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youryanderedaddy · 3 years

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♡100 followers special♡

Guys, I would like to thank all of you for all the support since I started this blog, you are the best <3 Btw this is the fic Elon Musk doesn’t want you to see lol, jk jk

Title: Humanity

Words: 3.6k

Summary: When you get sold to an odd looking robot after the last failure of a rebellion, things go better than you had expected. Until they don’t.

tw: robot/AI apocalypse au, dystopia au, slavery, slight non - sexual public nudity, discrimination, vulgar language, mention of death and child abuse (in the past), obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, angst

AD 3061y., 14 September

Your hometown was in ruins, shattered by the Forces and left without any source of food, clean water or reliable manpower. The rebellion had failed just like the first ten attempts and as much as you had wanted to believe this time would be different, your dreams stayed nothing more than a way to cope with the harsh reality. Any intelligent individual had either managed to flee before the prosecution or died in agony while trying. You could still hear their pained screams ringing in your ear, the desperate look in their pupils sealed forever in your mind along with the sound of heavy breathing slowly fading into the background like your own hopes for a better future.

The ones who decided to play meek and close their eyes to the inhuman torture happening in the area were spared, but what awaited them could potentially be worse than death itself. You were part of the flock of pitiful weak humans who had surrendered to the heartless machines wanting nothing more than to see mankind squirm and kneel underneath their mechanic heel like a bug. And now you would face the hour of judgment – tired and exhausted, heavy rusty chains around your bruised ankles making every next step a little harder than the last one. But you were certain that the most painful humiliating event hadn’t taken place yet and the thought made your blood run cold. You could recall the countless stories you used to hear on the streets from your friends about androids stealing kids and selling them like cattle to the most powerful leaders of society. Back then you would laugh at them, finding the ideas ridiculous, better fit for a conspiracy theory or a legend rather than an actual threat. But during that time life was easier – the robots were still your friends, just your average citizens, equal to the humans in every manner. It wasn’t until ten years later that some of them realized just how much better, stronger and smarter than the people they really were. That’s how the apocalypse started and that’s how it was going to end. These days the mortals were becoming extinct with the population cut down to one million. You didn’t have names or rights to any possession. Your mere survival had one purpose only – to entertain the machines so they could feel human again. And right now you were being dragged to Soraq, also known as the biggest slave market in the country.

----

It was just as terrifying as you had imagined it to be. The Capital was supposed to express wealth, luxury and maybe even happiness but your old human views were easily opposed when faced with the mud covering what was left of the pavement and the pale exhausted bodies of the mortals wandering the streets searching for a hot meal and a little bit of kindness it was clear no one wanted to provide. You reached out to help a young girl sobbing all by herself on the ground but the Officer roughly yanked your shoulder back and ordered you to keep going – his cold hard touch was enough to bruise your skin.

After a few long minutes of uncertainty your keeper finally stopped, pulling you up some black stairs leading to a small stage and if you weren’t too busy looking around for the others who were captured, you might have noticed the crowd gathered inches away from you. Soon enough you were forced to redirect your attention as you heard the approving screams and cheering below. There were hundreds of robots staring at you, smirking maliciously, pinning you with their cold calculating gazes. You finally realized that this wasn’t just a bad dream or a nightmare, something unreal you could easily run away from by opening your eyes. You were about to become property and the worst part was the way the cruel machines perfectly resembled people – they looked the same except for the dark red pupils each possessed which glowed when going into a fight mode. But unlike humans the androids had gotten rid of their most intimate emotions and fears, turning themselves into empty shells, shiny and murderous with no way to experience anything properly, be it pleasure or pain.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The Officers started off with a low chuckle, his heavy hand wrapped tightly around your arm. His voice should have been programmed to be monotone but now it had a playful edge to it. “Today our dear subjects have decided to be feisty yet again. They still haven’t learned their lesson it seems.” He grinned eerily, quickly followed by the mocking laugher of the crowd. Some even shouted slurs and insults but you tried to focus on controlling your feelings. You needed to stay calm if you wanted to survive. “We really can’t expect more from the mankind. They are primal after all, they just can’t learn from their mistakes.” The male robot paused for a second to fix his microphone. “It’s in their DNA code to be foolish and pathetic. That’s why we need to take better care of them.” He whispered the last line down your neck and despite knowing that the machines didn’t have actual lungs, you could swear you felt his cold breath on your sensitive skin.

“The woman is in her early twenties. Her background is unknown, but she certainly looks like someone you would want in your collection.” The android continued talking as if you weren’t there, his hands all over your tinier frame. The mass was yelling, but you only made out the words „down”, „strip” and „human”. Your eyes watered involuntarily and you let the tears stream down your cheeks in spite of the weakness they showed. It didn’t matter – it couldn’t get any worse so you could at least let yourself experience such little bits of comfort. In the next moment the Officer ripped your old ragged t-shirt, exposing your breasts to the cold autumn air. The hot red humiliation washed over you as the degrading whistles pierced trough your heart. It was such a cruel unfair punishment and you couldn’t even keep your composure long enough to not break down ugly – crying right there.

“The bidding starts at one thousand eros!” The robot’s evil voice echoed through the area, reaching the market borders. Suddenly all the attention was on your scared vulnerable half-naked self. More than ten androids raised their hands, making your stomach turn in terror. Most of them had unpleasant appearances, resembling old people, usually men. “Do we have two thousand eros?” The officer added quickly afterwards having seen the shown interest. This time there were only five bots willing to buy you for so much money – but the show was far from over. “Am I seeing three thousand eros?” Your keeper kept going, determined to drain your bidders off their wealth, but to his utmost surprise now there were only two robots with their hands in the air – one seemingly younger and the other looking all wrinkled and bitter at the world. You silently prayed that fate would work in your favor only this time and hand you over to the man who would treat you more like a living being and less like an object.

“Ten thousand eros.” Suddenly the android with a kinder appearance declared out loud, his cold stern gaze fixed onto you. The other male hesitated for a moment, probably wondering whether or not you were worth so much money, but at the end he cursed under his breath and slowly put his hand down with a sour expression. “Sold to K-010 for ten thousand eros!” The automatic voice of the Officer was ringing in your ear like an alarm while the crowd was shouting and cussing, some going as far as to criticize your new owner for giving up his monthly salary for a “cheap human whore”. Next he was invited on the stage to sign off all the needed documents leading to your freedom being ripped away forever and you were injected with a tiny chip which would make your location visible to your buyer at any given time. The android looked at you soon after and in one swift move he managed to place his leather coat on your shoulders, muttering at you to cover up. You obeyed, embarrassed by the reminder that your upper half was still fully exposed to all the hungry prying immortals. When the chains were finally removed, the robot took you by the hand and led you to a small white flying car with a yellow lily drawn on top – the brand was popular among the most powerful members of the Forces.

“Don’t even think about running away.” K-010 growled when he noticed the way your attention drifted to the nearby road before finally taking your seat. You knew it was pointless now that the tracking device was deep into your skin but deep down you still couldn’t kill the last bit of hope screaming at you to do something before you were too far away to find home again, wherever it was. “If you so much as look outside while we drive, I will use my lasers to turn you into ash. Okay?” You nodded meekly and sank into the soft comfortable seat, wishing that your body would stop shaking in fear but to no avail.

---

The journey was long and silent but it made you remember the days when music was still allowed and you used to turn the radio all the way up in your mother’s car. You would sing loudly until your throat hurt and your friends would ask you to just shut up and focus on the road. Everything was so normal and happy back then. The stinging nostalgia threatened to overcome so you tried to focus on something else. You finally faced your owner in an attempt to study his appearance. He was probably in his late twenties, his hair white with some black locks here and there, a fashion trend you usually didn’t care much for. You couldn’t afford to bother with your hairstyle when you were constantly running for your life after all. The robotic male had sun-kissed brown skin, he was taller than most human men and his lips seemed softer than most robots’. But the biggest mystery laid in his deep dark eyes, they looked scarlet at first but the more you stared, the easier it was to realize the color was actually brown.

“Are you a cyborg, K-010?” You asked in a small voice out of the blue, breaking the peace and quiet in the air. The android didn’t spare you much attention with his gaze fixed onto the open sky serving as a road, still he opened his mouth slightly to respond. “My name is Kyle, the numbers are just a formality.” He inhaled sharply as if he was reminiscing a bad memory. “And yes, I am biologically human – just with a few practical upgrades.” You had heard of such people before, the ones willing to become an experiment so they could join the high society oppressing their own neighbors, friends and relatives, setting the lands on fire and destroying the dying environment but you had never met one until today. Honestly, you felt betrayed. It was one thing to be some unfeeling machine’s plaything and entirely another to be owned by someone with a functioning heart even though they weren’t too keen on using it properly.

“Why would you do that?” You couldn’t stop the question from leaving your lips in the next moment. “You should know what humans have to go through just to stay alive. Today hundreds of us were crushed and sold like some animals! Yet you changed yourself to appeal to their disgusting standards.” You raised your voice, the hot tears already spilling down your cheeks yet again, your fists clenched in pure anger at the foolish greedy man. He simply shook his head and leaned back. “I had my reasons, sweetheart. You don’t know anything.” With that the conversation had ended, you could try and argue or even blame him for being a selfish bastard but it wouldn’t have done you any good so you decided against it. It didn’t matter much anymore.

----

A few months went by slowly even though time meant little to someone in your position. Living with Kyle wasn’t as terrible as you thought it would be – his mansion was big and spacious, luxurious even. You had your own room and you were allowed to explore the house in your free time. You didn’t have many duties to attend to, your work mostly revolved around cooking, cleaning and keeping company with your owner when he was too tired to keep the robotic mask on and just wanted something sweet, something weak, something more human around. He didn’t want much out of you so you tried to do your best and stay on his good side – there was always a warm meal waiting at the table at night, every window was carefully wiped from the previous dust and the glass was now shining brightly, and you would listen for hours on end to the cyborg’s ramblings no matter how dreadful it could be sometimes.

But it couldn’t be denied that the man had some odd habits, even if you were to overlook him buying a living being instead of simply hiring a maid. For example, you knew how thin the walls actually were because you could hear him cry almost every night. The half-robot would hold you close any time the news were too loud or a bottle of beer had fallen and shattered on the ground. Still you weren’t allowed to leave his home so all the doors leading to the outside world were locked while he was away or at work. And there were these weird long cuts on his shoulders you had managed to take notice of the first time your master had asked you to bathe him. You hadn’t meant to prey upon his naked form, but the task had been so awkward you needed something to focus on to drive the unpleasant thoughts away. The injuries looked deep and the man would close his eyes any time the soap made contact with them. Finally one day you gathered the courage to ask him what had caused the raw scratches. You were messaging his scalp gently, applying jasmine in his roots, trying to soothe his nerves and get to the information.

“ ’S not important. ” K-010 answered lazily while arching his back into your touch. More often than not the male would melt under your care and you couldn’t help but wonder just how lonely it was to be neither a human nor a machine. “She is dead now.” He whispered darkly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t reach your ear, yet it did. “Who is dead?” You questioned him after a while, stroking his wet locks until you heard him moan. You were getting better and better at provoking a reaction from the cyborg and despite knowing it was manipulative and a little devious, he was still the ruthless owner who held your one and only life in his palms. You needed to be sneaky if you wanted a safe, comfortable life.

“My mother.” Kyle added quickly before looking at the blue ceiling, the glossy material copying both of your reflections. The mention of the woman made the sensitive skin of his nape crawl but he kept talking. “The crazy bitch used to beat me every. She even tried to kill me a couple of times.” A slight smile appeared on his full red lips. “It didn’t work out in the end, unfortunately.” So that’s where the cuts were from – he had been violated in his childhood by no other than the person supposed to look after him. You had always hated abusive parents taking advantage of their authority and even now your own imagination made your heart ache at the picture it painted. A small boy being hit over and over until there his whole body was bruised and bloodied. A child with no one to turn to. It didn’t excuse your master’s evil doing but it certainly explained a lot. “Don’t make such a sad face, darling.” He cooed at you, reaching out to pinch your cheek. “I will always be grateful to the Forces since they gave me the power I needed to finally free myself from her grasp. I even buried her myself after everything was said and done.” Kyle grinned from side to side like a little kid waiting to be praised for the picture they had drawn, except now the man was speaking of the way he had murdered his mother. You were at a total loss of words, suddenly too frightened to respond.

“What’s so special about being a human anyways?” The cyborg grumbled, sounding almost offended of the words you still haven’t said but were definitely thinking deep down. You were staring forward unable to draw away from that one crack in the wall, his words flying above your head. Your confusion was interrupted by the man quickly raising to his knees and catching both of your hands with his strong robotized ones. The cold touch of the metal combined with the camouflage of a soft skin was enough to mess your mind even further into the maze that was his dark gaze. Next thing you knew the male had you pinned on the hard ground, spotlessly clean and reeking of abstergent. You tried to squirm away but the hold of your wrists was too tight and strong to even make your struggling worth the trouble. “Just look at how weak you humans are.” K-010 taunted you, smirking teasingly, cruelly, yet there was something desperate in his eyes, something hidden. “You are so fragile I could probably break you if I were to press harder on your flesh.” He whispered into your ear, breathing down your neck as he dug his icy fingers into your collarbone and made you whimper pathetically at the dull pain. “People are foolish creatures, illogical by nature. They try to fight authority yet the moment they are left with a free choice, they find a way to run from their responsibilities.” The cyborg chuckled maliciously while digging his nails further into your skin.

“We might be doomed forever because of our emotions but there is something you fail to consider.” You finally spoke out despite your rapid heartbeat and fear so great it could defeat death herself. The predator already had you in his sharp claws and there was no pointing in playing coy anymore. The worst had come to worst. Your words caught the attention of the half-robot and he licked his lips in anticipation to hear what you had to say. “Unlike the androids we can still experience love. And at the end a life without love is a life wasted in the big picture. We might be mortal but you are the ones waiting to die instead of living.” You spat at the man fiercely, ready to face any punishment he would bestow upon your weak tired body for the sheer honesty. Instead he started laughed maniacally, the sound so loud it hit the ceiling and echoed through the house like a pained scream and so violent his shoulders shook to the sides. For the first time his eyes were glowing in a bright red color so saturated and vivid you couldn’t stand to look at them.

“This is really funny, my little human.” Kyle pronounced carefully, having calmed down. He lowered his head so that his lips were ghosting over yours, just brushing against them. “I belong with neither humans nor robots so why does my chest ache every time I look at you? Tell me, darling, am I in love?” His voice was harsh, husky – as if he was purposely trying to sound evil but the tears in his eyes pointed at another feeling. A raw painful feeling.

You couldn’t reply not only because you had no idea what to say after the confession but also because you couldn’t breathe properly with his pretty, wicked face so close to yours. Your silence only managed to stir the cyborg up further into his madness and he kissed you roughly, hungrily lapping and biting at your lips until they were sore and bruised, the robotic man more than happy to lick the small drops of blood off. For a moment you considered kicking or shouting for help but there wasn’t anyone willing to in the radius of kilometers. No one of significance cared much about the few remaining mortals. “I could never love you.” You uttered weakly, half – heartedly pushing the man away. You were all alone in this and there wasn’t really a point in fighting someone so much bigger and stronger, yet a sad little part of you hoped that Kyle would leave you alone if you made it clear enough just how much his actions were hurting you.

“It’s fine if you don’t love me by choice.” Your master replied calmly in a cold piercing voice. His hands were wandering through your form stopping at your hips to draw them into his. The pretty dress you used to like so much was now crumpled and reeking of him, torn apart from your shivering body and thrown away. You wished you could cry but all the adrenaline had left you too uneasy to process the pain and fear. Kyle whispered in your ear while stroking your hair gently and it made you feel like a trembling sheep before a starved butcher. “I own you, little human.” He placed a small kiss on your hot sensitive neck. “And I have enough love for both of us.”

#yandere #yandere male #yandere male x reader #yandere ai #yandere ai x reader #yandere cyborg #dystopia #yandere love #yandere concept #yandere oneshot #yandere OC #yandere male oc #yandere oc x reader #yancore

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stilemawillow · 3 years

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Hi can I request a dadlevi x momreader where they have a teenage daughter and the 104th cadet boys gave a crush on her and Levi gets really protective and the reader has to reassure him that she's not a baby anymore pleaseeee thank you😁

welp, i’m usually slow as a sloth with requests but if you don’t mind it being a short drabble i can sure as hell crack up sth soo sorry if it’s a bit too short but here goes, hope you like it anonie (also i kind of said trabble and it turned out 1500 words, sorry) ________________________________________________

“This is getting out of hand, Levi.” Your words were low around the table at the mess hall as your raven-haired husband fixed the cadets across from you with a murderous glare. You put a hand to his tense shoulder and could distinctly hear Mike and Hanji snort from next to you at Levi’s click of the tongue - still, his abuse didn’t stop.

Your daughter glanced at her father once, smiling happily from her place in between the cheerful males of the 104th squad and proceeding to be rather oblivious when it came to his foul mood. Admittedly, he hadn’t spoken about it to anybody but, as the mother of his rather grown-up child and the woman who’d spent well over two decades with him already, you didn’t need a verbal explanation to gather why he was being so pissy.

Since your daughter had been enlisted in the Corps (something her and Levi and you and her had had two separate rather long arguments about), she was in the spotlight, or, well, something of the sort. She was kind enough to communicate with her peers and funny enough to make them laugh, and the looks she’d mostly inherited from you did its part when it came to charming the rookies you’d later checked were named Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun, Connie Springer, Armin Arlert and partly, the very special Eren Jaeger.

They were her comrades and she regarded them as such - close people she would protect and work with in the future, and they regarded her the same with just a little bit of an ulterior motive. Naturally, parents were good at noticing those stuff and the usually emotion-incompetent Levi Ackerman was no exception when it came to Jean’s heart eyes mirroring his own aimed at you in the past.

As a good father who couldn’t, however, reveal his identity straight-up, he made sure to mentor the kids as harshly as he could, strict in his teachings and rather sadistic out of them. The poor boys had handled stable and kitchen duty more than any previous rookies enlisted and two or three of them had gotten lucky enough to clean up a whole storage of 3DM gear and run laps till they fainted. You were nurturing when it came to those undeserved mishaps and ended up playing the good cop who gave the poor boys water and let them sleep for the rest of the day.

Levi didn’t know it but the harder his punishments got, the more reason his daughter had to pity the boys and question her father’s behaviour. We arrive at a moment where he could no longer think of a suitable punishment to pull through with enough reason and, of course, your endless nagging on the topic. Your daughter didn’t need to know about this secret little bickering, as the cadets didn’t know she was your child and nobody but the superiors were aware of your relationship with Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.

“I’m just monitoring.” The raven’s excuse was laughable as you were leaving the mess hall and he literally stalked his daughter and her tall charmers to the training fields, where you decided to pull him along into the building and have a little talk.

