#Anyway Angel is fucked regardless. Poor lad (I did that to him)

[tapeworrmart]

Hole in the head 🕳️🧠

[xhanisai]

SALTING AROUND AT THE SPEED OF SOUND

AO3 / FFN

Summary: Introducing!!!!

The! Ultimate! Salt! Fic! Ever! IN ZA WARUDO!

Featuring Dumb Noir getting taught a lesson about boundaries, Perfectnette getting friends and love interest(s), and LILA GETTING HER ASS HANDED BACK! HOW COULD YOU RESIST SUCH A WONDERFUL FIC?

(All in all, a crack fic on salt fics to bring our spirits up~)

Disclaimer - I've actually only read like one sentence of a salt fic and fucked off afterwards so everything I'm basing off in this fic is purely from exaggerated rumours and gossip about the salt corner THEREFORE if anything here looks familiar or if it seems like I'm taking the piss out of a specific story, it's all just one big coincidence. >:D ~(x)~ . . . Of all locations to settle on for the beginning of this amazing, wonderful, fucking fantastic story, it's established on the Eiffel Tower. Cliched but wonderfully ironic for the phenomenal heroes of Paris. On the beams, higher than the naked eye could see, Ladybug and Chat Noir were... Arguing. The feline hero had his partner's wrist clasped in an iron hold, digging those deadly claws ever so slightly into the soft flesh, piercing the supposed indestructible suit with a creepy grin- "Wait- hold up a second. I would never, NEVER hurt My Lady! Not even unintentionally! And what's with that face I'm making!?" Oh SHUT UP Shit Noir! Let me carry on writing my fucking story jeez! Stop breaking out of character and keep following the script! Anyways~ The skinny, pasty assed hero- "This script sucks..."- -TUGGED Ladybug closer to him, grin widening like he won the lottery as his demonic looking eyes perversely drank in the sight of the clearly uncomfortable looking heroine in his grasps. His face leaned into hers, only coming closer as she tried her best to lean back with a grimace. "Just one kiss Bugaboo~ one kiss won't hurt..." His grip tightened on the appendage, making the girl wince painfully. "Come on Chat Noir...let go! I have already told you, I'm in love with someone else. You seriously need to back off!" Ladybug whimpered, tossing away all her badassery and ability to suckerpunch a fuckboy in the face because hell yeah it ain't relevant to this sexy fic- "You're right Chaton, this script does suck lmao"- IGNORING WHAT THE CANON LB JUST SAID. Ehem. Like a defenseless little shoujou manga protagonist, