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birrdies · 2 months

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“when I say you are killing me” (desert duo one-shot, 2.6k)

Every inch of his climb is agony. White-hot and endless, it ricochets through Scar’s body as if it bought an expressway pass through his veins like a highway. Would it have killed Grian to get an apartment on the first floor? Hell, Scar would even take something on the third or fourth-floor if he had to. Anything would be better than dragging himself, slowly and painfully, up twelve flights of rickety metal stairs. In the snow. In the middle of the night. Bleeding.

Scar’s having a bad night.

Blood dribbles between the gaps of his fingers. It’s slower than it had been, but each heave up another flight of stairs blinds him with pain and sends a few more fresh droplets of blood sliding down his middle. His shirt (whatever tatters remain of it anyway) and pants are wet and tacky, sticking to his skin like a perpetually wet bathing suit as he tries to climb the rest of the way up to Grian’s apartment.

The fire escape is an old decrepit fixture of rusting metal mounted to the brick siding with nothing more than a few loose bolts and a dream. It groans beneath his weight, the barest shake of wind causing the metal to ripple and shudder. The metal saps the warmth from his already cold, pale fingertips. He’d had gloves, but had to get rid of them as they were soaked in blood and not all-that conducive for climbing-under-the-influence (of blood loss). Scar’s not afraid of much, least of all heights, but he chooses each step up the fire escape carefully, muscle memory a crutch as he drags himself past open windows with the lights still on. Last thing he needs is another broadcast claiming HotGuy is nothing but a petty creep with a penchant for B&Es.

By the time he reaches the twelfth floor he’s shaking from head-to-to. Each breath sears through him, rivaling the sharp-edged pain of lightning, setting him alight. It burns through him, the aftershocks never ending as he pulls himself upright and grasps onto the edges of Grian’s windowsill. A pained whine catches between his teeth; he refuses to let it out.

Curled up at Grian’s windowsill as he peeks through the drawn curtains at the warm lamplight cascading through the glass, Scar finds the painful climb was well worth each and every second of agony. No better minded than a moth drawn to a flame Scar leans in to rest his forehead against the glass, the warm, golden glow from within Grian’s apartment beckoning him forward. Inside, Grian’s sitting at his desk around a cluster of books and papers strewn around as if a bomb had gone off. His hair is fuzzy and curled at the tips, as it always is whenever Grian lets it air dry after a shower. His shoulders are hunched and the sides of his face are illuminated by the blue glow of his laptop screen. Even through the glass Scar can hear the incessant clacking of his keys as he furiously types away at whatever assignment he’s working on.

It takes Scar more than one try to build up the courage to disturb him. He looks peaceful (or about as peaceful as someone working on a lab report can be), and Scar knows that peace will shatter the second he knocks, the second he barges in, yet again, on Grian’s evening and sweeps him up in his vigilante shenanigans.

Scar’s bloodied hands grasp onto the windowsill, red streaks staining the chipping white paint like a crime scene out of some gruesome horror movie Grian would have him watch. He winces at the sight; it’ll be a nightmare to scrub out. He’ll have to remember to buy Grian dinner one of these days to make it up to him and hope that Grian will have the heart, eventually, to forgive him.

“Grian,” he mumbles, startled to find his voice nothing more than a gravelly rasp. He reaches to knock, but his arms are as stiff as uncooked spaghetti noodles and don’t listen to a word he has to say. With a huff of frustration, Scar pitches his weight forward and thumps his head twice against the glass. The dull ache through his forehead is nothing compared to the feverish burning tearing through his chest and stomach.

Inside, a shadow bolts across the floor. Grian’s cat, Maui. In his chair Grian twists around at the sound. He’s wearing his glasses— Scar’s heart drops low in his stomach at the sight— and squints through the darkness to see Scar sheepishly waving at him through the glass, his breath fogging it up just enough to be seen.

He unfurls himself from his chair and comes to pry the window open. Scar comes face-to-face with his heart-patterned pajama pants, two sizes too big and pooling around his ankles. Wait, are those Scar’s?

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” Grian is asking before Scar manages to start dragging himself in through the open window. It’s only for the briefest millisecond, in Grian’s ignorance, that Scar can be grateful for the starless, moonless night. The dark shields him not only from the prying eyes of neighbors, but from Grian’s scrutiny. In this dark he can’t see the blood, can’t see the tears in his shirt. In the dark, he might just look a little ruffled, no worse for wear than he usually is after a busy night patrolling. In the dark, he and Grian can pretend, albeit for only a second, that everything is normal.

But as the pain and dark corners throbbing in his periphery are keen on reminding him, everything is very much not normal.

“I seemed to have lost my watch,” Scar says as he pulls himself in through the open window. Every movement is measured, half-withheld, ginger— everything that Scar isn’t, and he’d be a fool to think Grian wouldn’t notice. He does immediately, because he’s Grian, and he’s never been truly ignorant when it comes to Scar, despite Scar’s best intentions.

Grian steps back with wide eyes. The color drains from his face as Scar holds his weight against the wall with one blood-slicked hand and struggles to stand at his full height. Every inch he tries to stand taller, the more the swelling edges of the wound start to pull and ache.

“Scar?” Grian’s face, usually so warm and vivid, especially under the light of his desk lamp, pales to a near lifeless color. He staggers toward him, hands held out in front of him as if to catch Scar. “Scar, what happened? Are you okay?”

“Right as rain, G,” Scar says, managing a wry smile. “Honest.”

“Don’t give me that.” Grian rushes forward, grabbing Scar around the shoulders and steering him towards the futon in the middle of the room. The second Grian touches him some of Scar’s pain fades, if not just because he has somewhere else to pitch his weight, to take some of the strain off his bloodied, torn middle.

The pair of them hobble to the futon, Grian whispering mumbled nothings as he lowers Scar onto the edge and forces him to sit back with firm hands on his shoulders. Scar allows himself the smallest mercy of relaxing into the cushions, his arms and legs limp at his sides as his head lulls back to rest against the back of the futon. It’s as if every string tying his marionette up, stringing him along, has been cut all at once. It’s somehow blissful and terrifying all at the same time. He’s not sure he’s ever been this roughed up, this exhausted.

And in front of Grian of all people?

Grian, whose face is drawn tight, whose shoulders and jaw are rigid as if he’s been made out of wood. Grian, who anxiously flutters at Scar’s side for a second before disappearing in a flurry toward the kitchen. Scar’s head is too heavy for him to lift, but he hears Grian rummaging and cursing under his breath before he returns just as quickly as he left. In his arms he balances a handful of small dishtowels, a first-aid kit, and a box of blue rubber gloves.

“I can’t believe this,” he says, to himself more than to Scar, as he sits on his knees on the cushion beside Scar and leans over to assess the wounds.

Gingerly he pulls the tattered shreds of his black shirt away from the wound-bed (as much as he can with some of the fabric stuck to his body with blood like glue) and winces at the gory sight. Scar’s skin is torn in jagged ridges, three gouge marks clawed from just under his ribs and down across his right abdomen. Thankfully, the worst of the bleeding seems to have stopped, dark, thick globules of blood already starting to stitch together like wads of hot glue around the wound, crusting on the skin.

Grian examines it all with a crease between his brow that Scar, after all this time, has come to know means he’s irritated. He’s always looked especially cute when he’s angry (part of the reason it’s just too easy for Scar to give into the temptation to push his buttons whenever possible), but the downturn of his lips, the whites of his eyes, reveals something far more serious. Worry. Grian’s worried about him, and maybe it’s the blood loss starting to get to Scar in earnest, but Scar finds he far prefers this sight. He can’t help but smile back at him, even though he knows it’ll likely earn him a punch when he’s no longer bleeding out on Grian’s couch.

“Scar.” Grian says his name as if he’s been saying it for a while, but Scar’s only just now hearing it. “This is bad. Like, really bad.”

Scar blinks down his nose at him, brow furrowed. “You should see the other guy,” he says with a weak huff of laughter. “Stuck him so full of arrows you could call him a porcupine.”

“Scar, this is serious,” Grian admonishes, snapping on a pair of gloves and brushing his hair from his eyes.

“But you’re gonna fix me right up, ain’t you, Doc?” Sar teases, lifting his head just enough to catch Grian’s scowl as he flicks open the first-aid kit and fishes out a small brown bottle.

“I need you to tell me what happened,” Grian says, and there he goes again— detached, analytical, dawning his ‘I’m calm and collected’ persona. He pulls a pair of scissors out of the first-aid kit and tests the snap of them. “This doesn’t look like it was from some kind of a knife—”

“Ravager,” Scar says, gritting his teeth in anticipation. “Jerk got too close.”

Grian raises an eyebrow. “Sounds more like you got too cocky.”

Again, Scar finds himself fighting (and failing) to conceal a smug little smile. “You’re worried about me, just say it.”

