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minty-mumbles · 2 years

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Here There Be Monsters: Twilight

Werewolf Lore | Read on AO3

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Twilight Aegaeon Giles

Species: Werewolf

Physical/Mental Age: Mid Twenties

Actual Age: ~80

Gender/Pronouns: Cis Male (He/Him)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Physical Appearance Notes: He does have the markings on his forehead. The marks are symbols of his devotion to the Moon god, or at least they’re supposed to be. The marks were put there by his parents, illegally, when he was a baby.

Family/Friends:

Dusk: Twilight’s older sister, who wasn’t taken by their parents when they were forced out of Twilight’s birth pack. Twilight doesn’t know that Dusk exists, and Dusk assumes that Twilight is either dead or still with their parents, but she hopes he’s out there somewhere.

Midna: Princesses of Twili, a kingdom to the northwest of Hyrule. Twilight was friends with her, and had a crush on her, but when she revealed she as the princess right before he left her country, he felt betrayed.

Shad: Cute guy who comes into the bar Twilight works at a lot. Something’s not quite right about him and his friends though. Probably a bit too smart for his own good.

Uli/Rustl/Colin/Other Assorted Ordon Villagers: A nearby Pack that Time nudged Twilight into discovering/interacting with. The Pack is too far away for Twilight to visit every full moon, but close enough that he can have some support.

Schooling: He didn't have a great education growing up, and dropped out of high school when he was about 16. So hasn’t gone to college. He's currently working on getting his GED online. Time offered to give him the money for it, and he’s seriously considering going for the experience. He doesn’t know what he would major in though, and he’s very hesitant to rely on Time that much.

Job: Currently in the workforce. He works at Telma’s Tavern, part time as a starbucks barista, and as farmhand at Lon Lon Ranch on the weekends.

Residency: Rents an apartment with Wild. The pair have been invited to move in with Time, but they are hesitant to do so.

Other:

Twilight doesn’t trust gods, and has trust issues/issues with authority. He is very hesitant to pray to Time, only doing it in bad situations, such as in Caged Animals. He’s not religious at all.

He only speaks Hylian fluently. He’s semi-fluent in Twilit, but very rusty.

He really likes kids, and has a soft spot for them. Wants to have his own someday. For now he’s satisfied with wrangling Wild.

Summary of Past:

When Twilight was a baby, his parents gave him the marks of the moon god. This practice was seen as archaic and outlawed in Twilight’s birth pack, so his parents were exiled. The pack planned to keep their two children, but Twilight's mother came back and stole him. His sister, Dusk, was left behind.

He lived in the slums of Castle town with his parents. They weren’t horrible parents, but they weren’t good either. They were a bit neglectful and not very good at showing him they loved him, but they provided for Twilight decently well. His father had a bad habit of harassing the local werewolf pack in the area, who had denied them pack membership. Eventually, his father was tried by the Vampire council for this and was sentenced to a few years in jail for harassment and destruction of property. He never came back, and Twilight doesn't know what happened to him. His mother died of sickness one winter when Twilight was the equivalent of 16 years old.

After his mother died, Twilight wanted to get away from Castle Town. He moved to the capital city of Twilit, a kingdom just to the northwest of Hyrule. He was only there for a few years, and he met and befriended a local Twili named Midna. He didn’t know she was a princess for most of their friendship, as she disguised herself when she left the castle to get away from her duties. After a few years, he decided he was going to leave Twilit to go back to Hyrule. He was tentatively interested in looking for his birth pack, and it was pretty hard to find a job in Twilit. It was only at the last moment that Midna revealed her true identity to him.

The two of them had budding romantic feelings for each other, but when Midna told Twilight her true identity, it left him feeling betrayed, and like even if he returned, he wouldn’t be able to reconnect with her. He was left wondering how much of her persona was real and how much was just an act, leaving him to also question his romantic feelings.

Shortly after he returned, Twilight stumbled across a lone poltergeist, WIld. He was wreaking havoc on the Hylians who couldn’t see him. Twilight knew that the poltergeist likely didn’t have any memories of their previous life, and if they continued to do this to get the chaos energy they needed, they would be dealt with by the local vampire council, or maybe a nearby Demon. He took the Poltergeist under his wing, and started helping them find better, less destructive ways of creating chaos, and tried to help them recover their memories. They became very close quickly, although Twilight wasn’t successful in helping him with his memories

He got a job at Telma’s Tavern, working full-time as a server. The place isn’t the most upscale, but it pays well. There’s a group of regulars at the bar that come in and meet a few times a week. They seem to be work colleagues, but seem very hush-hush about what their job is. Twilight thinks that one of them, Shad, is pretty cute, but he’s hesitant to get invested in someone after Minda. Also, he knows he couldn’t be with a non-magical. Some magical creatures are okay with hiding their magic from their partners, or telling them illegally, but Twilight isn’t. (It made him feel a bit better about realizing this, as he figured he’d never be able to be in a relationship with Midna anyways, as she wasn’t magical.)

It’s about this time that Twilight meets Time. The god sees these homeless magical kids and is immediately invested in them. Twilight is very wary of him at first. He doesn’t want to rely on a stranger's help, and doesn't want to be in Time’s debt. He knew Time was a powerful magical being from the start, but didn't know exactly what he was. Once he figures out that Time's a god, he’s even more wary. Twilight has an aversion to any sort of religious stuff, because of the trauma of being pledged into a god’s service without his consent, and feeling abandoned by said god. It takes a long while for Twilight to warm up to Time, and really it’s Wild who makes that first step.

Twilight eventually gets another job as a Starbucks barista, and starts working at Malon’s farm on the weekends. That extra money, along with the money Wild is starting to get from his youtube channel allows them to get an apartment. Twilight starts slowly meeting the other people Time’s essentially adopted.

He slowly grows to see this eclectic group as his pack.

#here there be monsters #linked universe #lu twilight #werewolves

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indianfartysummers · 5 months

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How intelligent would that person be because if they are a police officer, they are probably like boiling their children

So England decided let’s just go for the military OK let’s do it why

Well, OK but you need to fix that OK

I wasn’t asking I was telling you fix that

Okay

Jesus fucking Christ

No offence

Anyway, like I was saying, England was like you know what like let’s totally fucking demilitarize the military

Because of Sergeant burns because of suspicions of severe child abuse and murder military police

Military police harassment

And then they want to scare you at the police station with little jokes about the babies that you will lose when they put you in a cell so they can laugh at you as you suffer and die of horrible, horrible pain and basically that is the Kentucky love story for the average butt fucker

But I don’t want to deal with all of that

I just really don’t

And I don’t really know who my worst enemy is

But I don’t need any kind of cop being like you know what Rebecca you’re a very dishonest person

Not usually, and I am not playing this little baby fighter game for the rest of my motherfucking life

And that’s exactly goddamn, right because if he isn’t build your baby, I said a bell jar baby

That fucking cocksucker knows better than to be a fucking cocksucker, and he deserves to not have any intellectual property because they can do all kinds of shit to you just like all of the animals that you’ve never exploded and killed. You don’t know, and I said exploited and you know what that’s why you guys can’t have anything you goddamn cock sucker.

So now everybody gets like all kinds of horrible, horrible treatment and we’re just gonna say that we’re locking up brown people and instead you know, I don’t know to be honest with you guys. Why don’t you tell me how the fuck a country is supposed to be run oh, but you guys tell me that people need to be locked in a cage, so obviously there are a handful of six goddamn police officers locally.

Sick

Well, usually those ones don’t hurt me the sixes.

Oh man shit oh it’s it’s how is that man shit like oh cause it’s never about like that being the hero for the kid. Well you know OK you got a lump of fucking Cole how are you like that for Christmas you little hooker you know what you guys are just trying to cross really nasty boundaries whatever though I don’t really give a shit whatever fuck it fuck it all I just saw it like goddamn, so how are you guys doing? Oh God What the fuck though huh so anyways I guess they must have like downloaded the peoples consciousness onto a disk it’s like that movie the what is it the eye where she gets like new eyeballs from that other girl who died in a car accident or something and so she gets like the memories of that person which is really really really sounds like shit well somebody is still trying to block my third eye I’m really scared I am I know that like the biggest fear right now is because of how late they go about the timing of seeing you you’re being addicted that kind of stuff

I said evicted, I didn’t say addicted, but as far as smoking reefer if you feel like it’s an addiction you should quit and also if you have a surgery, I’m told that you can’t smoke so

What the hell

I would hope that I wouldn’t be stupid and naïve enough to accept refer that was laced, but you never know everybody says that like you know, there’s no way to know and then really at the end of the day it’s kind of like who is wanting to hurt you and who is wanting to keep you safe because if somebody wants you safe they will keep you safe. I don’t need to be naïve, but OK so I was thinking about that dream again yeah I know it’s really kind of odd right but it is what it is I know I don’t know what’s going on like it’s like I am fell into a new dimension or something.

It’s bothersome

Yeah, but it’s just a shit ass like horrible frequency

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glassfm · 1 year

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(shah rukh khan, cis man, he/him, fifty five) ** ♔ announcing RIAZ GHAZI, the EMPEROR OF THE MUGHAL EMPIRE! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble SHAH RUKH KHAN. it is a miracle that HE survived the last five years and for that reason, they are FOR the kingdoms working together. reflecting on them now, they remind me of MUSIC IN A FARAWAY ROOM, DARK HAIR WILD AND OVERGROWN, SILVER TONGUE TURNED WEAPON.

❝ you don’t have to sing it right, but who could call you wrong? put your emptiness to melody, your awful heart to song ❞

you are born with the sun in your smile. your mother says that you laughed before you ever cried, but you are too young to remember it. you know only that she and your father both dote on you for your cleverness and your warmth, their shining perfect first child and eldest son and heir, and that love is all that is needed to ensure that you will spend the rest of your life trying to light up every room you walk into. you grow with the idea that love is conditional. you charm the court and dazzle your parents, and it is because of the brightness of your smile and the poetry you sing and the kind words you have for everyone. you are loved for what you give to other people. you love to be loved and so you give endlessly, chirp as prettily as the caged songbird your uncle gives you for your eighth birthday.

it is no great burden, you think. you will one day be emperor and have to bear the weight of your people’s hearts anyways. you should learn to carry it with cheer or else you will be the most miserable of men. you devote yourself to art, to poetry and music and painting and architecture, to every kind of beauty you can create. you hope to leave the world more beautiful than you found it, for you yourself can never be beautiful enough.

you are not a warrior but you do not need to be. your empire has been built by wars but it will be made rich by trade and there are generals and brothers who prefer the sword a plenty. many think you weak for it when you are only a prince, ever soaking up attention, no obvious cruelty in your gaze. they do not know you. you spend your nights with book rather than blade, travel the territories and learn of diplomacy and trade. to find life lovely you must first understand it, and you are a student of countless global philosophies. you learn to speak with people. to deal, to manipulate. communication has always been your gift. you learn to command.

when your father dies you are crowned in finery and you take the reins of an empire at the height of its prosperity. you expand trade, ensure that riches continue to flow into your country. you keep the nobles fat and happy and broker peace between conflicting religious elements of the populace. you sponsor craftsmanship and your capitals become known internationally for their finery. you build a family and raise children you adore and smile brilliantly throughout it all.

there is no person on earth who could stop you.

the plague tears your golden future to the ground. you spend endless hours on your knees in prayer but the loveliest words ever spoken cannot stop it from ravaging your people, nor can the sharpest swords and the richest gems. famine and storm and sickness sweep through the empire with vengeance and there is nothing beautiful to be found in it. there is nothing beautiful to be built from it. the plague kills two of your children, and it leaves you with NOTHING.

you do not wail in the halls. you do not make songs of mourning. you do not speak for months and when you do it is sharp and there is no warmth to find and your songbird has been dead for decades anyhow. the beloved son and brother and father and husband and emperor you have played at for years is crumbling at your feet for kindness feels like pulling teeth. you are exhausted. you are heartbroken. you could not protect your children, you could not protect your people, and the grief is torrential. it is private and silent and bloody. you have performed a balancing act for fifty years and the rope has snapped.

and yet.

for all of your life you have known that there is something unbeautiful in you and have hoped desperately to create something shiny enough that none will spy it. the rot is spreading now rearing its head and flashing beneath your skin but that does not free you of the stage. you are the emperor of the mughal and for all of your life you have known what you must do to live with that. you bear the weight of your people’s hearts and you carry it with cheer.

you stand in the ashes and build again. you have spent too long desperate to let go now. you reach for alliances and strengthen the army and empty your personal coffers to rebuild the farmlands to rebuild the trade. you are loved for what you give to other people but you do not sing anymore. art has always been your heart held out with shaking human hands and they cannot have it. it is gone with revati and surjan and you will not suffer another loss. not of your family. you cannot bear it. you are not a warrior but you would fight to make it so.