“This is ridiculous, do you realise what you’re doing?” Your question struck nothing in him as he made his way to the second floor of the building only so he could observe from above the training the 104th cadets would undertake with Hanji. His hawk eyes pierced the window and the boys surrounding his precious little baby, and in that moment you felt a little soft when it came to reprimanding him.

“I’m watching my fucking child.” He argued with a grumble and crossed arms, making you sigh as you leaned against the window and observed his features. You could guess only by the pissed off twitch of his brow your daughter had been paired to combat with some of the boys he so disliked.

“But she’s not in danger.” You objected with a snort to which he rolled his eyes. “Also our child.” The addition made his frown more sarcastic, then you pushed at his shoulder and glanced outside. The sun was shining and your husband was silent - and you had to be a good wife and mother at the same time. “Now, I need you to hear me out. Our daughter is fifteen years old and she’s part of the worst group possible. Maybe we can concern ourselves more with her safety and happiness, not so much with the boys she has as friends.”

“It’s unacceptable for them to slack off this much, not to mention you’re defending her. You pointed it out, she’s just fifteen.” The emphasis was a cold slap in your face, then you were eyeing him pointedly.

“Levi,” his grey hues left the window for a second to lock with your gaze, “I was fifteen when I met you.” Your words made him suck in a breath but his obstinance had no limits when it came to his overprotective nature.

“All the more fucking reason for me to protect her.”

“No, all the more reason for us to watch from afar and let her live her life. She’s a teenager once and the fact she’s bonding with her comrades isn’t going to kill her.” The brow he quirked at you made you glare, then you beat him to speaking. “She’s not a baby anymore, we take care of her, yes, but we have to give her some freedom too. Otherwise, we’ll get a rebellious period and I can’t handle managing both your explosive asses once that happens.” His spiteful snort was provocative but his figure turned away from the window to glare at you - good, so he was buckling.

“My ass is explosive only when I drink too much coffee.” His childish retort made you chuckle - you took it as him admitting defeat by not addressing the issue any further.

“And when Hanji cooks.” Your joke called forth an eye-roll from him, then his lips pursed and you smiled at his pale countenance. “It’s fine being worried, she’s been sheltered her whole life and suddenly you’re forced to watch her form connections with people who’re not us. I would say, however,” your smile slowly curled into a smirk as you glanced at the training fields through the window, “she can beat up the boys if they annoy her without your help.”

His brows furrowed and his attention followed your gaze, and you watched your fifteen-year-old daughter flip the blond Reiner Braun over her shoulder with a move Levi had taught her when she was ten. He fell to the ground and, from experience, you knew how much it hurt when all the air was pushed out of your lungs in that moment. Next thing he knew, a foot had stepped on his dominant hand’s wrist and a small hand held a wooden knife to his throat.

In your peripheral vision, you saw the satisfied flicker in Levi’s orbs and decided he wouldn’t be arguing with you on the topic of this anymore. Also, he might as well spare the boys their duties. If his daughter could handle the biggest one this easily, she could land a kick to the testicles effortlessly if any of them proved problematic. You shook your head at the sight and how proud Levi seemed due to it, then you realised he was back to watching you.

“On the topic of us meeting when you were still a brat, are you insinuating anything?” You began waving your hands around in a “no” when he glared at the field, then at you. You’d just denied when he tactfully cut in with: “Far as I remember, you jumped me and you had eighteen.” You let out an awkward laugh and his glare got all the more deadly.

“Haha, about that. I actually lied so you’d let me.” The slow admittance slipped past your dry lips and you watched your husband doubt everything you’d told him in your shared life. You could see him recall everything and make sure he was in the right - except you’d been stupid as a teenager and twice as scheming.

“But your birthday had passed.” He argued coldly, unsuspecting of the truth and ever so sweet because he put so much trust in you.

“And about that, my birthday’s kind of a month after the date I told you.” You watched his eyes widen and began ranting, as per tradition when he came close to blowing a fuse and you wanted to avoid being collateral damage. “I know what you’re thinking, I’m so lucky that my wife is even younger than I thought she was, she’s so attractive and youthful---”

“I’m thinking how I’m about to beat your ass in our next combat session for lying to me for twenty fucking years, that’s what I’m thinking.”

#asks #drabbles #drabbles for anonies #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #reader insert #fluff with a daughter #with a spin at the end #because parents are more iconic than their kids sometimes

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 years

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VICTORY! New Free File rules ban tax-prep firms from hiding their offerings, allow IRS to compete with them (a love-letter to Propublica)

Six months ago, Propublica began beating the drum about "Free File," a bizarre, corrupt arrangement between the IRS and the country's largest tax-prep firms that ended up costing the poorest people in America millions and millions of dollars, every single year.

The scam is one of those baroque, ultimately boring and complex stories that generally dies in the public imagination despite its urgency, because "boring and urgent" is the place where the worst people can do the worst things with the least consequences.

With that warning, here's a short summary: in most wealthy countries, the tax authority fills out your tax return for you, using the information your employer already has to file every time it pays your wages. If all the numbers look right to you, you just sign the bottom of the form and send it back, without paying a tax preparer. If, on the other hand, you want to claim extra deductions, or if something complicated is going on with your finances, you can throw away that free tax return and fill in a form from scratch, either on your own or with the help of a professional.

When Americans asked to have the same courtesy extended to them -- a move that would save the vast majority of Americans millions and millions of dollars they were currently paying to the likes of HR Block and Intuit/Turbotax, every single year of their entire working lives -- the tax-prep industry mobilized to kill the proposal. The industry (which is highly concentrated and dominated by a small handful of firms whose top execs have mostly done time in all their competitors' board rooms, making them into essentially one giant company whose different divisions have different shareholders) lobbied the IRS very hard, and won a resounding victory.

That victory is called "Free File." Under Free File, each tax prep company is required to serve a slice of working Americans with free, online tax-preparation. The arrangement was hailed as a victory for public-private partnerships, harnessing the efficiency of the private sector to perform this public duty of the state. Importantly, it meant that the IRS would not expand its headcount or budget, both of which had been slashed by successive right-wing presidents and their legislative enablers. The move was cheered by anti-tax extremists like Grover Nordquist, who was delighted by the "efficiency" of you saving a bunch of pieces of paper the government already had, typing them into an online form, and hoping that a company's website came up with the same calculations that the government had already made about your tax-bill.

Part of the Free File deal banned the IRS from creating a competing offer and it banned the IRS from advertising the existence of the program or telling people where to find the free offering.

As soon as the ink was dry on Free File, the tax-prep companies set about to sabotage it. Intuit -- a massive company led by a bizarre cult figure -- and its competitors hid their Free File offerings deep in their sites, and used the "robots.txt" system to instruct search engines to hide them. They took out search ads for the phrase "Free File" that directed users to paid offerings with the word "free" in their names. They created "Free File" systems that would make you go through hours of work entering your data before surprising you with a notice that you didn't qualify for Free File because you'd paid interest on a student loan (or some other normal thing) and then ask you if you wanted to pay to keep your work and finish your tax-return in the non-free system.

There's a simple name for this kind of activity: fraud.

But it was a fraud in plain sight, one that went on for years and years, and which created a stealth tax on the majority of Americans, which they had to remit not to the IRS, but to the tax-prep companies, which used the money to lobby to make it even harder to get away from handing them your money every year.

Enter Propublica, whose relentless reporting did the seemingly impossible: it made a complicated, boring important thing into something that millions of Americans cared about. Something they cared about so deeply that they actually managed to shame the IRS into taking action.

Remember, the IRS is an administrative agency, under the direct control of the Trump administration. That means its commander-in-chief is a guy who said dodging his taxes means that he's "smart." While the IRS has many good, hardworking staffers, it has also been demoralized and gutted by the right, who have convinced millions of poor people that it's somehow in their interests if it's easier for rich people to duck their taxes.

Despite all this, the IRS has enacted new Free File rules: first, these rules ban tax-prep companies from hiding their Free File offerings, and it bans them from using deceptive names for non-Free File offerings (Turbotax will no longer be allowed to confuse Americans by offering "Turbotax Free" -- which is not free -- as a competitor to "Turbotax Free File," which is).

Second, the rule allows the IRS to develop its own competing Free File product, which means that the government agency that already knows how much tax you owe will allow you to review its findings each year and then either challenge them, or simply click OK, without paying a single cent of tax to Intuit or HR Block, and free you from filling in lengthy, bureaucratic forms.

This outcome is nothing short of miraculous: it did not come as the result of Congressional action. It did not come as the result of the Trump administration's inattention (the release came out the same day that the Trump administration revised its tax rules to allow money launderers to retain billions in the loot they've stashed offshore).

It came about as the result of fucking journalism. Propublica wrote its way into a better world, with relentless, deep, accessible reporting that made this boring, important thing come to life.

I am sympathetic to the idea that talking about politics isn't doing politics, but that's not entirely true. Learning about what's going on and telling the people you know about it and getting them to tell others is part of how we make change. Propublica's excellent reporting wouldn't have mattered if people hadn't read it -- and talked about it.

And Propublica has done this repeatedly over the past year, deeply reporting on naked, grotesque corruption in ways so vivid and undeniable that they actually changed things, and not in some abstract, boring way, but in ways that matter to the immediate, lived experience of real people who had been brutalized and poisoned and jailed and mistreated with impunity, for years, until Propublica wrote about it.

Here are some examples, just from the stories I paid attention to this year (Propublica does so much good work that I can't manage to cover all of it):

* Reformed South Carolina's "magistrate judge" system that let "judges" with no legal background and less training than barbers sentence poor people (most of them Black) to prison in defiance of their constitutional rights;

* Dismantled Illinois's system of Quiet Rooms where special ed kids were put into solitary confinement, sometimes for days at a time;

* Shamed a "Christian" hospital into ending its practice of suing thousands of patients, many of them its own employees, for inability to pay their medical debts, and forcing it to jettison the private army of debt collectors it kept on its payroll.

* Killed an Illinois scam whereby affluent parents temporarily gave up custody of their own children so they could steal college grants earmarked for poor children;

* Got two Louisiana cops fired for encouraging people to murder Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez;

In addition, Propublica has done lots of reporting that hasn't yet created political transformations, but has changed our debate and laid the groundwork for change to come: called attention to the penniless hero of the ransomware epidemic; discredited a "walking polygraph" system used by police forces to frame their preferred suspects with sheer junk science; documented the link between pharma company bribes and doctors' prescribing; named every former lobbyist in the Trump administration; tracked every penny of the 2008 bailout money; documented Wayne LaPierre's self-dealing from the NRA's war-chests; documented the grifty conservative PACs that scammed millions out of scared old white people with racist Obama conspiracies and then kept the money for themselves; published a blockbuster story on the theft of southern Black families' ancestral lands through a legal grift called "heirs' property"; debunked the "aggression detection" mics being installed in America's classrooms; outed a "ransomware consultant" that was working with ransomware crooks to simply pay the ransom, while pretending that they were able to get you your files back without enriching the crooks who locked them up; named and shamed Alabama sheriffs who lost their re-election bids and then spent thousands of public dollars on frisbees or stole discretionary funds, or destroyed food earmarked for prisoners, or drilled holes in all the department computers' hard-drives in a form of "vindictive hazing"; followed the payday lender industry to a Trump hotel where it staged an annual conference, funneling millions to the president's personal accounts shortly before Trump reversed Obama's curbs on predatory lending; documented how TSA body-scanners single out Black women for humiliating, discriminatory hair-searches; revealed the secret history of wealthy people destroying the IRS's Global High Wealth Unit; and did outstanding work on the Sackler family, a group of billionaire opioid barons whose products kickstarted the opioid epidemic that has now claimed more American lives than the Vietnam war.

2019 was a dumpster-fire of a year and 2020 could be worse -- or it could be the dawn that breaks after our darkest hour. Finding Propublica's victory lap on Free File on New Year's Day was just the sunrise I needed to give me hope for the year to come. Sometimes, simply finding the truth and telling it to the people can make a change.

I'm a Propublica donor, and an avid reader. I admit that sometimes when I see that PP has published another 15,000-word expose, I am slightly dismayed at the thought that I'm about to lose 1-2 hours of my life to digesting and writing up the new story, but that dismay is always overcome by excitement at the thought that they have turned over a new rock and found something genuinely awful beneath it, and that, with all our help, we can sterilize that foetid sludge with blazing sunshine.

https://boingboing.net/2019/12/31/go-propublica-go.html

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sometimesrosy · 3 years

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Hey. It's been a long time since I had a question. Maybe the 100's demise was the reason.

Now coming to my actual query. This past year I have binged numerous shows ranging from American to korean dramas or Turkish dizis. There is certain thing that I have felt and noticed throughout i.e., the woman characters aren't given even a slight leeway by the audience. If the even make a slight mistake, the audience remembers it always to stand against that character. Whereas if there is a male villain, people gets cheerful seeing even a slight bit of humanity in him. They even wait for its redemption.

Let me take an example of a Turkish show "kara sevda(black love)". A one line synopsis can be put like- two leads who love each other endlessly but can never be together. So, the villain in that show is beyond redemption. That character has fallen so far off that there is no coming back. But still when he is playing with a baby, people's comments are like 'best moment of the show.' 'see he is such a good person'. 'the female lead should accept his love'. Am like what?

And if I tell you about the female lead. She is a good person at heart who is sacrificing love for family. And she is labelled "selfish" by audience. 'She doesn't deserve the male lead' etc. And you know I too felt like that for the majority of the show until I reached the point of self reflect.

Even Clarke from the 100 faced so much hate that there wasn't any visible backlash when in the end the makers made her a villain. The backlash was for Bellamy death and stupid end instead.

Looking through tv series, it's so easy to see why tv or films doesn't have female anti heroes. Male anti heroes are so easy to find and also widely successful like Damon from tvd or Klaus.

What is your take?

Yup!

Yes.

Definitely.

You are absolutely correct. The leeway for female characters to show human imperfection is very, very thin. Meanwhile, a guy can literally blow up a planet, kill his beloved father, have temper tantrums with kicking and screaming and torture the female main characters and fandom-- and the creators-- think that makes him a hero. And the requirements for his redemption, if there are any at all amounts to:

WOOPSIE! I'M SOWWY.

I simply do NOT understand that phenomenon.

I mean, I get the need to relate to darker characters, morally gray characters, to explore our own negative impulses...but the whole tendency is, for me anyway, given a more sinister light when you compare how the audience tends to treat these outright villainous male characters compared to even SLIGHTLY morally gray female characters. Maybe just flawed.

It also interferes with satisfying redemption arcs. Because YES watching someone face their dark past and attempt to become better and be redeemed is a great story... but if male characters only have to wear a cape and be hot to be redeemed.... then that's not a satisfying redemption arc. And if women can't do ANYTHING to be redeemed because they are considered irredeemably selfish or whatever for the same flaws someone's Hot Dark Badboy smirks about and isn't even sorry for? Then we barely even get redemption stories for women.

And that's part of the problem, isn't it? Women aren't allowed the same representation as men... even as flawed characters.

The point of good representation is not to represent only the best, most perfect, most desirable, most successful type of people. The point is to allow everyone of any sex, race, gender, sexuality, religion, class, ability, etc to take part in the full spectrum of humanity in our stories, good and bad and mediocre. A female Mary Sue is just the female version your general male hero. One is considered bad storytelling the other is taken as The Way It Should Be.

Women are not allowed to have flaws in most of our pop culture, or women are ghettoized into only women's fic or romance or YA, or women take backseat to male villains, or whatever.

I'm writing a book where the woman abandoned her child, and she sleeps around and cons people and avoids commitment. I purposely wrote her to be unlikable.... or rather, she's not unlikable, she's clever and funny and weird, but she has characteristics that women aren't supposed to have. She essentially acts like a male anti-hero, until her call to action and she is forced to face her past mistakes. But I know that these are things that audiences say are irredeemable for women. Abandon her own child?? No. Not allowed. Even though plenty of male characters go off on adventures leaving wife and child behind and it isn't even considered a character flaw, just... a male adventurer. Or honestly, just a guy. Sure one who's imperfect, but that old ball and chain was probably the worst, right? He had to move on and now he has a tragic backstory and complexity and oh the audience will probably either want to be him or want to be with him, because, that's how these things work.

Not saying that characters shouldn't be dark, do bad things, have flaws, be anti-heroes, have redemption arcs, or have a deep, multilayered villainy.

But I am saying we might want to be a little more critical about what we consider irredeemable for certain people and what war crimes and abuse we let some characters get away with in the name of bold (white) masculinity.

IS the nature of being a (white) man we look up to someone who destroys other people?

I think that toxic masculinity IS seen as sexy. Unfortunately, that's one of the reasons it's seeped into our culture. Manly (white) men who abandon kids and kill without remorse, but with muscles. Manly (white) men who murder whole regions because bad things happened to them, and smolder while doing it. Manly (white) men who commit genocide regularly, but fall for the heroine and save her once. Manly (white) men who are serial killers but with an intriguing depth.

tbh there's lots more to say on the topic, some of it very controversial. These are the stories we like to hear and the characters we love. And it might be rooted in the toxic masculinity that our society has been selling to us as propaganda for decades, if not centuries-- but we don't like to be told to examine our biases, our tastes, our preferences, or our beliefs. It's threatening to our sense of self.

However, that is how you unravel all sorts of toxic belief systems, from misogyny to racism to homophobia to bigotry of all kinds. I added the (white) to this post after I read through it, because I realized non white male characters are not allowed this leeway, either. So this phenomenon is generally (not always) limited to white men. Why?????

my theory? we're still making the colonialists the heroes of the story, friends.

#misogyny #toxic masculinity #media #anti heroes and villains #colonialism #pop culture #fandom #redemption arcs

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gainaxvel3o · 3 years

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Clark x Bruce for the imaginary love lives please! If you do this, thanks and I’m excited to read it :)

He heard the alarm and went as fast as he could.

Superman moved at the speed of sound. Bruce made it a general rule to the League that they stay out of Gotham. If he used the JLA Communicator for this that meant things were bad. Clark tried not to think of the various worst case scenarios as he reached the Acme Warehouse.

Upon his ears picked up a cough, Clark flew faster.

Smashing the wall with his bare hands, Superman surveyed the situation. Bruce, still in the Batman costume, was coughing while lying on the bed, an infusion pump dumping a yellow liquid into him. The Joker was on another bed next to his, smiling his ever sickly evil grin while he was tended to by Harley. She panicked. “Big blue’s in town! Shit!” Harley cheered. “Mistah J we need to run! I was expectin’ the birds or the kajillion Batgirls but not this!” “Oh quiet Harley,” Joker responded. “We already threw the gag out there, we might as well go all the way with it! Come on, welcome to the party!”

Superman didn’t waste any time. “What did you do to him?!? “Now settle down Boy Scout you shouldn’t be so angry until I explain everything.” Joker smiled. “Which I will! See, I was taking a stroll around town, borrowing the usual materials I use to bring all the laughs to the dour city when I happened to come across something interesting.”

The Joker pointed at the pump.