“I’m pissed off is what I am,” Grian snaps. He peels up one edge of Scar’s shirt and begins cutting away as much of the fabric as he can without disturbing the edges of Scar’s wounds. He winces only when the shirt tugs too sharply on the red, puffy edges of the wound. And Grian, to Scar’s surprise, nearly flinches every time he does.

“Sorry, sorry,” Grian whispers each time, sounding so unlike himself. His face is pale, and if Scar isn’t mistaken there’s the faintest tremble to his hand.

“It’s okay,” Scar says, just as hushed, as if the slightest movement or raise in his voice will spook Grian. “Do what you gotta do. I’m tough, I’m strong. I can take it.”

Grian scoffs and peels a foil lid from the bottle’s cap, dumping a bit of it onto a folded dishrag. “Yeah, okay. We’ll see how tough and strong you are once I start cleaning this.”

“Give me your worst, Doc.” Scar lets his head loll back to stare at the ceiling, taking as deep a breath as his tense, wounded chest will allow. The twinge of pain reminds him to stay awake, has his fingers curling into the fabric of the futon beneath him.

Grian doesn’t give Scar a warning, which he appreciates. The anticipation is the worst part. He grits his teeth and bares it as Grian firmly, but not violently, uses the alcohol-soaked rag to wash away the blood from his torn skin. Scar scrunches his eyes shut and breathes through it, the pain an unrelenting impulse racing through his veins like faulty circuitry gone haywire.

And as soon as it starts, it’s over. Grian sits back on his heels and tosses the now blood-soaked rag to the floor. He wipes at the sweat blistering across his forehead with his arm, taking a shaky breath in as he examines his handiwork.

“It’s not too deep,” he says, sounding the slightest bit relieved. He twists to reach for the first-aid kit again. “You’re lucky I swiped this stuff from the lab. Though I won’t begin to guess why you came here instead of a hospital. This needs stitches, probably.”

“Eh, I’m not worried about another scar,” Scar dismisses, ignoring the small beads of sweat starting to gather on his own brow. He can’t handle Grian thinking he’s caused him any more pain; the only thing worse than suffering as he is now is to watch Grian torture himself over things he can’t control. Like Scar. “Besides, I can’t exactly keep up the whole secret identity thing if I go to a hospital half in costume, now can I?”

“Secret identity,” Grian parrots mockingly, unraveling a bundle of bandages and starting to tack them down around Scar’s middle. “You nearly got gutted, and that’s what you’re worried about. Of course.”

He’s angry. Scar would be an idiot to not be able to see it, and maybe it shouldn’t surprise him as much as it does. But it’s not the anger that catches Scar off guard. It’s what lingers beneath it: Grian’s gloved, trembling hands, the way he can’t look Scar in the eye more than a second before having to look away, burying himself in sorting through the first-aid kit for the fourth time as if looking for something to help and, just like every other time, coming up empty-handed.

Grian’s scared.

Scar’s known Grian for years now, and over that time he’s been a lot of things. Angry, judgmental, infectiously funny, bright. But afraid has never been a word Scar has used to describe him.

“Grian…”

“Of course I’m worried,” Grian says, catching Scar off guard. His voice is so quiet, so hushed that Scar wonders if he imagined it. Because something so vulnerable and soft sounding couldn’t come from someone as headstrong and impervious as Grian. It simply isn’t possible. “How could I not be? Have you looked at yourself?”

“Hey.” Scar can’t dream of sitting up, but he manages to leverage himself up just enough to reach for Grian’s wrist. He’ll feel bad about staining Grian’s sleeves with blood later. For now he needs to grab hold of him, pull him in close. To reassure him. “I’m fine. I’m still here, aren’t I? I’m in good hands, yeah?”

“Scar,” Grian says, sounding like he’s about to start crying. He curls his fingers into a weak fist, as if to pull from Scar’s grasp, but he doesn’t try it. He only holds it there, waiting. “I’m not exactly qualified. I’m a bio student, not a—”

“You’re doing fine,” Scar insists, caressing the inner aspect of Grian’s wrist with his thumb. There, he can feel the furious pace Grian’s heart takes on at the touch, like his pulse is ready to leap out from beneath the thin layer of skin. He flashes a smile, just to prove it to Grian. “I’ve bounced back from a lot worse than this. I’m just glad I don’t have to do it alone this time.”

#desert duo #desert duo fic #scarian #<- just in case #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fic #goodtimeswithscar #grian #birdie writes #sometimes I forget I am a writer and forget to post the things I’ve been writing like a madman #blame fishbloc for making me post this one

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gothic-thoughts · 4 months

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Late

Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader Fluff

Yakuza Boss'sGF AU, Drabble

CW: Nanami not being punctual (unheard of, but roll wit it)

I tap my foot rapidly in the elevator, constantly looking down at my watch. Come on, come on; I thought this was an express elevator. She's going to kill me. The elevator finally dings on the 14th floor and I practically push the slow-opening doors apart before jogging down the hall to my girlfriend's apartment. I rummage through my pocket, looking for my copy of her house key.

I finally open the door and stop in my tracks to see (Y/n) in the kitchen area, sitting on her counter with a clenched jaw and narrowed eyes. One leg was crossed over the other, the position rolling the hem of the azure dress up her thick thigh but her crossed legs tease me from seeing anything more.

"Sweetness, I'm--"

"Late? Yeah, noticed."

"I'm so sorry, angel." I turn to lock the door then slowly walk over to her, loosening my tie, "I meant to call but my phone died."

"Uh-huh."

"I was...in a car chase?"

"Mhm."

"And my charger was in the backseat...?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Next to a lit stick of dynamite...?"

(Y/n)'s legs paused their swaying as she processed my words before filling the tension with gasps as she laughed. I laugh with her as I toss my tie onto the couch in passing. I stop when I'm standing in front of her and between her knees she drapes her arms over my shoulders, acrylics grazing my undercut softly.

"So you're a spy now?"

"I could be recruited some day, you never know."

"You're a crime boss."

"Who said I'd be a good guy, don't put down my dreams."

She chuckles, "Your spy dreams?"

"I have the skills."

"And the bloodlust."

"And the bloodlust, exactly."

"Well, I ate dinner already, Mr. 007."

"Heh, I'll buy snacks for us then."

"Right, the same take out you ordered last time you were late for our date night, or were you thinkin' something different?"

"Oi, gomene(sorry)." I unbutton the first three buttons on my shirt, "I'll make it up to you."

"And that's 4th time you've said that this month."

"I know, I know; but do I not mean it every time?"

"Hmm.."

I sigh, leaning down to kiss her lips, hearing her soft moan as I slide my tongue into her lips. My hands slide up her smooth skin, making the hair raise sliding the indigo spaghetti straps off of her shoulders. Wrapping her legs around my waist, firmly holding her thighs at my hips.

"You know...I wouldn't have to race all the way up a building if you just lived with me."

"Nah, I like having my own place." She presses more lipstick on me with another kiss, "Just in case, you know, my 'secret agent' dies or something."

I chuckle, "You know I don't die, I've got too much work to do."

"Still, I like having my own place."

"Now, what if I bought this place...then you'd be in my place."

"You're not buying my apartment building."

I laugh, breath ghosting her lips as I lean in for another kiss, "Make me an offer."

"How about you use a piece of that wallet and get a bunch of snacks?"

"You're still hungry after eating our dinner?"

"You mean, my dinner and not really but I'm tryna watch movies and spend time with my man; is that okay?"

#jujutsu kaisen x black reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #black reader #black writers #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen nanami #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami fluff #nanami fluff #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader

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escapedaudios · 3 months

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My Grandpa was an actor who died in a ton of movies in the 60s and 70s, mostly spaghetti westerns and crime dramas. Here's a picture of him getting blown the fuck away in The Ugly Ones (1966).

I really take after him, I love getting shot and stabbed and fucking dying in audios lmfao.

#escaped audios #my grandpa was a real one

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ezshellshocked · 5 days

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⚡︎ ┊ TMNT : Finalized designs & Headcannons.

⚡︎ ┊ Finished my official designs, now I can make comics and such without them looking different every time. !! HEADCANNONS BELOW IMAGE, FOR ANYONE INTERESTED.

⚡︎ ┊ HEADCANNONS.

Leonardo

Cannot be sneaked up on (Will catch whoever tries)

Lots of night terrors

Light sleeper

Loves bubblegum

Superiority complex

Talks to himself out loud

Really good at lying (Best liar in the family)

Always smells good

Very overprotective (especially over Mikey bc he's the youngest)

Annoying older brother vibes

Argues with Raph the most

Sleeps with one eye open (literally)

Allergic to dogs

Only turtle who CAN cook

Can't watch horror films (they freak him out)

"IDC" Thinks about it for hours

"I'm not scared!" Freaks out

Hates bugs

Raphael

LOVES Halloween. (Has decorations all over his room)

Heavy sleeper

Snores but says he doesn't

Mr.Sarcastic

Picks on Don the most

Swears in nearly every sentence

Metalhead

Bedroom? No, Mancave. (Barely leaves his room)

Talented artist

Plays the bass guitar

JUGALLO RAPH REAL!!

