influence. Perhaps most importantly, she had been designated by the Dia-Farron as a person whose success they were personally invested in. As a result, if Shepard came under attack, they would move to defend her.

Indeed, her tutor had been quite amused when explaining to her how Shepard’s children had been given access to Dia-Farron tutors of their own. Shepard had, apparently, not realised how big a deal that was, seeing it as a purely friendly gesture from the Dia-Farrons. However, it was far more than that. It was a public statement by the Dia-Farron to others from the Remnant Galaxy.

Shepard was one of theirs, so anyone who wanted to come after her or her family needed to think long and hard about it.

“Have you given thought to the matter your mother entrusted to you?” Nessa asked.

“I have.” Karin’s brows furrowed. “I do think it’s worth investigating.”

The Systems Alliance was a democracy. Much like the Federation this came with both strengths and weaknesses. They had solid intelligence that there would be a change of administration soon, largely due to the retirement of several prominent figures within the Systems Alliance.

This would open the way for a changing of the guard. Her mother had asked her to take the measure of several potential leaders. She wanted to know which were likely to be most favourable toward the Empire and which were likely to adopt a more isolated approach. She had no doubt that her mother would be relying on information from many other sources before deciding which candidates they would support, but it was nice to know her mother wanted to know what she thought.

“I’ll have plenty of opportunities. We’ll be meeting most of them in the course of my duties here, and I’m sure we could arrange meetings with the others.”

Lord Spikeborough chuffed and nodded toward the holographic display. They had arrived at the Sol System, home to Earth.

On her lap, Fluffy got up and straightened his clothing.

“Time to look awesome,” the cat said.

#final effect #fanfiction #fluffy fe #karin #nessa #lord spikeborough

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dgcatanisiri · 2 years

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A week post move out and it's still not quite sinking in fully.

Like I think part of it is that there was this hope or expectation that the results would be something a little more tangible sooner. Y'know, the money that was supposed to come in for that has already been earmarked for things (cuz mom's car needs a new engine, which is ten thousand bucks, which eats that up immediately, and then there were a couple of bills that had been there for a while that she wanted to pay off since they related to services rendered about the house...). That means that we can't even buy ourselves something nice just yet (of course, that also leads to an argument surrounding the credit card, since she tends to pay off the minimum amount on that, which just eats the interest, not the principle, and so means we can't use the card in case of emergency...).

Also, after five years, I've kinda built up the habit of 'we need to go in once or twice a week to pick up mom's mail,' so in not not doing that, I keep feeling like we're forgetting to do something.

And then there's the part of me that's all just 'I want to see what these people who moved in are doing to my home.' But, of course, it's NOT my home anymore, and I have no right or business going there and saying 'hey, show me everything!'

*sigh* I'll adjust, eventually. But I AM worried that my mother and my aunt will end up coming to blows because of all the junk my mother just... ISN'T going through from the house - mom has a chair she moves around in, she doesn't see a problem with STUFF in every possible seat in the house, she doesn't entertain guests while my aunt is an absolute host to anyone who comes over, and, of course, there's the hoarding tendencies where we've found papers that are older than the dog (and I mean the one who died four years ago and we got my senior year of high school, let alone the other two) amid all this crap that serve no purpose for anyone...

Like yeah, there's a lot of stuff that SHOULD just get straightforward tossed into the garbage bin we rented (and will be picked up on Monday because that's all the time we rented it for), but we still need to go through this stuff because some of it is personal documents that need to be shredded!

And yeah, about 90% of all the crap to sort through IS hers. But we can only really make her go through so much at one time before she starts complaining and it's just... This is your problem, of your own creation, why are you complaining to us? You need to resolve it!

But that's really the thing with her. HER problems always become OUR problems, where WE have to resolve it, and she complains whether we do or don't help her - and, in not helping her, we're STILL stuck with the problem. Cuz she'll just leave it there and ignore it, and that's not actually going to help with this stuff!

We really can't store this for long. But if she doesn't make progress, we're stuck with it.

#dg gets personal #dg has mother issues

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kidmachinate · 10 months

Text

Privilege & Double Standards

This may be one of the most personal things I share on here with very little to mask with some sort of gaming reference outside of the picture used. Knowing I may have said this before, this likely will be the case more so than the last time I did. Short intro done, let's get into it.