#riaz . introduction #1642hqintro

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ithisatanytime · 2 years

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as long as im ranting, alcoholics anonymous and narcotics anonymous are satanic cults. it is a requirement of these programs which have essentially become the default course of treatment for addiction in this country (clearly highly effective) that you believe in a higher power, not god, not christ but a “higher power” do you know what organization famously has a similar requirement? freemasonry, and theres a good reason for it, as you ascend in the degrees your original faith (typically christian) is chipped away at by means of the artistic use of comparative religion until you get to the top and its revealed that you are part of an at best gnostic organization but probably a satanic one (see the final chapters of morals and dogma by albert pike) but another aspect of AA that needs to be addressed is that at the start of every meeting you are to repeat a mantra to yourself, my name is (whatever your name is) and i am an alcoholic (or drug addict in the case of NA) you are also required to affirm that you have zero ability to help yourself out of addiction, that you will always be an addict etc. now im no psychologist, but doesnt this seem like an obvious form of self hypnotism? wouldnt repeating to yourself that you are an addict over and over, have deleterious effect on your ability to i dont know, stop drinking?

the jews created the social and economic misery that leads to the absolute NEED to escape for a large swathe of the public, and then it provides them with the drugs (the jewish sackler family owned purdue and are being sued for their role in the opiate epidemic at this very moment) and then convinced everyones gullible parents the best course of action for when their children were inevitably addicted, practice tough love, put your children in the street so they will turn to prostitution in order to stave off the profound sickness of acute withdrawals, pass harsh laws agaisnt them so they are locked in cages with murderers and rapists, and finally attend gnostic meetings where they hypnotize themselves into believing they are worthless addicts with no hope of saving themselves.

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alexeiadrae · 6 years

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Most people read about Anne Frank in school. What people may not know is that her family fled Germany to Amsterdam to get away from Nazism. Mr. Frank took the threat of Nazism very seriously. And when he realized that they would not be safe in Amsterdam, he tried very hard to get out. One route he tried was by applying for asylum in America. This was denied. If America had granted the Franks asylum, Anne Frank and her sister (Margot) and mother (Edith) would have survived the Holocaust.

Because Anne Frank is the most known and recognizable victim, and because for awhile I believed her story would motivate people to see that it never happened again, I want to use whatever empathy remains within people justifying what is going on in America today to put a few more things in context.

The Holocaust did not start with mass killings. It took 20 years to get to that point. It took 20 years of people tolerating and turning a blind eye to increasingly barbaric ways of dehumanizing and treating people that people in Germany saw as "not us."

The other thing I want to remind people of is that what the Franks did, going into hiding, was illegal. Their choices were go into hiding or die. The law was not just or fair. Other things that they did that were illegal? The Franks stepped up their plans to go into hiding when Margot was called to go to a work camp (code for concentration camp). By failing to report to the work camp, Margot was breaking the law. Once again, it was break the law or be killed. Miep Gies, one of the people who sheltered the Franks, also broke the law by getting counterfeit food cards to feed them. The Franks broke many laws in their desperate bid to survive the war. And given the context of their situation, breaking the law was the right and moral thing to do.

(Setting aside the fact that asking for asylum isn't breaking the law).

I want people to put themselves in the shoes of people living in situations that we are lucky to not be in, making choices that we are lucky we don't have to face, and to try to develop a sense of empathy.

And I'm asking people to watch No Asylum. If you have Amazon Prime, it is on there. Learn what happens when we dehumanize and criminalize people for having the bad luck to live in the wrong place and to want a better life for their children.

#no asylum #keep families together #anne frank #otto frank #margot frank #edith frank #miep gies #immigration #what sick country puts children in cages #ashamed to be american #beyond fed up

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himejoshi · 3 years

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you have to be terminally brainrotten to defend china's government

"but america's bad too! america does the same thing"

newsflash: two countries can be bad at the same time! two countries can be absolutely horrible at the same time! both of these countries fucking suck!!

at least american citizens actually know their people are being put in slave camps and can freely talk about it on the internet!

#sick of seeing all these posts that are like 'hey uhh china has intense human rights violations is there anything we can do to help'#and people are like UMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM AMERICA BAD TOO #yes you fucking numbskull. america is horrible. black people get put in prison for nonviolent charges and forced to do slave labor.#people are seperated from their children and their kids are put in cages #its fucking horrible in america #but guess what? the news covers it #the country knows about it #the george floyd protests? all over the media #when was the last time you heard about hong kong?#you can fight for all these causes at the same time #you can understand that both countries are colonizing human rights violators #but you don't have to defend the one where they can't even talk about it.

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stardustpinkart · 2 years

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Encanto Oc and Story!

A lot of people come up with oc girls for Bruno :P But I decided to do something a little different. This is also a Papa Bruno story, if Mirabel was his!

Carmelita, thats her name. She is shy and meek, and became friends with Bruno in there early 20′s/30′s. Both were awkard and easy targets and did not overwhelm each other. Conversations can be jittery but, there a level of comfortableness between them over time.

However things did get awkard. You know how it is, especially in certain times and countrys. How many people told you you’d like boys when you grew up, you should get married, you’ll change your mind someday?

Its annoying and confusing isent it? And thats the case for these two. They felt like they HAD to feel these things, it was normal. That if they tried it would come. But if its just not in you, it wont come.

They tried being a couple, kissing... And in one instance, sex. Expecting a feeling of love to come if they tried hard enough. But it was anything but romantic. Both were forcing it, clumsy, scared, stiff, painful. It was not ideal.

They decided to pretend it never happened, act like normal, go about there buisiness and just hang around...

Only it wasent that simple. Carmelita started getting very sick in the mornings...

It only takes once.

At firts she confronted Bruno with it who was probably in denial, no way he could be a father, it was only one time no way a baby could be coming. It lead to fights and miscommincation...

And it did not last long just between them. Somehow people found out(I dunno if Dolores overheard, or her parents noticed her sickness and weight gain, and put two and two together.)

Shit hit the fan then, especially on Carmelita’s side. Her papa was a typical man rules the house keeps his family in line with a fist type. She was terrified of him. He dragged her by her wrist screaming obscenties at the Casita, how that cursed bastardo got his daughter pregnant!

Alma was shocked to say the least... This was a fine mess.

I dunno about now, but often single mothers and there children would be badly treated. It was openly scorned, you’d be see as a shamless hussy, denied work, a place to live, even the children would be called horrible things by “those with moral values”. It was considered the norm.

So to prevent such stigmatism Alma suggested the two marry to save face. To make the best of this bad situation, the baby derserving a fathers name, etc.

They both sort of went along with it, not knowing what to do. They dident have a lot of chioce and it was hardly the child’s fault. Maybe it would be okay...

At first it was alright. They were rather happy and surpised over the baby being born, little Mirabel. But after awhile...

Both knew they werent in love with each other, all this happened by accident. I imagine there both aromantic really but trying to go with the social norm? Alotugh Carmelita wouldve liked a baby even though shes not interested in sex or romance.

Carmelita felt like a bird in a golden cage. It mightve been better than home, be she was still being ovebeared, fussed over and given rules and expected to behave a certain way. She was a Madrigal now. That, and noticing how things worked around Casita. Everyone tense and anxious, pretending to be happy, pressured to be useful to community even at a young age. Not to mention the clear effect it had on Bruno, the guys a nervous wreck.

With Abuela already gushing over how the new Baby would be an additional star to there fantastic family, Carmelita began to feel suffocated and worried over the future of her child. She dident want her child to grow up in this perfectionism. But what could she do?

Seeing her unhappy and, worried himself over the future of there child, that she might end up like him(already knowing his mothers love was conditional), he helped her leave the Encanto. It would mean not seeing her or Mirabel again but, for there own good(so like how he hid in the walls to protect her).

Carmelita and Mirabel moved to a small village, living in a small but happy house surrounded by flowers and kind people. Her mama was the one who taught Mirabel to sew, that was how they made money. Mirabel grew up free and happy, but she was aware of her father and his family. Carmelita never lied to her or spoke down about him. He was a good man but things just werent how they might like them. And she got somethign wonderful out of it, a daughter!

So she knows about the magic and the Encanto and all that, but shes never seen it. Untill, by the time shes 15, Carmelita grew terribly sick and died. She told her while she was ill to go find her papa, not wanting to leave her all alone in the world.

While she was gone and growing up, Bruno got more put down and rumours flung around the village. He was constantly threatened or pressured into telling where they went(Carmelitas father wanted to know, as did Abuela)... But he never caved in. Bruno’s very nerovus be he can also be feirce and stubborn as weve seen? He doesent even KNOW for sure, so that he coudlent be forced to tell. He refuses to do visions ever again for the same reason, just incase he would accidenlty reveal where they are(any telltale signs or recognizble landmarks).

He probably feels more self loathing, as he tends to take the blame for everything on himself, whether its his fault or not. One of the few MEN to actually try and take resposnebility in such a case. Its bad enough Mirabel has HIM for a father, people will no doubt say things or act like she’s cursed to. He’s Bruno, all he does it mess things up. He did that already, feels like he messed up Carmelitas life, she could have married to someone she loved, a NORMAL family. He felt by helping her leave it was the onyl thing he could do for her.

But he still misses her and there baby sometimes. One time he caves in, the worries in his head going round and round, and has a vision. Though he’s terrified yet again it’ll be something bad, their in dire straits.. BUT, for once, its a good vision. I figure the future can be minutes, days, or even years apart. So he might be seeing them after a few years have passed, as they would be tommorow. They look perfeclty happy. And that reassures him, that at least there safe and doing well. Perhaps keep the tablet somewhere safe like a remeberance photo? Few ever go into his room so, a good hiding place would be more than enough.

Thats all the info I have for now but might add more what if’s and possibities at a later date. I like the idea that every action exists in another universe? So, anything can happen. One thing can be canon, the other could be an alternate universe.

#artwork #fanart #encanto #encanto au #encanto oc #carmelita #bruno madrigal #mirabel madrigal #papa bruno #bruno madrigal is mirabels father!

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rebelontheroad · 4 years

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MICHELLE OBAMA FULL SPEECH (Dem Convention)

«Good evening, everyone. It’s a hard time, and everyone’s feeling it in different ways. And I know a lot of folks are reluctant to tune into a political convention right now or to politics in general. Believe me, I get that. But I am here tonight because I love this country with all my heart, and it pains me to see so many people hurting.

I’ve met so many of you. I’ve heard your stories. And through you, I have seen this country’s promise. And thanks to so many who came before me, thanks to their toil and sweat and blood, I’ve been able to live that promise myself.

That’s the story of America. All those folks who sacrificed and overcame so much in their own times because they wanted something more, something better for their kids.

There’s a lot of beauty in that story. There’s a lot of pain in it, too, a lot of struggle and injustice and work left to do. And who we choose as our president in this election will determine whether or not we honor that struggle and chip away at that injustice and keep alive the very possibility of finishing that work.

I am one of a handful of people living today who have seen firsthand the immense weight and awesome power of the presidency. And let me once again tell you this: The job is hard. It requires clearheaded judgment, a mastery of complex and competing issues, a devotion to facts and history, a moral compass, and an ability to listen — and an abiding belief that each of the 330,000,000 lives in this country has meaning and worth.

A president’s words have the power to move markets. They can start wars or broker peace. They can summon our better angels or awaken our worst instincts. You simply cannot fake your way through this job.

As I’ve said before, being president doesn’t change who you are; it reveals who you are. Well, a presidential election can reveal who we are, too. And four years ago, too many people chose to believe that their votes didn’t matter. Maybe they were fed up. Maybe they thought the outcome wouldn’t be close. Maybe the barriers felt too steep. Whatever the reason, in the end, those choices sent someone to the Oval Office who lost the national popular vote by nearly 3,000,000 votes.

In one of the states that determined the outcome, the winning margin averaged out to just two votes per precinct — two votes. And we’ve all been living with the consequences.

When my husband left office with Joe Biden at his side, we had a record-breaking stretch of job creation. We’d secured the right to health care for 20,000,000 people. We were respected around the world, rallying our allies to confront climate change. And our leaders had worked hand-in-hand with scientists to help prevent an Ebola outbreak from becoming a global pandemic.

Four years later, the state of this nation is very different. More than 150,000 people have died, and our economy is in shambles because of a virus that this president downplayed for too long. It has left millions of people jobless. Too many have lost their health care; too many are struggling to take care of basic necessities like food and rent; too many communities have been left in the lurch to grapple with whether and how to open our schools safely. Internationally, we’ve turned our back, not just on agreements forged by my husband, but on alliances championed by presidents like Reagan and Eisenhower.

And here at home, as George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and a never-ending list of innocent people of color continue to be murdered, stating the simple fact that a Black life matters is still met with derision from the nation’s highest office.

Because whenever we look to this White House for some leadership or consolation or any semblance of steadiness, what we get instead is chaos, division, and a total and utter lack of empathy.

Empathy: that’s something I’ve been thinking a lot about lately. The ability to walk in someone else’s shoes; the recognition that someone else’s experience has value, too. Most of us practice this without a second thought. If we see someone suffering or struggling, we don’t stand in judgment. We reach out because, “There, but for the grace of God, go I.” It is not a hard concept to grasp. It’s what we teach our children.