Hates everything and everyone.

Edgy middle child attitude

"IDGAF!!" Starts crying

Likes Mikey more bc he can playfight rough with him.

True crime >>>

Horror movies >>>

Works out to calm himself down

Only shows his "cool" art to his brothers, keeps everything else hidden

Always looks angry no matter what

Can't control his tone of voice (Speaks really loudly, and aggressively)

Hates being told what to do

Deathly terrified of roaches

Missing a tooth (From a fight with leo)

Donatello

Very very VERY tired

Mr.Fix-it

Germaphobe

Neat-freak

Really picky with food

Won't eat spaghetti or most noodles bc it reminds him of worms

Hates wearing most clothes because they make him feel trapped

Gets hiccups when nervous

Doesn't drink coffee, though likes energy drinks

Must double check everything a billion times

Throws a fit when someone messes with his plans, or things

Swears as much as Raph

RARELY in his room, mostly in his lab.

Hates the smell of dust, sage, and greasy food

Likes collecting pens

MOOD SWING KING!!

Paranoid all the time

Insomniac

Almost always accidentally falls asleep in his lab.

Sticky notes, sticky notes, sticky notes

Can only draw mechs and vehicles, cant draw anything else

" We're poor as dirt " Has thousands of dollars hidden in his room.

Has to wear glasses but doesn't around his brothers (they pick on him :( )

Likes psychological horror better than visual horror.

Slouch king

yells a LOT

Listens to techno music when making inventions

#1 oingo boingo fan

Has slight bucked teeth

Speaks with a lisp

Michelangelo

Spoiled younger brother vibes

Loves video games

A LITERAL GOD AT DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION

Hates being left alone, or away from his brothers for long periods of time

ALWAYS asking Donatello for money (usually a yes)

LOVES candy (especially sour)

Borrows April's camcord to take stupid videos

Cracks every bone in his body when nervous

"The vibes are off right now…"

" Dudezz!! " " Chill out brozz " type of guy

Wears braces!

Always doing stupid shit

PRANK LORD

#ILOVEBEINGATURTLE!!!!

Sings in the shower

Puts on whole concerts for no reasons

Plays the drums

LOVES play fighting with Raph

Likes cooking, but cant do it good.

"CAN WE KEEP IT!!"

"I licked it, it's mine"

Steals from everyone, thinks its funny

Hides Donnie's tools for fun

Talks too fast

#digital art #artists on tumblr #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #tmnt redesign #tmnt design #tmnt headcanons #tmnt 2012 #tmnt leonardo #tmnt raphael #tmnt donatello #tmnt michelangelo

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the-last-f2p · 3 months

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Hii not the same anon but can you do a part 2 of “the perfect crime trio (mushitarou ranpo, Poe together ) with a s/o who had a not so good childhood and so has a Confort food to help with it”

And on where reader invite they friend to sleep over bc they don’t feel comfortable

Part 1 here

TW: Reader is still mean to Ranpo, more stalking, swearing

Note: kind of obvious but F/N means friend name and 100th post! It feels like it's been forever since I started posting T-T. There's also 200 of you now. So: Heeeeyyy thank you :3

People usually like being right. But this is definetely an exception. It's been about 2 days since you found three degenerates boys stalking you from outside your window.

It's not something you can easily get used to, not at all. In fact if you see a certain detective one more time you think you may go crazy. Or crazier. You can't look at racoons the same. You can't watch a ghost or detective movie the same. Why did you even trust them? Sure you made an effort to be pleasant, but you didn't think this was going to happen.

3 pairs of human eyes and 1 pair of racoon eyes on you constantly. It's been 2 days since you found out the trio's secret but it's also been 2 days since you last slept.

Right that's it, spaghetti is on the stove, F/N's number being dialied at this very moment. Sleepover hell yeah. Oh and Ranpo is in your house again. Wait. Ranpo's in your house again?! And Poe and Mushitaro? Of course.

"What're you doing?" Mushitaro asks.

"Cooking." You respond, trying to focus on getting them out instead of awnsering questions.

"And texting her friend." Ranpo adds on cheekily.

"Get out." You tell Ranpo.

"Nope!" He smiles at you and jumps onto your couch. Little shit. And then Poe joins him. Little shit. And you'll never believe this Mushitaro joins them. Do they have no respect?? Breaking into your house and then sitting on your couch?

Suddenly, a text. I'm outside let me in >:(. Dammit.

"Everyone!" Poe just took your phone from your hands and made Mushitaro and Ranpo gather around it. "Y/N's friend is here."

Suddenly Poe starts texting.

'Nevermind. I am feeling better now, go away.'

';=; what's with the grammar'

'Nothing'

'Bye then?'

"What the fuck!" You yell at Poe who jumps, he obviously wasn't expecting it. Asshole.

"You have us if you're feeling unsafe." Mushitaro tells you ushering for you to take a seat on the couch with Poe and him, Ranpo ran off somewhere

"I think your spaghetti's ready." Ranpo says from behind you.

Sarcastic woo. Spaghetti. I'm sure you can share it with 3 others right?

#yandere #tw yandere #male yandere #yandere mushitaro #yandere mushitaro oguri #yandere ranpo edogawa #yandere ranpo #yandere poe #yandere edgar allen poe #bsd #yandere bungou stray dogs

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una-hive5 · 4 months

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Trolls Band Together SPOILER & rant.

Sick and tired of seeing Crimp slander/hater. She might not be my favorite but I would defend her because people(TikToker) hating on her as if she isn't a victim too.

"Why can't she just reported Velvet & Veneer crime?"

She gonna need evidences. We never see her holding her phone. Plus, she is their assistant, not a manager. Maybe Velvet & Veneer make a contract or threatening Crimp to never reveal the secrets or else they'll do something horrible to her.

"Why can't she quit and get a new job?"

You really think it's that easy to find a job? I know we're talking about kid show rn but come on. She probably did want to quit but can't because she too scared to face her abusive/spoiled brat boss. Remember when Poppy, Branch and Tiny Diamond first met Crimp (with Rhonda) in the closet? After Poppy said she seem like she need a hug, she immediately hug her. GIRL HAVE BEEN GONE THROUGH TOO MUCH!

"She could've have just save Floyd."

Agree but how? Reminder, she is like, twice or thrice the size of trolls. Meanwhile, Velvet and Veneer are gigantic spaghetti doll. How many times does Velvet or Veneer told her to stand in the corner OR throw her in the closet? Do they verbally abused Crimp too? Yup. No wonder she is scared, have no support neither have the courage to fight/talk back. The only time she fought back are by turning off the mic, which is small but hey she did it! She fought back!

"She is so annoying!"

If that your personal opinion, I don't mind. But do not include her as the antagonist.

"She created that shoulder pad thingy. She is the real killer!"

Bruuuhhhhh, are you watching the movie with your eyes closed? Yk, even listening to audio you can already guess what happened.

Crimp: you tricked me to create that shoulder pad stuff so you can easily suck Floyd's talent? Especially during performing???

Velvet: it's called lying. DEAL WITH ME!

Not the really correct dialogue from the movie but this is basically how it went.

"Crimp should've got arrested too because she is Velvet & Veneer's assistant."

Well, I don't know how to elaborate this. She might would get arrested for being bystander, but do not think she is part of the plan(to kidnap troll). She probably has to obey her boss because clearly she, again, doesn't have the courage to fight back.

Ok that's all. If you still hate Crimp, ok. But to blame her for these reasons I wrote here, no your opinion are invalid. Feel free to share your thoughts about this. You can disagree with me. I wrote this just because I saw one or two slander video of Crimp.

I guess I can see why people hating on her because Crimp an adult while both Velvet and Veneer are teenager. But hey, those two are huge while she is a mop-looking-like creature.

#rosa rambles #dreamwork trolls #trolls crimp #velvet and veneer

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lambsouvlaki · 10 months

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For the Hell of it 4 - Pillion

Character: Jason Todd x civilian! Fem!oc

Rating and Warnings: G, mention of vomit, mention of past abuse.

Word Count: 1,292

Summary: Jason takes Andy on his bike for the first time.

Masterlist

Jason laughed at her. Andy did not care.

“It’s not ‘doing movies wrong’,” she replied with her chin lifted up while she held the door out of the movie theatre open for him. “It’s a passive activity, you can’t do it wrong.”

“You’re doing this one wrong, who sees Mission Impossible for the plot?”

“What were you here for then?”

“The stunts, obviously.” He buried his hands in the pockets of his jacket and strolled beside her out into the warm afternoon. They both blinked at the brightness. “That’s the whole marketing campaign. Most dangerous stunt ever attempted by a human. Don’t know how they’re judging that exactly, I’m pretty sure I’ve seen youtube videos of Nightwing pulling stupider tricks two hundred feet over concrete pavement.”

“How would they know that anyway?” she said. “‘By a human’. What, are they DNA testing the crew?”

