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currentfandomkick · 4 years

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Marinette did not sign up for this part 10: Mari plots plotting

So long time no post. I live. Ish. Also finally figured out readmore on mobile, so yay. Will take forever to edit posts now though. Explanation at the bottom First part here previous part here. Ao3 here

Marinette wanted to go on record that Mandeliev did not, in fact, give her an extra day or so to study for the test. Why? Instead, she was told she may do a paper on the application of physics in gymnastics and principles of evasion in urban areas and how to combine the two to maximize one’s ability to run away from akumas and other dangers.

Or as Nino put it: “I am tormenting you into running better, the eight page essay.”

Alya dubbed it the “Run Better Paper.”

Aurore said it should include more formulas when Marinette showed her the draft. (as Adrien would complain about lack of theories and how she should have used this advanced formula she’d never heard of instead and then Marinette would have to forcibly stop him from taking over her paper. Again.)

Kim had taken to keeping her in his hoodie, escorting her to the bakery and didn’t leave her alone until Adrien said it was his “Marinette Anxiety Watch” shift.

Which she would like to go on record, is just plain mean to say. She has Liar 100% under control when world ending things and metaphorical bomb drops aren’t happening to her constantly.

—-

Bruce tried to contact Diana and Arthur again. Hal was off world, and therefore useless.

Why?

As his missing son hadn’t contacted them yet. Was still in the Miraculous team’s custody. And he saw the footage of Robin—Damian—being hunted by a lving shadow, an element casting swordswoman, and a strategist that seemed to know exactly what to do to keep Robin cornered in battle. The living shadows—Chat Noir—tried to kill his son with Cataclysm.

That was when they were in public, and had Hal watching over them.

He didn’t want to think about what the kids might do unsupervised to someone that tried to kill Ladybug, openly stalked her civilian self, and apparently tried stalk her again, in broad daylight. And possibly may have revealed her secret identity…

From the comments, it seemed that the Parisians hadn’t connected his sons aliases to the pair, writing it off as “Copy-cat Vigilantes” thankfully. And none of them were revealing more than “so the Fashion Disaster tried to go after Chat and Ryuko’s civvie… Not A Smart CopyBird” was the most he was able to get.

His children, on the other hand…

——

“I Fucking KNEW IT!” Tim yelled. “I knew it was her!”

“But,” Jason smirked. “You didn’t tell us.”

“Soup girl, baby bat!” Cass said gleefully.

“Wait, we both talked to her—and you didn’t say you thought it was her either Cass!”

“So what I’m hearing, if my ears don’t deceive me,” Jason continued. “Is that you all lost too.”

“What—“

“Wait a minute!”

“No way—”

Cass shrugged. She was the least invested in winning. She got to meet soup girl, who is very nice and her parents are safe for Baby Bat.

“We don’t have proof,” Dick pointed out. “Didn’t you say something about her being a mouse?”

“I—”

“Well—”

“Yes.” Cass cut through Tim and Stephanie’s waffling. “She is.”

Dick rubbed his forehead. “How many secrets can one kid have?”

“Five?” Jason said without much thought. “Limit is definitely five.”

—-

“Let me get this straight,” Miss Sting began, watching Ladybug very, very carefully. Rena and Carapace were busy that night and couldn’t act as the team’s Common Sense Filter in person. and texts only went so far.

So the job fell to Aurore. To talk (probably Marinette) Ladybug out of a Very, Stupendously, Inconceivably Bad Idea.

“You want to trust Robin—the kid who tried to kill you—to contact his mother—an assassin—to talk strategy about how to take down Hawkmoth’s civilian life’s business, not kill him, and trust that they won’t kill you?”

“…I’m bringing Chat with me.”

“Ladybug.”

“What, do you want me to use a Lucky Charm to prove this is our best bet?”

“You know what?” Miss Sting threw her hands up. “Yes, yes I do.”

“Fine.” Ladybug threw her yoyo skyward. “Lucky Charm!”

A red, spotted ball with an 8 on it came down.

“… you have got to be kidding me.”

Ladybug shrugged. “Uh, Magic Eightball, is it okay to trust Robin with this?”

One shake later and the floating die window read “Without a Doubt.”

“Give me that.” Miss Sting scowled, shaking as she asked. “Should she bring someone besides Chat and Robin—like someone from our team or Wonder Woman or Aquaman?”

The ball answered “Outlook not so good.”

Miss Sting glared at the magic eight ball. “I can’t believe this!”

Ladybug shrugged. “Lucky Charms are Lucky Charms—and I gotta go.”

Miss Sting checked her beeping spinning top. Someone was just akumatized.

“Re-charge first!” Miss Sting yelled before swinging ahead.

—-

“Oh, hey, when’s Demon Spawn going to contact us?” Jason asked as other bats calmed down.

“He’s not answering his communicator.” Bruce growled. “Hal took it earlier.”

The bats paused at that.

“Well then. Trackers?”

“Disabled—what? We didn’t need anyone crashing the apology and he ran off before I could stop him,” Dick defended. He is not Damian’s keeper. Just his Batman (as yes Bruce, he is Damian’s Batman and Damian is his Robin. Current masks not-withstanding).

“Then how are we supposed to find him?” Stephanie asked as the room grew uneasy.

No one answered that.

“How’s this,” Tim began. “Me, Steph and Cass agreed on who Hawkmoth probably is, each of us has a different set of evidence for it—and I’m counting breaking into his evil Liar and the cameras catching him mid-act a few minutes ago as absolute proof.”

“I’m sorry, you did what!” Stephanie leaned over Tim’s shoulder to see. “Oh shit. Isn’t that guy—”

“One of her friends? According to their private Instagram accounts, more like partner in crime and possible Chat Noir. I mean, he’s the one that calls her his “everyday Ladybug” and voices Chat Noir in everything." Tim answered idly. “My money’s on him not knowing at all.”

Bruce twitched. Then began to add ‘stalking social media feeds’ to his to-do list tonight.

“So,” Tim stepped forward. “I suggest we send this to the Wonder Woman and ask for Robin’s comm to be returned, and failing that, I bugged the video so anything they play it on, we get access to its IP and can find where they are.”

“Have Oracle go over the bug, just in case,” Bruce told them. “In the mean time, the rest of you suit up for the night. Gotham needs its vigilantes.”

—-

Marinette wanted to go on the record that her plan (to keep the bats away) was going well. Deciding what to do with Mu—R—Damian. Damian. Damian and his offer, was a challenge.

For obvious reasons, Green Lantern, Wonder Woman and Aquaman were against her asking a bunch of assassins for their help. Chat has more than a few reservations. Carapace, Rena and Miss Sting gave her looks for that plan.

But.

But it would work. She needs more information on how to make the plan burning in the back of her mind work. It’s a lot of chaos (and she may thrive in chaotic battles but this wasn’t her usual battlefield, and her team didn’t know who they were going up against for once). And Marinette? She needs to know its not just her doing this when its so out of her depths.

So despite literally everyone and their disagreements she had Chat on her right side with Damian on her left, meeting up with his Crazy, Semi-Immortal mother. And possibly his Immortal, former Black Cat candidate, grandfather.

Why?

As Marinette isn’t trusting the likely cult that makes up the Gotham Ghost Gang (Batfam if you like them) when she can get real advice and vague directions to immortal and allied (loyal and terrifying) assassins.

And yes, she wasn’t sure if Liar was wrong or right when they said it was a bad idea too.

But fuckit she’s already got Kaalki at her shoulder, looking a bit bored at the deserted rooftop that Kaalki chose for their meeting.

“داميان*,” the woman smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you.”

“Mother,” Robin greeted. “This is Ladybug and Chat Noir. Ladybug wished to speak to you about potential strategies to take down an enemy outside of battle without violence,” Damian stressed.

“I am well-aware of the Kwami and their Chosen, اِبْن.**” The woman spoke calmly. “The League of Assassins formed to act as the Black Cat to restore the world to balance and un-burden the Order with its maintenance.” The woman offer Ladybug her hand. “I am Talia al Ghul, and I am at your service, with or without violence Ladybug.”

Marinette took her hand. “Thank you Talia. Our target being directly exposed like I planned would have…” Ladybug trailed off, thinking over the ramifications not only to Adrien, but to the whole of Gabriel’s brand, workers and all that worked with them. “Some intense ramifications I’d rather avoid.”

Talia nodded her head, waiting for more information.

“I believe its possible to topple them without affecting their employees by uncoupling them from their business, but doing so is, well, stocks and economics isn’t my strongest point.” Ladybug admitted a bit sheepishly.

“I would suggest,” Talia began, “to create a bit of chaos in the stock market. Perhaps a rumor here and there, let investors pull out and grab the abandoned stocks quickly. Consolidate them under one owner and become the company’s owner.”

Marinette twitched a bit at that. “That… sounds complicated.”

“Oh, but it isn’t. My son knows just how to that, or did you forget our lessons?” Talia asked coolly.

Damian twitched at Marinette’s side. “I did not.”

“You know,” Chat chimed in. “I do know a few things about those things. If its general chaos, well…” Chat’s face twisted in a way Marinette forgot he could do after that Chat Blanc episode.

“… I will take that into consideration.”

“Anything else?” Talia asked, watching Ladybug and her son. Specifically, how her son seemed glued to the girl’s side. “I am certain my son is able to take out your target, if all else fails.”

Damian scowled at Marinette’s side.

“However, I do believe that whatever is happening, whatever has you active, might require a more… experience hand.”

Damian brushed against her side. Code for ‘Possible Danger.’

“Thank you for the offer,” Chat moved in front of Marinette. “But mi’lady and the Guardians have that much handled.”

Talia’s eyes shifted from Chat to Ladybug, staying on her. “Is that so?”

“Yes. I merely needed more information on how to execute this type of plan, that’s all!” Ladybug almost, almost slipped into Marinette while Liar, while silenced for the moment, prodded the back of her mind. “I want to minimize collateral damage as much as I can, to everyone. The kwami already said they get to chose the target’s punishment.”

“Ah, I see.” Talia relaxed then. “You are following the kwami’s wishes. I will respect their wishes as well, Chosen.”

Marinette categorized this interaction as one of the “not too horrible, but will avoid a repeat” once they left.

—

*Damian in arabic

**son

so we have Talia now as a Player, sort of. she plays by her word pretty well so hopefully its a cameo more than anything else.

any ideas on how JL will handle the video, and if Miraculous Team should see it and freak out or only LB and keep on the dl while JL assissts in her Chaos Plot?