And like so many of you, Barack and I have tried our best to instill in our girls a strong moral foundation to carry forward the values that our parents and grandparents poured into us. But right now, kids in this country are seeing what happens when we stop requiring empathy of one another. They’re looking around wondering if we’ve been lying to them this whole time about who we are and what we truly value.

They see people shouting in grocery stores, unwilling to wear a mask to keep us all safe. They see people calling the police on folks minding their own business just because of the color of their skin. They see an entitlement that says only certain people belong here, that greed is good, and winning is everything because as long as you come out on top, it doesn’t matter what happens to everyone else. And they see what happens when that lack of empathy is ginned up into outright disdain.

They see our leaders labeling fellow citizens enemies of the state while emboldening torch-bearing white supremacists. They watch in horror as children are torn from their families and thrown into cages, and pepper spray and rubber bullets are used on peaceful protesters for a photo op.

Sadly, this is the America that is on display for the next generation. A nation that’s underperforming not simply on matters of policy but on matters of character. And that’s not just disappointing; it’s downright infuriating, because I know the goodness and the grace that is out there in households and neighborhoods all across this nation.

And I know that regardless of our race, age, religion, or politics, when we close out the noise and the fear and truly open our hearts, we know that what’s going on in this country is just not right. This is not who we want to be.

So what do we do now? What’s our strategy? Over the past four years, a lot of people have asked me, “When others are going so low, does going high still really work?” My answer: going high is the only thing that works, because when we go low, when we use those same tactics of degrading and dehumanizing others, we just become part of the ugly noise that’s drowning out everything else. We degrade ourselves. We degrade the very causes for which we fight.

But let’s be clear: going high does not mean putting on a smile and saying nice things when confronted by viciousness and cruelty. Going high means taking the harder path. It means scraping and clawing our way to that mountain top. Going high means standing fierce against hatred while remembering that we are one nation under God, and if we want to survive, we’ve got to find a way to live together and work together across our differences.

And going high means unlocking the shackles of lies and mistrust with the only thing that can truly set us free: the cold, hard truth.

So let me be as honest and clear as I possibly can. Donald Trump is the wrong president for our country. He has had more than enough time to prove that he can do the job, but he is clearly in over his head. He cannot meet this moment. He simply cannot be who we need him to be for us. It is what it is.

Now, I understand that my message won’t be heard by some people. We live in a nation that is deeply divided, and I am a Black woman speaking at the Democratic Convention. But enough of you know me by now. You know that I tell you exactly what I’m feeling. You know I hate politics. But you also know that I care about this nation. You know how much I care about all of our children.

So if you take one thing from my words tonight, it is this: if you think things cannot possibly get worse, trust me, they can; and they will if we don’t make a change in this election. If we have any hope of ending this chaos, we have got to vote for Joe Biden like our lives depend on it.

I know Joe. He is a profoundly decent man, guided by faith. He was a terrific vice president. He knows what it takes to rescue an economy, beat back a pandemic, and lead our country. And he listens. He will tell the truth and trust science. He will make smart plans and manage a good team. And he will govern as someone who’s lived a life that the rest of us can recognize.

When he was a kid, Joe’s father lost his job. When he was a young senator, Joe lost his wife and his baby daughter. And when he was vice president, he lost his beloved son. So Joe knows the anguish of sitting at a table with an empty chair, which is why he gives his time so freely to grieving parents. Joe knows what it’s like to struggle, which is why he gives his personal phone number to kids overcoming a stutter of their own.

His life is a testament to getting back up, and he is going to channel that same grit and passion to pick us all up, to help us heal and guide us forward.

Now, Joe is not perfect. And he’d be the first to tell you that. But there is no perfect candidate, no perfect president. And his ability to learn and grow — we find in that the kind of humility and maturity that so many of us yearn for right now. Because Joe Biden has served this nation his entire life without ever losing sight of who he is; but more than that, he has never lost sight of who we are, all of us.

Joe Biden wants all of our kids to go to a good school, see a doctor when they’re sick, live on a healthy planet. And he’s got plans to make all of that happen. Joe Biden wants all of our kids, no matter what they look like, to be able to walk out the door without worrying about being harassed or arrested or killed. He wants all of our kids to be able to go to a movie or a math class without being afraid of getting shot. He wants all our kids to grow up with leaders who won’t just serve themselves and their wealthy peers but will provide a safety net for people facing hard times.

And if we want a chance to pursue any of these goals, any of these most basic requirements for a functioning society, we have to vote for Joe Biden in numbers that cannot be ignored. Because right now, folks who know they cannot win fair and square at the ballot box are doing everything they can to stop us from voting. They’re closing down polling places in minority neighborhoods. They’re purging voter rolls. They’re sending people out to intimidate voters, and they’re lying about the security of our ballots. These tactics are not new.

But this is not the time to withhold our votes in protest or play games with candidates who have no chance of winning. We have got to vote like we did in 2008 and 2012. We’ve got to show up with the same level of passion and hope for Joe Biden. We’ve got to vote early, in person if we can. We’ve got to request our mail-in ballots right now, tonight, and send them back immediately and follow-up to make sure they’re received. And then, make sure our friends and families do the same.

We have got to grab our comfortable shoes, put on our masks, pack a brown bag dinner and maybe breakfast too, because we’ve got to be willing to stand in line all night if we have to.

Look, we have already sacrificed so much this year. So many of you are already going that extra mile. Even when you’re exhausted, you’re mustering up unimaginable courage to put on those scrubs and give our loved ones a fighting chance. Even when you’re anxious, you’re delivering those packages, stocking those shelves, and doing all that essential work so that all of us can keep moving forward.

Even when it all feels so overwhelming, working parents are somehow piecing it all together without child care. Teachers are getting creative so that our kids can still learn and grow. Our young people are desperately fighting to pursue their dreams.

And when the horrors of systemic racism shook our country and our consciences, millions of Americans of every age, every background rose up to march for each other, crying out for justice and progress.

This is who we still are: compassionate, resilient, decent people whose fortunes are bound up with one another. And it is well past time for our leaders to once again reflect our truth.

So, it is up to us to add our voices and our votes to the course of history, echoing heroes like John Lewis who said, “When you see something that is not right, you must say something. You must do something.” That is the truest form of empathy: not just feeling, but doing; not just for ourselves or our kids, but for everyone, for all our kids.

And if we want to keep the possibility of progress alive in our time, if we want to be able to look our children in the eye after this election, we have got to reassert our place in American history. And we have got to do everything we can to elect my friend, Joe Biden, as the next president of the United States.

Thank you all. God bless.»

Michelle Obama

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

Misread Details: Robert

CW: Dehumanizing language, BBU blanket warning, serial killer/death talk, descriptions of death/abduction/murder, blood, whumper death, some real vague implied noncon references, creepy whumper, sadistic whumper

Part One: Nanda | Part Two: Brute | Part Three: Robert

The Dark Discovery in Robert Weber’s Basement: Box Boy Killer, Part 3

r/LetsTalkTrueCrime

•Posted by u/oshaycanyousee

3 days ago

After Part One, where we learned about the mysterious, but possibly entirely natural, death of Nathaniel “Nanda” Benson, and Part Two, where we saw Henry “Brute” Hanlon’s double life lead to his untimely gruesome murder, you see the single thread that connects these two men who otherwise never met, interacted, or even shared a single person in common… a nameless Box Boy, present at the death of Nanda even if he isn’t responsible for it, and the proven killer of Brute.

It’s my theory that this Box Boy may have accidentally killed his legal owner, Nanda, and then picked up a taste for the act and moved on to taking shelter with those he turns into his victims.

With Brute, he simply didn’t know the man had a wife and children and entire other life, and may have assumed no one would come looking for him or recognize his death. With our third individual, Robert Weber, it seems like our Box Boy Serial Killer got in over his head.

I give you… the Accidental Vigilante death of Robert Weber.

You decide if our unknown killer is simply the unluckiest guy in the world or a killer who even now may be somewhere living with - and earning the trust of - his next victim.

One bright and sunny day in the quaint, old-fashioned California town of Rancher’s Rest, Robert Weber was late for work.

Weber worked in a vehicle repair business owned by lifelong “RR” resident Randy Niles, who had known Weber since his childhood and had been his boss since Weber was eighteen years old and fresh out of high school.

Niles, who is now nearly seventy-five and still spends his days in the shop with an Australian Shepherd named Cody and a blind pit bull named Sue keeping him company everywhere he goes, stated that Weber had no living family he knew of beyond his sister in Vermont, and he was just about the closest thing Weber had to a relative just from having known him so long.

“He didn’t have too much to do with his sister,” Randy said in an interview with Unsolved Mysteries. (You can see the interview on the new Netflix reboot of the show! It’s a really good episode, definitely recommend. It’s how I got into this case in the first place.) “Or nobody, really. Just us at work, the guys at the bar, that kinda thing. He was quiet, kept to himself really. You’d never just strike up a chat around town or anything. But he got on just fine with the boys here in the shop. He was a bit of an egghead, too, always going on about this thing or that he’d seen on the news. Little… odd. Little bit off, you might say. But really, who isn’t? In any case, you know, I’d known him since he was a little boy, so he was just Bobby Weber to me.”

Then, of course, one day Robert Weber didn’t show up to work. Randy Niles immediately felt that something was very wrong.

“When nine, nine-thirty came and went and he wasn’t there,” Niles said, “I knew someone needed to go check on him. Bobby showed up for work right on time or ten minutes early, rain or shine, for twenty years. My first thought was maybe he’d had an accident at home, or some kind of, you know, health thing. Almost never called in sick, took one vacation a year, that kinda thing. So I drove right on over there. This would’ve been, oh, probably ten or ten-fifteen when I got to the house. Had my dogs with me, and they never did like Bobby much, but as soon as I opened my door and got out of my truck they just lost their damn minds. Barking, growling, Cody’s hackles were up like you wouldn’t believe. I know it sounds damn crazy, but I’m sure those dogs could smell that evil had been done in that house.”

On camera, Niles goes quiet, here, his gaze slipping away from the interviewer as he scratches at the side of his nose. When he looks back, the hint of good humor that seems to be an eternal part of his expression is gone.

“I didn’t know what Bobby had been up to all this time. None of us knew. I’ve known Bobby Weber his whole life, and I… I had no idea.”

Randy Niles was unable to convince his two dogs to exit the truck, and eventually rolled down the windows to give them some air and a way out if they chose (he is insistent on this point in the Unsolved Mysteries episode - “don’t you dare say I left my dogs locked up in a truck on a sunny day, I sure didn’t - Cody even knows how to pull a door handle if it’s the right kind”) and got out to knock on Robert Weber’s front door.

No one answered.

Niles knocked again. Still no response.

The front door was locked, but Niles was able to locate an unlocked back door into the garage, where he found Weber’s car neatly parked and nothing out of place. However, once he used an interior door in the garage to enter Weber’s home, what he found was so shocking he still struggles to describe it today.

“The, uh. The first thing I saw,” Niles says in the Unsolved Mysteries episode, wiping at his mouth with a handkerchief, “was a cage. Big old cage in the living room. Like a kennel for a big dog, Great Dane or something, except… except, you know, kennels’re usually mostly wire, not that heavy. You can fold ‘em up, put ‘em away. This was… geez. This was pure metal. Bunch of blankets all piled at the bottom, too. Here’s the-... you know, my mind just didn’t want to even make the thought, but I just, I looked at it and-”

In the episode, Niles has to take another moment, here. His eyes grow wet, and his voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “People cage. Bobby had a damn man-sized cage in his living room. That’s when my stomach just fell out. Even then, though, I couldn’t-... I just thought, oh, well, what people get up to in their own homes is their business. But still, I just. I just decided, find Bobby, figure the rest out later. So I kept walking around looking for him.”

Randy Niles continued to call out, hoping to hear Weber’s response, but received none… at first. The radio in the kitchen was playing a local public radio station (“Bobby always hated the country western and classic rock we played at work, he was a big news man, big into classical, jazz, you know.”)

Niles noticed, he says, that the cage next to the couch had a wooden top, as though it were meant to act as a side table, and on that table was a small woven basket. Inside the basket appeared to be several State IDs and Driver’s licenses. Niles took note of this but his first assumption was maybe that Robert Weber had stolen some IDs or something.

Which was technically true, just… not quite the way he thought.

The kitchen, hallway, and all three bedrooms were equally empty of life. Every room was clean, everything neatly in place. Empty bottles of Jameson whiskey, Weber’s favorite brand, were lined up like décor along the mantel, and one half-full bottle was next to two clean, empty glasses on the kitchen table.

Even the beds were perfectly made.

The only thing missing was any sign of Robert Weber himself.

The question of Weber’s whereabouts was answered when Randy Niles heard a sound coming from the open door to Weber’s unfinished dirt basement.

“Like a ghost,” Niles said in his interview. “Just this low moaning sound. Hardly even thought of it as human, you know. But I just-... I called out, ‘Bobby? That you?’ and the moaning got a little louder, like whoever it was was tryin’ to answer. I could still hear my girls in the truck just going nuts, probably worried about me knowing what they maybe could smell even out there. I figured… I figured I’d best call the cops and get them out here. Seemed like a plan. So I picked up my phone and dialed, and then I headed down those basement steps.”