“A unique chemical compound that slowly drain the life out of the people. I’m not one to kill my favorite people, but I thought it would be funny if I shared it with your old pal Batman and see if anyone wants to try saving him.” “You diseased maniac!” Superman shouted. “Where’s the cure?” “The cure? Well…” Joker laughed, the same infuriating laugh that made Superman’s skin crawl. “There’s only one way to cure him. Catch!” He tossed a syringe to Superman, who looked at him confused.

“See, in addition to be a clever comedian I’m a brilliant scientist! I pumped the stuff inside of me to check how it works. Turns out my unique chemistry turned the chemical into antibodies. Only drawback is that if you take my blood, I die.”

“Don’t…” Bruce, trying desperately to remain conscious, begged. “Don’t do what he says… it’s a trick…” “You can’t be too sure of that Batsy!” Joker grinned harder. “So what will it be Supes? You want to save him, you’re gonna need kill me! Not save him and he dies while I live. Your code or your friend! Ohohohohoho what a lovely decision!”

Harley glanced back and forth between Superman and her Mistah J. Being his disciple (and girlfriend even if he won’t admit it) she was familiar with this kind of trap. Batsy’s only in a severe degree of pain but not actually dying. She wasn’t sure if Superman could detect it given the X-Ray vision and the hearing and the other powers in his arsenal. Harley was actually curious. What would Superman do? “Tick tock Superman,” Joker said. “Made a choice yet?” A laugh. It didn’t come the Joker, like one would expect. No… it came from Superman. He held the syringe steady. “Okay. You win.” He said. “I’ll draw your blood.” Harley had to check her ears for that. One she made sure there wasn’t any left over ear wax from this morning, she allowed her jaw to fall. “What…” Joker was also pretty gobsmacked. “I mean- what?” “Yeah. Raise your arm.” Superman smiled. It wasn’t out of joy, more a sneer. “I don’t like the situation, but if it means saving Batman I’ll do it.” For a second, Batman struggled against the bed, trying to say something, break out, but his body was too weak. Whatever he said, Superman didn’t register it. He didn’t need to. He knew what he was doing. “Whoah let’s not get crazy here!” Joker took a step back. “No objections or anything? No third option no nothing?!? You’re just giving up?!” “Why not?” Superman said. "Someone’s going to die either way. Better the mass murdering lunatic from Gotham than it’s favorite son.”

And his husband, though Superman left it unsaid. He didn’t want this monster to know anything. “Wow, the great Superman just gives up!” Joker laughed. “I wish I had a camera so I could record it! I won, you lose and snooze and-“ “Yeah yeah yeah, you’re playing five dimensional chess against me and this is somehow going all according to your master plan even though when the dust settles you’ll be dead, I won’t go crazy murdering everyone for no reason and you won’t get your ultimate final battle with Batman.” Harley had never seen the Joker’s eyes twitch so violently. His hands were shaking in bitter spiteful rage.

“Come on Joker,” Superman said. “You wouldn’t want to leave this Earth without pulling a great gag. This? Just pathetic really.” “Oh you want funny! I’ll give you fucking funny!”

The Joker punched Superman in the chest. He clutched his hand in pain, now realizing he had broken it.

“Okay thanks for that.” Superman grabbed Joker’s hand, readying the syringe. “Be ready!” “No… no wait I was kidding!” Joker’s eyes widened and his voice broke. “The chemicals won’t actually kill Batman! It’s temporary! Please don’t kill me!”

“Mistah J!” Harley cried out. “I thought we were supposed to go all the way with a gag!” “Nuh uh, not me! I quit! Not going to lose to the big blue boy who can’t wear his undies in the right direction.” Superman smirked. “All edge, no bite… you really are a bad comedian Joker.” _____________________________________________________________________________________

After locking up Joker and Harley in Arkham, Superman took Bruce to the Bat Cave.

Alfred tended to his master, wiping the blood drawn from disconnecting the pump. Bruce looked over to Clark.

“Thanks Clark.” Bruce said. “It was an impressive bluff you made there.”

“Learned it from the best,” Clark smiled, kissing Bruce’s cheek. “Didn’t think you’d call me to be honest.” “The children were out on a mission. You were the only one that could get here fast enough.” “Love you too Bruce.” “Brrrrr. Using that word. Don’t repeat it.” “What? I love you?”

“There you again.” Clark laughed. Alfred rolled his eyes. “Well you’re clearly content in your lover’s quarrel,” Alfred walked up the stairs, “See you both in the morning.” They were left alone. Bruce searched his husband’s face and body, while Clark stood there and smiled.

“About that what happened Clark…” “Hm?"

“If the Joker hadn’t been lying…” Bruce said. “Would you really have let him die?” Clark sighed. “Bruce…” “Really Clark?!?” “If it was between you and him, I would have.” Clark decided to stand his ground. “You know I despise killing anyone as much as you do.” “Then why contemplate it at all?!” Bruce was shouting now. “No one deserves to die!” “No one does. But Bruce, it was between him or you. If it turned out killing him would save you… I’d feel horrible for the rest of my life, I would be ashamed, I would take anything you say afterwards… but I’d do it. What kind of hero would I be if I let a single innocent life die just so I could feel better about having unstained hands?” Clark looked away. “I only hope when the time comes you’d do the same.” Neither said a word. Bruce was no doubt furious, whether himself or Clark it didn’t matter. Superman sighed.

“I’m going to head to bed. Care to join me?” Bruce got out of the table. “In an hour. There’s things I need to check on the Bat-Computer.” Clark nodded. He didn’t want to admit it, not now, but he knew a rift had formed between them just now. He just hoped it would resolve itself sooner rather than later.

Author’s Notes:

I had a surprisingly good time writing this. It’s a bit of a fix fic for Action Comics #719 where Joker similarly infects Lois with a poison and Superman IS ABOUT TO LET HER DIE instead of killing him. It was such a bad display of Superman’s no kill rule that I decided to call a do over. No I don't want Superman to be going around snapping necks constantly but there’s ways to portray the no kill code that don’t involve making your heroes look like self righteous assholes and that comic ain’t it!

As for Batman… well, I don’t have a lot of positive feelings about him these days but writing his interactions with Clark felt natural and the idea of them having a conflict over the no kill code was an interesting idea. I liked doing it. That’s all I’ll say.

#The Imaginary Love Lives of Superman #Superman #Batman #The Joker #Harley Quinn #No kill rule #Fic #My writing #Asks #Answered #SuperBat #Superman x Batman

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mlbpotter · 3 years

Text

Sole Crusher and why I hated it.

Ahh, one of the most prodigious episode for Zoe-fans.

You see, we see Zoe in a car touring Paris as she came from New York. She entered a bakery to get something for her family (A.K.A Audrey) Marinette entered, and slipped on the floor, but Zoe being who she is, clever perfectionist, nimble, quick blah blah blah, whatever the directors want to show us, caught Marinette in a blink of an eye.

In irl, I think if somebody did slip, in front of me, I’d be too shocked to react in seconds. I’d be gaping, mouth open, too shocked to catch anyone.

Ahh, well, Marinette then talked to her a little, learnt how she only had one friend, made some of us feel pity for her (eh, Thomas). So, NOW THE NEXT PART REALLY GETS ME! Marinette didn’t know who this unknown Zoe girl was (could be a thief, murderer, kidnapper idk) yet she gave away her phone number, free pastries, and invited her to HER FRIEND’S CONCERT! OMG you dumass, you don’t just give away these things to unknown people!

Well, still, moving on, zoe went back to the car, and to the bourgeois hotel. She gave away the pastries to the driver saying her family preferred sour from sweet, meaning they were not exactly caring. Just showing what a bad mother Audrey is, Zoe, like Chloe tried to act all snobbish and mean to get her mother’s attention.

To keep it short, Zoe met Chloe and they had a very meaningful conversation. But the thing that bugged me the most was that what Chloe said. 'Your father exists only to do whatever you want, whenever you want.'

Huh? Forgot this, in origins pt.2? This shows that chloe actually loves her father.

Also, Chloe was shown locking Sabrina in a locker, and forcing her to do her homework.

......

So how do u explain this?☝️

Chloe cares about Sabrina. Thomas really ruined Chloe's character her smh, in sole crusher.

Anyways, Chloe took Zoe to the school in a limousine, with Sabrina running behind them!

BrUh, thomas? R u serious? This is a kids show, no? You are supposed to show how to be considerate, not treating ur friend as slaves!

After some more uneccessary chloe-being-cruel moment, Chloe introduces everyone to Zoe.

She says, that Zoe needs a guy to pamper, who is preferably rich....wow, Thomas you already destroyed Adrien's friendship with Chloe, what more do u want?

When Zoe pretended to hate Marinette's macaroons, Sabrina started idiolizing her immediately. SABRINA ALSO NEEDS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT!!!!!

Obviously, Chloe 'tried' to teach Zoe some mean habits, and Marinette was confused about the way she acted so differently at school.

Being Marinette, she texted Zoe about the the confusion, and obviously blamed Chloe. When Chloe found out that her sister was texting her arch-enemy Marinette, she became furious.

Zoe lied and said that she was planning to humiliate Marinette. One of the worst things about Zoe is that she tries to change her nature just to meet up the needs for others. Chloe only does that to impress her mother.

Zoe went up the blacony, and was met by Andre, Chloe's father, who tried to console her, by telling her his own dream. Ok, listen up, how come Andre is only nice to his step-daughter, in a fatherly way??? And treats Chloe like a spoilt queen?? What kind of a father u r, even though u know that's wrong? Ugh

Anyways, the part where Andre wanted to be a film director was pretty cool. Again, we get some background history about the character. And yes, he listened to Audrey, about being rich, not a film director, blah blah blah, showing again how bad of a wife Audrey is.

Then, we discovered that Zoe wanted to be an actress for no good reason, and yest, admittedly she is pretty good a hiding her emotions and 'acting'.

This is how Andre tried to cheer up Zoe, but obviously made the situation worse, as she only thought about the way Chloe, treated her, and not her mother. So yeah, She only has a grudge against Chloe, again showing how horrible and cruel Chloe could be, right?

Just because Chloe said, 'You either step on other people, or I step on you!' This is so out-of-character for, Chloe. She would never say that, I reckon this much.

And there we go, Zoe reluctantly wears the diamond shoes, and becomes akumatized by shadow moth.

So, her power was touching other people with her shoes, and she became bigger.

Sole crusher, found Chloe in her room taking selfies of herself, to shoe how vain she was and how much she admired herself. Ummm..when did Chloe have an obsession with taking her photos? Except maybe in the episode where Marc was akumatized.

Chloe caught a glimpse of Sole Crusher, on her mobile's photo.

She said, 'How come you are using my image without my authorization?' Old Chloe loved to be idolized, so out-of-character.

So, when Chole discovered that it was Zoe, she began running like she was in a marathon, which was again out of character, as she wouldn't run, it'd be too much of work for her.

I think the running was just to show how bad of a character Chloe was, as she pushed Marinette's parents and Marinette herself towards Zoe, to show how cruel, evil and selfish she really is.

Another thing, I think that the kwamis shouldn't be allowed outside the box very long, as someone might catch them, like Chloe almost did.

So, the reason Sole crusher didn't step on Marinette, was because Marinette is the main character of the show, and she just can't be in a dangerous situation (Thomas logic). It'd made a great plot if Marinette was crushed by sole crusher. It would keep the viewers on their toes.

Eh, well, To make look Chloe worse, they made her run further, and order Zoe to literally step on the 'losers'. AKA rest of Marinette's classmates. (Do students really meet each other like this irl?)

So Marinette discovered that Zoe was Sole crusher, and gave some advice.

Marinette: That's not true, you don't need to crush on anyone. The 'winner' and 'loser' thing doesn't exist. It's just people, each one with your differences and unique features. (after Chat Noir interrupted) Zoe, no one will judge you here. You can be yourself! You can trip, you can fall, there's always going to be someone to help you stand up. I will always support you!

Shadow moth manipulated Zoe again, So Chat Noir tripped sole crusher giving Marinette the chance to run away and transform in a place that no one can see (totally). Since Tikki followed Marinette, and Kaalki alerted Adrien about the akuma, they both were able to transform.

Since I am no good at writing battle scenes, I'll tell the main points. Ladybug used her lucky charm, and got a shoe horn. So basically, Chat Noir and ladybug both destroyed the heels of Zoe's shoes, but the akuma didn't come out. Chloe insulted sole crusher, and got crushed.

Chloe : Look at how you're treating ur very expensive shoes! Go back to wearing you hideous and plain sneakers.

So ladybug figured out that the Akuma must be in those sneakers Chloe mentioned.

So the team tried to find out those sneakers in Chloe's house. Ladybug saw Sabrina in the closet, yet asked her about the sneakers, and ignored her. Wow, shoe some empathy ladybug, or even Chat Noir!

They saw Andre, and he told them where the Akuma went. So basically Andre showed them the box, and was so scared of Audrey, that her had hid those directories a secret from her. Since that box was not opening, ladybug used her shoehorn to open that box thingy. Long story short, ladybug repaired everything, and gave Zoe the lucky charm, and left.

Skip to the noon, where Zoe went to the concert she was invited in, and Chloe still believed Zoe's lame story about humiliating Marinette, and was super pissed off when Zoe ate the macaroons.

So yeah, Zoe apologized about her akumatizatidon, and told her 'tragic' backstory. She didn't want to disappoint her family's expectation, so she pretended to be mean.

In her boarding school, she was being bullied, and pretended to be someone she was not.

And since er...the miraculous fandom characters are so 'different' and tried to be nice to her, which was pretty cool of them....

Chloe demanded that Zoe leave for New York, but Andre was pretty cool about it, and made a lame yet nice excuse for her, to be enrolled in anther boarding school. So she had a different room. Obviously, the creators showed how err..awesome Zoe is as she said to Andre, 'Promise me that you are not going to give up on your dreams for too long.' But Andre's dream was very irrelevant, as nothing of that sort was mentioned after that.

Zoe's new found friends helped her become a better person, and there were some ending pics of her.

Zoe's message to Marinette was pretty cheesy ngl. But if only Zoe was introduced as a character who didn't out smart her sister, I would honestly love her so much!

(If my dumb shit post doesn't get famous, I will quit. I literally worked so hard for this post, and also had to rewrite it multiple times)

#mlb #zoe lee #chloe bourgeois #sole crusher

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

The devil at your door

Kinktober day 3: Demon

Suptober day 3: Demonic

Pairing: Demon!Dean x reader

A/N: This one goes for @holylulusworld's 10k celebration, my trope was Lovers to Enemies. Congrats again, hon! And this is also my piece for @hardcoresupernatural 's Halloween challenge with the prompt: I'm not scared of you.

@deanmonandnegansbitch's asked: Deanmon x Reader, he realizes no one could tame the marks hunger like she did. And yet he lost her by sticking his dick in other women

Warnings: dirty talk, mentions of boob fucking, hints of dark sexual, angst if you squint, teasing

CATCH UP KINKTOBER: Day 1 / Day 2

Spending his whole life in imaginary chains had frustrated Dean Winchester more than he was aware of. He’d always done what his dad taught him; kept himself from what he wanted in order to be the good soldier — the hero — even if it was against his own desires.

Dean saved the world once or twice and didn't get a thank you, a break long enough to relax or even visit the beach for the first time. No, hunters were never kids. Hunters never had time for fun. Hunters were made to be hunting. He always found himself fighting winless battles and ending up drowned in whiskey and self-pity.

Now it was all gone. His old persona never had time to be human, so losing that side of him wasn't a big deal. If anything, he felt better now. Whatever his green eyes wanted, Dean would go and get it.

No barbed ward could contain a demon, much less the Knight.

At first, it was funny. Messing around with Crowley, fucking some good, new pussies after tasting only yours, and causing destruction whenever he felt like it.

Then the thrill expired. Honestly, the Winchester pictured it would last longer. Crowley started bitching around like a whiny little man and the new girls no longer could satisfy him — that is, if they ever did. Dean was pretty sure he liked them so much because the cat and mouse play of finding a new toy, but at some point, the cat gets enough of the foreplay and wants to eat the prey. They were so boring in all their humanly forms: they didn't have his stamina, they didn’t know his sweet spots, and they didn’t enjoy all the mischievous things he wanted to do.

Only painting his knuckles with an aleatory idiot's blood could get a real smile out of him these days. Nonetheless, even throwing punches gets exhausting when they stop fighting back.

Where was the fun of being free?

It clicked him like one of the worst sounds of tortured souls screams; you.

You used to be the wild in Dean's heart during hunter days. You knew all the bad things he wanted to do, and you moaned in pleasure through them. You knew his body and yours like religion and shamelessly worshipped them.

When he finds himself at your door after leaving a woman who just wanted some vanilla sex in a cheap motel, it shouldn't have been a surprise. At least, it's not in his uniquely demonic brand of rationality. As you open the door, the look on your face tells him you agree with that.

Or so his deranged mind said.

You crossed your arms, the angle exposing your cleavage more as you leaned against the rose-colored door that he helped you paint months ago.

Dean used to think this little apple pie life was so savage, something out of his reach that he’d only get to touch in case of a miracle, like caressing the fire only to get a feel for the burn. Now he can't help but scrunch up his nose, disgusted by domestic, urban pleasures.

“What do you want, Dean?” You looked him up and down, a humorless smile on your face. “Got tired of fucking everyone with a pair of boobs?”

“I'm more interested in your boobs, sweetheart.” Dean isn't put off by your sarcasm, countering with the same flirty tone that used to get you riled up all the time.

Isn't the past such a beautiful memory?

“Go find someone your species, Winchester.” You rolled your eyes and pulled away, pushing the door closed before Dean's foot interrupted you.

He faked a pout. “Wow. That's racist, Y/N. This demon’s got feelings, you know?”

His childish attitude heats your system. Only Dean, demon or not, could push your buttons and get on your nerves in a matter of seconds. You pushed the pink door fully open with enough strength to make it slam against the wall with a loud crack. Dean doesn't look affected, though. You furiously glare at his lopsided grin.

“Do you also have a brain? I told you to leave. Get lost.”

“Come on, baby girl. I know you miss my cock. What about a night to remember?”

Believing he was the man you once loved was getting harder with every word he said. Your body seemed to recognize him easier, aching for him like some kind of spell. All you had after Dean Winchester left was a longing body and fury.

“Do you really think I'm gonna let you in my house for a quick fuck like I'm one of your one night stands?”

Dean appeared to be considering it for a moment, eyes focused on anything but you. His lips pursed before he glanced at you with a malicious beam. “Yes. You always said I was the best sex you ever had. Why not get a bit of it? You already know you won't regret that, sweetheart.”

You studied him, picturing what would bring a man who ran away back to what used to be his home. Dean had left as soon as he became a demon, the only trace of his existence being a note addressed to Sam and pieces of your heart. When you and Sammy finally found the eldest Winchester, he made was certain to make sure that you were aware of his very active sex life. He’d tacked on that he'd kill Sam and you both if you tried to save him.