End of update. Will have to repost from ao3 on my phone now as desktop tumblr is being exceptionally rude. Tags always open, just takes me a bit to do—sorry to vixen for vanishing from tags

TAGS: @heldtogetherbysafetypins @laurcad123 @raisuke06 @chaosace @jeminiikrystal @toodaloo-kangaroo @kris-pines04 @bisha43rbs @izang @dreamykitty25 @emu-lumberjack @vixen-uchiha

#maribat #marinette did not sign up for this #part 10 #updated at last #my writing #long post #my writings #bio!dad bruce

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poptartmochi · 3 years

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ugh I forgot to ask u for top 5s of artists anyways I would love to know them for kimbra, Japanese breakfast (i feel like u always have a taste for songs I didn't get to yet so I'm excited for the recs!) & willow + 5 extra recs (if u feel up to them)

as always cant wait go hear ur music opinions<3

ouuuugh this was insanely fun to do- I actually haven’t listened to these artists lately (it has been Tennis LOCKDOWN [with the exception of Posing in Bondage] for like an entire week now haha!) so this was a challenge! 😄 i had a ton of fun going through their discographies the other night!

it occurs to me After i write these out that i really do Not need to extrapolate on how i feel about a song or Why it’s on the list but alas...... you know me </3 i am the rambling grandma lingering at your doorstep LMAO (rambler grandma 🤝🏼 gamer grandma brotherhood!) nonetheless, I hope it is readable and that you enjoy my thoughts!!! <3 thank you for the ask!

warning ahead for an Extremely Long Post. if you don’t want to scroll for eternity, either do Not hit the readmore or press J!! good luck down there! if it breaks on mobile + y’all get blasted with the full text... i am so sorry comrades

ask prompt

Kimbra

Settle Down - not my favorite Kimbra song by any stretch of the imagination, but as the song that got me hook line and sinker into the Legend, it Must sit at number one... this song was THE break-up banger of 2017 <3 although the song is about being afraid of your lover leaving you and stuff, this really carried me through recovering from that?? I think it was bitter irony that got me listening to this song obsessively but man.. at the end of the day a banger is a banger <3 Also!!! The studio version of this is Mint, but i’ve linked a live recording which has held my heart captive for literal years now.. the way she remixes and interacts with her own music blows my mind and i am in love with her

Nobody But You- this song is like. a quintessential pop song for me, it’s so lively and shghsghshghs 🥰🥰🥰🥰 but then the BREAKDOWN at the end?? wtf okay!! 🤩😍🤩😍 mini shout-out here to Love in High Places.. in my head they are both part of one insanely long song.. anyhow the “love will finally break your heart and set you free” part + the ensuing guitar are SO good in that song, I still lose it when I listen to it <3

90's Music - so fucking fun and funky.. I don’t think I’ve listed this one before, because sometimes I can’t listen to this song- it gives me a headache 😭😭but when i Can listen to it,, i THRIVE 😈😈

The Build Up- most of Kimbra’s music makes me feel like a fizzy drink, but this one is instead very sobering. i don’t know Why, but something about the composition of this song makes me feel like a little snail on a huge rock watching a stream going by and Also like a weary office worker realizing they want a divorce in the middle of a traffic jam while the sun is going down between tall buildings.. the “That you would come back home when I call” part still makes me go fucking BANANAS, it’s such a powerful bit, it feels like the song is bursting from its own seams in pain. I love how the rest of the song almost plucks itself onto its two feet until the section is referenced again towards the end, and how it descends into like.. Furtive Thinking after.. this song is so beautifully written and i would kiss it on the lips if i could

Waltz Me to the Grave- okay Help 🆘🆘 this song has been a part of my soul since i tried to tackle a happy ending rewrite for nge in 2015 and then again in 2017.. I gave up on the idea when I realized what I was trying to do was kind of dissonant with the themes of nge, BUT. i can still Vividly see the amv I made for this song in my mind... nge aside, I really love how goddamn funky this song is!! Off the top of my head, I can’t think of anything that has the same feel as this song. Sometimes, when you blast the middle bit, it feels like you’re getting torn apart and yk I fuck with that!! To this day, I’m still taken by the instrumentation of this song, it is SO good!

Two Weeks/ Head Over Heels- bonus sixth pick, but you know I’ve loved this song for years <3 this combination works SO well? but that aside, I feel like this song really hammers home how good Kimbra’s production and vocal control are.. I love how she’s just mixed into an instrument for herself to sing on top of??? it’s insane.. anyhow, this cover, more than anything, exemplifies Everything I love about Kimbra’s music! 🥰🥰🥰

somehow there’s no songs from primal heart on here, but just know.... that album is SO good and carries the torch from her previous albums 100%

Japanese Breakfast

Posing in Bondage (2021)- THEEEEEEEEE SONG. i listen to this one every day 🥰 when I open Youtube, a playlist with it at the beginning is Always at the top of my page! it has an Atmosphere, an Ambiance... fucking love this song <3 i think the feeling of the song really matches the loneliness of the lyrics... on an unrelated note. the second verse man.. literally i LOSE IT. that bit in the middle of the night hits so fucking different and i loveeee it

Road Head- the Original Song to Lose My Fucking Mind To asmr.. I think there is something to be said about these two songs Also having a heavy hand in the redevelopment of my first ever oc....... hmm 🧐 that aside though, this song really does feel like Cinematically and broodingly driving across the highway at night, ughhh 🥰 the “Run, run” bit between the verses.. music make you lose control!!! hmm what else about this song.. OHHH in a live, something funky happens and Michelle hesitates for a very tiny beat (here, at 1:33). It reminds me of a tape skipping a beat or something, but hooooga booga i fucking LOVE it, sometimes it feels wrong to listen to the song without it.. I also really like the guitar in that live version I linked- the way it layers over the rest of the song is so fucking good ur honor

Machinist- ughhhh this song.. girl when i say j-brekkie knows how to craft an ambient song, i MEAN IT!!! \T o T/ the “Total control... can’t let go/ It could be bliss” part gives me goosebumps Every Time, and I love how the autotune extends the sound! also the sax solo wtf it’s so good and it comes out of Nowhere?? overall this one is just a really lovely conceptual song!

The Body is a Blade- using japanese breakfast...... to COPE. the lyrics for this song have always hit a chord in my heart, but the bit about emptying the house and staging it for buying hits in such a new way now that our house is about to get sold.. listening to it again made me tear up 🥺 the poem that the title is derived from is also insanely good!

Head Over Heels- is this Actually a japanese breakfast song? No. is it still one of my favorites from them? yeah babey! 😎 This one feels incredibly different from Kimbra’s cover, almost more grim.. i love that so much! I also like how minimal the instruments are here, it really lets Michelle and the vulnerability of her voice shine through. 😍

Here Come the Tubular Bells- bonus 6th pick but it’s only 41 seconds so.. 👀👀👀 BUT. back when i was Hardcore working on mx. thalis tabris dragon age, I would listen to this for Hours Straight in the wee hours of the morning so I could brainstorm their death with the gravity it would carry in the moment and I think, as a result, this song is just weaved into my soul now.. 🆘 It’s been a long time since then, but listening to this still Immediately brings me back to the weight of denerim after the archdemon is defeated and everyone realizes their friendly neighborhood warden is Dead, + the slow and seeping horror that settles in with the realization of that. 😈😈😈

When I first wrote this list, it was mostly Jubilee because I’ve been listening to Jubilee more than their other music, since it’s a new release! <3 however that was skewing everything soooo bonus jubilee top 5

Be Sweet- actually the first song I heard off this album! I remember listening to this obsessively in the week before my sister came to visit, it’s just such a fun poppy song! sound of the summer truly 😙

Savage Good Boy- cannot lie I really loved this song for the first bit of the lyrics bc.... yeah same <3 But when I actually looked at the lyrics I was like wavey babey WHAT is going on!! looking at the explanation on genius lyrics tho... it makes sense! 😲 michelle zauner evil billionaire momence!

Slide Tackle- i LOVE the atmosphere of this song and for the longest time that’s all I really listened to it for.. my love for it increased when I looked up the lyrics because Fuck it’s. Incredibly Relatable 🥺 especially lately- i’ve talked with my brother a few times about how I’ve just become this angry person since I came home and how I don’t want to be that anymore!! so this song is coming to mean a lot for me 🦥

In Hell- Japanese Breakfast’s songs about death have always been a way to explore my own fears about that stuff with my grandparents and this song... hoog man. :( besides that, the chorus in this one is just really pleasant to the ear! ^^

Posing in Cars- the guitar in this one... screams my HEAD off bro!! so good and I love her approach to writing this song. the lyrics are still growing on me but I love her delivery of “But it’s been one o’clock for hours” 🥺🥺

Willow

Samo is Now- ooooOOOUUUUGGGGH. this SONG!!!!!!!!! you have seen me rant and rave about the Atmosphere,, the Ambiance of music for like.. too long now.. so it’s no surprise this one is my top pick for Willow, the guitar and vocals in this are INSANE 💥💥💥🆘💥💥💥 it feels like you’re driving through a Heavy Florida Thunderstorm That Makes You Pull the Fuck Over™... not quite Brooding, but definitely full of Some emotion!!!! ughhh luna it is SOMETHING to listen to this song at night, experiences to ascend to!!

9- i think this is actually the song that introduced me to Willow? I think I found this either as a recommendation off of Solange’s Cranes in the Sky (which.. if you have not heard that I am grabbing your back like a monkey and shaking you viciously!!!!) or from SZA’s Ctrl, but holy shit thank god I found it.. this song makes me feel weightless and yet So heavy-hearted 🥺🥺🥺 I put this on our playlist at work and I really hope it’s still there, this was my favorite thing to listen to there... on Saturdays, when I was by myself, I would put this song on loop and it would be the Only Thing i listened to all day, that’s how good it is <3

Warm Honey- this song is titled v well, it Sounds like warm honey.. I love Willow’s lyricism here- 9 is what really got me into Willow, but Warm Honey was the song that made me take pause and go to Genius Lyrics + go okay!!!!!!! okay bitch!! <3 The “But then I realized, I don’t exist” part.... WHOOO music to lose your Mind to!!

Everything Stays- keeping with the theme from the last bit... music to cry your eyes out to!!! There’s such a tangible melancholy in the first half of the song, and the second half.. it makes my heart feel FULL, it’s so warm. i genuinely cannot put how much I love this song (cover?) into words, it’s just. so so beautiful

Jimi- okay okay so. this one. this is another one that is like here in my Soul, Forever, because i made a very intricate mental nge amv to it back in 2017. I love the harmonies in this one, and the instrumentation??? so good!

Transparent Soul- apologies for not formatting it right but i think it would take up too much space T T but!!!! this came out like 2 months ago and I’ve only recently had the mental space available to give it a proper listen.. i can comfortably say, HOLY SHIT?! the guitar, the fucking power behind willow’s vocals?? and she has a whole new album?! I have a ton of music to catch up on from Willow, but this like lit a fire in my soul and I’m so excited to see what else she’s released lately!

bonus- Kali Uchis

i’ve been a huge fan of Kali since 2018, but I don’t think I’ve ever really talked about her outside of a few comments about sin miedo? Which...😨 that album is a gift from GOD, and i am yet again viciously shaking you like a monkey if you haven’t heard it, BUT. some of her earlier music is Really Near and Dear to my heart, but again i’ve never really mentioned it so 😈😈 hehe here we go babey! Honestly everything off of Isolation and Por Vida is golden and I would wholeheartedly recommend it!! I haven’t listened to much beyond those bc youtube’s album playlist organization is. abysmal. :D but anything from her I would suggest!! here are my top 5!