He frowned thoughtfully. “We’d know if Tom Cruise was a Metahuman.”

“Yeah, but what if the stunt coordinator was prescient and just never told anyone. Maybe the guy who checks the ropes and harnesses got that job because he’s got the power of tensile strength detection.”

Jason snorted a laugh. “They walk among us, doing safety checks?”

“Metas gotta pay the rent too.” She suddenly wished she’d kept her stupid mouth shut. “I assume.”

Jason didn’t seem to notice, frowning at the tinted windows of the Italian restaurant they usually went to after catching a movie. They weren’t dates, of course, because they’d agreed they weren’t dating. They were just hanging out.

She followed his eyes to the windows but couldn’t make out anything more than vague movement through the glass.

He stepped ahead of her and pushed open the door, putting himself between her and the interior. She heard glass smashing and a lot of yelling before she saw a large man in a chef’s jacket punch a man in a suit in the stomach. He threw up spaghetti and red sauce all over the floor.

She made a face and stepped back outside, chased by the acrid stench and a chorus of yells. Jason let the door swing shut again.

“I’m suddenly not hungry for pasta,” he groused.

She sighed. How quintessentially Gotham. Or maybe just Crime Alley. “There’s that Greek place on the next block?”

“I had Greek food for lunch.” He looked at her with his eyes slightly narrowed. His scheming face, she called it. “How do you feel about Afghan food? There’s a great place in the Narrows.”

“I’m not walking to the Narrows.”

He jerked his head at his bike, parked in front of the theatre. “It’s a quick ride. And I can drop you home afterwards.”

“Oh, okay. Sure, let’s try that then.” She followed him towards the gleaming black motorbike that she was honestly a little surprised nobody had tried to steal. She paused awkwardly a couple of feet away while he got his gloves out of his back pocket.

“I’ve never ridden pillion before. You have to tell me if I’m doing it wrong.”

Jason sent her a curious look. “You’ve ridden a bike yourself?”

“Curse your attention to detail.”

He laughed. It was a warm and loud sound, and all too rare. She counted anything more than a snort as a win.

“Never ridden pillion.” He swung a leg over the bike and patted the seat behind him. “Come on, daylight’s burning and I’m hungry.”

She hopped up behind him, straddling the seat. It was a far more… close seating arrangement than she’d thought about in advance. Jason was tall and broad, she couldn’t see anything except his back from this position. He was so warm too, even without actually touching him. She could feel her cheeks warming a little and hoped he didn’t notice. She didn’t know where to put her hands.

“Try to keep your leg away from the exhaust, it’ll get hot. Like that, perfect,” he said, pulling her knee slightly forward. “Now hands on my waist and try not to lean too much with the corners.”

She settled into the seat more comfortably and placed her hands on his waist. She could feel his rib cage expanding with each breath. “Like that?”

“Uh-huh.” He pulled his helmet on. “There’s gonna be a test at the end.”

“Is the test Not Falling Off?”

“I promise to circle round and scrape you off the road if you do. After a kebab or two.”

“Asshole,” she said, but it was drowned out by the sudden roar of the bike. She knew he was smiling under the black helmet, she could sense it.

The bike vibrated between her legs much more than she expected, like some kind of angry beast. He wheeled it round, and then took off from the curb with a smooth acceleration. The force of the burst of speed startled her anyway and she leaned into him with a yelp. She cured around his back as they moved faster and faster, giving up on embarrassment.

The cold air whipped past, a kaleidoscope of sounds and smells rushing by, but she was safe in the lee of his figure. He was so big and stable, it felt like wrapping herself around a column. A warm, breathing column. He smelled like leather conditioner and something smooth and earthy she couldn’t name. She tried not to lean out too much as he took corners, and found herself moving with him. It was such a tactile experience, overwhelming physical in a way she was unused to.

She shocked herself with how much she was into it. She leaned her cheek against his back. The leather of his jacket was soft. Before she met him she would have been shocked to think she’d gotten onto some man’s bike to go wherever he decided they were going.

After the last time… in her darkest, loneliest moments she didn’t think she was ever going to trust anyone ever again. Certainly not a man, let alone one so intimidating. But she didn’t feel threatened by Jason, not in the least.

She felt safer around him than she had in a long time.

“Okay?” he called over his shoulder as they slowed to a stop at some lights.

“Okay!”

She wondered if her instincts were leading her astray. She wasn’t stupid, she had seen his discoloured and ripped up knuckles, the scars lining his arms. He didn’t habitually find the exit in every room he entered due to a fear of a fire suddenly breaking out. Private security, he said his job was. In Gotham that could mean a number of things, some of them were even legal. The 200 something pounds of man between her legs was very dangerous.

But he treated her so carefully, so gently. Like a little bird in his large hands, delicate heartbeat fluttering a mile a minute.

Her pride raged at just how much she liked it. She hadn’t fought so hard to be in control of her life just to gamble with it now. She held on like a limpet as they pulled away from the lights.

No. Bad Andy. Remember the last time you put your trust in someone you thought you knew?

But Jason was nothing like Kieran. Kieran, insecure little insect, who needed someone to hold down just to reassure himself he was a man. Jason didn’t need any reassurances. He knew he was dangerous and spent more time making people feel comfortable and safe than trying to throw his weight around.

When she was looking, that was. Just because he wasn’t the type of snake she’d encountered before didn’t mean he wasn’t going to turn around and bite her anyway. She didn’t know. He could be an all new variety of bad news. She held on a little tighter.

City streets flashed by, and then they were shooting across the bridge, nothing but water and sky around them, dyed magnificent red in the sunset.

It didn’t matter of course. Because they weren’t dating.

Next >>

#jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd x reader #red hood x oc #red hood #bike rides #and angsting #slow burn #fluff #For the Hell of it #my fanfic

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giallofever2 · 2 years

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coulsons-fullmetal-cellist · 8 months

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Clara and the Bad Dinosaur

(Dieter x horror loving female)

Words: 1, 687

Summary: playing the wrong movie results in a disaster of the toddler variety (artwork can be found here)

Warnings: poor little toddler cries, Dieter gets sad, mild angst but lots of happy fluffy stuff at the end, mild spoilers for Jurassic Park 3 and Jurassic World

Check out masterlist here

Parenting had its good and bad days, its ups and downs. Today was one which had both. You had gone out for a simple errand but as soon as you walked in the door, you were bombarded with tears as your daughter ran up to you crying.

“Mummy! The bad dinosaur!”

“Bad dinosaur?” you looked to your husband for context. Dieter was looking like he had committed possibly the worst crime and immediately regretted it.

“I accidentally put on Jurassic Park 3 instead of Jurassic Park,”

“Rexy dead!” she wailed. Now it all made sense.

“Oh, my sweet little pumpkin,” you cuddled her close to you, “Rexy isn’t dead.”

“No?” Her voice had calmed a little.

“No. Dr. Grant went to a different dinosaur island. So the Spinosaurus killed a different T-Rex. Your Rexy is still alive.”

“Rexy not dead?”

Dieter chimed in, “She shows up in Jurassic World.”

“World?” Clara asked and now you knew that she would want to watch this film. You sighed away the frustration of this upcoming task.

“We can watch that later. You went through a big sad emotion, and I think you need a nap to feel better,” you kissed her little face which was showing signs of being tired. You scooped her up and, after washing her face, put her down for a nap. Coming out of her bedroom, you found no signs of your husband. Eventually you found he had retreated to the bathroom. Dieter was lying in the empty bathtub, hoping to drown himself in his sadness.

“Dieter, what’s going on?”

“I’m a terrible father,” he sounded so convinced.

You tried to reassure him, “No you’re not.”

“I made our daughter cry.”

“You didn’t mean to though,” you hopped into the bathtub and snuggled close to him, “You made one silly mistake. I’m sure I’d put on the wrong Land Before Time, which is the one she likes?”

“The second one. She’s not ready for the first one, and Chomper is her favourite.”

“Why does our daughter love T-Rexes so much?”

He shrugged, “I don’t know, they both have tiny arms?” the mood lightened as you both chuckled.

“You’re a great father,” before you could deny this, you continued, “You can play with her for hours, I’m exhausted after 10 minutes. And you make her laugh so much. I swear she’ll burst into bubbles of giggles from how much you make her laugh.”

Dieter smiled, “Well, you’re good at dealing with her when she’s being difficult or sad.”

It was your turn to shrug, “I’m used to dealing with difficult clients. It’s a lot more understandable with toddlers, they’re so much easier to deal with.”

“They’re also so much cuter.”

“Dieter, your hand is on my butt.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it means I know you’re feeling better.”

“I’m feeling a lot better,” his hand wandered over the rest of your body, getting higher and higher until you gave him a warning grumble, “So you don’t want to get naked?”

“Not right now. Clara will be up from her nap soon and she’ll want to watch Jurassic World, so you’ll have to distract her while I fast forward through any sad parts.”

“Can we skip through the dialogue? Some of it’s worse than Cliff Beasts.”