You let him run like water after this. The Winchesters might have that wondrous codependency, but you didn't need something like that in your life. Especially not with a demonic cheater and murder.

Your eyes were too wide to ignore the warning signs now. Yet, that didn't answer why he was in your doorway. If he wanted to be saved, he'd go for Sam and call you from there. If he wanted to kill you, he wouldn't spend time talking about fond memories. He didn't look like a lost puppy looking for shelter either. So, what the fuck was this green-eyed devil doing here?

Quietude thickened while you noticed Dean not seeming to notice your silence, his eyes too busy observing your breasts. Your Dean Winchester was always a boob man, and he was looking like he'd fuck your titties on your porch for all your neighbors to see. It certainly wouldn't be yours and his first time with public sex. Still, that wasn't the point: he was here, hair longer than usual and cock clearly starting to awaken in his jeans…

Because he had missed you.

You chortled in dismay, unable to discern whether he was kidding or not despite the bulge in his pants, and that glimmer in his eyes already confirmed your suspicions. You knew him.

The realization almost cheered up your soul. Your reasoning stopped you from collecting hopes about that demoniac form of a man. Dean was here for carnal desire, not love. He had sex with other women while you spent sleepless nights crying into his old shirts. He broke you as the monster that he was — he deserved to suffer.

You didn't care if your heart would be a little more broken, or you pussy a bit needier after that.

“You missed fucking me, Dean? Missed my tight pussy squeezing your cock? Maybe my mouth on it? Or how you got it between my boobs? Did you miss how I taste?” You took a step closer to him, making Dean lift his glare to your face again.

He wore a cocky smirk as he answered, “Not as much as you missed me.”

Dean was right. Your body cried for him, and so did your soul. Who fucking cares? He didn't before, and you would not now.

“Liar.” The word rolled letter by letter off of your tongue. “I can take care of myself, even call a friend to do that, but you came back just because you can't forget how eating my pussy like a fucking feast feels like. Can you, sweetheart?”

You used that stupid nickname that he often gave people. You were very aware that it would irritate him, as it was laced with the implication of another man putting his hands on you.

Dean quickly grabbed your waist tightly, pulling you closer to him. He groaned. It was that fucking sound he made when something truly made him furious, and you knew your panties were gone. His eyes flashed into darkness that replaced his glistening greens, and for some calamitous reason, that turned you on.

“You better not have let anyone fuck what's mine, Y/N. I'd rip his throat in front of you and fuck you right next to his body,” he spits out jealously. His posture radiated that usual, alpha-esque tenseness that tumbled you two into angry, possessive sex so many times before.

“So jealous. I loved to tease you only to get you rough on me. Throwing me against the wall, going so hard inside my pussy that the bed broke, holding me hard enough to leave marks. You wanted for my bruises too, right? How I'd scratch your back, bite your collarbone, ruin your neck for everyone to see you were mine, but I guess what you really liked about me was that I was as hungry for you as you were for me. I would’ve let you do anything to my body, and I did. Because I wasn’t scared of you, Dean, and I’m not scared of you now either.” The way your arms compulsively wrapped around his neck made you wonder if you really wanted to strangle him or pull him closer. You could smell his manly cologne mixed with sulfur. It shouldn't make you want him more. Your knees shouldn't be begging to kneel for him and suck his cock. Be stronger. “You could come in, throw my clothes away and fuck my boobs with your dick instead of your eyes. Hurt me good enough to make me ask for more. But you know what?”

“Mm?” Dean's reply came in a hum as you pressed your hips against his, causing his clothed cock to rub on your belly. It was a tiny bit of relief — finally. He missed this so much: he couldn't wait to slip into your tight pussy.

“You won't.” Your lips brushed against his before you pulled away. His hands left your body from his surprise at your words. A wry smirk was wrung from your lips despite your wet pussy. “You stuck your dick into other women as soon as you became… whatever this is.” You scoffed, pointing at him with a feigned disgust in your eyes that you knew your body disagreed with. “Go have fun with your hand, Dean.”

A light rose painted door was ultimately closed in his face.

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zargsnake · 3 years

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Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 8: Priorities

Word Count: 2565 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

Anakin hears the cheers for Obi-Wan turn sour, and he soon figures out why. It is no fault of his master's, who fights beautifully -- but there is a transparent dome-shield around the arena, and whenever someone in the angry, heavily-armed audience shoots at it, ripples of white electric shocks cross the dome and obscure the fight. Anakin is relieved that the audience is booing each other, not his master, though he worries that Obi-Wan will think they're booing at him.

Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder, trying to locate Anakin in the audience, and a blade suddenly whizzes by his neck. His reflexes protect him and he jerks out of the way, but a moment later he feels hot blood on his skin. He hadn't moved quickly enough -- the blade cut him sharp and swift. It hurts a lot more than he expected. It could have easily killed him.

He was so focused on finding Anakin in this crowd that he forgot Anakin's own words to him, his warnings about this opponent. Obi-Wan hadn't taken Anakin seriously about Tiango. Of course it was sad about Anakin’s “cool” gladiator friend, but Obi-Wan defeated a Sith lord not long ago. The experience buoyed his confidence to a fault. This Tiango -- not a Sith, not even a professional, just an ex-science experiment, just a Yooro -- landed a blow on him -- a pretty good one, too.

Obi-Wan rapidly teaches himself a lesson. Connecting with Anakin doesn't mean knowing exactly where he is. It means listening to him. Believing him. That's what teachers do. It's what friends do.

This isn't the Outer Rim, but these people are. This is Anakin's haunt. Obi-Wan will train it out of him, will make him a man of the Core. But for now, Anakin is the expert here, and his words must be Obi-Wan's textbook.

With his heart opened wide for Anakin, and his guard up because of Anakin's warning, Obi-Wan realizes he will have to hunker down in defense for a while. Tiango's assault is brutal and inhumanly quick, though Obi-Wan remembers that Yoroos do get exhausted -- eventually. What Obi-Wan lacks in comparative strength, he makes up for in endurance -- patience and energy, the long game, care -- these are Obi-Wan's secret weapons.

Anakin watches Obi-Wan deflect the same moves that once ruthlessly whittled down Crix Spartak, the gladiator who he had loved. The memory of that death match sends chills up his spine. He is certain that some of these blows must hit his master. Part of him is certain that Obi-Wan is doomed, too. Anakin had believed Crix would win, and he had been wrong. It is asking too much to have hope again, against the same, utterly evil man.

Though Obi-Wan has great endurance, his vibroblade does not. Out of habit, he treats it as roughly as if it were a laser weapon, depending on it for deflection, as a shield. Tiango's barrage strikes the metal and bends it back and forth into a zigzag, then into a knot. Obi-Wan is slowly disarmed as his blade becomes less and less tenable as a weapon. He has no choice; he has no other shield. The biggest bother is his own hand: the damn vibroblade is aptly named -- it quivers like a leaf in the wind, wearing out his wrist and weakening his fingers.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically for the graceful Jedi, chanting, "Kenobi! Kenobi!" Anakin does not join in. Obi-Wan could almost be dancing with his expert moves, but Anakin is not in the mood to learn from him. He gazes in hopeless terror at the duel. He watches bullets, lasers and slingshotted electrostones bounce off the dome, as well as gifts, toys and even people’s underwear. All such wild debris from this crazed crowd trying to reach out to their beloved or hated athlete, his poor, wonderful master.

The fastest or biggest bullets send fuzzy waves across the dome, but the dome quickly repairs itself. Anakin follows the arc of the dome, calculating the sources of its projection points from subtle distortions in the waves.

He moves the layers of fur in his stolen disguise to peek at the recharging screen on his hidden acid-blaster: 52%. No other weapons are making a dent in the dome. But no other weapons are quite like this one, and no one else seems to have figured out where to shoot. Could he crack the dome? What would he do then?

Anakin looks away from Obi-Wan for a second and scans his narrowed eyes over the happy rabble. He does not understand them. Are they seeing what he's seeing? They all shout and cheer, laughing and clapping, as if Obi-Wan is triumphant, as if he is playing. He looks back at his master. He sees that Obi-Wan is in great pain. Dying, even. How can the information from his senses, and the conclusions from his feelings, be so different from everyone else's?

Is he connecting, mentally, to his master -- using his supposed Jedi powers to see things for how they truly are? Is he seeing the truth, better than they are, because he is a Jedi, a Jedi Padawan? Is the Force giving him a special message -- because he, unlike the rabble, is a Jedi -- because he, unlike everyone, is the answer to a prophecy -- because he is closer to Obi-Wan than anyone else is?

Or ... is he, Anakin, wrong? Is everyone else right? Is his sight blinded by irrational fear, brought about by his utter dependence on this man? Did Obi-Wan really stumble, just now? No one else seems to have seen it.

Is he, Anakin, perhaps, confusing the past for the present? Crix for Obi-Wan? Death for life?

Is it all in his head? Or is it real?

* * *

Below the arena, Zlinky has memorized the map from the computer. With Jane, she trespasses through the employee quarters. They reach a large, important-looking office which Zlinky guesses is Knightkiller's.

She hears voices inside and shouts at the door, “Hey boss! There's fried fluunies in Rec Room 3!”

She backs off as the door opens and two people exit. Zlinky creeps inside and Jane blusters along behind her. Too soon, they hear the people coming back and Zlinky shoves Jane under the slick metallic desk; the robot is so big that two of the desk legs lift a few inches from the ground. There isn't much room left for Zlinky; she has to nestle right up against Jane's bazooka. A belt of detonators falls across Zlinky's lap.

She peeks over the edge of the desk and sees the people more closely. They look more decorated than the other guards, with sashes and medals, as if there was some kind of made-up military ranking among Knightkiller's cronies, a worthless army dedicated solely to this evil entertainment.

“These fluunies are great,” says one crony.

“I’ve had better,” says the other.

The hidden Padawan hears the gross sounds of chewing, and then the rather more alarming sound of Jane powering up her neutralizers. Zlinky quiets her and gestures for her to stop. Stealth has worked so far; it would be best to avoid violence, especially since these two seem important.

“I can't wait to run the missing Jedi kids through with this,” says the first one, as he ignites a lightsaber.

Zlinky stops gesturing, but Jane has already powered down.

“The Jedi kids must still be on the ship. No one's been allowed to leave and no shuttle pods have activated.”

“You think Jedi could survive in space?”

“No. Only the boss can do that. You saw them in those Coruscanti space suits, idiot.”

“Oh right.”

The second crony ignites another lightsaber. Even without looking, Zlinky recognizes the sound as her own. She feels something very powerful and uncomfortable. Taken aback, she identifies it as jealousy, one of the very worst emotions. Afraid of her own feelings, she is frozen, unable to act, unable to know if she is behaving rationally, according to the light side, or irrationally, which will lead her off the narrow path into darkness.

“They're real nice suits. I called dibs on the man-size one for me and the little one for my daughter.”

“Yeah...the gigantic one and the lady-size one are pretty useless.”

“I'll take the lady one for my kid to grow into.”

Zlinky thinks, I'm twelve! I’m not a lady! Though I am much taller than Anakin. So they say Anakin is missing, too? That means he's not dead! If only I was strong enough to detect his presence!

Jane pokes Zlinky and gestures to her blasters. Zlinky shakes her head.

We can't kill him! He's a dad!

They hear the two men walking closer and closer. One of them accidentally hits something with the lightsaber; the girls hear them cursing and smell melting plastic.

Zlinky feels time running out. This hiding spot is bad. She ran in here without a plan. She knows her decision-making is impeded by fear, jealousy, and access to a murder-droid, but she must decide something.

Zlinky quickly examines the settings on Jane's weapons. All these numbers and charts are too confusing to parse right now. She dials one dial back, but it only causes some numbers to rise and others to fall. She puts it back where it was, though the numbers are still not the same. The last time Jane shot someone, it wasn't fatal. At least not immediately.

The girl feels tears pressuring her eyes and throat. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. She has learned through stories and lessons that the darkness within is far worse than the darkness without. She is more frightened of doing wrong than she is of dying. There is no death. But there is evil.

She can't get out of her head a discussion she overheard from some of the older Padawans. This group of twenty- and thirty-somethings is the pride of the whole Temple. Everyone adores them -- the strongest, most beautiful, best students in school. Once they are knighted, then they leave the young people’s social circle to rub shoulders with the teachers, and have no time for their old friends -- but before they are knighted, they rule the school from the inside, and everyone lets them get away with a little more fun than knights are allowed. In those last years of Padawanship, they are the most free a Jedi can be.

Just last month, when Zlinky fetched the group snacks from the mess hall in order to bask in their presence, she found them in a very strange state. When one of them returns from a mission, the others crowd around to hear the stories and see the new scars. The latest conquering hero, a human named Sara Chid-wun, did not have a physical scar. But she had such an aura of bitterness around her that the whole group was affected, including the young interloper Zlinky.

Sara explained how she and her Master Kayji were caught in various difficult situations, and each time Kayji had neglected to act, so each time Sara had been forced to act herself, often with violence. It felt like a test that she continuously failed. And yet, ultimately, they succeeded in their mission. Sara claimed that Kayji would not address her concerns with anything beyond platitudes.

The whole experience led Sara to, hesitantly, conclude that Masters often take advantage of their students. Masters refuse to move, and claim they are trusting in the Force, or allowing evil to collapse in on itself, or some such excuse, while in reality they are leaving the sensible but nasty work to the impure, young Padawan tagging along.

The group discussed each example, and more from their own adventures, each trying to explain away their masters’ -- sometimes -- confusing actions, each unwilling to support Sara’s conclusion -- including, of course, Sara herself. But the group found that, if they were being honest, she might be right. Sometimes. So they had moved on to finding the moral lesson in this seemingly cruel behavior -- something about knightly violence being worse than non-knightly violence, something about power and purity.

And maybe they came to a satisfying explanation among themselves; Sara herself seemed as cheerful as normal the next time Zlinky saw her. But Zlinky hadn't felt comfortable sitting in on their important big-kid conversation any longer, so she had left at the darkest part of it.

Tila has never forced Zlinky's hand before. Zlinky has never had to kill anyone before. But now the master is indeed the one sitting out, while the student is the one doing the work.

Is it okay to stray off the path when you are only a Padawan? Is it, in fact, expected, and necessary? Must she walk in the gray area beside the light, until she is a master herself, and can savor the light all the time, and never have to do any more wrong? When she is knighted, then she can delegate that dark stuff to someone else, someone young and obedient?

The thought occurs to Zlinky that she is not the one who would do the killing -- that would be Jane. But she knows that is a flaky excuse. Jane is her responsibility. Just as she is Tila's. The blood is on all their hands.

Zlinky turns to Jane and nods. Jane immediately stands up and neutralizes the guards. Zlinky pokes her head over the desk, sees the smoking bodies, and fears the worst.

“Are they dead?”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ɪᴛ. ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴄᴀᴘᴀᴄɪᴛʏ.“

“I'm pretty sure your full capacity is overkill.”

She tiptoes over to the guard's bodies. One seems to be breathing. The other, she can't tell.

She can't alert anyone to the danger, and she doesn't trust the medical facilities here anyway. But she has nothing to give them, to help them. She puts her hand on the soft, sandy hair of the one whose life is unclear to her, the one who has a little daughter.

“May the Force be with you.”

Her voice is a shaky whisper, but she's never meant those words so much as she means them now.

Please, please, live.

She pulls the lightsaber from his hand and turns it off, and does the same with the other guard. She finds three more lightsabers on their belts. She recognizes hers and her master’s; two of them must be Anakin’s and his master’s; the last one could be Glagret’s, a.k.a. Knightkiller’s. It's green, and of the same old fashion as her master’s. She is surprised and glad that it isn't red. But maybe Knightkiller carries her red one on her person. Or maybe, just maybe, the Sith are not at all involved. She prays that they aren't.

Zlinky and Jane hide the bodies behind the desk and lock the door behind them. Zlinky turns away from the door and does not look back.

They were gonna kill me. They still will kill me, if they figure it out. I have to act in self-defense. And I have to save the other three Jedi. These people may be people, but they are low-lives, murderers, and lawbreakers. It wasn't my choice that they got in my way.

Chapter 9: Crix Spartak

#my story #my art #star wars #knightkiller: anakin and obi-wan's first adventure #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #chahlee tiango #zlinkgwal zalt #jane #scifi #adventure #drama

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depressedhatakekakashi · 3 years

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Ao3

(For @cryptic-summons )

Ramen.

For the third day in a row, Yamato was eating Ramen because apparently that was the only thing that Naruto ever ate.

There’s a whole list of things that he wishes his Senpai had warned him about before he joined the team, and this was near the top. After all, he was made to deal with the kyuubi sealed inside of Naruto, and after years of working with Kakashi-Senpai he was more than used to having teammates with little to no self-preservation.

But his eating habits were taking a hit now and that was just unacceptable. How the kid could even eat Ramen every single day was beyond him. He was already sick of it and it hadn’t even been a week yet.

“Captain Yamato?” Turning to look at Sakura, he raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright? You haven’t touched your Ramen at all.”

“It’s fine,” glancing down at the bowl in front of him he sighed. “I just guess I’m not that hungry.”

A lie of course. He was starving after a long day of training, but Kakashi-Senpai had promised to take him out somewhere else as soon as the kids had left.

Not that he thought the older man would actually pay for that extra lunch. He never did.

“Iruka-Sensei, You made it!” Covering his ear, Yamato glared at Naruto for screaming in such an enclosed space.

“Of course I made it,” a voice behind him spoke, cheerful and somehow displeased at the same time. “Now keep your voice down. There are other people in here.”

“Oh, sorry,” Burying a hand in his hair, Naruto glanced around at all of his teammates, cringing when he saw the look Yamato was giving him. “Jeez Captain Yamato, you don’t have to try and murder me with a look.”

He did.

It was part of the contract he had signed when he agreed to watch Kakashi-senpai’s team. He made sure they didn’t die by enemy hands and in return he got to use his ‘scary faces’ (as Kakashi-Senpai called them) as much as he wanted.

So far it was not worth the trade off.

“Come on Iruka-Sensei,” Jumping out of his seat, Naruto rushed over to the new arrival while Yamato turned his attention back down tot he untouched Bowl of Ramen in front of him. “If you’re really nice I bet Captain Yamato will give you his Ramen. He hasn’t even touched it yet.”

Even though he had no real intentions of eating the food in front of him, it still felt a little rude to have someone else offering to give it away without even asking him first.

Then of course, this was Kakashi-senpai’s student.

Clearly he had learned manners from the copy Nin.

“Naruto, you can’t just offer me other people’s food,” At least there was someone with manners in this establishment. “Besides, didn’t you just finish a mission? I thought you told me you were paying for our next bowl of ramen together?”

“Oh, right,” Naruto laughed awkwardly. “I guess I did.”

Seeing Naruto appear once again in the corner of his eye, Yamato turned his head to properly greet the new addition to their little lunch break, as a good well adjusted person did.

Except, as soon as he saw ‘Iruka-Sensei’ his brain stopped function. It wasn’t even that he couldn’t find the right words to say.