Flight 22- hooooooooga BOOOOOOGA... this song this fucking song.. I think this song drives me off the walls because A. it is SO GOOD but B. because I have concluded that I am just. obsessed with travel and anything that relates to it.. so a love song that references flying??? GIRL. 💥🆘 It’s such a sweet song- don’t wanna be anywhere if it ain’t with you!! 🥺🥺 The atmosphere and instrumentation reminds me of these lounges we would go to when we were traveling through Europe + got stuck on long layovers and we would have to make little beds by smushing two chairs together.. there’s a specific and really honey-like nostalgia that goes with that that this song is incredibly reminiscent of.. the evening glow of an airport but as a love song, UGH <3 i also love the part that goes “and maybe we’re not gonna make it... 😬😳 at least i’m going down with you 😇 our baggage might just be too fulll 😨😨 on flight 22!” like kali girl!!!!!!! you are going to DIEEE 😭😭😭😭💥🆘😶🤠💥

All or Nothing- the first time I listened to this, I knew from the first few seconds I would be obsessed with it.. there’s such a like 1950′s americana feel to the instrumentation, but the thing that really hooked me is how powerful her voice is!!!! the “aaaAAAAAALLLLL or nooouthing :(” is SO nice to let your voice loose to in the car <3 besides that though there really is this :\ :’( sense to the song that she captures really well, and I love how her voice pushes away from it in the bridge... kali uchis most powerful woman of the world <3

Call Me- whooo girl. tyler the creator produced this song and you can Tell, the background is SO fucking good. but despite that, she Owns this song!! <3 this song, man,,,,,, this song makes me feel like a Temptress, which most songs cannot do.. there’s something about how sweet her vocals are and how detached yet enticing the lyrics are that is SO good. also “No one got me quite like you.. got me sittin round writin haikus 🙄” part is my favorite, when I tell you i choked on my fucking water laughing the first time i heard it <3

Gotta Get Up - i would call this song a depression bop but it’s more like.. song that makes you want to Live in the middle of a depressive spiral, at least for me ^^ like fuck man... we gotta get up and get us something real comrades!!! 😭😭🙏🏻 besides that, I love the harmonies she does in this song... so mfin good

Speed- okay so. now that we are speed i am realizing maybe there was subconscious psychological chess that drove me to Not talk about Kali Uchis on this webbed site... and esp not on thee jojo blog... I am about to divulge one of my Secrets... i must do it before i explain why I actually love this song bc this memory fucking HAUNTS me. 😶😶😶😶 SO. many years ago now (2?), i had a dream (as i often Do) that i had in fact lived out baby sarah’s fantasies of becoming a swag amv creator and that That was my niche on the internet, right............................ Well. in this specific dream, I dreamt that I had created.. a fucking.. diohorse (yes DIOHORSE 😶😲😨😩😟😞😳😳😳😵🥴) amv to THIS SONG... amv but make it camp.. and the beginning of the amv was like ??? about dio being hol horse’s shitty boss, but because it was dio, it was melodrama manwhore momence.. BUT THEN?? i like completely dropped that concept and instead the amv was about hol horse being dio’s chauffeur in wheel of fortune and they were trying to run the sdc off the road. This madness took up basically the entire second half of the amv and was kind of akin to the mania in Foster the People’s Don’t Stop mv except slutty vampire momence instead, right. well. you’d think, how does an amv like that End????? diohorse happy ending?? NO............ IT ENDED WITH DIO CRASHING THROUGH THE WINDOW AND INTO THE OCEAN (to match the music 😭😭😭😭) and sinking to the bottom for another 100 years of slumber 😀😶😶😨😩😬😩🥴🤠🌋🌋🌋🌋 HELP!!!!!! i wish i remembered more than that but ALAS </3 in any case... i fucking WISH i had the skills to make it a reality.. when i was younger i thought it was such a cringe dream but now that i am 21 i Think it is my calling in life, making this amv.. thy will be DONE 😈😈😈 (now that i think about it.. maybe i could bridge the two halves of the amv by having hol horse’s contract about being dio’s chauffeur... omg)

diohorse madness aside (also help.. i cannot figure out how to align this with the rest of the text without making it part of a list.. i just wanted a break in the text ur honor </3), SPEED dude.... holy fucking shit this song girl... seduction.mp4!!!! i love love love the backing to this song, it’s SO good and that combined with kali’s honey sweet vocals makes for something really intoxicating. i remember listening to this song Obsessively when i first heard it 🥰

#long post #sriracha ask game #how much of this is just me going 'OUGH this song.. so good' 🙉🙈🙈#anyhow i am hopefully fr back!! >:) our house is Pending (to cops 🤢) now so Hopefully we don't have to prepare for random showings at a #moment's notice! that was almost worse than the prepping and packing and moving....#the Big Issue with the showings specifically is that now I feel almost possessive of this house.. i'm like have you put literal blood sweat #and tears into this girl??? no? then stop looking at her >(#but like. we cannot live here we cannot Afford to live here anymore girlies. we gotta goooo!#madness and mania in the club tonight 😔#anyhow THIS!! i think part of me went so bananas writing it bc i knew i was writing it for luna.. idk if that makes sense #i was like mad max at my laptop for 2 or 3 hours crafting this >) when i say i became POSSESSED........i mean it #this was a blessing though bc i was Slipping into tennis melancholia and i needed to get outta that asap!!#thank you again luna my friend my comrade my belovie!! 😭💙

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firebuug · 4 years

Note

trans ask game: 5, 25, 34? U dont have to answer all of those if u don't want to! ^_^

omg hiii🥺 thank u for the asks nw! ahgh i forgot what the mobile thingy for readmores was, sorry, but let me try this and see if it works?

5. What was the first time you suspected you were trans?

i think around the beginning of middle school? it’s kinda fuzzy for me because those years were Also Shitty but that was around where i started learning what gender was lol. i started off assssssss uhmmm id like to say genderfluid? either that or just straight up trans man, i forget 😳

but ever since i was like. 11 ive been saying “omggg i wish i were a boy so bad” i just didnt know i could literally just Choose To Be one lol

25. What do you wish cis people understood?

this is a bit personal but i do wish cis people could be more subtle and less “OMG” when we come out to them or when they compliment us or they accidentally misgender us ESPECIALLY as nonbinary, itd make me happier to come out to a stranger or friend and have them be like “cool! what name and/or pronouns do you like best?” instead of “OMG mx. genderless gentlethem monarch💝💖 can i call u my joyfriend 😍” sksjsjf i get how some may love those terms but please dont assume we are all comfortable HAHA. online it is tolerable but id be so embarrassed if someone said that to me in public, like u just outed me to this entire walmart i was just trying to come out to you only!!

34. What advice would you give to other trans people, or what message would you like to share with them?

gender is a really versatile thing because on one hand yes it exists and your gender is real and valid but on the other hand it doesnt exist and still is valid. dont let definitions discourage you, literally WHO is stopping you from calling yourself a girl but using he/him and vae/vaer? WHO is stopping you from being genderfluid but only wearing tank tops and ballet skirts.

ALSO dont feel obligated to label yourself specirically especially if youre just finding yourself our. all these labels are wonderful to have! but to be honest it really stressed me out as a 12 year old, and i eventually found out i felt happiest just identifying as nonbinary— yes, the umbrella term, no i dont have a specific label, because my gender is FUCKED and i feel happiest just slapping an umbrella term on it and going! u dont owe anyone shit! have fun w your identity and if you’re cis never be afraid to experiment. if you’re a friend of mine and ever want to experiment or try things out in private i’d be more than glad to help you out

#ask #ty for the ask!! srry i rambled haha #long post #trans stuff

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arcadiaoaksusedbooks · 5 years

Text

Two magical sisters texting, Part 1

Under readmore for length (sorry mobile users)

Nadia: Hey, Elisi! Just got your card! Thank you so much, it’s really funny and touching. Always thinking of you, your sister, Nadia.

Elisi: Hi, sis! Good to hear from you. Glad you got the card okay. How’s the store doing these days?

Nadia: Oh, can’t complain. Getting the usual crowds in now that school is winding down for the summer. Are you still a warden for the national parks? How has that been lately?

Elisi: Just for Noatak. It’s been fine, yet another decline in wildlife. The snow’s all melted, so we should be seeing birds and elk and all the usual suspects, but it’s been really quiet in the basin. Nothing that hasn’t happened before.

Nadia: Maybe noone’s come out of hibernation yet?

Elisi: We don’t have much that hibernates. Some rabbits, foxes, and weasels. Saw plenty of those at the first snow melt. And there’s tons of fish, plants and berries, so the ecosystem isn’t hurting any. So I know the herds didn’t move from lack of food.

Nadia: Hmm. Well, you’re the expert. If it’s happened before, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about.

Elisi: Yep yep

Elisi: Did you get birthday wishes from anyone else?

Nadia: It’s still two weeks away, so no.

Nadia: How is the family doing?

Elisi: Great! Grandbaby hatched a month ago!

Nadia: Congradulations!

Elisi: ((picture of a newborn Krampus troll, fuzzy, black, yellow eyes open like a cat that just saw the red dot))

Nadia: So this is great x16 grandbaby?

Elisi: Eh, I don’t bother with that stuff anymore. It’s just a grandbaby from now on.

Nadia: Grannie!

Elisi: Shush

Nadia: Grannie, grannie, sixteen generations removed!

Elisi: Hey, it wasn’t that long! Stop making me feel old!

Nadia: Great

Elisi: Stop

Nadia: Great

Elisi: I’ll block your number

Nadia: Hee hee

Elisi: Anyway, pic was of Orsan. You really should come by and visit everyone before they forget you again.

Nadia: It’s been so long, I don’t think I know anyone at your house anymore.

Elisi: Fol is still here. He still remembers you.

Nadia: I remember Fol. Give him hugs and kisses for me.

Elisi: Will do

Elisi: Brb, gotta make dinner.

Nadia: Ah, so do I. Let’s chat later.

Elisi: Yep yep. Talk to you later.

(A day later)

Nadia: Hi, Elisi! You free?

Elisi: Sure. What’s up?

Nadia: One of my customers gave me a birthday present!

Elisi: Really? That’s cool. What’s the title?

Nadia: Actually, it’s a figurine they painted. It’s really well done; I didn’t think anyone in town painted sculptures at all.

Elisi: Oh, cool! So, is it going in your shop?

Nadia: Yep! Lemme take a picture.

Elisi: (laughing emoji face) Need me to tell you how?

Nadia: No, I got it. One sec.