You nodded, “Who talks like that? And I’m skipping that kid staring at that girl because it’s downright creepy.” You both got out of the bathtub, “Do you want to wake her or make a snack?”

“I can wake her if you want.” You parted in the hallway. Dieter gently woke up Clara.

“Cupcake, time to wake up,” she slowly opened her eyes, “Hey, I’m sorry I put on the wrong dinosaur movie.”

“It’s okay.” She got up and wrapped herself around her father’s neck like a baby sloth and he carried her out to the living room.

“So, do you want spaghetti or meatballs for dinner?”

“I have both?”

“You want both?” he gave a silly dramatic sigh, “I guess you can.”

He put her down and she immediately ran over to where you had put some snacks on the coffee table. As you all settled on the couch, you put on the movie.

“I was offered a part in this film.”

This fact surprised you, “Were you?”

“Yeah, but I hate franchise films and there was too much green screen.”

You would have furthered enquired about this, but you needed to be the parental guidance for this film. You reassured her that the pig definitely didn’t get eaten by the Velociraptors and shielded her from seeing it actually getting eaten.

Clara was very much like her mother and loved a scary movie, but even some things were too much for a little one. “That the bad dinosaur?” Clara asked about the Indominus Rex.

“It’s not a very nice dinosaur pumpkin.” You were worried this would be too scary a dinosaur, but she was distracted as her eyes lit up over the baby dinosaur petting zoo and lit up even further when the film took everyone to the Tyrannosaurus enclosure. “Look, it’s Rexy.” But there was not enough of her favourite dinosaur to see.

You all watched the Indominus break through its habitat and started eating people, Clara felt it needed telling off.

“Bad dinosaur.” It was so funny and cute the both of you couldn’t help but laugh at your daughter.

The display of herbivore carnage lay ahead so you gave Dieter the toddler distraction signal and he bent down to be eye level with her, blocking the TV, protecting her from any potential sadness.

“Do you think a T-Rex would like spaghetti and meatballs?”

“No.”

“No? If I gave Rexy a plate of spaghetti and meatballs, would she eat it?”

“She’d eat you!”

“She would?” she giggled in response, “Well, that’s rude of her.”

The flying dinosaur scene was going to be a potential source of sadness, so another toddler distraction was in order and Dieter went right ahead with it.

“Do you think dinosaurs like ice cream?”

“I don’t know.”

“Would long necks like ice cream?”

“They like tree stars!”

“Oh, so they would like tree star flavoured ice cream.” Clara thought her daddy was being very silly and giggled accordingly.

Once all the human aspects were taken out of the equation, Jurassic World ended up being quite an enjoyable film. And you both didn’t have to voice the various plot holes which displayed a tremendous amount of human stupidity. Now it was the final battle between Indominus Rex and good old Rexy. It looked like the poor girl was going to lose and Clara was ready to bury her face into your side in concern. But suddenly, Blue came to her rescue, they displayed a surprising amount of teamwork and the Indominus was finally dispatched by the Mosasaurus. T-Rex and Velociraptor, usually foes, came together to fight a common enemy, simply nodded to each other that their paths may cross not this day, but another time.

As Rexy step onto the platform overlooking her kingdom, she gave a triumphant roar making her rule noted and marking the end of the movie. Clara roared in response.

She spent the rest of the evening reenacting the final dinosaur fight with her dad and her various soft toys. Dieter was roped into playing the part of Rexy while she was Blue and the director.

“Rahr?”

“No, Rahr!”

“Rahr! Is that right?”

“Yeah!”

He popped the toddler onto his shoulders, “Come on Blue, let’s get that bad dinosaur!”

“Rexy don’t talk,” she corrected.

“Sorry: Rahr!”

Mr. Lobster played an appropriate Mosasaurus and after defeating the bad dinosaur, tried to chomp your leg while you were making dinner. It took a while for Clara to shake off the part of her role while her dad, a seasoned professional, could go back to be adorable old Dieter.

“Oh no, our daughter has turned into a dinosaur.”

Dieter towered behind her, “Well, I guess you don’t want dinner.”

“No,” she looked up at him and seemed so upset, “I want besketti!”

“You can most certainly have besketti little missy!” He picked her up in a cuddle and put her in her chair. You all ate with a dinosaur appetite, thankfully without the mess they would usually leave. Dieter washed up while you gave Clara a bath. She peeked her little head from beneath the bubbles and motioned her arms to snap together biting some invisible prey.

“Are you the Mosasaurus?”

“Yeah, I’m the Momosaur!” she exclaimed. “I eat bad dinosaurs!”

It was at this point that Dieter came in with her pyjamas. “Am I a bad dinosaur?” he asked.

“No, you’re daddy!”

As you dried her off and put her in pyjamas, not dinosaur themed, she was starting to droop in exhaustion. You tucked her into bed and gave her a little kiss on the nose.

“I love boo!”

“Love boo!”

You stood by the door as it was Dieter’s turn to say goodnight.

“I guess after all those dinosaurs, you want a dinosaur song.”

She shook her head, “No.”

“No?”

“I want my song.”

“Your song?” he gave a silly dramatic sigh, “Okay.”

She cooed in excitement as her father got his hands to dance tickles over her while he sang.

“Winnie the Pooh, Winnie the Pooh. Chubby, little, stubby all stuffed with fluff” he chuckled her tummy like she was stuffed with fluff,“he’s Winnie the Pooh,” he booped her nose, “Winnie the Pooh. Willy, nilly, silly old bear.”

“Daddy.”

“Yes cupcake?”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” he kissed her forehead as she fell into a peaceful sleep and quietly shut the door and moved into your waiting arms.

“Do I need to say I told you so?”

“Okay, I’m a pretty good dad.”

“Pretty good? I’d say you’re the best, most amazing, most handsome dad ever.”

“Well, I can’t do it without the best, most amazing, most beautiful mama ever.”

“Your hand is on my butt again.”

“Sorry.”

“It can stay there.”

“So can we…?” he asked, and you nodded, “Oh, I’m going to show you how sexy a mama you are!”

Films referenced: Jurassic Park (1993), Jurassic Park 3 (2001), Jurassic World (2015), The Land Before Time (1988), The Land Before Time 2 (1994)

Lovingly tagging @boliv-jenta @simpingcowboy @ellenmunn @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @brilliantopposite187 @chaithetics @myloveistoolittle @cevans-is-classic @glshmbl

#pedro pascal #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #dieter x honey cakes #love of horror fanfic #love of horror #dieter x reader #dieter x f!reader #dieter bravo #the bubble netflix #the bubble

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mmmthornton · 1 year

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"I got you, dude"

***

The Freedom Pals finished their route by taking out some sixth graders that were hassling kids outside the movie theater. One of them landed a kick on Tupperware's torso that cracked the container under his left arm.

He was starting to walk away when Toolshed tapped him on the shoulder. "Hey! I got something for that. May I?"

Almost before Tolkien knew what was happening, Stan slapped a neat stripe of high-quality duct tape up one side over the crack. "Oh man, thanks Toolshed!"

"Yeah man, I got you! Here, lemme get the other side so it looks like a style choice."

***

Some days later, most of the guys were waiting in Tolkien's living room for their various rides. Stan was standing around talking with his friends and was about to walk outside where it was snowing...in just his Toolshed t-shirt. Toolshed felt a tap on his shoulder.

"Hey man, you need something going out there, its cold out. Take this!" and Tolkien pushed a jacket into his hands.

"Aw, I don't need it, I'm across the street anyway Its no bi-"

"Just put it on man, you can't fight crime if you get sick."

Toolshed relented, and zipped the jacket over his shirt. "Thanks man. ... Hey, it kinda goes with the look."

"If you like it it's yours. I uh, got two jackets for Christmas." Human Kite noticed out of the corner of his eye a shopping bag stashed near the door that looked like the same brand as the jacket.

"Cool, thanks dude!"

Yeah, I got you."

***

While working on an upgrade to the Tupperjet, Tupperware nearly broke a window trying to remove a stripped screw. "Damn....Hey, 'Shed, do you have a pinhammer I could use to get these out?"

"Yeah, I got you, one sec."

"Thanks dude!"

***

"Tupperware, I need some protection for the wrist drill attachments; I can block when they're not retracted but otherwise the track gets janky. Got anything I could use?"

"Sure, I got you! My mom made spaghetti last week and we've got plastic thrown out in the recycling bin."

"Sweet, thanks 'Tups!"

***

Professor Chaos' minion set off a self-destruct that just caught Tupperware in its wake. He's shoved backwards by the blast and waves his arms vainly, falling backwards-

-and one hand finds Toolsheds glove, solidifying into an iron grip. The handyman hero hooked his measuring tape to a tree and caught them both in time before they went over the edge.

"I got you, dude!"

Mosquito came running up, grabbing Tupperware's other arm and pulling them both up to stable ground. He complained later to Super Craig how Tolkien didn't even LOOK at Clyde when thanking him for the rescue. His attention was occupied on someone else.