We despise money, even though it is a mere tool. We love having it but then criticize others that also have it. Many times it comes down to how they acquire it. Whether they were born with a silver spoon in their mouth. I've always bounced between lower and middle class and have been fortunate enough to never grow up poor. Lots of status being talked about huh? What if I told you this all means nothing?

Knowing people that seem to not understand how to "check their privilege, I find myself caring less about how they got their funds and much more about how they chose to actually use it. They grow up in such a way and therefore must follow a certain narrative on how money is to be used, right? Come out of the box. It's okay. It doesn't have to be that way. Some "poor" people are know are kinder than others I know with plenty of money to toss around, so clearly status isn't the issue and we desperately need to stop treating it as such. While I do find myself guilty as charged as well from time to time saying "man if I had x amount of money" or "must be nice" instead of being happy for someone, I try my best to take my own advice here and think twice. Do I dislike the situation based on the measuring stick of wealth? Or do I dislike it because I've seen how the person behaves when they actually have money several times over, and they don't seem to care about giving back? The latter is far more important to me. The haves and have nots aren't something I care about. Given the same tools, I'd still go the route of budget and whatever is leftover, enhance my future or someone else's. Why not both? Money saved instead of getting a luxury item in favor of something practical plus a good time for me and/or a group of people is more valuable than being a status symbol for the Internet or people that probably don't even like or care for me in the way I may for them. This conversation gets more complex of course when you consider why many rich people donate to charities.

I never understood why money itself is so "evil" and how dare we talk about it. We literally need it for our day to day lives. Don't go getting financially naked with just anyone though. Getting caught with your pants down for people to just laugh at you or maybe worse, ignore you entirely, is never a good feeling. In that case maybe you do keep it to yourself. Privilege however isn't entirely just money. How about a manager that somehow got where they are and can literally afford to barely if ever be around but then make you go through hoops to get a day off or a remote work day. Do they have to go through these hoops? Probably not. Do they consider they were once in your position? If they are good boss, they will. If not, have fun not being able to focus on life sometimes during work hours. How about choices on where to go work due to the connections? Meanwhile others have to filter through various (probably crap) job openings? How about having a car vs not having one? Imagine knowing someone you care about not having a car and you know they need groceries and just being like nah, can't help you. You don't owe anyone anything, sure, but do your feelings go out the window directly because of money or job status? No. It's the person. Not the money, not the degree, not the job status.

Taking all this at face value, this makes you rethink perhaps people you may know and what you may want to give to a person. How often you may want to hang out. What kind of connection you will have. If you consider doing a nice thing for from time to time. Ok the flip side, sometimes you're shocked about who comes through for you or why. You'd be shocked at people taking a hard stance towards "this person has all this stuff and I don't", but then just are perfectly fine with handouts to the point where they don't look nearly as poor as they are putting out there. Furthermore, let's also not entertain conversations to improve this for ourselves and better well being. Let's run a narrative instead of how bad things are, when they actually aren't, for the sake of your reputation. Something else that doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things. This all sounds bad doesn't it?

I don't think people are always bad alongside thinking there are many out there that just suck. Thing is, it isn't my default. It's not like my thinking when I go driving any day that ends in Y in Florida. You could say this is a double standard. You'd be right. Instead of making a snap judgment, I'm willing to look at the whole situation. Rich or poor, if someone isn't gonna help me, I'm still in the same situation, and how much they have doesn't change that. It is why it is easy for me personally to ignore politics. Without getting into specifics, I think many can agree both recent Presidents have been not so great in the U.S. for their own reasons. I'm allowed to think this without having to get into a conversation about which is the greater evil. I can but I don't have to. We're focused on the wrong things. This is where it gets tricky and somewhat self centered.

You have to focus on you. What about everyone else? Hopefully you and your spouse are mostly on the same page for moving forward. Now what? Friends and Family. Take the salary out of the equation. Who would have your back and it doesn't even have to be based on money at all? Keep that short list. Keep the rest at arms length or ditch where necessary. It sounds mean, but you have to do this for your own good. When we do this however, we don't reserve space to talk crap about them later. If you're doing that you haven't come to terms yet and/or are wasting time on what doesn't matter. No one gets respect for being a keyboard warrior and you just wasted time and emotional energy. Imagine being a keyboard warrior all day and not having to pay bills. Probably a bad person, right? Maybe. How about if you get this person out and with others. Are they nurturing? Since they have no bills essentially, will they pay for themselves and/or support someone who might not being able to afford something since they have the privilege to do so?