What Randy Niles discovered in Robert Weber’s basement was a dying man, battered and stabbed eight times, lying in a half-dug grave.

Robert Weber had been beaten with the very shovel that had done the digging. The shovel lay off to the side, caked in dirt and blood. Police would find some of Robert Weber’s hair on it, too. Then, the individual who had beaten him had gone back upstairs - blood smears were found on the railing to the stairs - and taken a kitchen knife out of the knife block on the countertop. A bloody fingerprint was found on the side of the knife block. They had then returned to the basement where Weber was stabbed, almost entirely through the stomach and chest, twenty-six times, until the cheap knife simply broke from the force.

Randy Niles admitted in his interview that he became very ill at this time. “From the shock,” He elaborated. “I haven’t been able to smell much since I was in a car wreck when I was young, so I didn’t smell what-... what my girls prob’ly smelled from outside, and what the cops smelled. To me, it was just… just a little off, is all. It was the sight of it that got to me, not the smell. The sight of the-... the hand.”

Behind Robert Weber’s body, the hand of another person was sticking up out of the loose dirt, as though someone was trying to dig their way out.

“I remember… I remember her nail polish was pink. That’s when I got sick, actually, was when I saw that hand with the painted nails. That’s when it just hit me all at once what Bobby had done.”

Randy Niles went back up the stairs and waited for the cops to arrive. Rancher’s Rest is a small town where everybody knows just about everybody else, and Niles was on a first-name basis with every single police officer he spoke to that day and in the days after. He would learn alongside the investigation that Robert Weber was not simply the quiet, intellectual car mechanic he had always seemed.

Instead, Robert Weber was a serial killer whose potential final victim had managed a miraculous, deadly escape.

Robert Weber never answered a single question about his own murder - he never fully regained consciousness and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. His injuries were simply too severe. His autopsy showed that the cause of death was a stab wound that went deep into his chest and that he was first stabbed only after the beating with the shovel had taken place. Like Brute, most of his stab wounds were applied post-mortem in a rage rather than as part of the killing itself.

Medical examiners also found scratches on Weber’s face and arms, indicating that he had attempted to defend himself - or someone else had attempted to defend themself from him.

So why was Robert Weber killed, and why was there already a body in his basement? Investigators would piece together the story over the following days and weeks from a crime scene that only seemed to become darker and more baffling as time went on.

Excavating the basement was originally thought to be something that would be brief, but after the first body was removed, another one was found beneath it. Then another off to the side of that. And another, although this was simply bones.

Every time the forensics team thought they’d found the last human bone, they dug a little deeper or in a new spot and found more.

Eventually, the remains of twenty-two individuals would be removed from the basement of Robert Weber’s home, not including Weber himself. The oldest located victim was identified as Melinda Traxson, an Iowa woman reported missing by her family after she ran away in March of 1996… more than two decades before Robert Weber didn’t come to work one day.

Investigators are still working to match up every body with a missing persons’ case. For nearly all of them, the cause of death could not be easily ascertained due to the deterioration of the remains, but some showed signs of skull fractures. Identified individuals so far include:

Melinda Traxson, 19, from Iowa, ran away from home in 1996.

Billie Mortimer, 21, disappeared from a day out with friends at Lake Tahoe one year later in the summer of 1997. Her friends went to get lunch from the car after a swim and when they returned, she was gone.

Matthew Ranger, 22, went missing during a road trip to Yellowstone National Park in 1997 (only five months after Billie). His car was found abandoned by the side of the road with a flat tire.

Karl Janssen, 24, a tourist from the Netherlands who was also visiting Yellowstone, disappeared a month after Matthew. Last seen by an employee of the park who witnessed him speaking with another young man and getting into the man’s car. The employee said that the two seemed to be friendly with one another and did not seem like strangers.

Hannah Pointer, 26. She was reported missing in 1999 by her mother after failing to return home from work in Reno, Nevada. This disappearance occurred more than a year after Karl Janssen’s. Investigators would later discover that during this time period, Robert Weber dated a young woman from his hometown and he may not have wanted to risk her finding out what he was doing.

Isaac Jackson, 26, a Rancher’s Rest resident who disappeared after going out to a local bar to see his friend’s band play in 2000. His car was found submerged in a small pond two years later. This is the first time Weber apparently killed anyone close to home. He was actually briefly suspected in Jackson’s death, as he was the last person noted to see Jackson alive, but was cleared of suspicion at the time.

Dustin Swill, 21, who was driving from Colorado to California to visit his sister who had moved to Berras to work for WRU in 2001. He was last seen in a gas station near Yellowstone, where employees noted he spoke to a man who was smoking outside, who gave him a cigarette. When Swill left, employees saw the man put out his cigarette and leave shortly after. They did not find this unusual or noteworthy at the time.

Maria Vargas, 25, a Rancher’s Rest resident who was reported missing in 2002. Her family is intensely private and have shared few details about her, but it is known that her boyfriend at the time suspected Weber, who had attempted to convince her to leave the boyfriend for him and had apparently threatened her. He remained a suspect but there was never enough evidence to charge him.

Jennifer Striker, 28, from who never arrived for an appointment with a realtor in 2011. The long pause between Maria Vargas’s murder and Jennifer’s appeared to be due to Weber keeping a man named Finn Schneider within his home for more than a year after abducting him, as well as Weber serving five years in prison for a violent assault on a man he believed had sold him a defective vehicle. (Schneider was no longer in the home before the assault and prison time.)

Riley Nievelt, 25, was staying at the Big Meadow Campground with six friends during a weeklong vacation in 2012. She vanished while on a trip to purchase supplies. Her cell phone was found on the ground in the parking lot of the Food Lion in Rancher’s Rest, a short and easy drive away. At this time, with multiple individuals vanishing after being seen in Rancher’s Rest or being residents of the town, police begin to suspect and start hunting for a possible serial killer.

Alexander Peterson, 29, was a long-haul driver who vanished while working. He was last seen at a rest stop in 2014 on the California/Nevada state line, and would likely have passed right through Rancher’s Rest on his journey. He was reported missing by his ex-wife in South Dakota when he did not return as scheduled for a custodial visit.

The most recent victim, and owner of the hand that Randy Niles saw sticking up out of the dirt, was Yolanda Pierce, 26. She was a Rancher’s Rest resident with a troubled relationship with her husband, who had stormed out after an argument and was never seen again. She is believed to have died the same day as Robert Weber.

More remains exist but have not yet been identified. If you or anyone you know has a friend or family member who went missing during this time period in or near Rancher’s Rest, Yellowstone National Park, or Death Valley, it may be worth looking into, as those appear to be Robert Weber’s “hunting grounds”.

Disappearances in Yellowstone and Death Valley almost always matched up with Robert taking one of his rare weeklong vacations from work.

When investigators located three large diaries hidden inside a locked box in Weber’s closet, the first two fully filled up and the third nearly two-thirds finished, they found an exhaustively detailed record of Robert Weber’s crimes.

In these records, they discovered Weber’s first three victims were killed within 24 hours of abduction, with the rest being kept alive for longer and longer time periods. It is believed all of them met their end in Robert Weber’s basement.

Diary entries included records of two victims who were not a part of the bodies buried in Weber’s basement, both of whom may still be alive:

Finn Schneider, 19, a German tourist who disappeared in 2003 during a visit to Death Valley. Until Weber’s journals were found, it was believed he had perished in the park and had simply never been found. Robert Weber also visited Death Valley during this time. No one linked the two together. Evidence found in Weber’s home after his death, including the aforementioned diary entries and photographs, shows that Schneider was alive in Weber’s home for nearly sixteen months. It is believed Weber purchased the “human cage” that Randy Niles noticed around this time. The last diary entry that mentions Schneider states that he was “traded” on June 16th, 2005, to an individual only referred to as “Mouse.” What Weber received in exchange is unclear, but he was seen driving a new, custom-painted truck around this time, which he said he bought “from a personal ad” when asked by Niles about it. Schneider has never been found. However, his mother did receive a phone call in 2013 from an individual she believes to be her son, telling her that “Finn” was okay and to stop looking for him.

Our Box Boy, 334235, purchased by Nathaniel Benson years prior, whose whereabouts had been unknown since he murdered Brute Hanlon. Weber believed the Box Boy to be in his early twenties, according to his diary entries, and mentioned that he had picked the Boxie up hitchhiking and had intended to kill him before seeing the barcode on the inside of his left wrist and changing his mind. His diary suggests the Box Boy remained in his possession for roughly a fourteen months prior to Weber’s murder. Police have not released the details of what the Boxie was subjected to during this time, stating only that it is not the public’s interest for this information to be known, and they would like to locate the missing Boxie and interview him about certain details.

Four murders occurred during the time the Boxie was kept by Robert Weber. Weber noted that “the dog helped” with either murder or burial, suggesting that he may have worked as Weber’s accomplice in his terrible crimes.

Is it possible that they bonded over a shared urge to kill? Did the Boxie start a captive and become a companion?

Weber’s diary contained other disturbing facts, as well:

Weber also noted three failed abduction attempts in detail, in 1998, 2004, and 2017. In each he described with incredible precision of memory the appearances and descriptions of each person he failed to capture. He also appeared to do intensive research using their license plates and other information to find out where they lived and who they were. The names of these individuals have been kept quiet for privacy reasons.

Other failed abductions were noted, about one per year, without much detail. Or at least not enough for police officers to know who they were. Nearly all these failures were in one of three locations: Yellowstone National Park, Stanislaus National Forest and nearby campgrounds, and in or near Death Valley.

The last entry in Robert Weber’s diary was penned the day of his death.

NOTE: Weber referred to the Boxie as “the dog” in nearly all his journal entries. His last entry went:

May 6th, 20XX: The dog is pissed about something again. He’s always pissed about something. I think the thing in the basement probably kept him up all night with her caterwauling. He never gets used to the noises they make. God knows I can’t sleep either, at least not well. I’ll handle her tonight, have a drink with the dog after, see if that shuts up his nonsense for a while. Note: missed NPR interview with Senator Carlotta Grant on new leg. about the bb prohibition act. Find that on website later.

Found in Weber’s home, in boxes under his bed, were a series of restraints made of leather, high-quality items that appear to be custom-ordered to specific measurements. These included “gloves” intended to keep someone from being able to claw or scratch in their own defense, five sets of cuffs, a body harness, a leather half-face-mask that police referred to as a “muzzle”, several gags, some of which were deemed to be “designed to cause injury to the inside of the mouth”, and “other assorted items for use in torture and torment”.

You can find some leaked police docs online that go into more detail, but suffice to say they pretty much match the kinds of “toys” found in Nathaniel Benson and Brute Hanlon’s homes, too. And apparently, if you really know where to look, you can find some blurry low-quality photos Weber took, too.

While the items are a bit salacious, they aren’t entirely uncommon in consensual relationships, too, so it’s really not clear if they’re evidence of the Boxie being held against his will or not.

The investigation of the crime scene suggests that at some point after writing his final diary entry, Robert Weber made himself a pizza, which he ate half of and put the rest away in the fridge. His shaving cream and razor were found out on his sink, and Weber’s body was clean-shaven, suggesting he shaved shortly before his death.

He then watched three episodes of Law & Order: SVU. We know this because he texted during this time with his only living relative, the sister in Vermont. Little is known about Weber’s family and childhood, beyond his sister’s recounting of a quiet, strained home life with an overbearing mother and her mention that Robert endured several head injuries as a child and adolescent, including one that hospitalized him for days.

After he finished watching TV, Weber entered the basement and murdered Yolanda Pierce. It is believed he took the Box Boy downstairs with him, either as accomplice or witness. At some point while he was disposing of Yolanda Pierce’s remains, the Boxie became enraged for one reason or another, beat him with a shovel, got the kitchen knife from upstairs and stabbed him to death, and then left the house.

A neighbor remembers hearing odd noises around 3:30 AM and looking out their window to see a shadowy figure walking quickly down the road, but they weren’t able to see well enough to say whether or not the individual matches the description and WRU-provided photos of the Boxie. It does seem reasonable, though, to assume that the neighbor witnessed the Boxie fleeing the scene of the crime.

The Box Boy has never been seen again.

Police are pretty mum about the active investigation into the Box Boy’s whereabouts. I was able to get ahold of one source closely related to a member of the investigative team who said that there’s just not a lot of urgency. “Weber killed nearly two dozen people, just that we know of,” The source said. “The cops are a little bit ‘good riddance to bad rubbish’ about the situation. Unless the Boxie comes back to RR, they’re just inclined to let sleeping dogs lie.”

The sense of “let it be someone else’s problem” would be understandable… if this Box Boy weren’t responsible for one other direct murder, possibly two.

Police believe the Boxie has not left California, and is likely to be continuing to survive by engaging in prostitution or perhaps panhandling or some other hidden way of making money. Unconfirmed sightings have been located in three cities in central California, but all of these are unverified and should be taken with a grain of salt.