***

The meth-addicted hobos that had ambushed the team on a mission to the old mall parking lot weren't the brightest enemies they'd faught, but their blind druggie rage packed a powerful punch and all of them were feeling the effects. Toolshed knocked away two in one blow with his drill ground attack, saving Mysterion from yet another messy death. In the process however, he didn't see the one coming up behind him from under a tarp...

"I got you, Toolshed!"

...Before Toolshed knew what was happening, he was standing near the other side of the mostly-cleared battlefield as an electric *hum* and soft blue light faded around him. He saw where he'd been standing, Tupperware was surrounded by the same glow as his advanced shields met the druggie attack and deflected it to a harmless rattle. Moments later, The Coon pounced claws-first and finished the fight. Toolshed didn't react when his chubby friend in a fursuit commented that he needed to do better at watching his ass...and then murmured that he was more concerned with someone else's. Ass, that is.

***

"...So anyway, with the 3D Printer my dad just bought, we have basically limitless options for supplies and gear! Toolshed and I found a site that translates manufacturer specs into three dimensional plans for easy customizing and building. We printed a logo that attaches to Professor Timmy's wheelchair wheels that doubles as a shock absorber. How cool is THAT?"

Around the table of the Freedom Pals, everyone clapped politely except for Toolshed. Toolshed grinned widely and clapped the loudest, proud of their shared achievement.

***

After the meeting, Kite, Mysterion, and Coon approached Professor Timmy's chair.

Kyle cleared his throat.

"Heyyy, Professor...Would it be possible for you to help us with something?"

If it is within my immense telepathic and psychokinetic powers, and doesn't get me in trouble with my mom, of course heroes. What do you need that my powerful brain can help you obtain?

The Coon leaned into Mysterion's ear. "I know Timmy's head was big to begin with but geez..."

"Uh, yes, thank you Professor!" Kite continued. "See, we are friends with, um, Toolshed and lately he's seemed...distracted. Could you maybe use your powers and tell us what exactly his - er, deal is?"

There's silence, and Timmy's gaze turns to the other side of the room. Tolkien is out of his Tupperware suit and is leaning over a drawing Stan is showing him. "So, I got to thinking after seeing the 3D printer at work, maybe I can incorporate some kind of glue gun attachment? I have the heating elements already installed like so, and maybe-" The conversation continued in depth as the two boys excitedly went over plans and ideas that their shared knowledge and ability could actually make possible.

Timmy turned back to Kyle, not even bothering with the telepathy. Instead, he rolled his eyes at the three friends. "Timmy?" He gestured with his hand at Tolkien laughing at a joke Stan made, and the way he visibly seemed to glow brighter when Tolkien's hand clapped his shoulder. ".....timmy."

Kyle sighed and crossed his arms. "Yeah...I guess we didn't really need your powers either."

Cartman put a hand to his face. "God, that rich asshole better not Yoko our crew here."

Mysterion shrugged, and smiled from deep within the cowl of his hood. "I mean, who wouldn't fall for them baby blues?"

The other boys all nodded sagely. "Timmy timmy. Tim-may."

"That was beautiful Professor."

"Yeah, well-said," Coon leaned forward to check on The Human Kite's expression. "Well? Should we interfere?"

Human Kite for a moment didn't seem to hear his companion. A few seconds passed however, and he smiled. "Nah, I think he's got this."

***

#stolkien #tuppershed #stan marsh #tolkien black #the fractured but whole #SP TFBW #i love seeing content for them lol yeeesssss stolkien nation RISE #can you tell i've played a loooottt of tfbw?#listen....its a very charming game and the fighting system / imagination put into all their characters are just ....too good lol #I still think the show should do more with the kid games i think there's a lot of possible stories and fun jokes to get from that deep well #listen....i love that Stan has healing abilities AND can hit bad guys on a diagonal OR across one whole row of combat #AND i love that Tolkien has the ability to teleport/swap positions with an ally and give himself a shield #the opportunities for helping each other? LIMITLESS baby

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dalekofchaos · 5 months

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My thoughts on Adam Driver's interview on Bendemption/Dyad/Reylo not being planned.

As much as I love Reylo, I honestly would've preferred Supreme Leader Kylo Ren as the big bad of the sequel trilogy.

And honestly? The vibe I got with Rian is he still intended for Kylo Ren to go down the path of the big bad. It was the studio who chose for the result we got because they saw how big the Reylo fandom got, but wanted to appease all sides, hence the stupid result we got.

A part of me feels like the entire trilogy was building up Kylo Ren as the villain. If it were his destiny to abandon the dark side and The First Order, he would have either joined Rey or left in exile and eventually return and join Rey to end the war together. But that didn’t happen. Trust me I wanted that to happen, I wanted Rey to convince Ben to stop the fleet, take her hand and come home and while Rey flies the Falcon, Ben goes to Luke and Leia to make amends. Then Luke and Ben together would stop The First Order on Crait.

But here’s why I think TLJ was setting up Kylo Ren as the villain. In TFA, Kylo Ren killed Han Solo, but did not yet fully embrace the dark side. The deed split his spirit to the bone, which made him unbalanced and conflicted. He was so conflicted that in TLJ, he was unable to pull the trigger to kill his mother. At this point, he still felt a call to the light. Also, in ROTJ, Palpatine said to Luke, “Strike me down with all of your hatred, and your journey toward the dark side will be complete”. While Luke resisted temptation, Kylo Ren did not. When faced with the opportunity to kill Snoke, he didn’t hesitate. I see him turning the lightsaber to strike true. And now, foolish child. He ignites it, and kills his true enemy! At this moment, his journey towards the Dark Side is complete. Then, after the fight against the Praetorian Guards, Kylo Ren was given a chance by Rey to be redeemed. However, he went straight for the throne. He went straight for power. Even during the Battle Of Crait, knowing very well that Leia was probably in the base, Kylo still gave the command to take no prisoners. He was now willing to kill his mother and even ordered that the Falcon be shot out of the sky with both Rey and Chewie on board. He killed Han and Snoke. He was willing to kill Leia, and he indirectly caused Luke’s death. From this point of view, Kylo Ren has fully cemented himself in the dark side and it was a shame we could not continue this path and a shame they just HAD TO bring back Palpatine.

To me Kylo Ren is what Vader could've been had he reached his full potential. A Vader who was never wounded on Mustafar, a Vader who killed a close family member and his master. He is the villain they were looking for, but no they had to course correct.

Now yes, it would've been sad that Ben dying unredeemed as much as Ben dying after being redeemed. My suggestion is if villain Kylo happens, we could either get the following

Ben lets the light in and surrenders to Rey and does what he should've done and call off the fleet. Ben makes peace with Leia and it ends with The First Order and Resistance signing a peace treaty, while also symbolizing the balance in the force and peace in the Skywalker family

Exile. After embracing the light and doing the right thing, Ben knows he cannot live the life his family wanted for him. He cannot live a peaceful life with Rey after everything he's done, so Ben goes into exile on Ach-To or Jakku to repent for the life he lived.

Atonement. Basically what should've happened in TROS. Ben lives and has to separate from Rey. He takes the Falcon and goes to snuff out First Order holdouts and releases the systems that was conquered in his name. To make things right and the movie ends with Ben walking off into the sunset like an old Spaghetti Western like ROTJ was originally meant to end.

Paying for his crimes. Kylo Ren refuses to let the light in and gives into the dark side fully. But Rey won't kill him, not after promising Leia. So Rey would disarm Ben, destroy his lightsaber and sever Ben's connection to the force. So he cannot harm anyone ever again. The war is over.