Nadia: ((picture of a small statue, lined up next to three dictionaries for reference. It’s a four legged, furry animal with a fox-like face, bulging eyes, and two tiny antlers sticking from behind it’s mouse like ears. It has four clawed feet and a furry tail with a large bushel of fur at the very end. It’s colored in pinks and greens, and given a glossy sheen.))

Nadia: The eyes weird me out a little, but it looks like a fey creature. It’s very creative! What do you think?

(There’s no response from Elisi for five minutes.)

Nadia: Elisi? Are you there?

Elisi: That looks just like the small statues I’m finding around the park, and around town. Most of them are broken, but I recognize that head. Where did the kid say they found it?

Nadia: I didn’t ask. I just assumed they made it or bought it from a store.

Elisi: I found three broken ones around the park by the river. And when I came into town, I saw some kids playing with some intact ones. I ask where they got them, and they insisted they made them. Their grandpa had more.

Nadia: Maybe it’s a popular thing on the Internet? Alora knows about that kind of stuff.

Elisi: Maybe?

Elisi: If it is, someone’s littering, and I don’t tolerate that in my park.

Nadia: How were the ones you found painted as?

Elisi: They weren’t painted yet. They’re just rock. Still. Not appreciating this.

Nadia: Well, if my customer comes back, I’ll ask about it. I’m sure it’s a silly internet thing. I’ll ask Alora.

Elisi: Sure.

Elisi: And again, happy early birthday!

Nadia: Thank you!

(Same day)

Nadia: Hey, Alora, are you busy?

Alora: Not for my favorite sister. How’s you?

Nadia: Good. A customer gave me an early birthday present!

Alora: Wait. Birthday?

Alora: Shit. I forgot you changed it again. I’ll get you something.

Nadia: Aw, that’s okay.

Nadia: ((sends the picture of her statue))

Alora: (laughing while crying emoji) OMG WTF even IS that?

Nadia: You don’t know?

Alora: Nope. Why, what is it?

Nadia: One of the kids said they painted it for me. I showed it to Elisi and she said she’s finding these statues everywhere at work and in town.

Alora: Huh. Haven’t seen or heard of anything like that.

Alora: The colors are awful. Those buggy eyes are killing it for me.

Alora: Like someone tried to make a jackalope having never seen one before.

Alora: Or made the unholy baby of a jackalope and the word’s smallest furry Godzilla.

Alora: ...

Alora: This would probably meme up a storm in the right place.

Nadia: Okay, okay, I get it.

Alora: It’s like

Alora: Steward Little had sex with the Geiko gecko.

Nadia: STOP!

Alora: (laughing emoji) Okay, okay.

Nadia: It was a gift, so it’s still going in my shop.

Alora: Is it ceramic? The colors are too dull to be ceramic.

Nadia: No, it was heavy. I think it’s solid rock.

Alora: Huh. Actually, that’s a little weird. I’ve painted ceramics and sculptures in my day, and I can tell you that either one is time consuming. Sculptures, well, you gotta chip away the rock carefully to get the right shape. That level of detail probably took months! I mean, look at the fur! Is that all carved or a painting technique?

Nadia: Oh, it was all solid, not painted that way. So, that must have been carved too.

Alora: You said it was one of the kids? The school kids that’s in your store all the time?

Nadia: Yeah.

Alora: High school?

Nadia: Yes. Why?

Alora: That’s a lot of dedication and skill for a high schooler. Wouldn’t it be easier to make a ceramic figure? Than carve solid rock?

Nadia: Arcadia is a weird town. I wouldn’t put it past someone to make this a hobby. The kids here aren’t on such tight schedules as you might think.

Alora: Alright. But the thing is just ugly.

Alora: I’m gonna take a picture of it when I visit and put it on the internet. And make you internet famous.

Nadia: Ugly statue woman?

Alora: I can do better.

Alora: Frograt.

Nadia: It doesn’t look like a frog.

Alora: Dose eyes.

Alora: Frograt.

Nadia: It doesn’t look like a rat either.

Alora: Frograt.

Nadia: Oh, do whatever you like.

Alora: I’ll split the earnings with you.

Nadia: How much do memes make?

Alora: If you plan everything out carefully with copywrites, it’s a wealthy $0

Nadia: Oh you!

Alora: Seriously, I’ll come visit after summer, if you don’t come visit first.

Nadia: Sounds like a plan to me.

Alora: Which one?

Nadia: You coming to visit. I’m not really a beach person.

Alora: Fine, fine. I’ll swing by in Sept.

Nadia: Yes!

Alora: Gotta go, lots of beach stuff to do.

Nadia: Alright, I’ll talk to you later.

Alora: When you talk to Elisi again, let her know that I still wanna punch her in the face.

Nadia: What?! Why?!

Alora: It’s a running gag. Don’t worry. (laughing emoji)

Nadia: Oh, okay.

Nadia: Have a good one, Alora.

Alora: TTYL

(Two days later)

Alora: (sends a picture of a similar creature statue, curling in fear of something, uncolored)

Alora: Nadia

Nadia: What is that?

Alora: Found this and three others like it on the beach. We need to talk.

Nadia: Why? What’s wrong?

Alora: This is K-Spar.

Alora: This is a troll.

Nadia: That

Nadia: Doesn’t look like any troll I’ve seen before

Alora: You said Elisi saw a bunch like these at her park?

Nadia: Yes

Alora: Have you found any?

Nadia: No, just the one given to me.

Nadia: Is something going on?

Alora: I don’t have Elisi’s number. Can you give it to me so I can talk to her about this?

Nadia: Why?

Alora: Hunch.

Nadia: Okay. I’ll try to find any info I can on this.

Nadia: So these statues are tiny, dead trolls?

Alora: There’s no mistaking the texture. This one looks like it got a face full of sunlight.

Alora: Are you telling Mother War that she doesn’t know what a dead troll looks like?

Nadia: No, I just want to be certain.

Alora: Me too.

Alora: Calling Elisi now, thanks Nadia.

Nadia: I wish you well. I’ll try to research what I can. Talk to you soon.

#prose #Shard Sisters #The Noatak Horror

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ckret2 · 6 years

Text

The Door In Petrex’s Quarters

So there’s a cool new blog on Tumblr called @tfspeedwriting where they post a bunch of prompts on Saturday and you choose one and writing something! There’s basically no rule except that you have to do it in under two hours. So anyway this took me about four hours, which were spread out over a total of ten hours.

I’m good at this game.

(If you're on mobile, the readmore malfunctions, and you gotta scroll past all this, I'm sorry for your suffering.)

Prompt: Pick a music playlist on a device of your choice. The second line of the third song is your prompt. (“Song 3”—I swear the title’s a coincidence—by Stone Sour: “So I'll keep you close, and keep my secret safe.”) Continuity: made-up Shattered Glass AU for IDW continuity Ship: Prowl/Tarantulas, but you’ll wish it wasn’t. Wordcount: 5200-ish Summary: They say that Petrex, leader of the Autobot Justice Division, can’t feel love. Petrex prefers it that way. Or: how Prowl tamed his pet scientist. Tags: Angst, abusive relationship, all hurt no comfort.

They say there's a doorway in Petrex's private quarters where his berth is supposed to be.

It's an empty metal doorframe. The space where there should be a door is filled by cement mixed with strange, dark, multicolor rubble. They say that Petrex sleeps on it, curled up on his side, a hand pressed against the surface of the shut doorway like he wants to press through to the other side.

They say the door still works. They say it goes somewhere. They say all you have to do is turn it on.

They say a lot of things about Petrex.

They say the reason that he wears a cold white Autobrand-shaped mask is because he has a cold white Autobrand-shaped face underneath, and that he'd rather people think he's hiding his expressions than let them know he doesn't have any expressions at all. He is as icy, and as hard, and as unmovable, and as implacable as marble; and Terminus save your ember if you dare try to chip that marble.

They say that nobody has ever joined the Autobot Justice Division willingly—nobody except for Petrex, its founder, its leader, and its symbol. They say that every member of the Autobot Justice Division is someone who tried to flee or betray the Autobots, but who had potential, had a use; and so, as their punishment, instead of adding them to the AJD's list for retribution, Petrex added them to the AJD itself, chained them in service to himself, and turned them into essential cogs in the machine that grinds up other criminals and turncoats.

They say he's not a person, but a drone, a machine designed for order and logic and laws, capable only of understanding emotions in a theoretical sense, and then only far enough to determine how he might make use of them.

Petrex doesn't deny anything anyone says about him.

"Mesothulas. Mesothulas!"

Mesothulas started, almost dropping his welder. Terminus below, he wasn't expecting Prowl so soon—he wasn't supposed to come for another two weeks, was he? Why was he early? Had something gone wrong, had his latest offering malfunctioned? Part of him hoped desperately that it had; the rest of him dreaded the consequences of such a failure. Maybe Prowl had forgotten their schedule and come early? Mesothulas had never known him to do so before, but oh, if he had, if he was expecting Mesothulas's next work to be done today and it wasn't— Or, even worse, what if Prowl was right on time, what if Mesothulas had forgotten the schedule—

"I'm here!" He dropped the welder to the floor, ran for the stairs to the lab entryway, skidded an about face to go turn off the welder, and sprinted for the stairs—woe to him if he kept Prowl waiting a second too long. "I'm here, I'm here, I—I'm so sorry, Prowl, I didn't know you were coming. I was working, I'm sorry."

Prowl was standing, waiting, in the middle of the entryway. (Ostaros was so close to him, just a few feet to Prowl's left. Mesothulas's plating crawled—he shouldn't have left Ostaros out in the open like that. What if Prowl spotted him, decided after all that work that he didn't like the result? If anything happened to him—) His helmet was already off, tucked under one arm, and his red optics were so bright they were pink, nearly the same shade as Mesothulas's armor. Was he mad or happy? Mesothulas couldn't tell from the top of the stairs.

"I should hope you were working," Prowl said. "You've only got a couple of weeks left to finish the guilt extractor." So Mesothulas hadn't forgotten their schedule—that was a relief. But then why was he here?

"Yes, I know, I—I'm right on schedule, it'll be done in time." He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, and waited, his heels pressed up against the bottom step, not taking a step closer.

And then Prowl walked toward him. Mesothulas's ember jumped into his throat. The way Prowl moved—even in armor—Mesothulas could practically visualize how his joints moved underneath it. There was such control, such confidence, such precision in his motions; he radiated such strength that Mesothulas felt weaker just for being in his presence. Everything Prowl did made him feel weaker. His fuel tank fluttered, his ember guttered, his fans sputtered.

When he was alone, he told himself that it was fear—very rational fear, for more than once he and his slipped schedule had been on the receiving end of the infamous wrath of the Autobot Justice Division's Petrex.

("I'll teach you to keep on schedule," Prowl had said before; and it was both an indulgent offer to take him under his wing and a threat. "Every cog ticks in time around me. I make sure of it.")

Yes—Mesothulas told himself the weakness he felt around Prowl was born of fear. But when he was in Prowl's presence, he knew that was only half true.