It’s also possible he hooked up with a pet liberation movement group, in which case he may be hiding out in a safehouse, protected from the consequences of his actions by the pet lib movement’s understandable insistence on total secrecy and anonymity for the Boxies they take in.

If he’s an innocent victim of circumstance, that’s fair.

If he’s a burgeoning serial killer with three victims under his belt and a taste for inflicting terrible violence on those who take him in… well… anyone who gives him shelter may be next.

Is our Boxie a purposeful killer or just supremely, almost incomprehensibly unlucky? Will he kill again? Was he Robert Weber’s accomplice or his victim?

Will he strike again?

Should there be an audit of WRU’s psychological testing on potential sign-ups to see if, perhaps, a Box Boy-wannabe with an urge to kill slipped through the cracks?

What do you think?

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @burtlederp @whump-tr0pes @raigash @eatyourdamnpears @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @boxboysandotherwhump @outofangband @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @thehopelessopus @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @butwhatifyouwrite @newandfiguringitout @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @oops-its-whump @endless-whump @cubeswhump @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @whumpiary

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

Text

Guess it’s good brother dream brain rot time now that we’ve pretty much canonized phoenix Tommy in it. I must now do my proper due diligence. Adding in my two cents and furthering the spread of my brand, phoenix Tommy.

When Tommy is a little tiny thing Phil does everything in his power to try and keep it quiet that Tommy isn’t a regular avian hybrid, but a phoenix. Things like phoenixes, dragons, or other mythical avians are extremely rare mutations that happen seemingly without any reason but will often reoccur within the same bloodline more often than not.

Phil is something mythical. Maybe a dragon, maybe a griffin, maybe even something a little less well known like the zhenniao, yatagarasu, or alicanto. Either way he’s something mythical, it runs in his blood. It ends up running in Tommy’s too. Phil is one of the few mythological avians who doesn’t hide his features because people are usually far too fearful of both him an Technoblade to do anything. Unfortunately, what people weren’t scared of was the idea of trying to kidnap a child.

There were attempts to steal away Wilbur when he was little. Before he started presenting and turned out to be just your regular avian. There were fewer attempts when it came to Tommy. There was unfortunately one attempt that ended up being successful, he was stolen from the cradle and subsequently lost in a skirmish when Techno and Phil caught up to the man who took Tommy.

Dream found baby Tommy floating along in the river, figured the kid was probably abandoned since he’d heard of orphaned children being floated down rivers and never seen again, and subsequently took Tommy in.

Everything was fine and okay for a couple years and Tommy was quickly accepted into the family. Unfortunately when Tommy turned five his traits started to come in and he nearly burned down the house. The family didn’t want to abandon Tommy but realizing he was a mythical avian was a problem to say the least. So Dream, having recently become an active admin, gathered up his things and left with Tommy. He didn’t blame his family for their worries but he wasn’t going to abandon his little brother either. Not when he’d found Tommy. Not when he’d been the one to practically raise Tommy.

Dream and Tommy were very distrustful of strangers still for obvious reasons and Tommy was pretty much stuck wearing the mask in order to protect himself, but Dream did what he could. Dream didn’t originally wear a mask actually, he decided they should match as a way to make Tommy feel bad for always having to wear the mask when he didn’t want to. He found private places that were safe where Tommy could practice flying and stretch his wings since Dream was super concerned early on about them atrophying and never being able to properly carry Tommy. Sure, it was too dangerous for Tommy to actively go flying often, but Dream didn’t want to accidentally ruin Tommy’s chances of ever being able to fly. The most important facet of their relationship is that he wanted to protect Tommy but never cage him.

When Dream first took control of the Dream SMP it was originally so he could make it a safe space for himself and Tommy, only allowing his few friends who knew about Tommy and what he was to join, like Sapnap and George who have a super good relationship with both Dream and Tommy in this au. Dream is still super jumpy and protective of Tommy and Tommy trusts people a lot less, but Tommy also acts as something of an ambassador in Dream’s interpersonal relationships, keeping Dream from becoming too jumpy and letting them decay. Similarly Dream taught Tommy to be a lot more cautious of strangers and this Tommy is a heck of a lot stronger having grown up with a pvp legend like Dream.

When other people started joining it was still a controlled enough environment that while cautious, Dream let Tommy “play” for lack of a better word. Three canon lives is a rule everywhere that everyone has to abide by, regardless of what admin you’re living under. The admin doesn’t get to decide what’s canon either, it’s something seemingly up to chance. Or maybe the gods. No one knows what makes being pushed off a cliff by your mortal enemy so different from falling off one by your own stupidity, but some people theorize it’s the intention of the action.

Obviously this isn’t a rule that applies to Tommy. They both know it, him and Dream. And here’s the thing. Some legends say that there are no draw backs to a phoenix dying. Others say that too many deaths too quickly will slowly harm the phoenix. Both of these are false. A phoenix needs deaths. Canon deaths. The same way that kids needs to be tossed in the air and spun around to help develop their brains as really little kids, a phoenix needs to die repeatedly for their brains and bodies to properly mature fully and in a healthy manner. It’s an actual necessity for them to die, in fact, too few canon deaths run the risk of a phoenix getting sick and dying permanently.

So when new people join the Dream SMP, Dream doesn’t hesitate letting Tommy side against him. It’s an unspoken rule between them. Good brother Dream goes pretty similar to canon up until Pogtopia actually. Dream doesn’t hesitate to take those two canon lives and Tommy intentionally misses during their duel. He ends up with way more canon deaths than just two, and he keeps secret what they are from the rest of the SMP, saying the two times Dream killed him were the canon two. Each time he dies his magic gets a little stronger, his feathers taking on an even glossier coat. He still gets pissed at Eret after the betrayal because everyone else doesn’t have unlimited canon lives, but Dream shushes and reassures him that if anyone does die permanently then he’ll help Tommy bring them back.

Phoenixes are creatures tied to the frayed and broken bridge that crosses life and death. Just like they can’t die and have dominance over flames, another power of the phoenixes is that they’re uniquely skilled when it comes to necromancy. Real necromancy. Not the human equivalent that brings back soulless husks with a tendency for destruction and malevolence. A phoenix is the only creature that can bring a soul back from the dead in tact. Tommy knows this by merit of instinct, and did it only once before for the sake of Dream. Regular people know this by merit of books like the one Schlatt tries to trade Dream.

So Dream and Tommy mostly put on an act while the war is happening but then act all buddy buddy and like actual brothers off the battle fields which confuses everyone (besides the already aware George and Sapnap) and mildly upsets Wilbur, but everyone just kinda gets used to it.

Until Pogtopia. Because we need some kind of conflict I’m giving Schlatt a very special role. Schlatt was a hybrid who got captured by poachers as a child and sold into the hybrid slave trade. He was one of the lucky few who turned the tables and managed to earn his freedom, ultimately turning towards being a poacher himself. Schlatt comes to L'manberg and becomes president with the intention of selling every hybrid in the country, in the Dream SMP as a whole, to his traders. The reason he chose the Dream SMP specifically? Well, wouldn’t you know it, he’s heard rumors that apparently there’s a phoenix hiding around somewhere. Not to mention the Dream SMP is absolutely loaded with hybrids because of Dream’s rather public policy about hybrid tolerance (he isn’t a hybrid, but he knows the affect being a hybrid has had on Sapnap and he still fears for Tommy so he tries to make somewhere that maybe one day Tommy can be open about what he is.)

Schlatt can’t immediately tell it’s Tommy who’s the phoenix because Tommy himself is an even rarer variation of phoenix called a soul flame phoenix, which is why his eyes and wings are a soul fire blue. Schlatt came in expecting crimson and our boy is out here with wings that look like the place where the sky meets the sea. Schlatt even dismisses Tommy initially and starts investigating some of the people who look human or avians with orange and yellow feathers. This is also why Phil can’t immediately recognize Tommy when he joins the SMP. While he can hide them with magic, Tommy usually has his wings on display since the Dream SMP is designed to be a safe space for hybrids. This Dream doesn’t have a ban on flying (he thought about it, maybe setting aside specific areas where winged hybrids could exercise, but it was quickly scrapped via Tommy repeatedly throwing himself off cliffs and then remembering he wasn’t supposed to be flying, immediately letting himself drop and die. Some of those ‘accidents’ were even canon and Dream just gave up on the rule.)

For this AU, I imagine that Dream would be a bit more in tune with people and empathetic so he’d probably call in Techno and Phil for help when he sees Wilbur starting to take a dive. Both out of worry for his own younger brother who’s sticking by Wilbur and consideration for the fact Wilbur himself took something of an older brother role. Sure he was a little jealous, but he understand well enough that everyone who meets Tommy either falls into one of two categories. They hate the kid and want him dead or they want to be his older sibling who’d burn down the world if he asked them to. George and Sapnap can both attest to the fact there are only two types of people in this world when it comes to Tommy and people usually start as the first before slowly becoming the second.

So Techno and Phil show up early which is really good because Schlatt finally reveals his true intentions and neither Techno nor Phil are very chill with them. I dunno how the reveal will go between them and Tommy yet. I don’t even know for Good Brother Dream if we’re having Techno be a family friend or older brother so hard to say.

Anyway, I think that’d probably be where the main plot kinda starts to kick off so I’ll stop there for now. If I go for too much longer I’ll just end up wanting to write it…

#dream smp #dream smp au #good brother dream au #philza #ph1lza #tommyinnit #wilbur soot #dream #dreamwastaken #sapnap #georgenotfound #jschlatt #technoblade #submission #snapdragon & firefly

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: I felt evil..

Also cross country sucks, now I feel sick.

But I gift longish chapter!

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Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 4:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: trauma flash backs, cussing, mentions of character death, fear.

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Chapter 5: Rocky Road

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Techno certainly didn’t expect Tubbo’s sudden outburst. Still Techno sort of expected bitterness towards the human.

The droneling marched off presumably to go to the garden. He shoved Wilbur out of the way and continued speaking gibberish.

“What’s with Tubbo?” The phantom asked, casting worried glances towards the door.

“He just threatened the human.” Techno said as if it wasn’t the most stupid move on Tubbo’s part. Wilbur’s eyes grew wide and he attempted to run to the holding cell, only to be stopped by Techno’s hand on his shoulder. The phantom sighed before turning towards the guard.

Silently the pair made their way to the common room. Flicking on the illusion projector, and turning the channel with the ISF news. Techno opened a novel not paying any mind to the news reporter who was going over the case that Techno had just escaped.

There weren't any further advances on the story other than what they knew. The ship had crashed on Omar, a nature preserve, which led the ISF to find eight human bodies and twelve recognized crew members. Though there were fourteen to begin with, not that the news knew that of course. The ship was also deemed as a poacher ship and not much else was discovered.

After the story was covered a different news reporter came on screen. He was shifting his papers nervously and glanced down every so often. This caused Techno to close his novel and pay attention to the illusion.

“Just one day ago, one of the Dream Team crew members quit.” The news reporter took a shaky breath before continuing, “Today the crew has reported that the ex-crew member had taken one of the humans they were using for testing.” A picture of Tommy appeared on screen, “This is what the human looks like. We advise citizens to be on the lookout for this man,” a picture of Wilbur popped onto the screen, “and the human. If you see either one in public do not engage and immediately report it to one of your stationed guards.” The man finished and Wilbur immediately flicked off the TV.

Him and Techno shared a glance of pure shock. Wilbur shed a couple blue tears and immediately started panicking. The guard wrapped his brother until a tight hug and fought off the voices chants of “NOT SAFE”. Silence drew the pair into an unsteady atmosphere.

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“Honestly that kid is a burden. I don’t know why you think we can take care of him.” A lady said, fury wasn’t hidden behind a fake smile at this point. The man standing next to her nodded silently.

“Ma’am, I don't understand what you’re saying.” Another lady responded, patience running thin.

Tommy held back the tears that were threatening to fall. His lip was already bleeding and his fingers felt raw. His bruises were itching uncomfortably under his tight shirt. He was starting to overheat, yet kept his jacket wrapped around him protectively.

“What I am saying is, we don’t want him, and I doubt anyone else will.” The lady started, “That kid is a nuisance. He makes our children look problematic, when in reality he is the problem child. I don’t understand how his parents put up with him for so long.” The lady finished.

“Only my mother put up with me,” Tommy thought, “my father couldn’t spare me a glance without yelling at me..”

He sat in the waiting room for what felt like hours before making the decision. The one that caused him to live on the streets.

He took his bag and sprinted out of the facility. He just kept running, nowhere to go and no money to use.

….

Suddenly it was a different night. He was sitting on a park bench looking at the stars. He was somewhere in Colorado, not sure how he made it here, but here he was. He breathed in the fresher air and pushed himself up.

He turned left then right then another left. At this point he was on one of those nature paths that seemed to be everywhere.

He sat in a field. Wasn’t it night?

A light and a huge gust of wind was the only response he got.

Then footsteps. A distant scream. Then cold sharp pain accompanied by a void of darkness.

He woke up in a cage..