His brain was over whelmed. It refused to focus on anything at all except for that adorable smile, or those soft kind eyes staring back at him.

It was hopeless.

He could feel his brain doing a full mental reboot, trying desperately to process what he was seeing.

Was someone this gorgeous allowed to exist? Who had authorized this? Yamato had complaints.

“You’re sprouting,” hearing his Senpai’s words, Yamato turned his head to see him sitting there with his nose buried in his book as always. Except, his eyes weren’t on the page in front of him.

Instead, they were focused on Yamato.

“That’s not something I’ve seen before,” now that he had a face to match the voice, Yamato couldn’t help but melt a little when he heard Iruka-Sensei speaking again. “Is that normal for you?”

This was worse than his old crush on his Senpai.

So much worse.

“Aww, Tenzo you’re embarrassed,” Kakashi-Senpai chuckled, and never in all his years of knowing the man had Yamato so desperately wanted to toss him out a window. “It’s sort of cute, for you at least.”

Ok, that was it.

Opening his mouth, Yamato was quickly shut down when his Senpai reached out and plucked a lily off of his shoulder.

It was rude. Inexcusably and completely rude.

He wanted nothing less than to die on the spot.

“I see where Naruto’s learning some of his worst habits,” Iruka-Sensei spoke up behind him, disapproval in his voice. “You really are something, Kakashi. Bullying your friends. It’s a miracle that you have any of those some days.”

Was it possible for someone to get any more perfect? He was handsome, kind, and he had the back bone to stand up to Yamato’s Senpai?

This was it. He was in love and there was no turning back.

“Keep it up, Iruka,” Kakashi started to laugh when Yamato reached out and smacked his arm. “At this rate I’ll get a whole bouquet for Gai, and he only just met you.”

The worst part was that his Senpai was right.

He had only just met Iruka and he was already so hopelessly lost over him that he was apparently producing a whole garden on his body.

He could only imagine what would happen if things got worse. If he spent more time with Iruka, asked him out...

Kissed him...

“Oh, a pink tulip!” His head hit the counter, and Sakura apparently used the opportunity to pluck the tulip in question off of his head. “See Naruto, Captain Yamato is awsome. He’s smart, clear headed, and he comes with his own home grown flowers.”

The whole shop erupted into laughter at that point, and Yamato found himself unable to think about a future where he got to kiss that pretty smile on Iruka’s face.

How could he? Clearly he was going to die of embarrassment here today.

#YamaIru #Kakashi is the worst #but Yamato still loves him XD

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introvertguide · 3 years

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15 Badass Movies for a Fun Time at Home or with Friends

There is a buzz in the air as COVID-19 vaccines are rolling out and the hope of having a movie night with friends is again becoming a reality. Watching alone isn’t as fun because I want to talk to somebody about what I have just seen. A full theater does not agree with my introvert nature because somebody screaming or laughing or talking on their phone will ruin it for me. Watching with a fellow cinephile or two is perfect. But what to watch first? People have been stuck inside, so fantasy and alternative worlds have been overly popular. All I do is talk over zoom for a living. I think what I need most right now is a movie about realistic people with realistic skills that go into a situation and just wreck house. I need a badass movie. What is this “badass” movie you might say? Well, here are some basic criteria: 1) There must be a tough lead character who kicks butt while spouting one liners and doesn’t need superhuman powers (high levels of peak skill with speed, aim, or strength is OK if they are plausible in the real world), 2) most of the characters (good and bad) must be likable, admirable or at least memorable, 3) the lead must face and defeat overwhelming odds against them, and 4) extra points for memorable one liners. Also, I am only dealing with human protagonists (sorry Terminator), but slightly superhuman opposition is acceptable. This list is by no means exhaustive, it is just an example of some badass movies. So in no particular order:

1) Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981)

To start off the list, I want to mention the most well known American badass. Indiana Jones is a smart guy with a gun and a whip. He is rugged and punches guys in the face. He has weaknesses but works through them to get the job done. Harrison Ford was in his early 40s for this role and had this tough-as-nails and seen the world kind of feel while still being young enough to fight hand to hand. Any of the first three films featuring Indiana Jones would work here, but this is the original and it started the fun. Easy to watch. Easy to cheer for. Great movie. You can’t really go wrong with any age or group with this one.

2) 13 Assassins (2010)

This movie is extremely badass but not for everyone. This is one of the goriest films I have ever seen as 13 warriors kill off a couple of hundred soldiers and the evil leader that they guard. The movie was directed by Japanese extreme horror icon Takashi Miike if that means anything to you (hey made Audition and Ichi the Killer). The movie has gallons of blood, but also an amazing story of redemption and honor. There are tons of scenes of a single warrior taking on dozens of soldiers and managing to overcome. Not for everyone, but still very much a badass movie.

3) The Raid (2011)

This is an Indonesian action thriller with the word action in bold. The film is directed by Gareth Evans and stars Iko Uwais as part of a small police force that tries to take down an old building that houses a drug lord and his violent gang. It has a lot of what I like in badass movies: one-on-one fights between the lead and almost superhuman villains, long well-choreographed scenes, a banging soundtrack, ridiculous weapons, and ridiculous gore. The fight scenes in tight places and the use of the environment for weaponry is amazing and the sound design makes sure you can feel every punch. The lead character should have no chance, but he makes up for it with skill and being a pure badass. This movie is one of the few that I would describe as having non-stop action.

4) Jon Wick (2014)

When did Keanu Reeves become so cool? I grew up with him being part of the Bill and Ted duo. He decides to learn martial arts and play a god-like being in the Matrix movies and then becomes a one man wrecking crew? I guess he is a badass because he does it so well. Keanu plays a retired hitman who is wronged and decides to go back to work for vengeance. He just won’t stop coming and seems to constantly survive out of pure hatred alone. There are 3 films in the series and any one of them will impress. Pure fun too watch.

5) Casino Royale (2006)

When I was asking around, there were many people who thought that James Bond was the ultimate badass. I disagree in that many of the older films show Bond as overconfident with the assistance of many people. In fact, Q is more of a badass in many ways than James Bond. However, when the series was taken back to its roots with the last book that had not been made into a serious film and made darker, it reached badass levels. From the parkour chase to a poisoning to an extreme torture scene, this was not like any James Bond movie before it. Roger Craig plays a much colder lead who gives no quarter, much more like what the greatest secret agent would have to be. Heavy on violence but light on gore, this film is more for all audiences than other films on this list.

6) Desperado (1995)

What makes this movie is not all about Antonio Banderas and Selma Hayek. It is that every other character is memorable and badass as well. The street standoff with Bucho’s men versus El Mariachi, Quino, and Campo is iconic. El Mariachi murders everyone in a bar with precise skill. The rogue assassin Navajas with all the knives played by Danny Trejo. Nothing but extreme shoot outs and fight scenes with a ridiculous variety of guns and explosives. I think what makes this movie so amazing is that all these amazing assassins are incognito and, when they suddenly produce an arsenal out of nowhere, it is always a pleasant surprise. Quino and Campo are amazing when they bring their guitars.

7) Pulp Fiction (1994)

Truly the role that made Samuel L. Jackson into the ultimate badass. He and his partner Vincent are hitman that keep running into the worst situations. The thing about the film is that everybody is so cool. The characters are cool, the music is cool, the dialogue is cool, hell even the diner featured in the movie is cool. The movie only spans a couple of days (in completely separate segments shown out of order) but packs in 7 distinct situations that are all berserk. From the mind of Quentin Tarantino, this movie is dripping with the best characters traveling through the best story. Highly recommend.

8) Leon: The Professional (1994)

Also known simply as The Professional in the U.S., this film features the debut of Natalie Portman. It is directed by Luc Besson at his best period, right between La Femme Nakita and The Fifth Element. The lead is actually a quiet hitman who reluctantly takes a little 12-year-old girl on as an apprentice to become a paid assassin. Her parents were killed by a corrupt cop and she wants Leon to help her exact revenge. He is an absolute badass and somewhat of a caring surrogate father to the girl. Unlike a lot of the films on this list, the premise is not simply kicking butt in a bad situation. There is serious character growth. Apparently you can be a caring parent and a cold-blooded murderer...and that is badass.

9) Kill Bill (2003)

Being a badass is not exclusive to men and The Bride is a prime example of this. She survives a shot to the head, kills deadly assassins, slaughters a gang, and takes on a crazy school girl bodyguard. She is tougher then any lead I can think of and she has the bad attitude and sense of vengeance that makes for a badass. Combine this with the soundtrack and beautiful cinematography associated with director Quentin Tarantino and you have a beautifully violent movie in which the hits keep coming. Even on this list, the fight scene between the bride and Gogo Yubari is insane. Also note the nod to Bruce Lee with the bright yellow motorcycle suit. Beautifully badass film.

10) Aliens (1986)

In nature, there are few things more dangerous than a mother protecting their young. A mother will fight you to the death and make sure that, at the very least, you won’t be able to go after her kids. Now imagine an alien planet covered with hostile beings created in the mind of James Cameron and Stan Winston and you have a setting made to create a real badass. In the beginning, Ripley (Sigourney Weaver) is just desperate to survive and barely knows how to use a weapon. She meets a little survivor named Newt and then has a real reason to become aggressive. She and a group of marines fight through a station filled with super destructive xenomorph aliens made straight from nightmares to save this kid. The transformation is truly amazing and culminates in a mech suit versus a giant queen alien and it is extremely badass.

11) Army of Darkness (1992)

Far and away the funniest movie on this list, this is the third film stemming from Evil Dead and again stars Bruce Campbell taking on the deadites that were raised by reading from the Necronomicon. The opposition is the undead evil that faces the world which makes the violence very unrealistic. This was early work from Sam Raimi and features a variety of different shots done to the extreme. What really makes this film stand out is how Bruce Campbell is amazing at delivering a one liner. His classic quips have been used as fun Easter eggs in video games like Duke Nukem and World of Warcraft for decades. The quintessential horror comedy and a perfect example of a badass.

12) Die Hard (1988)

Apparently, I am a big fan of single characters that need to work their way through a building of villains using mostly intelligence and the element of surprise. Throw in some one liners and I am all for it. That is exactly what this is with Bruce Willis crawling barefoot around a 40 story building and fighting off a gang of villains. The movie also has Alan Rickman as the main bad guy and he is chewing the scenery. This is a great example of being a badass, but it is too bad that the follow up sequels were so poor. Definitely stick to the original and let the rest pass by.

13) The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly (1966)

An OG of the badass movie genre, this is some of the best of Sergio Leone and the spaghetti western. Instead of one badass, this movie has three different leads that are all amazing. You have the good, Clint Eastwood, who is an amazing shot and a heart of gold under a rough exterior. You have the bad, Lee Van Cleef, playing an conniving assassin that will kill anyone that he doesn’t have a use for. Finally, you have the ugly, Eli Wallach, as a desert rat that will do anything to survive. They all gain information about a gold stash and need to work together to get it, but this creates a vortex of cheating, undercutting, and straight up murder. Clint Eastwood is more of the classic badass with his cigar, hat, and poncho, It is an iconic look on an iconic character in an iconic movie. That is what I call badass.

14) Ong-Bak (2003)

This less of a badass movie and more houses some of the most amazingly badass fight scenes that can only be described as badass. This movie introduced the great Tony Jaa to the western world and showed the high flying nature of Thai boxing and Muay Thai in general. The main character is entered into a street fighting tournament and the moves include a flying double knee drop and a full splits kick. If the whole movie was the tournament, it would be the best movie that ever existed. The variety of opponents makes the fighting even better and the cinematography is top notch. Tony Jaa is truly badass in this film.

15) Dredd (2012)

Not the crappy version with Stallone, this movie is seriously badass. It features Karl Urban who is helmeted for the entire film (as Dredd would be) taking on a 200 story mega slum filled with residents that want to shoot him dead. There is a drug dealer high up in the building and she locks down the entire compound with instructions to kill Dredd, who only has his rookie partner to help. He takes on random resident mobs, groups of gang members, and even a trio of mini guns that have bullets that can rip through walls. He has a smart gun with a bunch of ammo that he uses judiciously to kill everybody. This movie was seriously underrated since it had not been that long since the garbage Judge Dredd came out in 1995. The 2012 is a far superior movie, being much more violent and dark instead of having Rob Schneider as the comedy relief (not badass).

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I know there will be a lot of opinions about what makes a badass film and what movies i didn’t add. Feel free to add your own movies or critique my choices. I will stand by my choices, however, and recommend any of these films for a night of cheers and badass action.

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purplerose244 · 3 years

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Irrational - Chapter 5: I love you too much

HELLOOOOOOO!!! 🤩🤩

Here comes the fifth day of @spacecampweek with what is probably my favorite fic of the bunch! Little song-fic but not really situation in a normal world AU, where Krel is about to confess his feelings in a special way! 💕💕💕

Enjoy!! 😙

Summary: Prom is here at last, a night of entertainment, of happiness, to celebrate changes and the future. What better moment for Krel to finally express feelings that have been hidden for so long? Time to put those guitar lessons to some use...

Read it on the AO3

It was happening. No more holding back, no more thinking rationally about his chances without concluding a thing. Tonight, everything was going to change.

Prom had turned out to be an absolute oxymoron to walk into, between his deep appreciation for parties and his unsettledness at dealing with other people of different temperatures – or ‘cool’, as they liked to call themselves. Everyone was dancing like crazy, that was very good, and everyone was talking loud about nonsense, that was very not good. Adding to the unpleasantries was the music playing onto the stage, something pulsing yet in a hardly dynamic way. If this was another night, he would have liked to teach these people what real music sounded like and propose himself as a DJ, to properly say goodbye to Arcadia Oaks High. Then again, in another delson he would have not worn these kind of flashy clothes – he had lost the chance to call this a normal night the moment he had exited his house wearing a bow.

There was a lot of movement in the middle of the room, and in the middle some familiar faces. He could spot Jim’s questionable moves while Claire was laughing loudly with red cheeks, he could see Toby doing some robot moves while Darci danced along him, he managed to notice Aja spinning all over, between a super smiling Steve and an extremely radiant Eli.

It looked like they were all having fun, so much fun. Krel wasn’t… not yet.

“Hey Clint.”

He almost snorted at the sudden voice.

“Mary, I know you know my name at this point.”

“Whatever Kurt, whatcha up to?” The queen of the bees appeared in front of him, all sparkly in her pink shock dress. “Hank got all handsy, Dean is being shy, and that cute guy from Arcadia Oaks Academy that snuck in is being difficult. I’m up for some juice and it looks like you’re up to something.” And the queen of gossip too as well. She grinned at him, clearly playful. “Could it be you’ll stop being a wuss, at last? That would be nice!” He didn’t deny it. for a second. Big mistake, her eyes immediately widened, like she got struck by absolute knowledge. “Don’t tell me-”

He covered her mouth, realizing midway there that there was no point, the music was so loud it silenced everything. Despite that, he couldn’t bring her to say it. Not yet.

“Perhaps… maybe.”

Mary’s eyes turned into stars. She quickly wiped his hands off her.

“O-M-G, finally, I’ve been waiting for this for so long! Ha, I knew you were going to be the one to do it, Darci owes me five dollars! So does Logan! Pff, why was everyone betting on the space dork anyway… hey, what’s wrong?” She was perceptive. It happened after knowing each other for a couple of years. “Cheer up Kai.”

He laughed again. His chest felt like it was exploding, but in a good way. Seklos and Gaylen, for how long he had postponed what he was about to do, blaming time, work and consequences? It was terrifying in a way that was almost pleasant. Maybe. Perhaps.

“I am fine.” He swallowed, because of course the moment he had scanned the entire party, he had noticed it right away. Or rather, he had noticed a lack of him. “He… he is not here though.”

“He’s probably still bummed that he got into that accounting college his grumpy dad wants him to go but still doesn’t know about the engineering one.” Krel was holding his breath about that one too. Seamus had promised to be roommates in that case. Was it going to be weird if tonight wasn’t going to turn out the way he wanted? Was he going to be awkward around him? “Alright, I can smell burning thoughts, hashtag stopbeinganerd! You’re telling me you’re going to do it and I wanna know how, where and when, and if you try to chicken out now, I swear I’m gonna smash your precious guitar!” She sure knew how to get him riled up.

For the first time since he had come to this decision, Krel smiled, thinking of the backstage, the phases he had prepared into his head. He looked up, shaking his head.

“I believe that would be counterproductive for my plan.”

Mary’s mouth popped open, and if that wasn’t satisfying.

“No.”

“Kleb yes, I am not holding back.”

“That’s gonna be the bomb but you better don’t swoon anyone else, you dang charmer! I have all boy dates tonight and I wanna keep them focused on me only!” She giggled, patting his shoulder. “Just go for it, okay? You’re cool, even when you’re being a nerd.” It was as good of an encouragement as he could get right now. “Just wait until your dorky prince charming arri- Oh this is too perfect.” She was smirking, so much her makeup was scrunching up a little.

Krel didn’t have to turn around to know. He did it anyway.

What a view. This prince really wasn’t above physical appearance as he had first thought when he had arrived in Arcadia, powered by his absolute intellect, rationality, and general annoyance towards social interactions with amoebas. It had taken him a while, a whole while, to accept that even someone like him could get this soft inside.

Give then right time, and the right person.

Seamus was radiant, with the black jacket and the blue tie, with the polished shoes and the pulled back hair. From the relaxed eyes the discussion with his dad must had ended without a punishment, and he was actually smiling. Everything, he was so absolutely everything it made Krel choke up.

Mary was arching an eyebrow, although she most likely know what was going on. The prince swallowed, almost choking again, trying to keep his composure as usual.

Failing.

“… and… and you are absolutely sure…?”

“What in the world, Ken, yes! Yes he is completely head over heels for you, yes if you confess you bet your perfect grades he’s gonna reciprocate, yes the moment he will hear what you’ve prepared for him he might as well take a ring out of his pocket and propose in the middle of the dance room!” He grabbed his shoulders, shaking him a little. “You two are the absolute worst! C-bomb has actual guts to ask Jimmy Jam out, Darci and her Tobypie went for it naturally, even Steve is an idiot sometimes but not at dating and Aj and Eli practically gravitate around him! But you!!” She grabbed his collar, her stellar eyes turning into black holes. “You two are pining messes that I’m absolutely done with! So, I swear, Krel Tarron, if you don’t get on that stage and finally confess, you won’t have to make plans for college because this will be your last dance. Ever.” She could had stopped the threat at his actual name. That alone would have done it. Mary gave him the ‘I’m watching you gesture’, before backing down into the crowd without getting her eyes off.

Krel swallowed, nodded, watching her disappear into the party. Despite the dread of being murdered in cold blood being quite intense and even impressive, it was quickly washed away, as soon as Seamus looked at his direction with those blue eyes of him. There it was, that urge, that need to impress him somehow. It was their thing, the fulcrum of their rivalry that hadn’t stopped, even after years. The need to make the other break their mask of pride and turn it into amazement.