When he was with Prowl, he was almost desperate to impress him.

Words tumbled out of him: "I'm—I'm almost done with the guilt extractor, actually. Ahead of schedule." It was risky business to tell Prowl when he was ahead of schedule. On the one hand, yes, he'd be immediately gratified with Prowl's approval—and oh, when Prowl approved of him, it was heavenly. For a moment, on the timepiece that was Prowl's carefully-wound life, Mesothulas was a jewel mounted in the center of its face, sparkling in the light of Prowl's delight. But Prowl never forgot a promise; and when Mesothulas promised a faster delivery, Prowl updated his expectations accordingly. If he fell behind again, it meant Prowl's wrath was twice as hot; because now, not only had he failed to meet Prowl's schedule, he'd also lied about getting ahead and maliciously stolen some of Prowl's approval.

(So Prowl made him feel, anyway. Sometimes Mesothulas nearly believed it.)

But the way Prowl's optics lit up made Mesothulas immediately forget the consequences. The consequences would come later. Today—now—Prowl's arms were outstretched, and he said, voice a little louder, "That's wonderful!" Prowl's tone of voice never changed; it only got louder or softer, and either direction could be good or bad; but whichever direction it went, it could make Mesothulas's ember flicker with fear or blaze with joy and longing for more. "I can expect it sooner, then. Would you say by the end of the week."

Without stopping to think, Mesothulas said, "Without a doubt," and immediately felt faint; although he wasn't sure whether it was from the monumental scale of this promise, or from the way Prowl's arms wrapped around him: one pressed to his upper back, pulling Mesothulas's face against the chest of his armor; and one pressed lower on his back, so suggestively low that Mesothulas's armor burned where Prowl's fingers touched him. Mesothulas's own fingers burned as well, itching with the urge to wrap his arms around the thick waist of Prowl's rad suit—but to do so without explicit permission was dangerous. Mesothulas had courted enough danger by promising the guilt extractor so soon.

"Good," Prowl said—his voice was so soft now, and Mesothulas's legs were weak. "I'll hold you to it."

Mesothulas's ember filled with dread, and he wanted even more to wrap himself around Prowl—not just physically, but spiritually, to bind himself to his... to his perverse muse, the walking inspiration for all the most wondrous things he'd ever created.

"But that's not what I'm here about."

... And the most horrible things. He tensed with the urge to pull back, but couldn't. Not until Prowl was ready to let him go.

"Oh, I've—" Mesothulas spoke quickly, "—I've been working on another project too, since I'm getting so far ahead on the guilt extractor—you'll be pleased, I'm sure—it's the one you thought up, to make use of all those scraps of reality I've got sitting around—"

"I'm sure I will be pleased." Prowl finally let go, and stepped back, and Mesothulas wasn't sure if that was a good sign or not. "But that's not what I'm here for, either." His head dipped down slightly, and not for the first time Mesothulas marveled through his fear at how much Prowl could express through nothing but the tilt of his head and the way his gaze came through his mask. "And I know a distraction when I hear it."

"I—I'm sorry, I just thought you'd want to—"

"Mesothulas."

"Yes! Forgive me! Y-you were saying? You're here about—?"

"Carpessa."

Mesothulas's fuel tank twisted. He had heard of the neutral city. He'd never been there before. He had no connection to it. Prowl had never mentioned it before. Mesothulas knew exactly what happened to it. "Th... The bomb...?"

"Worked flawlessly," Prowl said, and the bottom of Mesothulas's twisted fuel tank dropped out completely. "I don't know how you managed to cobble together a bomb out of pathetic Decepticon parts that has such explosive capacity, and yet can still be mistaken for something they made—but I must hand it to you, everyone was fooled. Even the Prime is marveling at their unanticipated savagery. This will throttle their chances to get any interstellar allies rallying behind their cause, when they can't play the poor innocent victims. A job well done, Mesothulas. For the most part."

Every word was an icicle through Mesothulas's ember. It took him several tries to choke out the word, "S-survivors?"

Prowl hesitated. "Too many," he said. "There were less than fifteen hundred fatalities. That's why I'm here, to discuss my requirements for the next model. Which I'd like you to get to work on as soon as possible. I was going to give you an extension on the guilt extractor so you could begin to work on the bomb immediately, but if you think you can be done in a week, then you can finish it first and get to work on the next bomb—"

"No."

He hadn't planned it. He hadn't meant to say it. And if he had the choice, he'd rather throw himself on Terminus's teeth than spend one more nanosecond watching in horror as Prowl's head slowly tilted down, and his optics blazed brighter.

Quietly, Prowl said, "No."

For a moment, the lab was so quiet, Mesothulas could hear Ostaros's vents cycling air. Ostaros. Never mind what Prowl might do to him—what might he do to Ostaros? Prowl could rip Mesothulas to shreds, but the mere thought of him scratching Ostaros's soft paint, the enamel hadn't even cured yet—

"Well," Prowl said, just as quietly, "if you'd rather keep to the original schedule, then—take the extension on the guilt extractor, and work on it and the bomb simultaneously..."

For a moment, the heavens opened up, a beam of light shone down on Prowl, and a holy chorus played. Prowl didn't offer second chances. Never. The Autobot Justice Division culled and amputated all limbs of the Autobot Army that no longer served what Petrex considered to be their appropriate purpose. Weakness was to be eradicated. Mesothulas should have been honored to be so indulged after wavering from the path Prowl had assigned him. All he had to do was accept it, and get back to work. Continue singing the songs his muse wrote for him. All would be well and beautiful, and if Mesothulas was good, every once in a while Prowl would touch him as kindly as he had a moment ago.

And there would be more Carpessas.

No. No, he couldn't, not again. Damn whatever Prowl might do to him—to them—oh, Ostaros, Mesothulas is so sorry—but Mesothulas and Ostaros were only two people. How many had died in Carpessa? He couldn't let it happen again.

His voice was barely a whisper. "I can't."

Prowl's optics flashed brighter, and Mesothulas flinched. "Excuse me." Yet another chance to correct his errant wording. Mesothulas was drowning in indulgences today. He wondered if Prowl had ever before been so lenient with anyone else. If he was smart, he'd take this chance.

But Carpessa. "Forgive me, I'm sorry, I—"

Prowl lunged forward, seizing him by the collar of his chestplate, and Mesothulas cried out, nearly sobbing. "You've always been so obedient," he hissed. "You've done your job so well. It's what I like so much about you." (Even now, ready to die, Mesothulas's ember blazed brighter at the praise. Terminus, Terminus, Mesothulas would do anything for Prowl—not just out of fear—but he couldn't do this. Over a thousand lives were already on his hands.) "After all that, you haven't suddenly developed a streak of naughtiness, have you."

"No! Never!" Mesothulas grabbed at Prowl's gauntleted hand. "I—I'm still useful to you, I swear! I can build you more troops—reliable troops—without waiting for Terminus to reawaken—"

"Surely you're not referring to your vapid pet project that smiled at me when I came in."

"He's not done. When he's finished—"

"I asked for a bomb!" He shook Mesothulas to emphasize the word. This time Mesothulas did sob.

"Wh-w-what about the guilt extractor? Or—or the project with the reality scraps? I've stitched it into a serviceable prison, I—I could show—"

Prowl shook Mesothulas again, and he fell silent. But Prowl said nothing. It was more terrifying than anything he might have said. Even a death sentence would end the suspense.

But finally—voice back at its usual volume—he said, "Show me."

Surely, no one in all of Cybertronian history had been shown as much mercy as the merciless Prowl had shown to Mesothulas today. "Oh—th-thank you—you'll be so pleased, I'm sure of—"

"Just move." Prowl let go of Mesothulas, and shoved him backwards. He tripped backwards on the stairs, crashed down, and for a moment in his panic actually tried to clamber up them backwards on his hands and heels before he managed to roll over and rush to his feet.

"This way!" He took the stairs two at a time, and heard Prowl following heavily behind.

He had to get out. He couldn't stay here, not like this. This would only work as a distraction, and Mesothulas couldn't risk Ostaros's life again. He'd done it in the spur of the moment, but next time he'd be weak, he knew it. It wouldn't be long before Prowl figured out he could get whatever he wanted if he threatened Ostaros.

He'd get through this. He'd hand over his prison if Prowl asked for it. And then he and Ostaros had to disappear.

"I call it the Noisemaze. It's—I-it's—" He'd had a description of it he'd been working on, trying to figure out how to convey what it was while leaving out all the words like horrifying and monstrous and unconscionable, all the little descriptors that Prowl didn't like to hear Mesothulas say; but the words failed him now, and all he could say about it was, "it induces sensory overload."

"Is that it."

"Extreme sensory overload," Mesothulas protested. Keep talking, keep talking, impress him. "The kind that—that completely fills your RAM. You can't think through it. It destroys all higher rational thought." He entered the room where he'd been working on the Noisemaze, looked around for something other than the doorframe to focus on—there was the welder he'd discarded, he should pick it up—and tried not to think about whether offering Prowl this torture prison was any less evil than bombing civilians. At least a bomb was quick. (Evil, that was what it was—that was what he was, now—he'd done evil. He'd done evil for Prowl.)

"How painful."

"I can think of nothing more painful." He set the welder on a workbench, and climbed up the two-step pedestal so he could flip the switch on the side of the frame. A hum, and the shadows of the room were stirred with soft, moving turquoise and orange lights. "It's—unending torment. It skips straight past the more fragile vectors for pain—limbs, nerves, all of them are things that can be destroyed, turned off, or burned out. But the Noisemaze attacks your mind directly. It harms you through your senses without harming your senses. Nothing you can do will turn off or block the barrage except destroying your own senses, all of them—but the Noisemaze would leave your mind too addled and overloaded on pain to even think of such a thing." It wasn't the description he'd meant to go for, but he was fairly certain he'd left out any words that would make Prowl tetchy. Prowl didn't care how awful it sounded, as long as Mesothulas didn't imply that to do it was wrong.

Prowl ambled around it, examining the controls. "And it's finished, you say. You certainly showed initiative."

"Well—the hardware used to access it needs some refining—the prototype is practically held together with hot glue and scotch tape—but the Noisemaze itself, it'll hold together indefinitely." He leaned an elbow on the doorframe to gaze into the Noisemaze. The landscape shifted and the sky spun, and even with the thin membrane of the doorway separating him from the maze, watching it undulate and roil made him dizzy. How many would Prowl put in here? Maybe he could find a way later to steal it back. Once he and Ostaros were out of here—he could get Ostaros with one of the neutral populations fleeing the planet, he could join the Decepticons, use his inventing abilities and knowledge of Prowl for good—

He heard Prowl climbing the doorframe's pedestal, right behind him; and yet, he still flinched when Prowl's arms wrapped, slowly, gently, around his waist. "It's beautiful." Prowl's voice was a whisper; and his fingertips grazed across Mesothulas's stomach so softly, so tenderly, it almost made him cry. "The perfect prison for the Autobot Justice Division's needs. The ultimate tool for reform—destroy their mind and remake it."

Mesothulas's abdominal armor trembled under Prowl's touches, and the Noisemaze spun nauseatingly before his optics. Oh Prowl, love him, praise him, use him, keep holding him just like that. Mesothulas couldn't leave, he couldn't leave. He'd get Ostaros away and bear the punishment for it, but he couldn't leave. "Is—is th... I didn't think the AJD focused on reform? Just punishment?"

"We reform a few," Prowl said. "The few cogs that aren't too broken or too dull to be of use, but rather would help the Autobot machine tick more efficiently, if only the rough edges could be sanded smooth." One hand grazed Mesothulas's waist, leaving a path of tingling light in its wake as it languidly circled around to the small of his back. "The ones like you."

Mesothulas's spark froze. "Wha—?"

He tried to twist at the exact moment Prowl shoved him. He grabbed Prowl's gauntleted wrist. "Prowl!" He hung by one hand and the tip of one foot in reality; his other arm and leg wheeled wildly in the Noisemaze, trying to help him keep balance, but he couldn't even tell which direction he was spinning them. A dozen directions at once. Prowl's mask melted and twisted in front of his optics. "Please! Don't— I— Take me— Ostaros—"

"When you get out," it looked like the Autobrand had melted onto Prowl's face, like it moved and shifted with his words, like he spoke through its mouth, "I expect your head to be empty of everything except thoughts of obeying me. If your Noisemaze works as well as you say, that should be no problem."

"No, no, no no no no—" He managed to get his other hand back through the portal, and the tip of his other foot, and he grabbed Prowl's hand. Prowl's optics blazed bright, the same pink as Mesothulas's armor. (Was it still pink? He couldn't see himself anymore, he was turning black, only his hands and the tips of his feet still looked pink.) "Please." He squeezed Prowl's hand. "Please."

Prowl stared at him, even as the edges of his face started to fall apart. And then he squeezed Mesothulas's hand back. Hope surged. Was he reconsidering? He was going to pull Mesothulas back in, this had just been to scare him, he still had one more chance—

"When you get out, you're going to make me an army, Mesothulas. Just like Ostaros." With his free hand, Prowl unlatched his gauntlet. It slid off and Mesothulas tumbled into madness.

The lab was dusty; the lights were out. Everything that Prowl could find an off switch for had been shut down months ago; everything he couldn't, had been left to run or burn out. Something had exploded. A couple of wings of the lab were rubble, now. Radiation from outside leaked in through a destroyed wall. Prowl had sealed all the doors he could between here and there, but he still wouldn't dare so much as take off his rad suit's helmet inside the lab.

A second suit was settled against the wall, waiting for a passenger, as Prowl ascended the pedestal to the Noisemaze's doorframe. Six months was long enough. Mesothulas was ready to come back.

Prowl pulled the lever to open the door.

Nothing happened.

He turned it off, and back on. And again. And again, more forcefully. "No." He looked down, getting off the pedestal, dropping to his knees to check the power cables. He grabbed every point at which they connected and twisted them together, tight, making sure the connections were secure. He risked exposing a sliver of armor under one gauntlet so he could hold his wrist against the cable, checking to make sure he could detect a flowing EM field through it. He latched his gauntlet back in place, and walked up to the doorframe again, to flip the switch one more time.

Sparks flew from the frame. Prowl stumbled back as something popped, and smoke spewed from behind the switch. "No!" He waved the smoke away and stormed up to the frame again, flipping the switch over, and over, and over. "No, no, no—" his voice got louder with every word, "—give him back, give him back. This is incarceration, not an execution!"

Nothing. He waved an arm wildly through the doorframe, ducked through it, quickly examined the doorframe from the other side, circled around it, circled around it faster. "No! Dammit, he's—he's mine, he's—give him back! Give him back to me!" He grabbed the frame, shook it—the lever coughed out a sad puff of smoke—and he leaned through it again. "Mesothulas!" As though the Noisemaze was still right through the doorway. "Mesothulas!" As though he could reach him from here, if only he was loud enough.

There was silence in the abandoned lab.

Prowl's hand slid off the doorframe. He dropped to his knees in the middle of the dead portal to the Noisemaze, cradled his head in his hands, and rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

They say that the doorway in Petrex's room goes somewhere—or it would, if only somebody knew how to turn it on again. They say that it's a prison; they say he keeps something terrible locked away, and woe to anyone who's there when he unlocks it. They say that when Petrex sleeps on his doorway, hand pressed to its cement-and-rubble surface, sometimes something on the other side will scratch at it, desperate to get out; and sometimes, in his sleep, Petrex will scratch back.

They say many things about Petrex. A few of them are true.

Here's what they don't say about Petrex, but perhaps they should: he is icy, and hard, and unmovable, and implacable in public; but in private, he screams, he rages, he cackles, he dances, hot and explosive as a fire raging through a fuel refinery. You can see his optics behind his mask, wide and wild and red, but sometimes they're white-hot, and at those times his mask doesn't look icy but white-hot too. Here's what else they don't say: nobody has ever joined the Autobot Justice Division willingly; and most of those who join are criminals and turncoats that Petrex has reassigned to more important functions; but a few, a few are those who he has not chained to himself with invisible ununtrium links, but rather tied to himself with sinewy red threads. A few are those that he's loved too much to ever let escape.

Nobody says that about Petrex because nobody knows that he can feel love.

Petrex prefers it that way.

"What's the point of all this, Tarantulas."

Even when Prowl was on the ground and Tarantulas—what a stupid name, a grotesque alien name for an animal, a name that clattered and chattered against the back of Prowl's teeth, t-t-t—Tarantulas was pulled up high, huddling like a fearful creature against the wall—even at this range, Prowl had mastered the art of tilting his head just so, so that the way his mask framed his optics made it look like he was glaring down at Tarantulas. And he was glaring down at Tarantulas. Because no matter what a putrid beast he'd made of himself, no matter what a lowly bug he was now compared to Prowl, no matter all Prowl had achieved or all the power he'd amassed or all the soldiers at his beck and call—Autobot and Decepticon alike, now—the truth was, Tarantulas had blackmail, and Tarantulas had an invisible army, and Tarantulas had a prison in a pocket dimension where he'd trapped Prowl and where nobody knew how to find Prowl—and Prowl was terrified. And he would never, ever let Tarantulas know that.

"The point?" Tarantulas drew back, visibly surprised, and Prowl was pleased by his confusion even if he didn't understand it. "I—Isn't it obvious?"

"As obvious as you are pink." Tarantulas wasn't pink, anymore. He was black, all but for red biolights and the cotton candy pink on his feet and the filthy fuzzy tips of his new spidery limbs. Tarantulas flinched, looking down, self-consciously running a—it wasn't a hand, was it?—a hairy sausage over the black fur on one thigh, and Prowl made note of the insecurity to exploit later. "So what is this. Explain yourself."

"This is..." For a moment, Tarantulas wilted, visibly bewildered. "This is... what you asked me for."

Prowl stared at him, just as bewildered but much less visibly. "Explain more."

"You... you told me to empty my thoughts of everything, except obeying you." Tarantulas crept down the wall, his many legs squirming agitatedly. "You told me when I got out, I'd make you an army. And I—I have. I am."

Prowl stared at Tarantulas, as he lowered himself back to floor level. "You don't mean the Chimeracons. I thought they forced you to make their meat suits." The damage they'd left Tarantulas with was still visible, the melted and matted fur, the breaks in two of his spider legs. Of all the mysterious affairs surrounding Prowl's kidnapping, Prowl still couldn't figure out why, when Tarantulas commanded the Noisemaze and could shrink to the point of invisibility, he had put up with their abuses. Perhaps Prowl had trained him to tolerate too much. "They've already kidnapped me. They'd have tried to kill me if you hadn't intervened. What kind of army is that."

And once on the floor, Tarantulas kept lowering himself, kneeling at Prowl's feet. "I had to let them use me, to get the resources I needed to get close to you. They're irrelevant—they're only the start. Now that I've perfected the technology, I—I can pick up where I left off with Ostaros—y-you remember Ostaros, don't you?—just like you wanted. Making your army from scratch. Yours to do with as you please—overthrow the Prime, vanquish the Decepticons, reorder Cybertron to your specifications—all yours, Prowl. All of it. All—all of me." Prowl's ember leapt into his throat.

So he grabbed Tarantulas's. "Don't play with me."

Tarantulas flinched, but he didn't even try to pull back. "I'm not." His voice was shaky—Prowl couldn't see the fear on his face, he didn't know how to make sense of his new features yet, but he could hear it. "I'm not, I would never. I—Prowl, you're—you're all I thought about in the Noisemaze. When I could think. I—I was wrong to challenge your orders. I'm sorry. You're everything to me. You're my muse, my inspiration, my life, I—I'm yours. Anything you want from me, it's yours."

Prowl stared at him. And swallowed hard, trying to put his ember back where it belonged. He squeezed tighter. Tarantulas's visor widened, but he didn't even grab at Prowl's hand.

"Anything."

"Anything," Tarantulas whispered. It was the most beautiful word Prowl had ever heard.

And funny. Because Prowl remembered how it had been "anything" before, too—up until suddenly Mesothulas changed his mind, and then it wasn't.

Last time, Prowl had been too soft on Mesothulas—he'd liked him too much. He'd eased him into his new duties, slowly escalating the amount of energon he had to spill. That worked on most people. They'll commit any atrocity you ask for, as long as it's only just a little bit worse than the one before.

He wasn't making that mistake this time. While Tarantulas was still malleable, still vulnerable, still dizzy with adoration and desperate to regain Prowl's approval—Prowl had to make him do the worst thing he could imagine. Something so awful, that nothing else Tarantulas could possibly do would ever be worse.

"I do remember Ostaros." Prowl let go of Tarantulas's throat. Tarantulas swayed forward, following Prowl's hand, as though he wanted to be choked again. Pathetic. Gorgeous. "I took him with me. He's an Autobot now."

"He's—still alive?"

"He is. He's named Springer, now. 'Ostaros' was a stupid name." (Tarantulas flinched, gaze wavering, but he didn't argue.) "He'll be coming to rescue me as soon as he figures out where I am, I'm sure. You'll get to meet him."

Tarantulas's visor practically sparkled. "Oh! I—"

"When you do, you'll kill him."

Tarantulas stared at him. His strange rows of mandibles were frozen at irregular angles, as though he'd been caught with his mouth hanging open. "I... I don't understand, I..."

"I will not have divided loyalties." Prowl cupped Tarantulas's face in his hand, running a thumb along a ridge over his cheek. "If you're mine, then you're mine. No part of you will belong to anyone else."

Prowl could see the exact moment Tarantulas decided he would obey Prowl's order. It was the moment a light behind his visor died.