People are allowed to live their own lives. So are you. Focus more on how you're living yours and ones that enrich yours. There may be things outside of this that upset you, but ultimately has nothing to do with you. Let it go and focus on your goals and your tribe. We'd love a Black and White world but it is rarely if ever that simple. I just don't know or care to keep looking beneath the surface as I have with others, when they have shown hard proof that they don't care about others or me (if trying to maintain a close relationship with them) time and time again. I believe both in seeing the greater good in someone, alongside kicking someone to the curb. If they show their hand, believe it. Believe more in your goals and your tribe. Having been through two work roles this year and some lost or changing friend relationships, you can get more than ever I'm focused on the tool (money) to push forward. This can be used to strengthen relationships within the tribe and my future which includes my lovely partner. Priorities. We are in desperate need for a respec when it comes to those. Start by turning off some notifications on what you're probably reading this on. Your phone.

/rant

#privilege #double standards #life #choices #priorities

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helleanorlance · 1 year

Text

I have developed a new method for cleaning up clutter that seems to actually be working, so I thought I would share it in case there is anyone else out there who really struggles with this. It's probably going to be kind of long, so I'll put the rest under a cut.

I will start by saying: I am not good at cleaning. I am a messy person. My living space is pretty much always chaos, in part because of my natural tendencies and in part due to mental illness. And I am not the kind of person who is saying "Oh, I'm so messy" and in reality I have a few things tossed on a chair and a pair of shoes in the middle of the floor. I am the kind of messy that involves mountains.

And I hate living that way. I have been trying to get my bedroom in order for literal years and I have not been able to do it. I tend to get overwhelmed trying to put things away because I don't know where they should go, or I need to rearrange something, or a whole host of other reasons.

So I've stopped trying to put things away. Instead, I've started going through my room like it's a grid, and sorting every single thing into a bag or a box. I don't worry about where something goes, I just worry about what it is. Is it clothing? It goes in the clothing bag, unless it's dirty, in which case is goes in the laundry bag. Decor? There's a box for that. Unopened mail that you feel like you should look at to make sure it's not important? There's a bag for that, too.

There is one key elements to making this work: every single thing MUST go into a bag or box. You cannot put anything to the side to deal with later. If it doesn't fit into any of your bags, start a new one. It does not matter how many bags you have, it just matters that everything gets sorted in some way. You can even have a bag of "things I don't know what to do with".

I haven't gotten through everything, so I cannot promise that this will work. And obviously, everyone is different. And then, of course, this might be in all of the books about cleaning your house and it's obvious to everyone, but it feels like a huge epiphany for me. Because after a few days of working 10-15 minutes on sorting everything, I have made more progress than I normally would in weeks. There is an actual, noticeable difference in my room. And it is making my life SO much better.

The plan is that once I get things sorted, I will have the ability to temporarily move the bags out of my room and deep clean everything, and then take the bags one by one and start putting things away. Because my shelves/bedside table/floor/chairs/etc will no longer be covered in crap, I will actually be able to put things away, and will have a good way to look at what I want to have in my bedroom, what I don't want to have there but don't want to get rid of (which can be put in a different room or boxed up for storage), and what I want to get rid of.

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tm95-snarl · 2 years

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I’ve had my 2 hour nap. And my 5 hour panic attack. Burgh called a Nurse Joy for me. Nurse Joy and Audino helped me calm down. Breathing exercises and Heal Pulse helped. Nurse Joy said she recommended I have some health tests done, and I get some extra vaccines that I need. I can do that. But first, I’m going to list some evidence. To help me think something through.

I can’t take a punch like my family can. Bugs don’t bother my little cousins. Bug type bites hurt me a lot, I had to get specialist treatment when a nest of small durant bit me but my cousins don’t need care for their bug bites. Every therapist that I’ve went to had psychic types as a helper and I ended up quitting therapy because they couldn’t literally read my mind. Which is too high of an expectation now that I think about it, but the ones who specifically advertised it as a service couldn’t ever do it to me.