He shot up in bed.. His head throbbed, but there was no point in sleeping it off.

So he got up. He hobbled over to the bookshelf and looked at the weird games and toys. His eyes fell on what he presumed to be a stack of cards and a pen of sorts.

It took an hour to label all the cards, but when he finally did he played a game of solitaire. Then another and another. By the time he finished the sixth one he was bored.

He went back to inspecting the bookshelf. The middle shelf had jigsaw puzzles.. didn’t Clem like puzzles?

He picked out what he presumed to be a flower field. There were a bunch of blue sunflowers.. wasn’t that her favorite flower?

Tommy sat on the floor creating a puzzle his sister would’ve absolutely adored. Silent tears slipped down his cheeks every once and a while. Only to be hastily wiped away.

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His eyes felt like they were glued shut. They attempted to sit up only to find creaks in their back and neck.

After a minute he sat up. His mind was still foggy from sleep, but he made his way to the security office, ready to work through his sleep deprived state.

Before they even left the room Phil told them to go back to rest. Ranboo obliged, and closed his door.

Having no work left he decided to write down as much information as he could about both Earth and Tommy.

Surprisingly they were able to recall a lot of information from the night before. That usually didn’t happen..

Once they wrote an entire dictionary on both topics, they tried the door again.

Phil, once again stepped in front of them, “Mate, I really think you should rest.”

“I know, but I am hungry. Can I at least have lunch?” Ranboo felt like a child once again, but knew it always worked with the captain.

After Phil rolled his eyes, Ranboo practically skipped to the kitchen. He grabbed some of the leftovers from last night and popped it into the insta-heater. Making two plates of food.

After the food was ready he looked down either hallway. Phil was preoccupied with Wilbur in the common room. Deciding it was the best time to sneak to his friend, he made his way to the holding cell. Only to be stopped by none other than Techno himself.

“Oh! H-hi Techno..” Ranboo said awkwardly.

“What are you doing?”

“I-I was just getting Tubbo some lunch!” Ranboo cringed at their own lie. Only to be met with a raised eyebrow.

“Ok I was gonna visit Tommy.” Ranboo caved. That was the right answer as Techno nodded and let Ranboo pass.

“You’re only giving him lunch right?” Techno inquired.

“Er- that and talk a bit.. I mean that was my original plan.”

“Then I will stay with you.” Techno left no room for debate.

Ranboo nodded and approached the cell, setting the plate on the automatic tray. Techno stood in a small hallway allowing his presence only to be known to Ranboo.

Tommy was sitting on the floor putting together a landscape puzzle.

With what they saw, their curiosity intrigued them.

“Can I go in?” He asked first to Techno who shifted off of the wall.

“Only if I am in there.” Ranboo nodded and turned to Tommy who was busy with the puzzle.

Ranboo knocked on the window once. Tommy’s head shot up before the human stood up and approached the window.

“Hello!” Ranboo chirped, “I can see you’re working on a puzzle! I would love to help if you want? Me and my friend won’t go in if you don’t want me in there. But just so you know I brought lunch!”

Tommy stared at the enderian before answering. He was clearly debating the options.

“Only if Techno doesn’t talk.” Was the only response either got.

With that they grabbed the food and let the door open. Techno entered first, immediately going to the back chair and pulling out a novel. Ranboo handed Tommy a plate and sat next to the strange human.

It didn’t take them long for them to start rambling. Both about everything and nothing.

Surprisingly Ranboo lost all fear that should’ve been gripping them, and felt comfortable sitting with one of the most dangerous creatures in the galaxy.

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“So people are looking for you?” The captain asked, impatiently tapping his foot against the metal floor.

“To put it simply, yea..” Wilbur said pretty much losing all confidence within the span of an hour.

The caption responded with a sympathetic look and wrapped his son in another tight hug. Wilbur didn’t pull away this time. He melted into comfort.

After a minute the elder pulled away, “How about you watch one of those documentaries you like. I will make some iced fluff and join you in a bit.” The phantom nodded and trugged himself over to the common room sofa. Turning on the illusion and flicking to one of the only things the ISF was allowing people to view from Earth, Netflix.

He skimmed the documentary section and came upon one that was about the Ocean. Three minutes later he was completely into it.

Phil returned with two bowls of iced fluff. Wilbur dug into the sweet treat. Phil sat next Will and wrapped a wing around him, to which Will leaned into the embrace.

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“So what’s your favorite treat?” Ranboo asked, after he got another piece Tommy wasn’t able to get.

Tommy scoffed, mumbling about how he was just about to try that spot before answering the question, “I love Rocky Road Ice Cream. My mom made it without nuts so it is far superior to anything anyone would get from a store.” Tommy was satisfied with his answer and tried another piece.

“Hmm.. What is ice cream?”

“It’s a sweet frozen cream of sorts.”

“Oh so like iced fluff?”

“No idea, I would have to try it first..”

Both continued the conversation mumbling about other different foods and what not, before falling into a comfortable silence.

Tubbo was absolutely furious at the scene. He sprinted off to the garden where he slammed the door and melted to the floor.

When was the last time anyone had a conversation that was about everything and nothing with him?

He hated the fact he was jealous over a fucking human.

Tomorrow was the day he would prove the human wasn’t all he seemed to be. That the human was nothing more than a monster.

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Chapter 5-End

Words: 1826

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Notes: I still have a few filler chapters, but am getting there!!

Go take care of yourself, love ya!! <3

Reminder likes are appreciated but reblogs are even better! (Suggestion make a side blog where you just spam creators works... just saying, I have one..)

Also my layout for chapters has changed a bit. I have the last chapter at the top and the next one at the bottom.. and no I am not doing the inspired by on Ao3, simply cause it’s easier for people to see it in the first few, I am keeping it here tho, cause I know people aren’t really gonna see my first chapter right away. I will be keeping the link to the first chapter at the top as well just not the middle ones.

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Tubbo has evolved in to

J E L L Y B E E

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Chapter 6:

#tubbo #dream smp fanfiction #sbi au #my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #tommy mcyt #ranboo #philza #reblog #space au #angst #little bit of fluff #humans are space orcs

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finn-ray-nal-beads · 3 years

Note

I need a crack fic of Clyde hiding his last present *insert Justin Timberlake Dick in a Box playing*

A/N: I HAVE COMPLETED SO MANY CRACK THOTS IN MY HEAD TONIGHT IT’S SICK THANK YOU EVERYONE WHO HAS FUELED THIS FIRE! @xxcatrenxx I really hope you love the twist I put on this fic, thank you for allowing me to write it out... to completion 👀ENJOY BABE!

Warnings: mentions of children, all the Xmas feels because I have to with this big ol’ softy bear, a big ol’ dick in a box, slight teasing, ass slapping, Doggystyle, deep penetration from our good ol’ country boi, caught in the act of or slightly thereafter, stuffing, breeding kink, dirty talk because Clyde is the best dirty talker, unprotected sex, cum eating, smut smut and more smut, with a lot of Xmas fluff because I hate myself

“Now what do y’all say to yer mama fer lettin’ ya open these on Christmas Eve?” Clyde bellows out at the kids as they ‘ooh’ and ‘aah’ at their Christmas themed PJ’s.

“Thank you, mama,” your five-year-old daughter and three-year-old son collectively turn and run to you perched on the couch, a Tom and Jerry in hand, enveloping them in the biggest hug you could possibly muster.

“Yer so welcome ma sweet babies,” wrapping them in the fuzzy blanket you had draped over yourself, and kissing them until they begged to be let go of, “mama loves ya so much,” laughing as they screamed in fake cries as they wiggled away from your affections.

“Now y’all go ahead an’ getcha jammies on an’ all that stuff,” he chuckled, watching you love and kiss on them as they tried to run away, “then ya can come give yer mama more kisses before Santa comes tonight,” they stopped dead in their tracks to beam at their dad who had said the magic word.

They leaped off the loveseat, bounding up the stairs with new jammies in hand to get their little teeth brushed, and go potty before slipping into dreamland. You moved to get up off the couch to go help with the marathon of getting them to settle in bed before having a strong hand push you right back down.

“Now, darlin’,” he tsked, the light from the Christmas tree glimmering in his eyes, “ya jus sit here an’ look perty while I get the babies all ready fer bed,” lowering down to steal a kiss from your lips, “you do enough round these parts, let me handle it fer one night,” kissing your forehead as he put the blanket back over your legs and lumbered upstairs to survey the damage from the kids.

You sighed, watching the fire burn in the large fireplace of your new home, the farmhouse feel enveloping you in the country Christmas you’d been dreaming of since you’d met your sweet husband. The large pine tree beside your couch, emanating a fresh scent coupled with the embers from the flames in the kindling, and the sweetness of your hot drink as you let out a relieved sigh.

Life was absolutely perfect. You had a home, two perfect children, a doting and affectionate husband, and the financial freedom the both of you had worked so hard for the past several years, not akin to the ‘cauliflower incident’ as you referred to it fondly.

Above your loud thoughts, a low hum rang through the stairs as you took a sip from your mug. The sound of Clyde’s honeyed voice, lulling your sweet babies to bed with a Christmas story as they questioned every single page he’d read.

You chuckled at their wonder, asking where Rudolph was in Santa’s line up, how many cookies does he usually eat, and your daughter making sure to tell her daddy to turn the fire off before he and mama went to bed so Santa wouldn’t burn his bottom on the way down the chimney.

“Goodnight babies,” you heard him whisper, latching the doors to their rooms as he padded down the hallway.

You waited for him to appear on the stairs, wanting to cuddle up with him by the fire with your mugs of liquor before heading off to bed, but after a few minutes, were growing slightly worried as to what he was up to.

You released your legs to the slightly colder air, placing your mug on the coffee table as you padded upstairs, enclosing yourself in the sweater you had chosen for the evening.

“Babe?” you whispered, wondering if he was alright, seeing the dark hallway with no light in your master bedroom.

“Clyde, honey?” walking into the room to flip on the bedside light, jumping at the scene before you.

“Holy shit!” you cleared your throat, “what’s goin’ on here?” eyebrows raised as you saw your big bear perched on the ivory comforter of your California king bed, clad in nothing but a pretty big box wrapped around his pelvis.

“I don’t know Mrs. Logan,” he purred out, “why dontcha open it up ta see what’s inside… I think ya might like it just a lil’ bit,” winking as he watched you inch closer to the edge of the bed.

Pushing your hair behind your head, gathering your body onto the sheets as you reached for the bow covered box, unwrapping the pretty packaging as his hand snaked behind to grip you full ass perched on your feet.

“Oh honey,” you mewled, salivating at his large and in charge cock, bobbing at attention, practically springing out of its cage covered in precum and begging to be stuffed inside you, “I love it,” bringing your hands to stuff the oversized sweater in between your legs to curb the aching sensation in your netherregions.

“He loves ya so much baby girl,” gripping and kneading on your ass as you removed the rest of the contents from his body, “in fact, he may wanna stuff ya like a Christmas turkey tonight darlin’,” smacking the covered skin as you fell forward on his stomach.

“Would ya like that?” he mewled, gathering your fuzzy covering to push it, revealing your little blush pink panties underneath, “ta be stuffed with me again?” feeling the wetness that had soaked through them in the process.

“Y-yes babe,” you whined, pushing your cunt into his touch as you sucked hickeys on his belly, “please fill me up,” whining into the darkness of the bedroom.

“That’s all I want for Christmas big bear,” assuming the position, ass up, face down on the plush comforter as he scrambled his hulking body to position his cock at your entrance.

“Well big bear is gon’ stuff ya full again,” pushing down the sheer lace to your knees, “make ya all big an’ round again with ma baby,” slapping your ass as hard as humanly possible before sheathing his aching cock into your tight little hole.

“Fuck!” you cried out, prompting Clyde to grip the back of your head, pulling you up just enough to penetrate that perfect spot of yours, “now baby girl, ya know ya can’t yell like that,” he huffed in your ear, pushing himself to rearrange your guts in knots, “you’ll wake our precious babies up an’ then what?” snaking a hand to tease your clit as he left open kisses on the exposed shoulder of your sweater.

“I-I,” you stuttered as he sped up his motions on your mound, only to break away again and shove your face into the down comforter.

“B-babeeee,” whining as your pussy throbbed on his length, the sensation never failing to burn just a little at his girth, “I-I l-love bein’ full a you,” gasping on every push of his cock on your cervix.

“I love seein’ my perty baby all full a me,” mewling and grunting as he thrust deeper and deeper, balls clapping on your pussy as he drank in your moans, “ya carry my babies s-so damn well,” gripping the sweater that had fallen up your back, pulling you even more flush with him as he railed the fuck out of you.

The thought of being completely filled, sending a shockwave to your budding clit, a tingling in your spine egging on the flutters in your pussy walls.

“I-is ma baby almost ready?” he growled, setting an even more brutal pace as he released his flesh and blood hand on your hip, no doubt a bruise already blooming from his iron grip on it.