The First Order would be put on trial. Kylo Ren, Hux and Phasma(ideally she lives and faces punishment) would be put on a Nuremberg styled trial as they are tried as War Criminals. Just the thought of the FO leadership facing a Space Nuremberg tribunal is too fun to think about. Just imagine Ren, Phasma & Hux backstabbing and shit-talking each other in jail. Then we see the people who are the victims of their atrocities. Finn and the various Stormtroopers who were forced as children to kill for them. Eila and Kel from SW Resistance tells everyone exactly what Kylo did to their home planet of Tehar. Kazuda Xiono and the rest of the Hosnian Prime survivors will voice heartbreak and outrage for what Hux did, while Hux reminds everyone “I am not alone to blame, Supreme Leader Ren was there as I voiced the plan to Snoke, he did not object and stood by and watched from a distance and did nothing he is just as guilty.” Both Poe and Finn will come forth as witnesses to the massacre of Tuanul. Rey will then come to Finn and stand as witness to the murder of Han Solo. Rose will voice what the First Order did to her home and how Hux confirmed it when she was aboard the Supremacy. R2-D2 will come forth showing the footage of the Jedi massacre. Rey and Poe will come forth and say they were victims of torture by his use of the force and Rey then say “I gave him the chance to turn his back on the FO and save the Resistance twice, to save his mother and he still chose to let everyone die and he almost succeeded on Crait. and still gave the order to wage war until the very last man” Literally everything is stacked against them and finally, Kylo, Phasma and Hux will get their say. Phasma will be unapologetic for her actions. “I grew up on a hellhole. Each day clawing my way to stay alive. I killed my own family. Went from clan to clan. Then one day The First Order came. I saw my opportunity and I chose them. I saw power, strength, order and unity. And I did what I had to do to get to where I am today. I do not regret what I’ve done in the name of The FIrst Order or rescuing children and forging them into an army the likes of which this galaxy has never seen.” Phasma then looks at Finn and her former Stormtroopers. “Only you chose disobedience and cowardice instead of greatness. I don’t regret it. That’s the difference between us. I know what I am, and I embrace it. I’m proud of it. I fought for everything that I have, every bit of what I am.” Hux will go on a Nazi like rant, saying the New Republic was a lawless and corrupt state that usurped it��s rightful government and it deserved to die! He shows absolutely no remorse whatsoever, only pride. “WE COULD HAVE DESTROYED THE LOATHSOME RESISTANCE, IF ONLY OUR SUPREME LEADER DID NOT LET HIS PATHETIC EMOTIONS CLOUD HIS JUDGEMENT!” Hux will say “LONG LIVE THE FIRST ORDER!” and does his salute and expects his former men to do the same, only the former Stormtroopers doesn’t do anything but look down in shame. Kylo Ren will show just as little care or empathy for his actions. Basically he will say the galaxy fell without Imperial rule. Without the example of Darth Vader. He will dare claim “I became a stronger Vader, one not held back by sentiment or compassion. I killed the past and became better for it. I was abandoned by everyone, but came back to burn everything down. I do not apologize for ANYTHING I DID! I AM PROUD OF IT. I AM THE SUPREME LEADER AND MASTER OF THE KNIGHTS OF REN, WHERE WOULD YOU BE WITHOUT ME OR THE FIRST ORDER? A CORRUPT GOVERNMENT THAT ALLOWED SLAVERY AND A LAWLESS GALAXY? WE BROUGHT ORDER BACK TO THE GALAXY! I UNITED YOU AGAINST ME AND YOU BECAME STRONGER FOR IT! YOU ALL NEEDED ME! WHERE WOULD ANY OF YOU BE WITHOUT ME? Do what you will, I know what we did was right.”

WIth that, The First Order Triumvirate is sentenced for life in prison. Phasma still looking as the sole survivor. Hux uttering threats. In one final moment, Kylo Ren would be taunting Leia and Rey. Goading them all to sentence them all to be killed by a firing squad. Leia turns away with Poe wrapping an arm around her, Finn & Rey supporting her.

Even though I ship Reylo and love what Ben Solo could've been. Even I understand that in the context of no redemption, dyad or Reylo existing. Kylo Ren ending the trilogy as a disgraced and jailed war criminal seems to be the only realistic solution the more I think about it. Leia doesn’t lose her son but he faces consequences for his crimes. He absolutely must face the consequences of his actions and spend the rest of his life imprisoned for crimes against the galaxy and the Republic. Kylo Ren does not get to have a happy ending. He stood by as Hosnian Prime was wiped out, he killed Han, Luke and wanted to kill Leia, Finn and Rey and countless other atrocities. He chose his path and he has to live with the consequences of his actions.

But overall I'm glad we got Bendemption and Reylo, even if it ended poorly, but ultimately I recognize Carrie Fisher’s death radically affected the plot of Ep IX for better or for worse.

#Star Wars #Kylo Ren #Ben Solo #Adam Driver #Reylo #Rey

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spahhzy · 1 year

Text

Concert: Sorrow~

- sequel to 'This Calling~'

Arturo Giuseppe sat at the head of the long elegant mahogany table as he observed friends and family talking and eating amongst themselves, and he found himself a small comfort.

He looked around the big cathedral esque-sized dining room of his home, looking at all the paintings that were hung up across the walls, family portraits and high dollar ones he had received from various business deals before settling his gaze back to the table seeing all the chairs filled with except one.

His brother remained empty.

It had been six months since Anthony's assassination, and he was terrible missed by friends and family alike.

Roman Torchwick had sent his assassin to send a message to him and his family.

Stay out of Vale.

Arturo wiped his face of some spaghetti sauce before he looked behind him. He saw some body guards out the window and around every door he had.

He also looked behind to see the organist he hired playing some somber piece.

"Dido's lament," he thought to himself, impressed with the choice of music as he gave a good look over to the musican herself.

She sat their in a white dress, black hair tied up into a bun as she played quietly, hands moving along the keys with grace.

Arturo folded his arms as he let the music play as he let his thoughts unwind.

Six months since the failed bombing and Roman Torchwick was NOWHERE to be seen.

Yes, after learning of his brothers death at the hands of the Torchwick family, Arturo had his best of the best tail, track, and plan out an assassination of their own to retaliate.

The plan was simple: To Arturo at least,Roman Torchwick would go up in flames.

Valean Cinema was where Roman was to go watch a movie at nine-thirty, and everything would have gone to plan if his henchmen hadn't gotten caught and squealed.

Things got worse as not only was not only did he squeal but Roman wasn't even at Cinema!

Arturo thought about the attempt, lucky that Roman rented out the whole theater. Otherwise, that would have been a whole can of problems that the family didn't need on them now.

Arturo looked behind one of his body guards and gave a motion to tell the organist to stop playing.

The guard nodded and went over to the woman, bent down, and told her to stop. The woman just looked at him and nodded.

Arturo tapped his glass, getting everyone's attention.

"My dearest family and friends, I do hope you have all enjoyed yourselves tonight on this day," he said as he looked over to the empty seat.

"But let us not forget what we have lost to get to where we are," he said, motioning to the empty seat.

The whole room was silent as they all held a silent prayer for the fallen comrade.

"To Anthony Guiseppe!" He raised a glass in honor of his dead brother.

"To Anthony Guiseppe!" his attendants said back as they all took a shot of their champagne glass.

"Long live the prosperity and success of the Guiseppe Family." Came the voice of Garland, and Arturo nodded as he raised his glass again, which was reciprocated by everyone.

Briiiiiing!

That was the sound of EVERYONE'S scroll going off, to which they all looked at each other before pulling each of their scrolls out.

it was a scroll call from an unknown number.

Arturo raised an eyebrow as he looked at his scroll before pressing the accept button.

To his shock and rage, their on the other end, smirking one Roman Torchwick as he sat comfortably by the fireplace holding his cane.

"Good evening, all of you, but most importantly too you, Mr. Guiseppe." Came Roman as Arturo looked at the other crime boss.

"So, come out of hiding, have you?" Arturo said as he took another glass of champagne.

"Oh, I've never been hiding, sir, just waiting," Roman said as Arturo raised an eyebrow.

"Waiting for what, hmm? Our attempt didn't kill you, and you went missing for six months, and in that allotted time, my boys have been taking over your streets, " Arturo said arrogantly as he pulled out a cigar, clipping it, before taking a flame to the end and smoking it as everyone in attendance listened.

"I was waiting because I'm here to offer you a deal"

....a deal?

Was this man making light of him?

"Roman, in case you forgot, our two families are at war-"

Roman slammed the cane down, cutting off Arturo.

"No, because your family is about to be extinguished if you don't listen!" Roman said darkly, gone was the smirk replaced with only a eeier glare.

"Okay, Roman, I'll hear you out. What's this deal?" Arturo said, deciding to humor him as to not look weak in front of his family.

"Easy, offer yourself and the three stooges who helped you plan the bombing and the rest of your family and friends at this table currently...will live." No one said a word as they all let the words process in their minds.

Arturo slammed a hand hard onto the table, causing some of the glasses to tip over.

"Are you threatening my family again, Roman? Was my brother not enough!?" Arturo asked in anger as Roman shook his head.

"What happened to your brother was purely business," Roman told him calmly.

"And our attempt was purely business as well," Arturo argued. " 'One of ours for one of yours' those our the rules aren't they Roman?" Arturo said as Roman nodded his head, understanding the rules of engagement in this kind of work.

"You're right, a soul for a soul, as how our business works," Roman said, tapping his cane to the ground.

"But we don't kill innocent, do we, Arturo?" Roman said quietly, a rage boiling within.

"What are you talking about, Roman? You had the whole movie theater rented out, and my men checked to make sure no one else was their, " Arturo said as he began to sweat a little as Roman just glared daggers through the screen before he brought a piece of news paper to the screen as Arturo paled.

'1 dead in bomb at the movie theater!' Valean Times

"You're right, Arturo, you didn't kill, not a single member of my family," Roman said as he pulled the paper down and glanced back at the screen.

"But..." Roman trailed as he looked off to the side looking at photos

"You've killed someone else's family," he said to them all, which garnered gasps from all the attendees.

"Now I'm going to tell you once more and that's it," Roman said, leaving no room for argument.

"Forfeit you and your cohortsloves, and the rest of the fine men and women will be able go home to their loved ones," Roman said staringvat Arturo.