Bold enough, the prince grinned, winking at him. The way the blonde gaped warmed his heart. Was that pink on his cheeks? The lights were too strong and colorful, it was hard to tell.

Was it important? Not really. It was now or never.

Making his way towards the stage was a challenge itself, luckily his dancing skills were not to be ignored and swirling around these random kids was pretty easy and entertaining. The band was playing a pretty energetic movement, there was a keyboard player going absolutely nuts and a drummer doing their best. There was definitely something that could had been done to improve the whole performance – perhaps a few remixes on a DJ board, just saying –, but they were really into it. It almost felt bad going up there and show his own abilities.

Then again, Krel didn’t care.

He had a mission. With that determination in mind he immediately went behind the curtains of the stage, finding familiar locks of blue hair monitoring the situation. Having Douxie as the responsible one was still unusual, even though the ripped off pants and the numerous studs all over his suit were more likely. It probably wasn’t enough for him, he was tapping his foot over and over.

Krel cleared his voice, the older one turned, turning the frown into a smile.

“Krel, how’re you liking the show?” He snorted.

“Fine…” He really couldn’t help himself, it was too easy. “Would be better with some metal rock in it.” The smile was gone. Krel snorted again.

“Really, you’re going to put salt on it like that? Zoe already gives me a hard time because I didn’t get the Ash Dispersal Pattern to play here, don’t you get in the way too!” He turned to the band with a frown, shaking it. “‘Your music might not be a good example for the students’, fuzzbuckets, how old do you think these kids are?? Besides, how is techno a better alternative? Those moppets, I swear…” He muttered something under his breath, a curse most likely, then he sighed. “Alright, I’m fine. Extremely salty, but nothing a drink can solve later. I’m guessing you’re here to ask me something?” Perceptive. All of his friends had to be with him.

“Something like that, yeah…” He breathed in and breathed out, he was absolutely going for it but it didn’t make any of this easier for him. “Alright, I need a favor?”

Douxie smirked, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh yeah? You need a favor from this random guy who got nominated supervisor as cold comfort for not having his band play tonight? Little old me?” He snickered, shaking his head. “Should have thought before you came here to mock, shouldn’t ya?”

“Hisirdoux…”

“Nope, can’t let this one go, I’m out of patience tonight and I need to get at least one gratification. How about you apologize to me? I’ll even help, start with ‘You are the best guitarist I’ve ever known’ and… whoa, wait, what are you doing?” Was it a bluff? Krel was bowing already, but perhaps his brain was messed up tonight. “Dude, how are you actually doing it? What is this favor all about?” Oh. Right. He was the most prideful person on the planet. He had almost forgot.

Krel straightened up, shrugging a little. From the tone of the current song, it seemed that this band was almost done. He peaked from behind the curtain. Seamus was talking with Steve, giggling a little. The prince couldn’t help clenching his hand around the shirt over his chest. Ah, he wanted this, he wanted all of this.

He felt a familiar wave of warm. He turned back to the guitarist, and Douxie was gaping, blinking several times. It was probably clear.

“I want to make an exhibition.” His honey eyes widened.

“… yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“… alright then.” Douxie smiled, pointing at the backstage with his head. “Prepare yourself Lover Boy, I’m announcing you right after this.” If it wasn’t to preserve what was left of his pride, Krel would have hugged him. “Is it DJ Kleb time?”

Krel moved a few steps towards the back. He stopped.

“No,” He turned to the guitarist, smirking. “It is Krel time.”

***

“Alright, give it up for ‘The Raise of the Titans’! Amazing performance you guys, can’t wait to properly see you on Wednesday!” Douxie always looked confident on stage, he was born to have the attention of a public. It was something he and Krel had in common. Right now though, there was only one look the prince wanted all for himself. “Hope you’re having a blast tonight! How’s prom going?” A cheer followed. “That’s great, because we have a special exhibition right now. A special song, for a special someone! Give it up for Krel Tarron!”

The wood under his feet made a sound after every step, it was drowned by the voiced in the crowd. It made him smile thinking how many people were going to be surprised by his presence, his appearance, and especially him appearing with a guitar instead of his beloved keyboard. There was a single stool in the middle of the place, with a microphone already adjusted for his high. He thought that really needed to thank Douxie after this, for everything, as he sat down with the instrument on his lap. He had accorded it while he was in the backstage, but out of habit he did it again, the sound reverberating into his mind. It was like a reality check, a call to the place, as he finally looked up to the public.

Aja looked close to crying, absolutely overjoyed. Mary was smirking so much her cheek looked like it was being pulled. Steve looked absolutely astonished. Toby was grinning impossibly wide. Eli had his glasses shining and a bit smile. Jim had amazed eyes over him. Claire looked ecstatic. Darci was giving him a thumbs up. Everyone was there, everyone.

And then there was him. Him, adorably confused and starstruck.

Krel grinned. I hope you are ready for this, you math blonde.

“This song is for a dear person to me. I have never been able to express my feelings properly before. I have never been particularly good at.” He let another note fill his silence, it made him smile again. “But I will not shy away from it, not anymore. I went through everything with you, high school, my problems, your problems, math and space and everything between,” There was no doubt, not anymore. “I want to go beyond now.”

His mind was peaceful, his body was burning. It felt like he had never been more alive before. His fingers knew what to do, that song was a part of him. He just took a deep breath, and let the music take over.

I love you too much

To leave without you loving me back

I love you too much

Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact

I know I belong, when I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Them against the world, with a mother that wanted her to be proper, with a father that wanted him not to be him. Everything had turned out so badly at first without them, and so not badly after, to the point he had managed to make an actual life away from Cantaloupia. Then, the escape had become home. Then, it he had become the place where he had met the only guy that was ever going to make him feel.

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Now it was him and his sister, friends and family, a home and the world, and so many feelings in between. This was the right place, this was the right time, this was the right guy.

It used to be just him, his mind, and his sister. Now he could hardly imagine himself without the blonde in the picture, the one that could cloud his mind and fill his heart.

I live for your touch

I whisper your name night after night

I love you too much

There’s only one feeling and I know it’s right

I know I belong, when I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

The two of them weren’t the easiest people to deal with, their lives weren’t the easiest lives to deal with. It had been because of a cruel game of destiny or a lucky shot from faith that they had found each other, Krel at Seamus’ door whenever he felt like he didn’t matter, and Seamus at Krel’s whenever he felt like exploding? Was it bad that in their worst some of their sweetest moments together were born? Was it bad that overwise they might had not become this much of friends?

They were living in a world that was cruel and unforgiving, with people even less likely to welcome them. Krel liked to think that by knowing each other, they had managed to overcome that obstacle, and meet also the people that were fine. That were okay.

They were okay. He was okay.

He had never forgotten that one moment of them, not once.

Heaven knows your name I’ve been praying

To have you come here by my side

Without you a part of me is missing

Just to make you my own, I will fight

The song was a tragically familiar one. During the worst of his pining, when he thought he was never going to be good enough for him, when he thought that he didn’t deserve to feel something this pure and breathtaking, this had always been the song. Shannon had taught him the first notes after she had gifted him the guitar after a curious sequence of events, and then Douxie had taken over teaching him all he had needed to know. It was all so familiar now he hardly had to think about how to move, where to put his fingers, if it was too strong or just okay. It was cheesy in a way he never thought he could possibly be, with feelings he never thought he could have.

Aja had always listened from her room, he knew she had even though she had never said it, because before going to sleep the same delson she had always come to hug him. Mary had always told him that playing a love song to cure his – stupid – pained heart seemed a little counterproductive. Maybe she was right. But even if everything was to end tonight, he didn’t care.

He liked love. He loved love. He loved Seamus.

I know I belong

When I sing this song

There’s love above love and it’s ours

‘cause I love you too much

Caught by the sudden burst into his chest Krel stood up, almost making his stool fall down. He didn’t care. Right there the crowd’s cheering came to his ears, and despite how much he wanted to scan the place and look for that familiar strawberry blonde mane in between, he forced himself not to. Not yet, not until he said everything, not until he was sure he had delivered everything he had inside. He shushed his mind and let the rest of his body sing.

I love you too much!

I love you too much

Heaven’s my witness and this is a fact

You live in my soul, your heart is my goal

There’s love above love and it’s mine, ‘cause I love you

There’s love above love and it’s yours, ‘cause I love you

There’s love above love and it’s ours, if you love me…

… as much

When the last note left his instrument, an urge to cry mixed to an absolute pride took over. He did it, he actually did it. In his mind the song was still echoing, beautifully in the open as it was always supposed to be played. He was drained and so, so happy.

Then, as his head finally allowed in something other than exhaustion, it finally hit him the amount of people that was watching, and how crazy there were going with that applause. It was reverberating all over, he was surprised he noticed it only now. Steve was holding onto Eli and Aja, every single one of them looked close to tears. Mary was shouting something to one of her current dates, pointing at the stage then back at her, probably something like “I know him, he’s my friend, he’s cool because I’m cool, good old Kevin”. Toby was jumping up and down, with Darci laughing and applauding. Jim and Claire were holding onto each other, clapping with fervor. It was good, everything was so good right now.

Finally, Krel allowed himself to look.

Right then, his hear broke.

He wasn’t there. Seamus wasn’t there anymore. No blue tie around, no lock of blonde hair, no red freckles in sight. There was no way this prince couldn’t find him, so…

He left. He didn’t stay for him. He didn’t.

“How about that, huh?? Krel Tarron, everyone!!” Suddenly Douxie was by his side, Krel didn’t look at him. It hurt. He thought it wasn’t going to matter, but it hurt. “He will be all over you for autographs and junk later, let him rest for a moment, and welcome the next exhibition of the night!” His arm was onto his shoulders. Krel didn’t move. He didn’t want to. Then he got a squeeze, and he looked up out of pure instinct. Douxie was still smirking, like his heart hadn’t just gotten smashed against the solid ground of the ballroom. He pointed to the exist and Krel, sighing, obeyed.

He crossed the next couple of performers, who patted his back telling him how good he had been. It didn’t feel like a proud moment anymore. It felt like a waste. The guitar was hanging onto him by the lace, luckily, he would have forgotten it on the stage overwise. Krel sighed, putting the instrument down as soon as he was behind the curtains. He could deal with this.

He didn’t want to, but he could. He just needed some time to-

His hold was callous and warm. The prince knew it so well he almost didn’t have to turn. He did. Seamus had his entire face flushed. He looked outstanding.

“Come with me.” His voice was low, almost fearful, and Krel could do nothing other than follow his lead. He was dragged along as they were staying as far away from the crowd as possible, going for the exit. If anyone had noticed them, Krel was sure Steve or Mary would have taken care of them. As soon as they were out of the room, it was silence. The school looked almost dormant like this, without lights around, the abandoned lockers circling the corridors.

It was going to be one of the last times, in this special place.

There was little time for that kind of nostalgia, as they didn’t walk for long anyway. Seamus seemed in a hurry, he was moving forward without a single word. It almost made the prince fear that he had gone too far and had made him mad. Some more uncharacteristic apologies brushed his lips, at least as a precaution, no matter how weird it was going to be.

They died into his throat as soon as he was pressed against the wall. The echo of the music was gone. There were only those impossible blue eyes getting closer and closer and-

Krel would have laughed. He would have laughed in any other occasion, because this guy was rough and prideful and used to be really bad at dealing with his anger issues. Yet he kissed with the outmost gentleness, like he was genuinely afraid of breaking him, like he was terrified that at any point something was going to wake them up from this dream. Krel wanted to hold onto this dream. He held onto him, hands reaching for his shoulders, then up into his hair. They were not fluffy at all. Again, he would have laughed if he wasn’t this overwhelmed by the fact that this was happening, that Seamus was kissing him and it was happening. The hold onto his mane must had woken up the blonde, as he moved forward with urge, breathing in and taking more.

It was marvelous. It was uncertain and clumsy and they were both really inexperienced at this, and it was marvelous. Slowly the timing was getting clearer for the both of them, because despite pride and their social skills they were instead really good at learning and understanding. The rhythm drowned them both, and it almost made Krel forget he had lungs. It got him there, the urge for air, and he let out almost a strangled noise when he got out of one last kiss.

Seamus was panting just as hard, if not harder, his pupils blown. Krel had never seen him like this, it was a whole new side. He wanted to know it. He really wanted this.

“Sea-”

“Shut it.” Another kiss that made him hum, it was sweeter than before. He almost forgot the words. When he tried to talk again Seamus promptly kissed him again. He completely forgot the words. “You said more than enough, now it’s my turn.” The blonde was smiling of that beautiful smile again. “I’m gonna make every single word count.” His hand went over his hair, caressing his brown locks like they were precious treasures to keep. The urge to cry came back.

Along with another desire, that made Krel come back to his senses and smirk.

Once again, rivalry.

“Aren’t you an overachiever?” Seamus hummed questioning, brushing their noses together. It was too good, the prince giggled. “There are exactly 212 words into my song.” It was too perfect. This wasn’t an out of the world experience, this was the natural consequence of their relationship. Seamus was holding him, and he really didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The blonde seemed taken back by his words, for almost a full second, only to laugh. He brought him even closer, breathing against his lips.

The world disappeared. Prom could wait.

“Better start counting then.” He lunged forward, a quick press closer to a caress. “One,” Another one, deeper but still quick, that made Krel naturally lean back. “Two…” This time it was proper, making him decide that he didn’t really need his mind right now. There was no issue, no invention in standby, no math problem to solve. He could allow himself this. “Three.” He could take every single part of him, as a reward in a way, as a present even more. Without a single remorse Krel laced his arms around his neck, deepening every following kiss.

They stopped counting after nine.

#space camp #space camp week #toa space camp #kreamus #krel x seamus #krel tarron #seamus johnson #toa #tales of arcadia #toa 3below #3below #toa fic #toa fanfiction #fanfiction #toa kreamus

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greycappedjester · 3 years

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HI IM OBSESSED WITH ALL YOUR HAIKYUU STORIES I LITERALLY LOVE THEM ALL YOUR CHARACTERIATION AND STORY WRITING AND STYLE IS SO AWESOME AND PLEASING TO READ I FEEL SO MANY EMOTIONS WHILE READING and because i am in love with him, i wanted ot ask if you have any random headcanons about hinata and his random friendships with people? it can be any characters or comething i just always love hinata content. i also especially liked him and hoshi friendship in hogwarts and how kagehnas understood ech oth

Thank you so, so much :)

Sorry this one's taken a bit to answer; but, I am soooooo glad you like the series and the characterizations and just, ahhh, thank you so much!

So, random friendship headcanons we go....

Hinata and Aone:

-So, Aone is one of the current Prefects where he's amazing and everybody loves him. But, earlier than that and back in first year when Hinata was trying to figure him out a bit because "wow, he's huge and kind of scary but he plays Quidditch so he has to be cool and he's a Hufflepfuff so that's probably good but he also kinda looks like he wants to murder me but maybe he means that in a good way". Anyway, Hinata had a habit of getting lost on his way to Quidditch practice and weirdly almost always ending up next to bathrooms. Until one day, he came back to his room and found a carefully drawn little map with a lot of the major hallways detailed on it. It didn't have a name but, months later, he recognized it as Aone's handwriting and it was one of the kindest things that had ever happened to Hinata at that point. After that, they had an unspoken bond and Hinata only got lost 83% of the time.

Kageyama, Yachi, and Kenma:

-I don't know if I've ever mentioned; but, I need these three as my socially anxious "oh, fuck, someone's talking to me ABORT ABORT how tf do I make small talk" friends. Sure, they all have vastly different responses (Kageyama: Yell at it or glare until it goes away; Yachi: Hide or maybe mutter anxiously; Kenma: grab nearest book and hope they go away) but every now and then they'll have a moment when Lev and Hinata are being particularly Extroverted (TM) when those three just look at each other and go "right, they're the crazy ones here" (No shade to all my extrovert friends, ya'll got Hinata and Lev over there being like "I think our friends need more company!!!!! :D" while the social anxiety trio hiss like angry cats in the corner)

Iwaizumi and Bokuto:

-Voted (in their friend group) "Most Likely to Go the Longest Without Getting Into Any Kind of Mortal Peril" for four years running. I honestly think that except for having the friends they do that the worst trouble Iwaizumi and Bokuto would ever get into would be Quidditch related. That said, I also think both of them would be bored out of their minds since all of them are some kind of brand of danger prone. However, on the days that Bokuto and Iwaizumi are left to their own devices, two things happen: (1) absolutely nothing and it's a peaceful day; (2) everyone comes back to the two in some strange competition--including arm wrestling (Winner: Iwaizumi), orgami (Winner: Bokuto), card stacking (Tie as they decided to work together to combine card stacks into the ultimate card castle....everyone was as disturbed as they were impressed). Idk how to describe it but in terms of energy Iwaizumi and Bokuto have the low-fi version of bro energy where it's equally strange but somehow nothing's on fire...like it would be for any of the other pairings

Daichi and Noya (or also the beginning of the Crows)

The story of how Daichi looked at those crazy Gryffindor first years and went "well, someone's gotta make sure they don't die": Daichi's second year was a strange one. He'd finally made it to the reserve Keeper on the Quidditch team and there was talk that he could take over next year while at the same time that batshit wild first year with the crazy hair turned out to be some kind of flying prodigy and was immediately made Seeker.

Who's a good person to keep an eye on him? "DAICHI," cheers the rest of the Quidditch team. "Wait, what," says Daichi who was late to the meeting. And, thus, Daichi became the father of one (soon two as he learned Tanaka and Noya were a package deal). "Well, at least I'm not doing this alone," said Daichi. "W-what do you mean," said Victim #2-also-named-Asahi.

And, thus X2, Noya and Tanaka (plus Ennoshita who was dragged along with), got two live-in babysitters...one more effective than the other since Asahi got an immediate crush and was completely unhelpful in actually stopping anything since he just kind of blushed and stuttered whenever Noya smiled at him.

Chaos reigned.

Noya and Tanaka friends with the centaurs, made beginning plans to ride the Giant Squid (didn't actually make friends with it until second year), and gave Daichi a lifelong fear of acromantula.

You see, our poor hero Daichi was very fed up and more than a little exhausted. But, at least he had Asahi. "They're really not that bad," Asahi insisted. "I gave Noya a Butterbeer earlier and he said--" Nevermind, Daichi was completely alone.

However, while Daichi debated the pros and cons of child abandonment, he happened to come across an unusual sight.

The sight was Noya, dirty and slightly bruised like he always seemed to be, but holding a small little thing in his hand that took Daichi more than a few seconds to realize what it was.

"Is that a bowtruckle?"

Noya grinned. "Yeah. Little guy fell out of his nest." He nodded up at a tree. "Took me forever to get him to come over. Bowtruckle's are skittish and don't trust people much."

Daichi blinked. "Aren't those nearly extinct and used for lockpicking."

"Yeah, probably why they don't trust people much."

Theoretically, Daichi knew that bowtruckles were incredibly, incredibly rare and that there was more than one magical creatures student that would cry just seeing one, let alone knowing there was a whole nest on campus.