His thick, meaty fingers found their way back to your stiffened bud, the slightest touch sending you to the complete edge of your orgasm, “that’s it Y/N,” he whispered, sweat dripping from his inky locks as he encircled the peak in your sopping folds, “cum all over yer cock,” he uttered out, feeling the shockwaves clamp over his member as you cried out in complete bliss.

“God fuckin’ d-dammit!” screaming as he sped up to ride your wave out into his own, “C-Clyde baby please!” feeling his movements become more erratic as you slipped from your high.

“I-I’m,” he stammered out, pumping his cock a few more times into your glistening hole, “‘m fillin’ this p-pussy full,” growling like the bear he was as he released his swimmers into your gaping womb, the warmth wrapping your uterus in a hug it so badly desired.

“Jesus f-fuckin,” he moaned out, hands covering your ass as he stilled himself, shaking from the aftershocks of his orgasm, “ya alright darlin’?’ patting your ass lightly, smoothing over the raised handprint he’d left.

“Ya,” you panted out, trying to still your breathing as you felt his softened cock slide out of you, the sound making you sigh in relief as the air hit your hole.

“Gah, yer so damn perty,” marveling at the mixture seeping out of your slit, “so fuckin’ wet,” scooping it up to stuff right back in, causing your pussy to clamp back down on his thick fingers.

“Gettin’ greedy, huh,” he chuckled, watching as your cunt ate up the spend, “ya know we’re gonna hafta do this more than once ta get it right,” removing it to lick up the rest in his mouth.

“I know babe,” setting yourself up to his blushing chest, rubbing his pecs as you leveled with his face, “remember we have two kids,” raising your pretty fingers to his face only to have him kiss the tips ever so lightly.

“I know baby doll,” he cooed, pushing strands of hair out of the way, leading your lips to meet his in a searing kiss on the bed.

“Daddy?” a shrill voice echoed from the doorway of the bedroom, the both of you freezing in horror as your pupils met, trying to ignore the call.

Clyde turned around slightly, to notice your daughter crowding the side of the entryway, “y-yes baby?” he whispered faintly, hoping the voice was a figment of his imagination, the color leaving his face as he noticed her sweet little face scrunched up in a questioning look.

“What were you an’ mama doin”?” she cocked her head to the side, inching into the light, teddy bear in hand, blinking her cute little eyes to adjust to the light.

“Uhm,” voice cracking as he cleared his throat to give her an answer, not daring to turn around as he was still fully nude, “mama an’ I well, uhm, well we were,” panicking to look back and you completely lost in silent laughter at his starstruck behavior.

You pat his chest, “I got this babe,” you tutted, pressing your index finger into his plush lips, and glancing over at your little girl, still waiting for an answer.

“Daddy an’ I were havin’ some alone time baby girl,” you spoke just loud enough for her to hear and hopefully simple enough to understand, “now dontcha think you should be in bed?” cocking an eyebrow “I don’t think Santa will come if he knows yer still awake,” crossing your arms as you stared her pretty little puppy dog eyes into the abyss they were.

“I jus’ wanted ta make sure daddy wasn’t hurtin’ ya, mama,” a tear rolling down her cheek as she started to back away into the dark hallway.

“Oh baby girl,” getting up from your spot to lower your sweater and pull your panties back up, “daddy wasn’t hurtin’ me at all, now were ya daddy?” looking to him as you pulled her into a hug.

“No honey,” he pandered, still facing away to shield her innocent eyes from his now completely limp member, “daddy wasn’t causin’ mama any kinda pain, I promise,” blushing and shying away at his little girl.

“See?” you pet her little head, “I promise we’re both okay baby,” kissing her forehead, “now let’s get back ta bed now,” leading her back into the hallway towards her room, and tucking her in bed.

“Mama?” she whispered as you back away towards the door.

“Yes, baby?” answering her back as you glanced back into the night lit room.

“Whatever y’all was doin’, I think you won the contest,” her face showing absolutely no signs of joking.

“Well,” stifling an all-out snort, “t-thank ya, baby,” shying into the hallway to take a deep breath, “I think mama won too,” smiling at her dozing off.

“Good night sweet girl, Merry Christmas,” whispering as you moved to leave the room.

“Merry Christmas mama,” her sweet voice echoed back as you found your way back to the bedroom, chuckling in the hallway as you shook your head.

This was for sure the merriest Christmas you’d ever experienced, and the most mortifying to boot.

And it all started with a dick in a wrapped box.

_____________

WELL, I HOPE WE ALL LEARNED A VALUABLE LESSON HERE... LOCK YOUR DOORS AND CLYDE IS FUCKIN’ DADDY WHO NEEDS A PRETTY LARGE BOX TO COVER THAT MANHOOD A HIS... 😉

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK AND I HOPE YOU LIKED IT, BABE!

🖤,

ray-nal-beads

#clyde logan #clyde logan oneshot #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x female reader #clyde logan x you #tw: children #tw: breeding kink #tw: unprotected sex #clyde logan imagine #clyde logan smut #clyde logan fluff #xmas ask #its a dick in a box #a horsecock in a box if you will

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filmsmakkari · 3 years

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Congratulations

Wordcount- 1.7k

Hamilton!Tom Holland x Angelica!Reader

Tom Holland x Princess!Reader

I would recommend listening to the song here!

Full Series Masterlist

Your time in Hasnaa was joyous. You wished you could have stayed there forever, but you most unfortunately had to return to your husband, and your disastrous marriage in London. With him, the days were drab and dull. It felt as if every day dragged on longer than the last, but drag on they did, and before you knew it, five years had passed.

You were sitting at the end of the table what felt like miles away from your husband, when a servant entered with a letter in her hand.

“It’s from Prince Phillip, your grace.” The servant girl curtsied before exiting.

“Thank you,” you said as you opened the letter.

It read:

My Dear Aunt,

Cold is my heart as I reckon with the affects my father’s whims have had on our family name. I’m not sure if word has yet reached you there in London, but I must most regretfully inform you that our dear Duke of Saataun has had a most unfortunate affair with the young Countess Nadia Renoylds. Apparently, it took place when we were visiting grandfather at the Fadar da Hasnaa, a considerable time indeed. He also had the privity and connivance of the count, whom he paid off to not tell mother. Apparently, the entire affair was an elaborate scheme on the Renoylds’ part. Their most intricate plan was for the countess to seduce father into an affair, and then blackmail him. If father did not find himself in a prosperous enough position to put wealth into their pockets, they would tell mother of the affair. Of course, this all took place many years ago, and father did pay the count off. None of this would have come to light if those vultures Anthony Monroe, Christopher Jefferson, and Aaron Blackwell hadn’t accused father of embezzlement. To prove his innocence, father published an essay entitled “The Reynolds Pamphlet”in which he admits the truth of his affair, and how he did not in fact embezzle money, but rather used it to pay off his mistress’s husband. In truth it isn’t much better, but he committed no crimes. He might have mortally wounded his prospects, but his papers are orderly, that is a fact none can deny. I have attached a copy of The Reynolds Pamphlet with this letter so that you may read it yourself. Tis no surprise that my mother is outraged. She has father sleeping in his office, and last night as I was passing her cracked bedroom door, I saw her setting fire to all the hundreds of letters he’s written to her. I know it is much to ask of you, seeing as you are the ruler of a large realm, but if you could journey here to see her, I’m sure it would be much consolation. With our dear Peggy sick in Paris, you are the only of her sisters with the ability to make the journey. Please consider.

Votre neveu le plus adorant et le plus vrai,

Prince Phillip of Saataun

Your heart sank as you read your nephew’s words. You quickly took the “Reynolds Pamphlet” from under his letter and read it.

It Read:

I owe perhaps to my friends an apology for condescending to give a public explanation. A just pride with reluctance stoops to a formal vindication against so despicable a contrivance and is inclined rather to oppose to it the uniform evidence of an upright character.

The charge against me is a connection with one Anthony Reynolds. For purposes of improper speculation, my real crime is an amorous connection with his wife, for a considerable time with his knowing consent, if not originally brought on by a combination between the husband and wife with the design to extort money from me. I had frequent meetings with her, most of them in my own house, the Duchess with our children being absent on a visit to the King.

This confession is not made without a blush. I cannot be the apologist of any vice because the ardour of passion may have made it mine. I can never cease to condemn myself for the pang, which it may inflict in a bosom eminently intitled to all my gratitude, fidelity and love. But that bosom will approve, that even at so great an expence, I should effectually wipe away a more serious stain from a name, which it cherishes with no less elevation than tenderness. The public too will I trust excuse the confession. The necessity of it to my defence against a more heinous charge could alone have extorted from me so painful an indecorum.

The essay went on for several more paragraphs, but you could not bear to read any more. Your heart felt as if it was cracking as you thought of your dear Eliza. Oh, all the pain she must have been in. How could Thomas, your Thomas have done such a thing? How could he have hurt your sister in such a way? The anger must have been clear in your eyes, as your husband suddenly spoke.

“What is it?” his monotone voice asked. He barely even looked up from his newspaper.

“My dear sister, Eliza, and our brother, Thomas seem to have been involved in a scandal. I must return home immediately.”

“Oh, well you do that. I shall remain here.”

Oh, of course, he was. You held back an eye roll as you stood and went to your quarters to begin packing.

You booked passage on a ship that was heading for Saataun the next day and quickly made your way home. Your carriage was awaiting your arrival when you stepped off the docks, and you immediately directed him to Eliza’s palace. When you knocked on the door, to your surprise, it was answered by your nephew, Phillip, now fourteen years old. You hugged him tightly.

“Where is your mother, Phillip?” you asked as you released the boy.

“At the store, I believe. But father’s just upstairs, in his office.”

You thanked the young boy before rushing up the stairs and into Thomas’s office.

His eyes widened at the sight of you. “(Y/N)?”

“I came as soon as I heard,” you said flatly.

“Oh, (Y/N), thank God,” he rose and walked towards you, taking your hands and trying to kiss it “someone who understands what I’m struggling here to do-” he paused as you snatched your hand away from him.

“(Y/N)?”

“Congratulations, Thomas.”

He looked at you confused.

“You have invented a new kind of stupid! A damage you could never undo kind of stupid, an open all the cages in the zoo kind of stupid! Truly, you didn’t think this through, did you?”

You gestured with your hands as you spoke. “Let's review, shall we? You two a rumor a few-what was it, three- people knew and refuted it by sharing an affair of which no one has accused you!” You got close to his face, saying, “Thomas, I begged you to take a break and you refused to.”

Now you were pacing and speaking loudly. “You’re so scared of what your enemies will do to you when in reality you’re the only enemy you ever seem to lose to! Do you know why Jefferson can do as he pleases? He doesn’t dignify schoolyard taunts with a response! So yes, congratulations, Thomas.”

“(Y/N)...”

“You’ve redefined your legacy. No, really! Congratulations,” you said, walking out.

“It was an act of political sacrifice!” he exclaimed.

You stopped in your tracks, looking back at him bewildered. “Sacrifice? Thomas Holland, you know nothing of sacrifice.”

“What does that mean?”

“Thomas, I languished in a loveless marriage in London, I lived only to read your letters. I look at you and think “God, what have we done with our lives, and what did it get us?” It doesn’t wipe all the years or all my tears away, but I’ve returned to Larione, and this time I’m here to stay. Do you know what I’m here to do, Thomas?”

“(Y/N)...” he said, coming close to you and cupping your face.

As much as it pained you to do so, you grabbed his hand, tearing it from your face, and saying, “I’m not here for you.”

Thomas sighed, tears burning in his eyes.

You felt the anger begin to rise again as you spoke, “I know my sister like I know my own mind! You will meet a more gentle, kind, trusting soul. I love my sister more than anything in this life! If it comes to choosing between her happiness and mine, I will choose hers every time! Yelizaveta is the best person in our lives, so never again make the mistake of forgetting that you have been blessed with the best wife! For the rest of your life, every sacrifice you make is for my sister, you be sure to give her the best life!”

You raised your hand and slapped him as hard as humanly possible and turned to leave. You paused in the doorframe, turning back to him. “Putting what we had aside, I’m going to find my sister and I am going to stand by her side. I already know “you could never be satisfied.” God, I hope you’re satisfied.” And with that, you were gone.

Your night was spent whispering comforting words to your younger sister, remarking to her “Oh, my dear Eliza, I fear you have married an Icarus. He has flown too close to the sun.”

You did in fact stay in Larione, just as you had told Thomas you would, choosing to relocate to the Fadar da Zuri. It was frowned upon by the public that you, the Empress of Jimbaari, were staying in a palace outside of your country without a husband or some other guardian, but you didn’t care. Your sister and her happiness were all that mattered to you. You prayed for your sister’s happiness. You also prayed that she’d forgive Thomas. Not, in fact, because of your love for Thomas, but rather as you didn’t want anything weighing on your sister’s gentle soul.

As for your ever most complicated relationship with Thomas, you barely interacted with him, not speaking to him when at their home and not writing to him. Though sometimes, you would catch him staring at you with such deep longing that it made your heart ache. And it pained you so deeply, because you knew you couldn’t have been more in love with him- even after his betrayal. So, pray you did. Prayed for your sister’s inner peace, and your own, prayed for the well being of the children, and prayed begging the lord why in all his goodness, he would cause you the utmost pain by bringing that foolish soldier Thomas Holland into their lives.