"... What does he look like, now." Tarantulas's voice was as hollow and toneless as Prowl's.

Prowl tilted his helm in just that right way to imply a smile. "I'm sure you'll know him when you see him."

The Noisemaze was falling apart. From Prowl's vantage point in Debris, he could see it convulsing and collapsing on itself. With one hand, Prowl stroked Tarantulas's head, as Tarantulas sobbed brokenly. Tarantulas's arms were flung around Prowl's waist, filthy claws clutching pitifully at whatever kibble he could latch onto, rocking back and forth as he wailed. Prowl had heard the wail of a grieving parent before, but never from a Cybertronian. He wondered if Tarantulas even counted as a Cybertronian now.

With his other hand, Prowl carried Springer's head.

Prowl was sorry for Tarantulas. He truly was. Prowl had always hated hurting him the most. But after this, everything else would come so much easier.

The Noisemaze was nothing but shreds and void by the time Tarantulas's sobs grew silent and his convulsions reduced to mere trembling. Only then did Prowl speak.

"Welcome to the AJD."

Tarantulas was silent.

After a long moment, he said, hoarsely, "I—w-we... we're named for our hometowns, aren't we? In the AJD. I... I was... truly... truly born in the Noisemaze, s-so... so, I guess..."

"No," Prowl said. "No, people get names. You're no longer a person. You've turned yourself into a beast."

Tarantulas didn't even wince. Something in Prowl shuddered at it—had he gone too far?—but he consoled himself: maybe Tarantulas was beyond pain, now. Everything would be easier from here on. Everything would be easier.

After another long silence, Tarantulas asked, "Then... what...? What's my...?"

Prowl rubbed a thumb affectionately over one of his horns. "You're my Pet."

Now, they say there's a monster in Petrex's private quarters that lives under his berth.

It's as black as Terminus's gaping maw and has just as many fangs, and it's just as likely to kill you. It's a freak that used to be Cybertronian, but now it's made of meat and metal, the metal rotting the meat and the meat rusting the metal, and it shambles around in the dark on too many legs, and it climbs the walls and ceiling and nests in the corners like a ghost trapped in the room where it died, trying to get free.

They say that Petrex can love; but his love is cruel, and cold, and it will suck the life out of you and leave you a husk of the mech you used to be before you caught his fevered gaze.

They say that when he finds somebody he wants, he chains them to himself with invisible ununtrium links, or ties them to himself with sinewy red threads, or, in one special case, webs them to him with sticky white silk.

They say that Petrex sleeps on a doorway, filled in with cement—a door that doesn't go anywhere. He presses his hand to it when he sleeps.

Sometimes, something scratches on the door from underneath.

Also on AO3.

If you want a tiny fic/story, buy me a coffee and leave a prompt in the comments!

(Feel free to reblog/add comments)

#prowl #tarantulas #transformers #maccadam #shattered glass #prowlrantulas #my writing #tfspeedwriting

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hanwritesstuff · 6 years

Note

prompt: shouto pretends to get amnesia

I did this one first because I thought it was going to be the hardest, but it was actually pretty fun!! (I’m posting this on mobile, I’ll put a readmore tomorrow)

—

Shouto knows some villains are just cruel. They want to watch the world burn, want to see the way they’ve suffered reflected in everyone else’s eyes. They want revenge on a world that was unkind to them and have the perverted desire and means to get it.

But somehow, he didn’t expect this.

When heroes started going missing out of the blue last month, he was one of the few tasked with finding them. And he did. Many of them were dead, or close to it, and the closer he got, the more horrific it all became, until he got sucked up into the center of this devastating tornado and saw what it really was.

Everything works as part of a system of supply and demand, and when villains want to watch like rabid sports fans as heroes beat each other within an inch of their lives in underground coliseums, someone will make it happen.

All he knows now, standing in the middle of a sea of unfriendly faces, is that he’s not supposed to remember anything. His mind was supposed to be completely wiped by a memory-erasure quirk with nothing left in its place, brought on by staring into one villain’s piercing purple eyes for almost a minute without blinking, and yet almost everything is still clear. He doesn’t remember how he got here, but everything else remains unchanged. He remembers his name, his birthday, how old he is…

And he especially remembers the other man walking through the gate on the other side of this hellish concrete arena.

Every step Midoriya takes is steady, as expected of a top-ten hero, but even from this far away, Shouto can tell he’s scared. He grits his teeth, keeps squeezing his hands into tense fists, and the way his eyes go wide when he sees Shouto standing there makes Shouto wish even more that he could say something back. That he could let his eyes show even a flash of recognition.

But the number of villains sitting there, watching their every move, is at least two hundred, and if one of them notices something awry, the rest will pounce. Shouto’s confident in his own abilities, even more so when they’re combined with Midoriya’s, but with the playing field that unevenly stacked, their odds of making it out alive are close to none.

He doesn’t know what to do. If he refuses to use his full strength on Midoriya, they’ll complain that he’s “going easy on him” and connect the dots, but the other option is hurting Midoriya somehow, which isn’t something Shouto can think about without feeling sick to his stomach.

“You know how this match goes, folks!” An announcer with white hair speaks into a megaphone, “Pick up two heroes who clearly know each other, wipe one, and see what happens!”

The crowd goes wild. The noise is deafening to Shouto’s ears, but the only thing he can think about is how relieved he is that Midoriya wasn’t subject to the same quirk he was.

“Todoroki?” Midoriya’s too far away for Shouto to actually hear the sound of his own name, but he sees Midoriya’s lips form the word anyway. They’re twenty-one now, and the honorifics have long since been dropped.

Shouto vaguely hears the announcer say their names, hears the jeering that follows, but he doesn’t care. His mind is racing too fast to focus on something that small.

“I’m sorry,” Midoriya says, still inaudible, “I’m so sorry, I’ll get you out of this, I swear-“

“Begin!” The announcer screams.

Midoriya lunges forward, trying to get in close. He’s a hands-on fighter, at least compared to Shouto’s long-range style. They both know their quirks well now, know how they work best.

For once, Shouto let’s him get close. That’s the only way they’ll be able to talk without anyone else hearing them.

“Todoroki,” Midoriya says, frighteningly calm, “I’m going to save you this time.”

“Wait-”

The green lightning of Midoriya’s quirk flares up down his arms. “I know you don’t remember me, but-”

“But-” I do.

Shouto can’t even get the two most important words in before there’s an explosion and the wall caves in. The exhilarated cheers turn chaotic and afraid in seconds as everyone in the stands heads for an exit.

“Make sure those fucks don’t get away,” a familiar voice says, “This is a villain jackpot, and we’re arresting every one of them.”

“Kacchan…?” Midoriya looks up as Bakugou walks down to the floor, a swarm of other pro heroes scurrying around behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“You had that tracker on you, remember?” Bakugou smirks. “These idiots didn’t even think to take it off.”

“What are you talking about?” Shouto asks. This is all moving so fast-

“You’ve been in here for three days, IcyHot, someone had to get you out-”

Three days?

“Wait.” Midoriya holds up his hand. “He’s been hit by a memory wiping quirk, he doesn’t remember anything.”

“Shit,” Bakugou mutters.

“Yeah.” Midoriya gets down on his knees, bringing Shouto down with him until Shouto’s lying on the ground with his head in his lap. “I’m going to stay here for a few minutes.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, but he starts walking away anyway. “Fine.”

Midoriya sighs before he looks down at Shouto with a sad smile. “Don’t worry,” he says, lazily running his fingers through Shouto’s hair, “We’ll take you someplace safe soon.”

Suddenly, Shouto isn’t so sure about revealing how much he knows. He likes this feeling, this warmth. He feels safe.

“I’m sorry, is this okay?” Midoriya asks, lifting his hand, “I just thought-“

“It’s fine.” Shouto reaches up to bring Midoriya’s hand right back down. He can afford to be a little greedy. “Keep doing it.”

“O-okay.” Midoriya bobs his head in an erratic nod. “If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Shouto’s eyelids suddenly feel incredibly heavy, an invisible weight pulling them down, down, down.

“Do you want me to keep talking or…?”

“Do whatever you like.”

“Okay.” Midoriya smiles just before Shouto closes his eyes. “You certainly sound like the Todoroki I know.”

That’s because I am, a part of Shouto wants to say. The rest of him doesn’t, not for a little while longer, anyway. He has all the time in the world.

“What should I say?” Midoriya asks, likely to himself, “I can’t just talk to him like I usually would because he’d get really confused and start asking a bunch of questions and then he’d get overwhelmed and I don’t want him to-”

“Stop,” Shouto murmurs, his voice slurred by the exhaustion just now overtaking him, “Tell me… what I’m like.”

“What you’re l-like?” Midoriya stammers, “Uh, okay, if you say so!”

He takes a breath. Shouto opens his eyes again.

“Um… cats!” Midoriya’s eyes light up. “You really like cats. And cats really like you. They always curl up around your leg and purr a lot. Everyone else is super jealous.”

Shouto knows that.

��And you-” Midoriya cuts himself off with a smile. “You always do little things to help people. Like you help old ladies cross the street and get stuff on higher shelves for people when they can’t reach and- should I keep going?”

Shouto nods.

“And you can take a nap anywhere,” Midoriya continues, “One time, when we were in high school, we were at training camp and we had a break and when it was over we didn’t know where you were so we looked all over for you and you climbed a tree and fell asleep there.”

“You screamed my name when you found me and I almost fell,” Shouto mumbles. The event is practically burned into his memory.

“Oh my god.” Midoriya’s eyes go wide. “You remember.”

“Uh-huh,” Shouto says. It was good while it lasted.

“I’m so glad!” Midoriya looks like he’s about to cry. Shouto doesn’t want him to, even though he knows he can’t stop him. “I thought you were-”

“I know. But I wasn’t.” Shouto half-smiles. “I never forgot in the first place.”

“You jerk!” Midoriya laughs, cheeks dusted with pink. “You knew the whole time and you didn’t cut me off!”

Even if Shouto really did forget everything, he doesn’t think he would have even gotten close.

#bnha #fanfic #tododeku

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throwawayblog9999 · 7 years

Text

I’m making this post a sideblog because I want to stay anonymous.

So, I’ve been debating with @pro-hearts-pro-minds about pro-ana through anon, and this is kinda long and has a weird format, so I’m posting it here. I’m on mobile, so sorry for the long post with no readmore.

One thing I want to clarify is that I’m not really trying to argue about the “morality”, so to speak, of pro-ana. I’m trying to talk about the actions of people in the anti-pro-ana community, and that’s what this post will be centered on.

You said I didn’t really show you any examples of anti-pro-anas being hostile, so I went out and found some. Please note, I found these all within one hour, and all of these were on “major” anti-pro-ana blogs. I also went out to use the most egregious examples, and it’s worth noting most examples are much more subtle than these listed below. I also didn’t include usernames because I didn’t want to target anyone. I categorized these within three groups: Labeling pro-anas as stupid or ignorant; accusing pro-anas of being malicious or deliberately hurting others, or having a desire to hurt others; and guilt tripping, or telling pro-anas they should feel bad.