The “therapy” when I was a kid. It wasn’t just teaching (forcing) me how to mask my autism. It was teaching (forcing) me how to not act like a Zorua. I bet the stupid mirror therapy where I had to practice facial expressions and shit for hours on end after I had to stare at pictures of my dads and moms faces and body language was to get me to get me to look like them. Was the whole “no, you can’t talk to Pokémon, that’s just a silly kid make believe thing” even right?!?

My dietary issues. Onions and garlic hurting my stomach. Every time I go in the fish market I have to hold myself back from just grabbing a raw fish and eating it. My families long history of lactose intolerance.

When I entered college, the blood tests for certain diseases said I tested positive for pokerus. I had to quarantine for a month before they told me it wasn’t an active case.

The sudden change I had around half a year ago. I suddenly could do so much more things. I felt more, more alive and myself. I wasn’t terrified of driving anymore. I didn’t have any more of my small blackouts. I could just do like ‘adult crud’ without screwing up completely. Dang it, I bet I evolved then.

“Why do you want that Zorua? Isn’t it creepy? It’s a dark type. It has illusions. It isn’t safe. Why not a nice pidove? Or a patrat? Or a sewaddle like your aunt Isla? Your uncle Jolt’s galvantula just laid eggs, you can have a joltic! A munna would be great for your nightmares! An Audino would be a perfect Pokémon for your health! A timburr! A minnichino! A lillipup! A venipede! No dark types! Anything but the Zorua, even a Trubbish would be better than that!” That’s why they didn’t like Prince Shade! That’s so messed up.

“We don’t use Pokeballs, they aren’t safe.” That’s why! This is why!

They knew! I bet they knew! This is messed up!

Are they some sort of Pokémon too?!?

My family, on my moms side, have always been extra resistant, or rarely even immune, to usually not malicious ghost types tricks and extra tough at taking punches. They do tend to be hurt a lot by the nastier pranks and dirtier fighting that dark types tend to like. I always chalked that up to the scholarly bent to our families little culture, and the endurance we have to have to survive our families genetic health issues. Our family patriarch preached that we were all born with hate in our hearts, all of us as a species, and that it’s something we have to overcome and be kind. I thought he meant humanity - that’s part of why I didn’t see Team Plasma and Neo Plasma as wrong. Maybe he meant as a species of Pokémon?

I have to call my mom.

But first, some medical tests. I am comfortable with medical tests. I trust Nurses. Crap, the Nurses all probably found out and didn’t say anything cuz they thought I knew and was keeping it a secret. That’s probably the nicest thing anyone in a position of power has done for me other than the doctors who worked so hard to keep me alive when I came into this world an early runt.

#pkmn oc #real pkmn #pkmn rp #pkmn irl #pokereality #pokeblr #pokeblogging #pokemon rp #pokemon irl #real pokemon #unreality #pokeblog rp #tm95-snarl #snarls originals #Prince Shade #tw ableism #ableism tw #snarls angst #snarls species

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oldtoothgun · 7 years

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movies on uk netflix worth watching (that ive seen) (in my opinion)

anastasia (1997) stunningly historical inaccurate but the songs are great and its fun

rise of the guardians (2012) remember when everyone was obsessed with this lmao? anyway its a fun and cute kids movie

the adventures of sharkboy and lavagirl (2005) just for the laffs

kung fu panda (2008) its good!

kung pu panda 2 (2011) its good too!

green room (2015) gross gore effects cool plot good acting whats not to luv

creep (2014) ik this ones kinda polarising but i thought it was pretty good and creepy!

the craft (1996) classic!! bitchy gothy goodness

would you rather (2013) jeffrey combs seeing what gross shit desperate people will do for money? loves it!

the invitation (2015) one of my favourite movies of recent years. could talk about for hours! slowly creepingdinner party horror flick

burlesque (2010) 119 minutes of blatant moulin rogue, cabaret and chicago rip offs and christina aguilera fannig her ego and i enjoy it thouroughly every time

dreamgirls (2006) one of the best movie musicals in my opinion. the sheer raw power and talent in this movie!!