...But, that would also mean that everyone else would know about it, too, and somehow Daichi didn't think that everyone else would handle the little creatures with the same care and patience that Noya did. Actually, come to think of it, Daichi wasn't sure that even he could. Funny enough, Daichi had never seen Noya actually quiet before.

In the end, Daichi helped Noya out with a good Levitation Charm and decided that maybe it wasn't that bad being a single parent at the ripe old age of twelve years old. At least he had some pretty good kids.

.....he has since vocally regretted that roughly 2,012 times and actually regretted it 0.

#hq at hogwarts

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andythane · 3 years

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HOLY WATER CANNOT HELP YOU NOW I’VE COME TO BURN YOUR KINGDOM DOWN

MAY 19TH, 2021. OUTSIDE OF LAFAYETTE, LOUISIANA. notes & tw: this is literally all just bloody, brutal violence of every kind. andy, along side wes and wyatt, gets revenge on the rogue’s responsible for attacking rowan in february. italics are flashbacks, ps. tw for very graphic murder, lots of blood, violence, gore (eye, specifically), stabbing, decapitation/dismemberment, tc ahead. please read at your own discretion, it’s a lot.

The first time he kills someone, he’s twenty years old. Four months after he’d been officially patched into the club, reconciled with Rowan, and started this new chapter of his life. He knew what the patch sewn to his cut meant -- He had grown up next to it, had seen his father come home at all hours of the night covered in blood with a smile on his face as he slapped his gun onto the kitchen table and happily declared he needed a beer. That being said, doing it yourself and hearing stories were so comically different it made his head spin.

Most of the ride, he’s quiet, staring out the window of the Wyatt’s jeep as they drive through the backroads. There’s not much conversation to be had once they’ve gone over the plan, all three men knowing exactly what they’re going to this warehouse for. It’s roughly a two hour car ride, giving Andy enough time to go mentally go over the weapons he’s brought with him -- The gun tucked into his cut, one tucked into the waistband of his pants, one strapped to his ankle; The knife tucked in his boot strap, the other in the sheath of his belt. He’s nothing if not prepared. Andy goes over their placement for the thousandth, unneeded time, thinking through every what if scenario he could find himself in. It’s not often that his paranoid nature actually becomes a benefit.

They know the layout of the building, where each of them will cover, and the amount of people that will be there -- But he likes to prepare for the worst and the best, knowing from experience that they’re likely going to meet a mixture of both. Andy’s planned and executed this kind of thing enough times to know how to go about it blindfolded. At this point, it’s just like riding a bike.

He wonders what Wes is thinking, if his mind drifts back to Jace asleep at home, unaware of the violence going on around him; If Wyatt is imagining Iris in her hospital bed three months ago, scared of the oxygen mask strapped to her face. All Andy can think of is Rowan, sobbing in his arms while struggling not to move and potentially injure herself further, tearfully telling him why she hadn’t shown up to dinner.

It’s been a while since he’s found himself in this kind of mindset, having hung up his metaphoric hat when it comes to hitman jobs in the last few years. After his time in prison, Andy knew he had to lay low -- Being on parole, and having a daughter to raise changed his priorities. While the money from his ‘freelancing’ had been nice, he and Rowan had enough saved to last them a lifetime, especially with his cut of the guns the club sold, and her salary. There was no need for it now, not like when they were struggling to pay rent and put Rowan through school. Though, he couldn’t deny the high that came with planning a job was one Andy didn’t know he desperately missed. It used to scare him, how exciting he found this -- The rush that came from a stake out, figuring out each detail all the way down to the small possibility, the thrill of actually pulling his gun and breaking through the door. Now he welcomes it like an old friend.

He always imagined it would be a fair fight -- Or at least, not like this. Whenever the thought came to mind, he pictured himself wrestling some bond villain looking guy, the two diving for the gun that had been cast aside. It was naive, childish even -- But he didn’t expect that he’d be pointing his gun at someone who couldn’t be much older than him, one who was sobbing through swollen eyes, pleading for his life. His father kept his hand’s firmly planted on the kid’s shoulder’s to keep him from squirming out of the rickety chair, acting like this was a prize for a job well done. This could easily have been me, Andy thinks. Had this job gone wrong, he has no doubt Cronus wouldn’t hesitate to put him into that chair, make an example out of his son. Only, it didn’t. It was nothing short of an absolute success.

His father says something, but Andy doesn’t hear it. Jason is somewhere in the background cheering him on. Andy’s heart is pounding in his ears, both hands holding tightly to his gun, fighting to conceal the fact that they’re shaking. The gun is pointed directly at the poor kid’s head, Cronus’ steady hands keeping him from getting away from his obvious fate. Andy glances to his father for a moment, the wild look in the man’s surely meant to be read as adrenaline fueled pride. This is Andy’s first job after being patched in, and he had proved himself thus far. Now he just needed to finish this. Andy wishes he had the strength to lift his arms just that much higher, and put a bullet in his father’s head.

In that moment, he thinks of Rowan; Part of him wishes he hadn’t, based on the way his jaw clenches and his chest constricts -- He doesn’t want her to ever know about the horrible things he’s going to do, the horrible thing he’s about to do. Rowan shouldn’t have to see him for what he really is, what he’ll grow up to be: A monster. The rational part of himself reminds him that she already knows, and she’s still waiting for him at home, ready to pull him into open arms once he passes through the front door.

He pulls the trigger.

The kid’s blood splatters across Andy’s face.

They move quietly, each taking different sections of the warehouse. Wes covers the open space where the guns lie, Wyatt takes the small offices turned into ‘bedrooms’, while Andy takes the conference turned war room. He knows this is only a piece of the Rogues puzzle, but it’s a step in the right direction. They don’t plan on leaving anyone behind to tell the others what happened -- The grizzly scene and blood splattered across the walls will paint the picture for them.

His back remains against the wall, pulling his gun from his cut as he moves quietly, the three men in the conference room too distracted by their own conversation to notice Andy slipped into the dimly lit room. He makes presence known by firing a bullet into one man’s -- His name is Sam, based on the conversation Andy heard before entering -- knee, which creates a flurry of action as everyone tries to dive for the guns on the table. It’s the obvious move, one that Andy had anticipated. His hand reaches for the underside of the table between the four men seconds after his gun first fires, sending the flimsy plastic table over, their guns scattered and out of reach.

Sam fits one of the descriptions Will gave him, of a shorter, stocky man, blacked out ink covering him aside from a poorly done mermaid tattoo covering his throat. The man across from Sam fits the bill, as well -- Blonde, long hair, scar across his cheek, entire right arm covered in blacked out tattoos. Jack, Andy’s memory recalls. The man in question tries to make a run for one of the guns, but Andy stops him with a bullet to the stomach. Enough to knock him down, but not enough to immediately kill him. He wants them alive for this, to feel the same terror and pain Rowan did that night. They’re not going to be lucky enough to get a bullet to the head first.

The third and final man is one Andy recognizes now that he’s face to face. His name is Danny, but he’d been called Tex during his time in the club. (The nickname was stupid then, and it’s stupid now, Andy thinks.) He had his ink blacked out and left town roughly ten years ago after screwing the club over. The surprise reunion is enough to catch Tex off guard, enough that he hesitates, eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene in front of them. Both Sam and Jack bleeding on the floor, the former clutching his leg and screaming to the third to Do something, you fucking idiot. So, he does. The man charges forward, managing to knock Andy to the ground given the fact that he’s got about a hundred pounds on him.

They struggle as Tex tries to wrestle the gun away from Andy, before it gets thrown to the side in the fight. Punches are thrown on both ends, a ringing settling in Andy’s ears after a particular blow to the side of his head, though it doesn’t deter him. Andy manages to roll them over, holding the other man down with knee pressing down on his throat. Tex claws, scratches, and hits Andy in an attempt to get out from under him, but the cut off of oxygen makes it more difficult. He gets a few good blows in, though -- There’s blood dribbling down Andy’s arms from scratches, bruises that have already begun to form. He doesn’t notice, too focused on keeping the man under him from getting out of his grip. His hands move to hold Tex’s head, Andy’s thumbs digging into the inner corners of his eyes, gouging them as deeply as he can manage.

He can’t help but wonder if the three men have realized this isn’t about killing them; It’s about watching them suffer.

The fact that Tyson is still breathing is enough to send Andy into a tailspin. He had hoped the spineless piece of shit had fucked off somewhere, given that he hadn’t made an appearance in his and Rowan’s life in quite some time. Andy’s attempts at optimism always seem to be met with harsh reality, though, one that consistently proves the obvious: It’s childish to try and see the best out of a situation like this. He knows this as he throws the man off his front porch, knowing he has to take care of this problem himself -- Restraining orders and the local cops just aren’t going to cut it. Not when he and Rowan have a fragile six month old daughter sleeping in a crib down the hall.

His downfall is the fact that he reacts, he doesn’t plan. Andy knows better. The reason he’s been so successful with the club is his commitment to discretion, detail, and planning. He analyzes that night over and over for the next three years from the comfort of his prison cell, imagining how he would have killed Tyson if he had taken the time to do it properly -- Instead of grabbing his baseball bat, and kicking the front door in. He would have made it last longer, Andy decided. Prolong his suffering, before letting him gain a shred of hope that he’d make it out alive — Before finally putting him in the ground. That being said, the satisfaction that comes from the look of pure fear on Tyson’s face the moment he sees Andy come through the door? Unmatched.

The mental image is one that never fails to bring him a swell of pride. He can still hear the sound of his bat crushing bone, feel the way his heart skipped a beat with each and every hit. It didn’t matter if there was blood flying, covering him in the evidence; The fact that he hadn’t been quiet in his entrance; The sound of distant sirens headed their way, after a loud, shrill scream rang out. All that mattered was crushing Tyson’s skull, ending the iron grip he’s had on Rowan’s life for the better half of a decade. He didn’t care what happened next, as long as his wife and daughter were able to live in a world where Tyson Grant didn’t.

He only regrets not being able to finish the job that night.

It occurs to him, as his foot comes stomping down on Sam’s already shot knee, that he hasn’t done anything like this since prison. He’s gone on runs, jobs, the works -- Hell, he even threatened to brain Will in his own home. Everything pales in comparison, though. In prison, they had to be more creative; Breaking bones, cutting off fingers, slitting throats before the guards showed up. It was all quick and dirty, done by hand. There was no choice in the matter -- If he wanted to finish out his sentence, see his wife and daughter, even have a chance of making it to the end of the week at all, Andy had to get rid of the other guy. The protection that came with being a Primordial didn’t go as far as one would hope. There’s a reason they used to refer to him as the Grim Reaper. Years later, and he’s made it clear that he hasn’t lost his touch.

This man doesn’t want to fucking die, though. The way he keeps clawing at Andy, yelling obscenities between each scream of pain. He makes proclamations about how he’s going to kill Andy, calling him every name in the book as he tries and fails to fight for his life. A hard kick to the head shuts him up for a moment, disorienting him enough before Sam musters up enough energy to stab Andy in the calf, almost successful in knocking him to the floor. Clearly, the man got a last surge of something, accompanied by a knife he hadn’t realized Sam had on him. This only provokes an annoyed grunt and eye roll from Andy. He stumbles down onto one knee from the surprise of the movement, a stab to the man’s arm with the knife from his boot strap gets Sam to let go. He does, going limp as his knife is stuck in Andy’s calf. It doesn’t stop him from continuing the effort though, within a moment Andy’s on top of his unconscious victim, stabbing him in the chest over and over again like he’s in a cheap horror movie.

In that moment, he loses himself -- Something snaps, taking him back to the night he’d gotten a call that Rowan was in the hospital, the way he so desperately pushed down all of the anger and rage that came with knowing she’d been hurt at the hands of these assholes. Everything he’s fought to hold at bay for the sake of his wife, the kids, his sobriety, the club -- It all bubbles to the surface now, when he’s not worrying about keeping the kids safe and Rowan above water. When all there is is this room, and him, and the people that have to pay for the crimes they’ve committed.

Every emotion he’s expertly avoided, every ounce of it boils over as he stabs the Rogue over and over until they’re both covered in blood. The need for vengeance for what they did, the way they turned Rowan’s life upside down and left her afraid to look over her shoulder; Guilt over the fact that Andy, yet again, couldn’t protect the person he holds so dearly; The power that comes with knowing these men are at his mercy, ready to beg for their lives in a last ditch effort to survive what’s coming next. It all hits him like a freight train, leaving him a little dizzy. Though, that may be from the hits he’s taken himself, blood he’s lost -- Andy doesn’t take the time to find out. Instead, he comes to once he realizes the man under him is long dead, having succumbed to the injuries inflicted after the first few stabs.

The revelation stuns Andy momentarily, as he tries to catch his breath. If there was any witness to this, they’d see how frenzied the moment had become, that there was far more pent of emotion attached to this than Andy initially realized. Eyes glance to the two men left -- Tex, having passed out, and Jack slumped against a wall trying to stay conscious, a string of profanities passing his lips in a hoarse voice. His attention turns to his hands after that, steady but covered in a mixture of Sam’s blood and his own. A blood soaked piece of hair falls forward and onto his cheek as Andy wipes his hands off on his shirt, a wave of frustration running through him. Of fucking course he’d get blood in his hair, and now -- More on his face. He makes a mental note to book an appointment for a haircut.

They cut the man’s fingers off one by one, moving slowly and deliberately. The man in question, Gerald, is tied to a chair in the kitchen of the prison, thanks to a guard that’s on the MC’s payroll. No one is going to give a second thought to the sound of muffled screams or a hacksaw from the locked up tool shed going missing for the night. Andy’s only been out of the hospital for a day at this point -- The guy he’s torturing, having been responsible for his brush with near-death. Gerald felt bold enough to go after Andy with a homemade shank, trying to get even for some issue he held with Cronus. It was laughable to him, considering Andy hated his father just as much as this sorry bastard.

Andy had hoped to make it through his sentence by keeping his head down (for the most part, at least) doing what he needed, sticking with the right crowd -- Club members who were serving life sentences. His name gained him respect, plenty of other inmates happy to keep an eye on Cronus’ boy, but the revenge he’s getting tonight is what gains him his reputation. He becomes the go-to for these kinds of things, the one his fellow club members call on to take care of problems they have behind bars. Rowan’s words ring in his head -- Do what you have to do to stay alive. Come back to me. Playing executioner for the club wasn’t his first choice, but if it’s what kept him safe and gets him home, so fucking be it. Plus, killing the man who had tried to murder him in the showers brought Andy plenty of satisfaction. What kind of person would he be if he let some jaded idiot get away with almost killing him, right?

First the fingers, then his hands, and so on and so forth -- Dismemberment isn’t something new, Andy himself has had to cut up a few bodies so they can get rid of the evidence before. Though, typically speaking, the person isn’t still alive as they do it. Watching this guy suffer was just icing on the cake. Each time Gerald passes out, they cauterize the wound and pull out the smelling salts to give him a fake sense of safety -- That now they’re done, eye for an eye, the message is sent. Only each time he’s lulled into a half-dazed security, they stuff the rag back in his mouth and cut off another limb. It was going to be a long night.

He finds himself with a moment where he can tend to the wound he’s gotten — It's not a particularly deep stab, but it hurts like a bitch and that stupid knife looks fucking dull once he pulls it out and can actually get a good look at it. Not wasting anytime, and to make sure he doesn’t lose too much blood, Andy works quickly. The last thing he needs is to pass out and run the risk of getting himself killed, or having to have Wes haul him out over his shoulder. He has to get creative for now, knowing they can’t exactly make a pit stop at the ER on the way back and he doesn’t want to call Rowan after, given the fact that they’re bringing one of the Rogues back with them to get information out of -- So he moves to rip off part of Sam’s torn pant leg so that he can get pressure on the wound. Using a piece of folded up denim, he holds it against his injury, tying a piece tightly around his calf to keep it in place. It’s not great, but it’ll do for now, until he can get to a proper first aid kit. Andy can practically hear Rowan in the back of his head, scolding him for getting hurt in the first place. Once she knows the context, he’d imagine she probably wouldn’t think much of the injury after.

The sound of Tex’s screams pulled his attention, the man having regained consciousness and begun to panic -- The knee jerk reaction from Andy is to pull his gun back out, silencing Tex with a bullet to the chest. Andy unloads the rest of his clip into the man as he approaches, finding himself feeling lighter and lighter with each shot, despite the fact that he’s now limping. An unbearable amount of helplessness has weighed on him the last six months — Like all he can do is watch these terrible things happen from the sidelines, only able to help tend to the aftermath rather than keep his loved ones safe. What has left him lying awake at night as been the feeling that he’s constantly one step behind, always a minute too late — Whether it’s the shipment getting hijacked and Blake getting to him hours later, homes being burned down while he’s shooting up a warehouse, his own wife lying beaten and bloody in the middle of the street while he sits at a restaurant waiting for her. One thing after the other.

It’s unclear what kind of man it makes him to take such pleasure in revenge -- That he isn’t haunted at night by the people he’s killed or the homes he’s wrecked for the right amount of cash. Maybe it’s proof that he really is his father’s son, or that he’s just as heartless as people believe him to be. Andy’s not sure if it matters much at this point. The idea of knowing he is sending these assholes to an early grave gives him a sense of peace he hasn’t felt in a long time, one he wasn’t sure he’d ever know again after Valentine’s Day. This isn’t the end of the Rogues, but it’s retribution for what they’ve done, bringing him more clarity than ever before. Anyone who hurts the people he loves deserves to die screaming.

Confusion finds him when the sound of a gun firing fills his ears with a familiar ringing, a bullet hitting the dead man on the ground in front of him rather than its intended target. Andy follows the direction it came from to find a wild eyed Jack, having managed to pull himself across the floor in a bloody heap, far enough to get to a gun, clearly struggling to hold himself up right even while propped against the turned over table. He had the element of surprise on his side, but Andy has the benefit of not having been shot in the stomach -- So he moves quickly across the small room, easily smacking the gun out of the man’s hand. It’s clear Jack is running on pure adrenaline and spite, though now that he got his one shot in, it’s running out. Fists colliding with the man’s jaw only speed up the process, though before he finally gives up and slumps over to side and lands on the floor -- He spits blood back at Andy, clearly trying to get in one last fuck you before he dies. Jack doesn’t get much of a reaction out of Andy, instead he stands up fully, giving the half-conscious man a good look before the heel of his boot meets his head over and over until he is long dead and unrecognizable.

#blood tw #murder tw #violence tw #gore tw #death tw #eye gore tw #stabbing tw #decapitation tw #overkill tw #gun tw #dismemberment tw #gun violence tw #stalking tw #prison tw #if i missed any sort of tw or tag for a tw please give me a shout!!!!#self 02.#it's been a long long time since i've been able to write andy going feral.............................. i need a drink <3

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kitkatopinions · 3 years

Text

Accidentally deleted my Tyrian and Watts asks while I was trying to fix a mistake so... Sorry about that, everyone! Here they are! Tyrian and Watts for the RWBY character asks!