Labeling pro-anas as stupid and or ignorant: -[Referring to pro-ana arguments] “…and it’s like BITCH PLEASE ARE YOU THAT IGNORANT [sic]”

-“…No one should have to stop using [Tumblr] because [pro-anas] are ignorant and can’t follow simple rules.”

-“I just get pissed off at ignorant children [pro-anas]…”

Accusing pro-anas of being malicious or deliberately hurting others, or having a desire to hurt others: -“… You are helping someone slowly kill themselves and you have the gall to pretend you care and want them to “keep safe” while killing themselves? You should be ashamed.”

-“People who create pro ana content get off on hurting, exploiting and controlling other people…” (which is the direct quote of I paraphrased earlier, which you either forgot about or ignored by claiming I didn’t give you any examples)

-[Referring to pro-anas] “…how do you not get that you’re the bad guys?”

Guilt tripping/ “You should feel bad.” -See example above, which literally ends with “You should be ashamed.”

-“You’re disgusting. Supporting people killing themselves? Do you not have a heart?”

-[In response to a pro-ana post] “…You should be absolutely ashamed of yourself.”

With these types of statements, there isn’t any room for interpretation. It’s clear what they mean: Pro-anas are stupid, pro-anas are cruel, pro-anas should feel shame and guilt for what they’re doing. That’s my issue. Adding on to that, when people question some of these bloggers about these behaviors, they merely respond with something along the lines of “If pro-anas weren’t blogging, I wouldn’t be like this!”, which is merely a tactic to blame others for one’s own bad behavior.

While I doubt all anti-pro-anas deliberately act this way- I bet some of these statements weren’t intended to be cruel- it doesn’t change the fact that it’s not acceptable.

You can’t decry pro-ana as a horrible thing as the messages are cruel or degrading, and then sit by and let people on your side do the same thing without complaint. If you’re going to do that, don’t expect people to just not call you out on it. And you can’t act like anti-pro-anas care about pro-anas, because the messages above clearly show they do not.

It’s the same thing with pro-anas who send anonymous hate to anti-pro-anas- it’s a cowardly move, not to mention rather pointless. If you have an issue, be civil about it. It doesn’t matter who’s being hostile to the other person- it shouldn’t be done on either side. Period.

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imaginetonyandbucky · 8 years

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Could you write a fic where Tony and Bucky have been through so much in getting and staying together (maybe after CW?) that they just know they're each other's one and only and forever after. So when everyone (Avengers/civilians/media) doubts them and ridicules their relationship or when 'incriminating' photos or other proof of cheating or betrayal is brought up by well-meaning friends or malicious a-holes to break them up, they shrug and say 'I trust him, he would never-', pretty please?

Sampoured himself a glass of juice and took it into the wide commonarea. He really had to stop letting Steve goad him into doing shitthat was about four levels over his actual capabilities. All hewanted now was to flop on the big couch and whine about how much hiscalves hurt.

Barneswas already there, watching some celebrity gossip show, of allthings. Sam blinked in confusion, then remembered that Stark had goneoff to Tokyo on a business trip yesterday, and Barnes hadn’t beenable to go along, because his legal status in Tokyo was still inquestion. Bucky-boo was probably hoping for a clip about his guy.

Theshow didn’t disappoint – not long after Sam collapsed onto thecouch with a grunt of greeting, it flipped to a segment on Tony’sarrival in Tokyo. The host chattered inanely over a video montage.There was Stark being greeted as he got off the plane, signingautographs in the airport, a cute shot of him posing with a kid in anIron Man costume.

Barnessighed soulfully and Sam glanced back at the TV to see Stark walkingalong a red carpet toward some event, looking even sharper thanusual. Next to Stark was a Japanese business mogul at his side with apretty girl on his arm. Damn, why did rich old guys get all thepretty ones? Barnes, of course, only had eyes for Stark.

“Youknow if you told him how much you liked it, he’d probably wear thetux for you at home,” Sam pointed out.

“It’sspecial ‘cause I don’t get to see it much,” Barnes said, whichwas a fair point.

Samwished the show host would shut up; her voice was grating. Oh, thepretty girl was the business guy’s daughter. That was a bit easierto swallow. Sam wondered if Stark was going into business with theguy, whether he could hook Sam up with an introduction. Sam closedhis eyes and stretched his aching calves again and visualized Rogersrunning into a brick wall or something else nearly as hard as hishead.

He’dprobably just go right through it. Parachutes and doors were conceptshe was still working on, apparently.

Barnes’breath hitched and Sam cracked one eye. Then he sat up, fast, becausethe TV was showing Stark dancing with the daughter. Closely. Theywere definitely not leaving any room for Jesus in there, holy shit.The girl said something, and Stark threw his head back and laughed.

Barnesmade another soft, indeterminate noise. Shit shit shit.

(Mobile readers, ‘ware the readmore!)

“Barnes,hey,” Sam tried. “It’s, I’m sure it’s not anything.” Hewasn’t sure of any such thing, actually, but Sam wasn’t gonna beable to restrain the Winter Soldier by himself, so he was stalling.“You okay, man?”

Barnesput his hands over his mouth. “Maybe.” He sounded a littleshaken. “It’s just, he’s…”

“Hey,I know, man, it’s not cool. But it doesn’t necessarily meananything.You know his rep.”

Barneswasn’t listening. “Those’re the steps we were practicingtogether, for the charity thing next month,” he murmured.

Samwinced. Jesus, Stark…

Barnessniffled, and Sam groaned inwardly. How the hell was he the onegetting stuck taking care of a heartbroken assassin? “C’mon,don’t jump to conclusions, you’ll work it out,” Sam tried.

Butthen Barnes dropped his hands, and he was… smiling?

Teary.But smiling.

“Thehell,” Sam wondered.

Barnesflashed him a grin. “He’s sayin’ hi,” he told Sam. “KnewI’d be watching, wanted me to know he was thinkin’ of me.”

Samglanced back at the TV. “Buck, I hate to say it, but are you sure?”

“SureI’m sure,” Bucky said. “You know how much we went through toget where we are? No way is he throwin’ me over for a fling.” Theshow switched to someone else and Bucky flicked it off, then fishedhis phone out of a pocket and dialed. “Hey, baby, I’m notinterrupting anything, am I? …Nah, I just saw the segment onStarshineandcouldn’t resist. That was the sweetest– Oh yeah? Hang on, lemmejust go somewhere a little more private.” Barnes winked at Sam andstrode for the elevator, still talking.

“Mornin’,gorgeous,” said Tony. Bucky looked up from his tablet and tippedhis head back so that Tony could lean in for a kiss on the way to thecoffee. “Good run?”

Buckysnorted and went back to scrolling through the news. “No suchthing,” he said, like he always did. “I only go ‘cause it’smarginally less awful than enduring Steve’s sad puppy face.”

Tonygrinned as he sat down and stole the toast from Bucky’s plate, justlike he did every morning. Bucky only bothered with a token defenseand protest. (Bucky actually made the toast, took one bite out of it,and then left the rest for Tony every morning just so Tony would eatsomething.Tony probably knew that, but as long as they didn’t mention it,then it still worked.) “I’d think you’d be immune to Steve’sface by now.”

“Thereis no immunity to that,” Bucky said reasonably. “Anyway, it nevergets old watching him challenge Sam to contests that Sam knows damnwellhecan’t win.”

Tonysnickered and brushed crumbs off his fingers. “What was it thistime?”

“Hurdles,”Bucky said. He scrolled a little further, to reveal a lurid headline.“Oh, look, you’re cheating on me again.”

“What?”Tony leaned into Bucky’s side, reading. “Oh dear, I’ve beenfound out.”

“Indeedyou have, you hussy.” Bucky delivered it deadpan and off-rhythm,like a second-grader delivering memorized lines in a school play.

“Butmy love for– Wait, who is it? I forgot to check.” Tony scrolleddown to check the article. “Oh, right. My love for Natasha cannotbe denied. An ocean to our pond.”

“Don’tworry,” Natasha told Bucky with a smirk as she came into thekitchen. “You can have him back now; I was only in it for themoney.”

Buckyfelt the smile tugging at his lips. “You betrayer,” he toldNatasha.

“That’sSultanVile Betrayertoyou,” Natasha said. “Any coffee left?”

“Mr.Stark! Mr. Stark!”

Tonyglanced up and rolled his eyes. Honestly, reporters.It was eight in the morning and the Avengers had just come off asix-hour-long battle with a pod of honest-to-god giant squids off thecoast. They were all exhausted, bruised and bloody, and covered inslime, seaweed, and other things better not considered too closely.Godforbidtheybe allowed to go back to the Tower and take showers before having toput on their public relations hats.

Still,maintaining the goodwill of the press was part of the job, so Tonyplastered on his public face and directed a well-practiced smirk intothe camera behind the woman’s shoulder. “Yes, hi, hello. There’llbe the usual post-incident news conference at the Tower; you’llwant to contact our PR office for–”

“Yessir, Mr. Stark, and our usual correspondent is already on it, but inthe meantime, since you were so valiantly defending us when themorning editions rolled out, I wanted to get your reaction to this.”She held up a newspaper – Jesus, they still madethose?– with a photo covering most of the top half.

Tonystared at the photo for several long seconds, then swiveled his headto look over at his boyfriend. “Tell me this is doctored,” hedemanded.

Buckyglanced at the paper, then looked away guiltily. “Baby–”

“Don’tyou ‘baby’ me!” Tony snapped. “How could you?”

“Comeon, Tony, it’s not that big a deal,” Bucky pleaded.

“Notthat big a deal? Dammit, you promised Icouldbe the one to let the paps catch me kissing Clint!”

Buckysighed and put his hands on Tony’s shoulders, pulling him away fromthe reporter. He glared at the camera and said quietly, “Look, theopportunity was there, and I jumped. I’m sorry. What if I let yoube the one to imply it’s a three-way, instead?”

Tonypouted at him. “Can I do it in today’s press conference?”

Bucky’sshoulders slumped. “I guess, since I didjumpthe gun on you already. Just make sure you let Clint know we’reupping the timetable.”

Tonybeamed. This was going to be epic.“You’re the best.”

“Whend’you reckon they’ll stop trying to make us have jealous fits andbreak up?”

“It’sthe press,” Tony said. “So approximately never. But most of thesemi-respectable gossip rags are starting to figure out that we’retrolling them, so pretty soon we’ll be down to just the bottomfeeders, and those are really just funny. I’m holding out for oneof having a secret affair with Bat Boy.”

“God,I love you.”

“Iknow.” Tony leaned in for a kiss, heedless of the slime.

~ @everyworldneedslove

#prompts #winteriron #tony stark #bucky barnes #tony x bucky #sam wilson #natasha romanov #everyworldneedslove #Anonymous

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