footloose (2011) bad movie but its 1 of the 20 movies miles teller has been in and i’ll take what i can get. also he dances and has a southern accent and wears a cowboy hat ad thats all pretty good.

a single man (2009) colin firth? julianne moore? matthew goode? tom ford? christopher isherwood? in all honestly tho this movie is beautiful.

whiplash (2014) you probably already know. miles teller again as well.

aileen: life and death of a serial killer (2003) documentary about aileen wuornos. its really sad and insightful. worth a watch.

escorts (2015) very nsfw documentary about two escorts living in london. its really interesting and quite funny.

labyrinth (1986) you already know.

boys dont cry (1999) this movie is harrowing as shit and might make you want to die but hilary swank, chloe sevigny and peter sarsgaard put in brilliant performances. i have a LOT of opinions on this movie, not all of them good, but its a pretty good watch.

jackie brown (1997) better than pulp fiction!

the drop (2014) tom hardy and puppy?!?!?!

amanda knox (2016) another really good documentary.

gone girl (2014) you probably have already seen this.

we need to talk about kevin (2011) creepy and good

layer cake (2004) daniel craigs in it and tom hardys there as well. idk why but ive got this on dvd. crime movie.

legally blonde (2001) classic!!! but seriously this movie is really funny and good

uptown girls (2003) brittany murphy being beautiful and lovely :’(

a series of unfortunate events (2004) no matter how much he tries, neil patrick harris will never be jim carrey

arthur christmas (2011) this is my favourite christmas movie i cry every time i watch it and i will until i die at age 39

nativity! (2009) another christmas movie i cry at every time. they did it !

fantastic mr fox (2009) the detail in this movie is just lovely. and so is the soundtrack.

bratz: the movie (2007) shaped me as a person

shrek 2 (2004) classic

eddie the eagle (2016) i love taron egerton i love hugh jackman this movie goes!

funny girl (1968) barbara streisand man.

hotel for dogs (2009) lots of dogs in this one.

annie (2014) very cute

charlie bartlett (2007) i watched this in like 2007 going through aton yelchins filmography and its a pretty dece teen flick

just my luck (2006) lindsey lohan, chris pine, mcfly. whats not to love!

21 and over (2013) agai, shitty movie, but miles teller is in it

legally blonde 2: red, white and blonde (2003) this ones got gay dogs in it!

monsters vs aliens (2009) when i was a kid i used to pretend i was in this movie

the duff (2015) not as awful as you think itll be

flushed away (2006) ive seen this movie so many times man

angus, thongs and perfect snogging (2008) another classic

fargo (1996) blood has been shed, jerry

birdman (2014) its alright

the big short (2015) again, its alright

the big lebowski (1998) yeah well thats just like your opinion man

super (2010) rainn wilson is a gem

kingman: the secret service (2015) exceeds expectations greatly

hunt for the wilderpeople (2016) taika waititi knows what hes doing

seven psychopaths (2012) i love colin farrell i love sam rockwell i love martin mcdonagh.

drive (2011) youve proabaly seen people raving about this and for good reason! its good! good acting good soundtrack good lookin its got everything. fair bit of violence and fast cars too.

the nice guys (2016) funny and all that. my favourite film of last year. ryan gosling and russell crowe work so well together.

turbo kid (2015) great little movie. post apocalyptic 80s nostalgia gore goodness. netflix describes it as: offbeat, violent

night of the comet (1984) like totally underrated 80s sci fi horror. two teenage girls wake one one day to find everyone turned into dust. its brilliant

coherence (2013) if you liked the invitation youll like this one. indepentant sci fi thriller set at a dinner party. you have to think a little though.

star trek into darkness (2013) aw i went to see this on my 14th birthday

under the skin (2013) this movie is brilliant. netflix says: chilling, scary, cerebral, steamy

watchmen (2009) worth it for the opening titles alone

equilibrium (2002) GUN KATA

the lobster (2015) this movie is so left field and weird. high hopes for the killing of a sacred deer yorgos!

ex machina (2015) 2015 was such a good year for movies. oscar isaac, domnhall gleeson and alicia vikander are all brilliant

what we do in the shadows (2014) funniest movie ive ever seen. taika working his magic again. if youve met my dad, he’s probably told you to watch it

sing street (2016) funny and good.

let the right one in (2008) kid vampires!

from beyond (1986) one of my fav films ever. i wanna be jeffrey combs so bad.

starry eyes (2014) first time i watched this i thought it sucked but second time around i thought it was weird and cool and its got some good gross bits!

#luks #in no particular order #netflix #in case this help anyone sort through the crap

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five-rivers · 2 years

Text

Life's Great Lie 7

It was early in the morning when she got the call. Sixish. The other numbers on the clock didn’t register to her.

“Hey,” said Tucker, “guess what government agency I just hacked.”

Sam sat up, all traces of sleep gone. Her hand curled around the wing of the nearest stuffed bat. “You found him?”

“Sort of. Ever hear of SHIELD?”

“No,” said Sam. “Is it part of the GIW?” Ever since the Fentons came back without Danny and locked themselves in Fentonworks, that had been her biggest fear.

“I found them through the GIW, but they seem to be partitioned pretty well, along with something called HYDRA…”

“What, like World War Two HYDRA?”

“You know them?”

“They were one of Hitler’s science divisions,” said Sam. “They… My great-grandparents were rescued from one of their camps by Captain America.”

Tucker paused. “Funny you should mention Captain America,” he said, the words almost tumbling over each other. “Because apparently, he works for SHIELD. Or with SHIELD? It’s a little unclear, actually. I’m not sure he’s getting paid.”

“Focus, Tucker,” said Sam. “How is Danny involved?”

“He’s been mind controlled by an evil clown.”

“What? Freakshow?”

“No, this one’s green and Norse god themed. Loki. Has a scepter, too, though, which is a weird coincidence. And he’s from space.”

“An evil green clown from outer space is mind controlling Danny?” That was… an eclectic bundle of traits, even for them. Like someone had thrown darts at a board of character concepts. Or took Freakshow, swapped his palette and made him an alien.

At least it wasn’t the GIW.

“And making him fight Iron Man and Captain America in… Germany. Stuttgart, Germany. Oh, this is live.”

“You have eyes on him?” She swung her feet over the side of her bed and reached for her laptop.

“Electronic ones, but yeah. Gotta love the body cam trend. I’m sending you the footage on a secure link, but I’ll have to delete it, after. I don’t want to show up if they investiga—”

Sam, having just clicked on the link, swore. “He’s human, Tucker.”

“Yep, I know.”

“He’s fighting them as a human. That means they know who he is.”

“Yeah.”

Clearly, the problem with that wasn’t clicking for him. “That means they know who we are.”

“Crap,” said Tucker. “Plan?”

“Not much we can do to help Danny, but… He didn’t hurt anyone in that fight. Not seriously.”

“I think Captain America cleared thirty feet on that throw, so…”

“Captain America’s abilities are well documented. He’ll live. I think Danny is fighting this, or at least working around it. We can’t trust SHIELD if they’re associated with the GIW and HYDRA, even a little bit, so… We need to find out where they keep prisoners, in case they catch Danny, and figure out how to stay away from them. They’re going to come looking for us eventually.”

There was a tapping sound from the other side of the line. “Ghost weapons will only get us so far.”

“Yeah,” agreed Sam. “Secret government agency versus two teens armed with weapons that only hurt dead people. Three, if Jazz gets back soon. Not much math there.”

“Objection. The Fenton Anti-Creep Stick can hurt a wide variety of people.”

“It’s just a baseball bat with the name Fenton painted on it in phase-proof paint. Not much good against bullets.” She knelt on the floor and reached under her bed. After a moment of groping, she pulled out a thermos. “I have an idea, but I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Is it some variation of sneak over to Germany and hit Danny with the Fenton Anti-Creep Stick until he snaps out of it?”

“We don’t even know if that will work,” said Sam. “It didn’t with Freakshow.”

“We couldn’t even hit him when he was with Freakshow.”

“You think that’s changed? No. Even if he can’t go ghost for some reason, he actually knows how to dodge now. I was thinking about a trip to the museum.”

“You’re right, I don’t like it.”

“It’s the best weapon we have access to, and I trust you.”

“I don’t trust me. Besides, do you really think that a second mind control scepter is the thing we need right now?”

“We need something.”

Tucker sighed. “How are we even going to get it? It’s in a museum.”

“I haven’t been able to empty the thermos since Danny’s parents came back. It’s almost full.”

“Oh, no,” said Tucker.

Releasing the Box Ghost (among other sundry minor animal and blob ghosts) into the museum caused a predictable amount of chaos, especially when the staff sprinted into back rooms and downstairs to protect the archives. They still used boxes and crates for that, here. Rookie move.

“Come on,” said Sam, making sure her hoodie was on and her blaster was primed. Tucker, with his PDA and ‘ghost noise’ generator, followed behind. With all their precautions, they’d hopefully wouldn’t be identifiable on the security cameras.

Duulaman’s Scarab Scepter sat in the display case in front of them. She raised her blaster and fired. The glass broke.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Tucker, hand hovering in front of him.

“Yeah, but we can try something else if you’re really worried about it. You stopped yourself last time. You controlled it.”

“Yeah,” said Tucker. He swallowed. “Okay. I’ve got this.”

He picked up the staff, and the museum dissolved in a whirl of sand. They were standing on top of a dune, pyramids in the distance. Tucker’s fingers looked bloodless from the stress of his grip.

“Tucker,” said Sam, cautiously.

“It’s okay,” said Tucker. “I can do this. Just. Give me a second.”

The sand swirled again, and they were in Tucker’s bedroom. He dropped the staff with a gasp. A fine layer of sand drifted to the floor.

“That was,” he said, “something. I could.” He covered his mouth with one hand. “I could take us to Germany,” he said, voice harsher than usual.

“We don’t know if Danny is still there,” said Sam.

“R- Right,” said Tucker. “I need to—I need to sit down.”

Mrs. Foley’s voice rose from downstairs. “What agency did you say you worked with again, Mr. Coulson?”

#danny phantom #op!danny x marvel #dp/marvel crossover #dannymay

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zoros-bandana · 3 years

Note

Hello! I'm loving your writing! I hope you don't mind this is my first request! Can i get a scenario where Sabo fell in love with a fem crewmember of the strawhat pirates? make the fem crewmember a tsundere tho pls? thankies! And keep up the good work!

Hi lovely thank you so much! I am not overly sure how you envisioned this request but I saw it as sort of a confession type post so I hope that's alright :)

Hot and Cold

(SFW)

Warning: swearing

Summary: After being apart of your crew for a while, Sabo finally tracks you down to confess his feelings

Word Count: 1,200

________________________________________

His large blue eyes sweetly watched you across the room; intended to approach you that night and admit his feelings for you. You pretended to ignore him, turning away to your crew members who shielded you from his gaze.

When he had first met you he was instantly bewitched.

You on the other hand were not so convinced.

He stuck around your crew far longer than you wished, his actions so soft and alluring to appease you. He was proud of his progress, knowing you had eased up around him more than when you had first met; now it was up to him to seal it once and for all.

———————————————

“And this is (y/n)” Luffy beamed, finishing his introduction of his crew to his older brother. Sabo’s eyes delicately floated over you all before landing on you; an enchanting smile gracing his lips.

He glided over to you, gently wrapping his hand in your own, his body standing close over your own. “A true pleasure to meet with you, beautiful”. His eyes were kind; you could see that. But you also didn’t want to fold so easily for a blond man engaging in eye contact. Heck, you would’ve fallen for the cook if this was the case.

You yanked your hand away from his, wiping it on your pant leg in disgust “unfortunately I can’t say the same…”

He stayed unfazed at your response, your toughness only intriguing him more, laughing at your unpredictable answer. As you stepped away from him, turning away to face your crew, he couldn’t help feel drawn to you; eager to break down the walls you built around your heart.

———————————————

You huddled yourself in between the surgeon and swordsman, hoping they would both be big enough to block the blue eyes that followed you. You were aware they had been following you all night; watching as you avoided him at any chance you could. Afraid what would happen if you spoke to him.

Both of the men blocking you knew about the sweet spot you had for the blond, teasing your tsundere antics towards him.

“Just admit that you like him…” Zoro grumbled, taking a swig from his drink “this game you’ve got going on is annoying… I just want to be left alone…”

“Shut up!” You smacked him on the head “all you have to do is sit there!”

Law exhaled sharply, amused by your need to stay hidden from Sabo; knowing your game as much as anyone else did. “Why did you drag us into this, (y/n)?” He questioned, moving aside to let a clear view of you between the boys be seen. You yelped, ducking behind Zoro, appreciating his stubbornness to move away.

“Because” you lowered your voice “if you hadn’t noticed… you’re 6 feet tall and he’s 6 feet wide; the perfect combination to shield me”.

“Oi!” Zoro snapped, moving aside much like the surgeon. You regrettably looked up, meeting the pair of blue eyes you were trying to desperately to avoid; watching as Sabo made a bee line towards where you sat.

“Crap” you mumbled, rising from your feet.

“Where are you going?” Law retorted “I thought we were the perfect combination to shield you?”

“May have changed my mind” you mumbled, walking towards the door.

Your steps picked up as you heard the sound of footsteps running behind you; his voice softly calling you. “(Y/n)! Wait, please”.

You ignored his pleas, weaving through the ships doors, attempting to lose him.

However, Sabo refused to give up.

And you knew he would.

You hated to admit it but you enjoyed how persistent he was with you; you never experienced this kind of consistency with anyone before. He wasn’t thrown off by your brush antics or aloof appearance. He was drawn to you far more than anyone you had ever encountered and the result of giving in to him terrified you.

His hand gripped into your arm stopping you from continuing, his frame encompassing you up against the wall blocking you in. His body pressed close to you, his breath ragged and shaken from chasing you around. “Please” he huffed, his hand slipping around your waist “just listen to me, please”.

You scoffed back your own shaken breath “why? Why would I want to listen to you? Leave me alone!”

You attempted to shuffle from his grip, his arms only wrapping tighter around you “let go of me!”

“Fine” he sighed “if you won’t listen to me I’ll just show you”.

“No! Sabo just let g-”

His lips found their way to yours easily, cutting you off from your words. Your breath hitched in your throat, shocked at his action but not overly surprised. His lips were soft and careful, wrapping around you so delicately like it was a dream, moulding so perfectly against you. He tilted his head to the side, deepening the kiss; not minding as you stood there in shock against him.

Your hands shook, creeping their way up to circle around his neck, your eyes finally shutting as you gave in. He smirked against you, pulling you closer up to him, holding you as if you were made of glass. His lips parted open, gently prompting you to do the same; his tongue folding into your mouth exploring your cave. His hand slowly side to your face, cupping your cheek as he pulled away, satisfied by your response as he kissed you.

“I knew you felt the same…” he mumbled, pressing his lips to your forehead “I knew that you loved me back…”

You gasped hearing his words, looking up at him with wide eyes; disbelieving what you heard. His other hand met your cheek, both hands gently cupping your face closer to him; his eyes watching you carefully. Your throat felt dry as you spoke; tears pricking at your eyes.

“You love me?”

“That’s right, (y/n); I love you”

You sniffled back your tears, shaking your head; projecting your voice as bitter as you could. “You idiot! Why?”

You stepped away from him, taking your chance to distance yourself from him “you can’t just say something like that to me”.

“Because you’re everything to me that I never knew I needed; and I can’t live without”

“That doesn’t make any sense” you spat “you lived perfectly fine before you joined my captain”

“Well don’t make me go back to living that way, (y/n)! I can’t now I know you exist!”

“And what makes you think I want that?”

“You kissed me back” he stepped towards you again, gripping your arms “I know you want this, too”.

“It was a mistake, Sabo! I wish it never happened”

“You don’t mean that” he seemed unfazed, seeing right through your words “I know you don’t. You always have acted like you don’t care about anything or anyone but I know you do. You care about me, I know it; don’t try and deny your feelings”

You huffed, looking away from him; needing to clear your head. You hated he was right. No matter how cold you were he would try his best to melt your walls; succeeding every time. He was gentle to you for reasons that still baffled you; but maybe that was for the best. He didn’t wish for reason to love you; he just did. And knowing that may just be enough to accept his love.

“You’re an idiot…”

“Yes” he smiled, pulling you into him “but I’m your idiot”

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