"Last chance"

"You can't hurt me, Roman, or anyone else at this table, as they are innocent," Arturo laughed as if he truly believed Roman was lying, but Roman just shook his head.

"No member of my family is going to be doing anything at all I can assure you," Roman said as Arturo rolled his eyes.

"Arturo...the person who will be coming after you...she won't stop not until all involved are dead," Roman said, and Arturo pondered the information at learning that some woman was coming after his family.

"Well, I guess I'll be waiting for her then," he told Roman, who just shook his head before rubbing his head.

"So you would forsake these people to their deaths, Arturo?" Roman asked to which Arturo shook his head.

"No, but I also know a liar when I see one Roman," Arturo said, not willing to budge.

"Stupid bastard..." Roman said to him before sighing and bringing forth his trademark smirk.

"Well, that was your last chance," he said to them as he tapped his cane to the ground once more.

"We'll take our chances," Garland said as if he was speaking for everyone their while the rest of the guest looked like he was crazy.

"None of you are safe" was Roman's chilling words before he got up to leave the call.

"Great, we can all get back to our dinn-"

"Oh, Arturo, before I go, I have on last thing to mention," Roman said as Arturo just waved him off, having enough of these petty empty threats.

Roman entered back to the screen before getting very close to the screen.

"This is a pre-recorded call"

Arturo's eyes widened, and he was about to say something when the scroll call ended abruptly, leaving everyone to sit there and process the tense reaction that was coming from around the room.

"Aruturo, look!" Shouted Garland, pointing up to a row of eight paintings.

Arturo looked up and widened in shock, gone where the eight family portraits of Giuseppe lineage were replaced with paintings of something else.

The first painting: was of a small girl with brown hair. She was on the ground in the dirt and had her head titled, looking up to a boy with blonde hair and blue eyes bending down with a hand outstretched and a smile on his face.

In the second painting: the girl this time was a little older, and she was in front of, well, what appeared to be a younger Roman Torchwick, He was still wearing that trademark smirk and bowler hat as he looked like he was discussing a plan to her.

The third painting: it was her again, but this time her hair color had changed, gone was all brown now pink layered one side of her hair, she looked to be using a parasol of some sort as she was pick-pocketing a finely dressed gentleman, as Roman was in the background laughing.

The fourth painting: The boy with blonde hair blue eyes returned, but he was older now as well. He could be seen hugging a startled and blushing woman from the 1st three paintings. A Roman Torchwick was holding his scroll, taking a picture.

The fifth portrait: showed what looks to be the same two people from the last painting, only looking over the sea from atop...a lighthouse?

The sixth painting: was that of the pink and brown haired woman in a hospital bed holding a child. Her child, the blonde haired man, was kissing her atop the head with tears in his eyes.

The seventh painting was that of a piano recital, a girl with blonde hair and blue and pink eyes was performing in front of a crowd, as her family watched on proudly.

...the last painting was one that made Arturo turn ghostly pale.

The eight paintimg was that of the pink and brown haired woman. She was on her knees with tears in her eyes,crying, as she hugged the body of the blonde man, who was burned, his eyes half open as he rubbed the cheek of the blonde child with his right hand as said child rested atop her mother shoulders, unharmed. As fire and destruction surrounded the rest of the painting.

"What the hell?" Arturo said, looking on in disbelief at what he saw.

Who the hell was that?

Was that who died at the movie theater?

Is she the -

Suddenly, the pipe organ played.

Arturo swerved his head behind him at break neck speeds and recoiled in horror.

On the ground with his throat torn out was his body guard, the one he sent to stop the musician from playing, dead.

Arturo shifted his eyes over to whoever was playing the instrument.

The woman who was previously in the seat... no longer their.

Instead of white dress, this individual was wearing a black dress, and her hair was no longer black but was a multicolor of pink and brown that traveled down her back.

Her hands, now covered in blood, were playing an uptempo piece as the blood was mixing with the white keys on the organ.

Garland was the first to get up.

"Protect the b-" he couldn't say anymore as he felt a cold chill pass him, and all of a sudden, his jaw was on the table... literally.

Garland blinked before looking down and seeing half his jaw located on his plate. He tried to scream but couldn't. It wasn't until a parasol logged itself into Garlands' skull killing him that everyone freaked out in panic.

One man immediately stood up from his chair, but as soon as he moved, his right leg was cut off.

A woman tried screaming but was immediately silenced when a parasol was logged into her chest.

One by one, each and every one of Arturo's friends and family, we're killed by an unseen force as the sound of the organ still played its haunting melody.

Until it was just him left.

He looked around, and all he saw were dead bodies on the floor or in the seats, as he realized that Roman wasn't bluffing anymore and that his family was being butchered right before him.

He looked behind to see the pink and brown haired woman still playing passionately the ghostly melody, and that's when Arturo, in fear, pulled out a revolver and aimed it at the woman's head.

"You psychopathic bitch I'll fucking kill you!" He shouted as he went to pull the trigger-

Slice!

In a split second, he was armed, and another second, he was disarmed, as his entire right hand flew off his body.

Arturo screamed in agony as he suddenly fell backward, clutching the stump that used to be his right hand, asche felt a horrifying chill flow through him he looked up to see, not one, not two not three not for not five, but ten images of the pink and brown haired woman, all staring at him with white eyes.

He looked back behind him, still the woman on the organ continued playing.

He shakily looked back to his executioner(s), all looking at him, the only emotion showing was one he was familiar with seeing.

Anger.

"P-p-please...i-i-im so-so-sorry w-we never meant to k-kill him," he said as he tried to plead with the living embodiment of death.

Nothing was said as they all moved closer, their weapon, the bloodied parasol in hand as one by one they encircled Arturo, who just kept pleading and saying he was sorry.

It fell to deaf ears as one by one, each of the apparitions stabbed Arturo in different parts of his body, and all he could do was scream but it was just drowned out as the organ continued to play.

"Roman were here," said his limo driver as Roman nodded before getting out in front of the Giuseppe estate gate as three more vehicles followed up from the rear.

"Hey boss, uh, where's the security in this place?" asked one of his henchmen, and Roman looked off to the side, seeing two dead guards.

Shit.

"Boss?"

"Don't expect any resistance if you see any stragglers, put them out of their misery," Roman said as he then proceeded past the gate. The command given made everyone scratch their heads.

Regardless, they still had a job to do, so they followed Roman past the gate and made their way to the big estate as they were entering some of the grunts thought they the sound of an organ playing.

Their suspicion were confirmed as the sound of the organ grew louder the closer they got to the home.

It wasn't until they were literally on the Giuseppe l's doorstep that the organ could be heard loud and clear.

"Boss, not going to lie, I'm a bit freaked out" said one of the grunts as Roman turned back to him.

"Go get kindling, and we're going to burn it to the ground," Roman said to him as everyone just looked at him, confused even more.

"Boss, surely this place has got tons of stuff to steal!" Roman lifted his cane and pointed it at the man.

"Their is NOTHING, of value here, so we are burning it, okay!?" Roman shouted as the poor grunt just nodded rapidly.

"Good, all of you go. we won't have much time before fire and cops show up, " Roman said, and everyone nodded before getting to work.

The group dispersed around the whole estate and dousing every little spot with some gasoline.

Roman pushed his way into the door, opening it, before looking in front of him in shock at the carnage and destruction as the tone of the Organ went from an uptempo pace to a slow sad somber feel.

He walked over corpse after corpse that wasn't in a chair before he made it to the now pink cushioned Arturo, taking a knee, Roman shook his head.

"I warned you," he said before standing back up as he looked around some more before finally his eyes settled on the ten clones of his partner standing behind the original who was still playing.

One by one, as the music kept playing, they shattered into glass.

"Neo," was all Roman could say.

Neo ignored him as she just kept playing the instrument with her scroll out, sitting on where the sheet music would be, as her screen showed the picture of a smiling handsome blonde haired blue eyed man, her now dead husband, Jaune.

Neo was crying as she let her pain flow through her fingers, never stopping, not even as the house began to catch fire.

"Neo" came Roman again as he finally made it to her side as the last clone shattered as Neo put her hands into her head as she just silently sobbed.

Roman approached cautiously as he sat on the bench with her before pulling her into a hug.

"Come on...it's over now. Let's go see Trinity. She misses you," Neo said nothing of course, as Roman felt he nodded her head into his shoulder as suddenly debris started falling.

"Come on," and with that, Roman helped Neo, who grabbed her scroll, looking at the photo of Jaune as Roman guided her to the door.

As soon as he got to the door both Neo and Roman were greeted with the rest of the small crew, who all looked wide-eyed at the sight of a crying and bloodied Neo.

Roman quickly guided her back into the limousine before looking one more time back at the Giuseppe estate, before it was engulfed in flames, Roman got back inside and instructed the driver to take them to Valean Medical Center, where a child awaited her mother's return.

That which has given you joy has also given you sorrow.

#neopolitan #jaune arc #rwby silent knight #roman torchwick

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