Let’s do Tyrian first, because I have less to say about him, I feel like.

My top three ships for the character

Tyrian/Watts. Dysfunctional villainous romance of the century, no one knows how they’ve managed to make it to their tenth anniversary without killing each other, including them. Tyrian/Salem is my second top ship for him. Major Bellatrix/Voldy vibes with this one, but I could see it. Tyrian/Hazel is my third ship for lack of options. Does this one make sense? No. But I can at least see Tyrian being super flirty and Hazel being endlessly tired, but never really stopping it. (Also I hate Hazel so much lol.)

My three least favorite ships for the character

Tyrian/Qrow sucks for me. Like... I kinda feel like two people fighting each other just gets shippers, which is fine and totally understandable. But for me, Tyrian poisoning Qrow and almost killing him and calling his beloved niece a bitch and then killing Clover is a big no from me, dog. On that note! Tyrian/Clover is also one big no from me, since Clover murdered him. And Tyrian/Ozpin is another really big no from me. Tyrian and his crazy Salem worship can stay five hundred and fifty feet away from my son.

My biggest criticism for the character

They went a little too much on the crazy in the fourth and fifth season and it made him feel annoying. Like, I don’t mind the Bellatrix vibes, but I do mind the movie version Bellatrix vibes, sometimes. It just got kinda annoying. I wish his crazy was always more on the dangerous side and less on the kooky side, but that’s just personal opinions.

My favorite thing about the character

The way people are so uncomfortable around him. Whenever Tyrian talks to Emerald or Mercury, he’s honestly freaky. Like both me and the characters are waiting for him to snap. That’s a great quality in a villain that we’re meant to hate or love to hate. He has a real presence and it’s enjoyable.

A headcanon I have about them

Tyrian doesn’t often try to act normal, but he can, and he’s got a great ‘respectable, cool guy’ act that’s actually a little reminiscent of Qrow or Clover. He’s even passed himself as a Huntsman here and there.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

More involvement in volumes 4 and 5, and I’d treat him a bit more seriously and make him a bit more dangerous. Maybe I’d have him wound a member of Team RNJR in his attack as well as poison Qrow (maybe give Jaune a reason to unlock his semblance in season 4 and in response to the pain of a member of his team. Also, his ‘Tyrian purple’ color should be more than just the color of his eyes. Like, how come so many RWBY characters season 4 and onward have such boring colors? I’d give Tyrian some strong purple and pink.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Tyrian alludes to the animal fable ‘the Scorpion and the Frog,’ and that’s... really in name only, I think. A part of me wants to give them some kind of points for having Qrow work with him against Clover, only for Tyrian to kill Clover, which lines up with his ‘its just my nature’ scorpion stinging the frog so that they’ll both drown and die. But they didn’t mean for Qrow to really be wrong! They didn’t mean for the lesson to be ‘Qrow shouldn’t have trusted the poisonous villain’ it was ‘wowza does Qrow’s semblance hurt him. :( Too bad Clover got himself killed.’ Which makes the whole allusion kind of suck.

Now for Watts, the single best villain in my opinion.

My top three ships for the character

Tyrian/Watts. See above. This ship would be a dysfunctional mess, but it’d be a wild ride. Watts/Villain!Ironwood. I kind of hate this ship when it’s ‘fallen hero turned villain’ Ironwood. But if he actually had been written as a secret villain or obviously headed that way from the start, I can see him and Watts also being a dysfunctional mess of a wild ride ship, only with way more ‘evil power couple’ vibes than Tyrian and Watts would have. Also my favorite version of this features Watts having been the one to build Penny (maybe by stealing the plans from Pietro) and him and Ironwood raising a still bright and cheerful, still innocent and trusting, villain Penny who will attack to kill with a smile on her face and a ‘it was nice meeting you!’ And this is very weird and niche but Watts/Evil Stepsister (specifically the one with the sharp bangs and highlights.) Someone sent me an ask saying the Evil Stepmother and stepsisters should’ve been connected to Salem and gotten Cinder involved and I totally agree with this. I then started envisioning a world where the step sisters competed with Cinder and all three of them were raised in Salem’s circle. In this version of things, I could totally picture one of the step sisters having a romantic tension driven connection with Watts and the two of them subtly flirting sometimes (and bonding over their mutual hatred of Cinder.) I picked the sister with bangs for no real reason except that I like her look more.

My three least favorite ships for the character

Watts/Cinder. Watts thinks of her like a bratty little girl, and Cinder kills him. Watts/Lionheart. Kinda really hate this one because of how clearly Lionheart was terrified of him. Just a bit uncomfortable for me to see that in a relationship. Watts/Hero!Ironwood or Watts/HeroTurnedVillain/Ironwood. Sorry, but Ironwood in canon got such a bad, bad portrayal in season 8 and the end of season 7, and I just can’t help but blame Watts for quite a bit of it. I only like them as a ship if Ironwood is an antagonist from the start.

My biggest criticism for the character

They shouldn’t have killed him! He was one of Salem’s best followers and one of the best villains and it was such a big mistake to kill literally one of the only actual loyal followers. It threw off any character development for Cinder and it was a big mistake. I really wanted the Cinder / Watts / Neo team up to keep going! I’m so disappointed it got thrown away.

My favorite thing about the character

Watts is an entitled, petty bastard, and I think that’s so good for a villain that isn’t meant to be social commentary (because tbh, RWBY never should’ve tried to be social commentary.) Watts isn’t sympathetic, he’s an Atlas born and raised guy in a three piece suit, he’s posh, he’s upset because he wasn’t given exactly what he wanted. Most of the villains in RWBY are either victims of abuse, systemic oppression, or poverty, and that’s... Not fun in a show that’s never handled social commentary well and is about magical girls destroying Voldemort/Satan with the power of friendship (Ruby literally never says anything about Faunus rights iirc.) Watts is refreshing because he’s exactly the type of villain that you can expect in a show like what RWBY should’ve been, and he flourishes as that. Why would we be sympathetic to Watts when he’s just doing this all because he wasn’t picked first for his tech? Why would we feel soured towards conflicts with Watts and Team RWBY? He’s just a petty bastard being evil because he was snubbed. Why would we be frustrated that incredibly significant problems are being shoved to the side with Watts? He’s a fun villain, he’s not meant to be more, he’s not meant to make you emotionally invested only to then be gutted for it. You can hate to love him without it feeling bad. Maybe that’s why he’s just my favorite non-kid villain (other than Roman.)

A headcanon I have about them

Watts has been trying to build his own AI robot like Penny, in his spare time. He wanted it to be done in time to become a Maiden, but it wasn’t, and Salem gave that slot to Cinder and got after Watts for not contributing enough. He of course thought this was deeply unfair (especially after being made to contribute a lot to Cinder’s Beacon success without getting any credit for it.) And this just fueled his hatred of Cinder, his hatred of Pietro and Ironwood, and by extension, his hatred of Penny.

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

I would keep him freaking alive and keep up the pair up he had going on with Cinder and Neo! But also I’d increase his relationships with Emerald, Mercury, Tyrian, Hazel... Just some more Salem’s Inner Circle moments to flesh out their characters. Other than that, I wouldn’t change much. He’s a pretty good character.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

Okay, I’ve talked about his character allusion in a very long post awhile ago, but I’m not scrolling down that far to tag it. To sum it up... I hate his allusion. XD I loved the Sherlock Holmes books and read most of them, and I didn’t realize he was supposed to allude to John Watson until I read someone else’s post saying so, and I started freaking out about how awful it was. Watts has so little in common with Watson, he’s essentially the anti-Watson. Which basically means he’s Sherlock Holmes, the opposite of Watson in almost every way, up to and including freaking faking his death which is one of the most iconic Sherlock Holmes thing ever. Watts is everything Sherlock Holmes is on his worst days, arrogant, callous, consumed with his projects, petty, smug, over the top - as well as being hyper intelligent and a genius who often just gets passed over. He has rivalries with his colleagues like Holmes did. And like I said, he faked his death, only to reveal himself to an old friend later on the cusp of carrying out a scheme. He’s evil Holmes! He has nothing to do with John Watson - caring, humble, down to earth, not brilliant like his friend but content to be ordinary and special because of his emotional depth and devoted heart, medical former doctor who spends quite a lot of time chronicling the successes of someone else because he’s content to live in the background. Don’t get me wrong, a ‘Watson’ character who is evil could work - Watson himself indulged in crime for the sake of Holmes sometimes in the original works and if he worshipped Salem or one of her followers and did everything for her while still being a more humble, more friendly, not brilliant person he could be good - but Watts is not that person. Even the gimmicks Watts is given are stupid and don’t make it obvious he’s Watson. Boy’s got a moustache and a revolver and they thought that’d be enough. Idk why they thought 'we’ll make him Watson’ when he’s clearly a Holmes! Also, he’s supposed to be ‘Watson if he’d met Moriarty instead of Holmes,’ and to that I say boo! Watson wouldn’t turn into a super genius just because he meets a different mastermind!

...That’s summing up my feelings, yeah. Because I have so many feelings about his warped, weird character allusion. If I was changing it, I’d just make him Holmes like I think he was clearly supposed to be.

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pawthorn · 3 years

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Eyes of Nein

Six vignettes of reactions and conversations revolving on the strange connection between Lucien and Caduceus Clay.

Part 6: Veth

Veth barrelled into Caduceus' room without knocking.

"Alright, where are those fuckers?" She yelled. "Are they in here? Are you hiding them?"

She slammed the door behind her as Caduceus and Jester looked over. They were sitting together by the fire, looking cozy, comfortable, and completely innocent.

Which Veth found extremely suspicious.

"Uh…" said Caduceus. "No?"

"You didn't even ask who I was talking about," she said as she approached the couch, crossbow loaded and ready. "If you're not hiding anyone, how do you already know who I'm looking for?"

"I don't," said Caduceus. "But I'm not hiding anyone. So I don't have to ask who you're looking for to know I haven't hid them."

Veth did a little verbal math before nodding.

"Alright, you're off the hook," she set her sights on Jester. "What about you, Lavorre? You're awfully quiet over there..."

"Who are you looking for, Veth?" Jester asked, calmly sipping her tea.

"Why are you asking!?" Veth demanded. "Like Caduceus said, an innocent person wouldn't need to ask!"

"To be fair," Caduceus said. "She might be hiding somebody you're not looking for. Seems wrong to force her to give that information up, if it's not what you need."

"That's true, Veth," Jester nodded. "Do you really want me to divulge all my private contacts, when you might not even care about them?"

Veth hesitated.

"I mean, yeah," she said. "I kind of want to hear who's on that list…"

"Veth!"

"Okay, okay," she disarmed her crossbow and threw herself into a chair across from the Clerics. "It's Beau and Yasha! Beau and I had it all sorted out. I was going to take tonight to spend some quality time with Yasha, and Beau was going to do the same with Caduceus. But I've been searching this place since after dinner, and I can't find either of them anywhere! So, do you think we should tell the others? Form search parties?"

Jester and Caduceus shared a look of… amusement maybe?

"I think that Beau probably misunderstood you," Jester shrugged. "Maybe she and Yasha are hanging out somewhere and you just missed them."

"Maybe," Veth said, accepting the tea Caduceus poured out and handed her. "These Tomb Takers are dangerous though. None of us should be running around playing hide-and-seek while they're here. And we definitely shouldn't be alone with any of them."

At that, Caduceus winced and Jester nervously sipped her tea.

"Okay, what was that?!" Veth said.

"What!?" Jester said.

"Jester," Veth said, leaning forward. "Have you been alone with one of them? It's the halfling, isn't it? You're trying to cut me out of the detective agency!"

"Stop," Caduceus said. "It wasn't her. It was me. I had tea with Lucien. Nothing happened. It's fine."

"What!?" Veth said. "Why would you do that? He murders people, Caduceus!"

"Well, he didn't murder me," Caduceus said, bristling slightly.

"But we don't know what other powers he has," Veth said. "He could have brainwashed you. You could be one of his hive-mind now!"

"Then I guess you shouldn't drink any more of that tea," Caduceus said mildly, sipping from his own cup.

Veth looked from her cup to Caduceus and back again.

"Kidding," he said. "Honestly, Ms. Veth, we had a perfectly normal, reasonable conversation. Nothing to worry about."

"But you didn't even know Molly," Veth said, still trying to wrap her brain around unassuming, mild-mannered Caduceus having tea with Lucien. "What could you even talk about? You have nothing in common!"

"What do I have in common with any of you?" Caduceus said sharply.

The statement landed like an anvil. Silence stretched uncomfortably for a long moment.

"Oh!" Jester said with forced cheer. "I know something the three of us have in common. We've all got families who love us!"

Some of the tension drained from the room, but a new heaviness replaced it. A heaviness Veth knew she shared with Caduceus.

"You're right, Jester, we do," Caduceus said, eyes sliding from Veth's. "How are things with Ms. Marion? Has she heard from the Gentleman recently?"

It was a good deflection, and Veth was grateful for it. As Jester launched into her answer, Veth took a moment to breathe through the sudden tide of emotions that gripped her. Longing, worry, love, guilt… And looking at Caduceus, she knew she wasn't the only one feeling it.

Caduceus understood what the responsibility was like, not just to have a family, but to have a family waiting for you. A family to go back to . It was different for Jester. Her parents didn't expect her to return, not permanently, anyway. After all, she was a kid, and kids are supposed to be free to go out into the world…

She stumbled in her own thinking as she looked at Caduceus. He wasn't a wise old sage, not really. She had known it when he first tried alcohol. When he sat, shivering and small, on the deck of a ship. When he played that ridiculous bone flute. When he ran to his mom and she scooped him up in a hug. When he didn't notice that he was being propositioned. When he had tea with a dangerous stranger and thought nothing of it. He was as young as Jester, really.

"...And you know, I just realized, I still have some spells left," Jester was saying. "I think I'm going to go Send some messages to my parents!"

She hopped off of the sofa, and started toward the door. Caduceus rose to walk her to the doorway, and stayed there to watch her ascend safely to her room. Closing the door with a gentle click, he returned to his place and settled with a sigh.

"She seems happy," he said. "That's good. The last few days have been hard on her."

"Not just her," Veth said.

"True," Caduceus sighed. "Sorry for snapping earlier."

"No, no," Veth waved him off. "I shouldn't have pushed."

Veth took a moment to study Caduceus. He looked small in this room. It was the way he held himself, Veth realized. He was used to taking up less space, keeping everything contained to fit surroundings that weren't built with him in mind. In a room filled with furniture his size, he seemed diminished, swallowed up. She wondered if the opposite was true for her. Maybe she no longer fit in little halfling chairs and tables, or the little halfling home she had once loved. It certainly felt smaller, these days.

"I'm glad she could Send a message to your family," Veth said. "So that you know they're safe. I'm sure you miss them."

"Of course," said Caduceus. "And it is good to know that they're safe. I'm glad that you could spend some time with your family, although I know it wasn't much."

"It was alright," Veth said. "Honestly, it's kind of strange to spend time with them while we're in the middle of adventuring. It's nice to be able to see them, and I love them both very much, but I love all of you as well. I end up feeling like I'm cheating them and the Nein. Like I'm letting everyone down, in some way. It's like being torn in two."

"I understand that," Caduceus nodded. "Believe me, I do."

"Is that why you made a clean break with your family?" Veth said. "Sent them back to the Grove with Reani instead of us taking them there?"

"I mean," Caduceus shifted. "You all had already spent enough time on me, there were other things to do."

"We would have made time, Caduceus," Veth said. "We spent, what, three days getting your family business sorted? Maybe four? It wasn't the rest of us who were in a hurry."

"I know," Caduceus said, ears drooping. "It's easier to tell myself that. But you're right. It's… uncomfortable to be with them and with the Nein. But not like being pulled in two. It's like… like being two people at once. Who I was with them, and who I am with you. It was strange."

"You could have taken some time with them though," said Veth. "We'd have given you space. Ten years is a long time to be apart."

Something flashed in Caduceus' eyes. For a moment, Veth could see the weight of those years, usually tucked away and borne secretly. It reminded her of Caleb, the way he sometimes lost himself in the past. It reminded her of her own eyes, reflected up from still and threatening water.

"Do you know what my mom said?" Caduceus spoke quietly, eyes focussed on his tea. "She said she thinks I'm the only one who could have saved them. Saved the Grove."

"It sounds like she's proud of you," Veth thought of Luc and her hopes for him. She thought of the kindness and help Caduceus continually showed. "I know I would be."

Caduceus looked up in surprise, ears lifting.

"But if that's true," he said, brow furrowed. "I shouldn't have waited ten years to leave. I should have been the first to go."

Veth thought about that, really thought.

"Look," she said. "I don't know about fate and gods and all of that. I do know that parents don't always get it right. We try. But sometimes we mess up. And it's the worst thing, to mess up in a way that hurts your child. But it wasn't your choice to stay, not really. Not when everyone else was choosing to leave. And Caduceus, you should not have been left alone for so long."

Caduceus' eyes were wide and wet. Veth could see his throat working, though no sound came out.

"I don't mean to judge your parents," she said. "They couldn't have known what would happen. But you were left in a terrible situation. And I'm glad that you ended up with us, but there was nothing good about the circumstances that brought us together. And it took a lot of faith and courage on your part to trust us, to leave with us and help us. No parent could expect more from their child. Not even a Wildmother."

They sat in silence as Veth's words settled. Caduceus gazed into his tea, looking a bit shattered. Tentatively, Veth left her seat to climb onto the couch beside him. Standing on the seat next to him, she wrapped her arms around his neck, petting his hair as she did with Luc when he was hurt or afraid. She felt Caduceus relax into the circle of her arms, breathing deeply as he worked through his feelings. Eventually, she pulled away, holding his face in her hands. She produced a handkerchief from her pocket and blotted away the wet streaks in his fur.

"Thanks," he said, smiling and unashamed as he met her gaze. "I think I needed that."

"Any time, Ducey," she said. "We're here for you."

She patted his head one last time before hopping down.

"I think we should both get some rest," she said. "I'll see you in the morning."

Caduceus nodded and walked her to the door. He kept watch as she ascended slowly through the center of the Tower. Once she was out of sight and she heard his door click shut, she paused.

Down, she thought, silently.

Quiet as a shadow, Veth drifted back to Caduceus' floor. She looked at his door, and Yasha's. Then, she turned to glare at the guest room door.

Standing there, Veth thought about family and responsibility. She thought about dangers, both internal and external, and how a person could drown on dry land under the weight of it all. She thought about her friends, how badly she wanted them all safe and cared for.

Then, gingerly, Veth extracted a banana peel from her bag. She carefully placed it in front of the guest room door.

Nodding to herself, she turned away, rising through the center of the tower to a peaceful night's rest.

Read Part 1

#welp that's it #thanks for reading #don't worry #it'll be Thursday again soon #criticalrole #critical role #campaign 2 #caduceus clay #cr spoilers #critical role spoilers #veth brenatto #jester lavorre

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