#tom holland x princess!reader #tom holland x reader #tom holland #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #tom holland angst

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kkeidawrites · 3 years

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Castlevania spoilers!!!! If you don’t want to know how the show ends in season 4 please refrain from reading the rest of this post because I’m not holding back! Also I’m writing this as I watched so, this is my raw review!

Okay, so first off I want to say personally, I loved how season 4 brought heat to the finale of the show. Although I’m sad as hell that this is the last season for a great show.

Episode 1: Murder Wakes It Up- I thought that it was cool to see Trevor and Sypha fighting again after what happened in S3, obviously they are tired from the long four week journey of fighting night creatures, skeleton zombies, vampires from different countries, etc. but clearly the end game is that humans and vampires alike are working together to bring back Dracula. Like seriously, y’all might not know this but I hate, HATE when children become involved in stupid shit like human sacrifices like I can’t. Not the children. Please, not the babies. Sypha complaining she’s becoming like Trevor, and she’s so cute when she curses lol. Then when they arrive in Targoviste we have some new faces as potential enemies. I thought they were lame honestly lol I couldn’t take Barney-Larney whatever his dumbass was; he was mad annoying.

Then they shift over to Alucard…I have never seen a more broken beautiful drunk man in all my life. Like I had S3 flashbacks. He’s asked for help from a messenger who ended up dying on the way to the castle but his horse made sure he continued the journey and Alucard received the message for help in Danesti. Alucard fights with the horse, I thought that was funny. He was thoughtful enough to bury the rider, that was very sweet of him.

Also, shirtless Alucard will be engraved in my mind for life. Whew, chile that’s one fine man. He’s beginning to talk like Belmont and I can’t help how hilarious that is.

Episode 2: Having the World: Quite honestly this episode to me was meh. Hector talking with Lenore about how he needs this and that to create his hammer to continue forgemastering then Lenore talks with Carmilla and the white haired bat talks about how she is going to rule the world and what not, clearly losing her sanity.

Then it shifts over to Trevor and Sypha and they are fighting in a barn and new character Zamfir. Her character for me was also meh, but it’s nice to see more PoC in the show.

Episode 3: Walk Away: I liked this episode a lot. Issac altogether was nice enough to sit down and talk with a night creature and tell him/them that they were free of their original program, which was: eating humans, causing destruction, used as tools to forge masters. But man when he received that berry from Issac he realized that there is still some kind of humanity in them.

Issac is contacted by Varney to bring back Dracula but, Issac wants no business with that; he doing his own thing and seeing him being sassy again is so refreshing.

Morana and Striga scenes!!! I loved them, and then there was Striga’s day armor, man listen…I have never felt more closer to watching Berserk again than in that moment. They are hesitant to return back to Styria when Carmilla calls them, and it puts them in a bind to return home to continue through with Carmilla’s plans.

Sypha being annoyed by Zamfir was me the entire time. How you gone run a kingdom again with out a kingdom. Like girl, help the people instead of the royals, my god.

Episode 4: You Must Sacrifice: A cute little Trevor and Sypha scene. They decide to investigate Targoviste more before helping Zamfir. The scene shifts and Alucard is riding towards Danesti, donning a shield and a longer cape. Monsters are attacking the walls of the village, villagers are on the other side waiting to defend themselves. Some Castlevania popular screenshots appear here.

Then we meet Greta…Miss thang…that’s one beautiful woman okay. And she’s the chief of the village, cares for her people? Y’all I present. Her. And the fact that she is sassy too? I rock with her heavy as hell.

Saint Germain meets Alucard and I have a weird vibe coming from him. We see Saint Germain’s backstory or what little it will show us; he had a whole girlfriend, she a baddie too. Apparently she was like him? And she was the silhouette we saw in S3. Cool scene, inside the Infinite Corridor and I liked the library scene a lot too. Now he’s on a rampage trying to find access to the Infinite Corridor again to find his girl and he also wants to bring back Dracula? The fuck?

Refugees arrive at Danesti, and Saint Germain is acting very strange indeed. Like he’s desperate to go to the castle to help with the village “defenses”. Alucard agrees I guess? And he says another Belmont comment which I was happy to see again in the season.

Episode 5: Back in the World: Alucard leads Greta, Saint Germain and the villagers to his castle but, encounter a couple of night creatures on the way. Greta does Saint Germain y’all and I’m with her 100%. Alucard’s powers have definitely improved from last season. It was kind of interesting how Alucard willing told Greta what happened with him and you know who, kind of early in my opinion. Greta is bisexual?!!!! I love her 1000% now! I sense some chemistry between Greta and Alucard. I like that a lot.

Lenore really like annoys my soul, I do not like this mini bitch. I didn’t really care what Lenore and Hector talked about🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️sue me. Bruh Greta, beating that monster’s ass with just a hammer and a sword?! And Alucard impressed by it?! I’m here for it!! Some cute moments between Alucard and Greta got me gushing over here😝😝. Poor puppy😢😢. Alucard decides to “grow up” which I think is a nice step forward. Saint Germain is really making me mad.

They arrive at the castle and here goes Saint Germain acting like a fan boy, I mean who wouldn’t but you know…Greta killed me when she said the castle was ugly as hell lol. Another little cutesy scene between Alucard and Greta. Like I really like their chemistry y’all I’m sorry.

Trevor and Sypha demand that Zamfir take responsibility to help the people and I forgot what it was called but, before that they are attacked and Zamfir has something placed on her neck by a night creature.

Then Issac, he’s ready to fuck some shit up. And I’m here for it. Get em, bitch!

Episode 6: You Don’t Deserve My Blood: Carmilla’s castle is attacked by Issac’s night creatures. Lenore old punk ass running away does not surprise me in the slightest. Hector betrays Lenore and locks her in a cage. Hector has contact with Saint Germain like what? I don’t understand but, Issac comes in and it looks like Hector has given up, wanting to die honestly. Issac decides against killing him and Hector asks for his knife. This boy cuts his ring finger that the Lenore placed the ring, in front of her. That scene was meh, I thought he would get pissed at her for what she’s done to him in S3 but, I guess not.

Issac literally stole this episode, from his fight with the vampires and night creatures to Carmilla that shit was -chef’s kiss- magnifico! I loved the animation the fight scenes, yooo I was hyped the whole episode.

Morana and Striga make their decision to go their own way, living their own lives in the west so, bittersweet ending with them, I wanted to actually Striga fight the main trio but, whatever I guess.

Hector still has plans to bring back Dracula and asks Issac if he’s doing the same. Issac has other plans obviously, and tells Hector that they need to find their path in their lives. I feel Hector never knew where he was supposed to be placed in the world but Issacs words are very inspiring in my opinion. May have woke Hector’s dumbass up a bit.

Episode 7: The Great Work: Varney and the other guy, I really forgot his name found out about the catacombs and head there. Trevor and Sypha demand Zamfir take them underground, which to me I think it’s nothing there but her shit. Sypha gets mad at Zamfir and I’m with her, how you part of the royal guard when the people above need your help girl my god.

The cutest scene ever in this episode, was when the kids from Danesti wanting to play with Alucard and this boy jumps off the highest part of the castle just to show off. There should be more scenes of soft Alucard with children. Saint Germain is placing these weird stones it looks like in the castle walls. What is going on with him?

More Alucard and Greta moments please and thank you. The artwork in the castle is fucking phenomenal work. Saint Germain just gave the location to a vampire it looks like, from episode 4 maybe? He looks familiar.

There is a freaking army coming to the castle…lord Jesus. Like can they catch a break please? The kids just got settled.

Trevor and Sypha go to the catacombs and it’s just as bad as the people above grounds. New weapon acquired for Trevor, pretty dope. The king and Queen are dead and Zamfir is officially insane. She really thinks that the king and Queen will come back alive and protect their people like she’s done them. Sypha tries to talk to her, that puts her in a weird daze, Trevor is just being Trevor. Varney and his lackey, come to the catacombs looking to kill I really do not know that man’s name y’all so I apologize for not giving a damn about him lol.

The castle is about to be under siege, I’m not ready. Having a whole heart attack over here from nerves.

Episode 8: Death Magic: Varney and his partner attack the people in the catacombs, Varney is looking for a giant mirror? Why I don’t know. Poor Trevor and Sypha they are soooo tired, I feel so bad for them. Zamfir is actually not bad of a fighter, I like that. Sypha still the goat, no cap.

The castle is under attack, it’s actually nice to see how diverse the vampires are in this show, you can tell what countries their from and I think that’s dope as hell. And then every time a human dies their souls are transferred to Saint Germaine? So is this another S3 human sacrifice crap again? Omg…I’m so sick of that. Saint Germain uses the key he received from the woman in the Infinite Corridor and it creates the symbol of the corridor’s portal.

Here goes Alucard being a badass again, I never tire of him being one. Greta holding it down too is really cool, I don’t care what nobody say, she is that bitch. Her and that hammer, a force to be reckoned with.

Everyone is overwhelmed and have no choice but to evacuate to the castle, right before those doors closed Alucard nods to her to leave him out to fight and she looks at him like boy bye. Get yo ass in this castle. Greta pulling Alucard in just shows they are compatible for one another. Even the playful banter between them is cute.

The discovery of the stones in the walls leads Greta and Alucard to his childhood bedroom and they find Saint Germain where he reveals he’s opening the Infinite Corridor to bring back Dracula by using death magic. Petty Saint Germain, I do not like him bro.

They have to deal with him later though to fight off the night creatures that got into the castle. Greta still holding it down.

Trevor and the vampire guy is still fighting but, Trevor being so tired he’s slowing a bit, and honestly I don’t know how he’s still able to function at this point. Sypha shows off her powers like a G that she is and Zamfir is doing some great damage with the knives she’s got and that’s crazy how little knives can do to the body.

Did Sypha always have lightning powers? I don’t remember. If it’s new I love it! Trevor’s almost killed but a woman and child save him in time but, unfortunately Zamfir is stabbed in the stomach when the vampire moves to kill them both. I’m going to be honest I didn’t really care for Zamfir’s character she was just…there lol.

Then that scene with Sypha basically incinerating the rest of the monsters is fire!!! No pun intended lol. Varney finds the mirror and steps through it where Saint Germain is. Trevor and Sypha goes through the mirror as well but in a different location in the castle.

Episode 9: The Endings: This whole episode was literally the best of the best in any other seasons. The fight scenes, the banter, the main three…oh my God I loved it all. Noooooo, the dolls!!!!!! You bastards!!!! Trevor and Sypha’s entrance was perfect. Muah! Perfecto! The rock monsters really confused me on how they were killed but you know what who cares?

Alucard has wings?!!!!! What?!!!!!!!!! The general of the caravan have brought in the man woman thingy to Saint Germain. Death has appeared. His character design is dope af. Noooo not mom and dad!!! Nooo! Poor Alucard had to witness his parents literally in pain and of course Trevor ends it again, somehow Saint Germain redeemed himself almost?

The four vampires fighting the main trio had me running for my money. I liked the whole scene it was nice to see at least one or two vampires almost have the upper hand on the main trio.

That general vampire? His fight was wild, throwing his arm as it was about to explode and use it against Trevor was genius. And main trio…they don’t need to have a plan to fight they just work so well together that it works out in end.

Trevor vs. Death. Also was that the first time Trevor told Sypha he loved her? I can’t remember. Anyway, back to the final battle. The quality of the fight, the sheer power between both characters, and then he goes and sacrificed himself like Trevor are you deadass? You deadass died? Unacceptable. And then episode just ends.

Episode 10: It’s Been a Strange Ride: Lenore died so lame, and she was drunk as well when she died. I really won’t be missing her because she was just a character I very much disliked. Hector is finally free, little dumbass.

I wanna see what Issac is up to and Morana and Striga seems appropriate. But oh well, I hope they are happy wherever they are.

Tombstone for Trevor, it’s not real. He ain’t dead, I don’t believe that. Omg, Greta and Alucard are together?!!! Whoooooo!!! And the village kids are calling him father? Yasssssssssssss!!!!! I’m here for it. Alucard saying he’s not used to people is 100% me in public I don’t like being around a lot of people and it doesn’t help I have anxiety either. Sypha being pregnant was a given she looked a little thicker in the hips from episode one. She can’t leave…we need her. Really Castlevania creators? Y’all gone play with all our hearts? Thinking Trevor was dead and he gone pop up on a horse?

And look at this⤵️⤵️

He’s smiling, happy, soft, has a boo thang I’m….😭😭😭I’m so happy.

Y’all….all in all this was a great ending to the show…a great ending…

Oh wait…wait…wait wait wait, mom and dad are alive?!!! But how? You know what I don’t care their going to travel to England and their heart shaped embrace is everything. Oh no I’m crying again….

#castlevania #adrian tepes #Alucard #trevor belmont castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania season 4 #issac castlevania #hector castlevania #sypha belnades

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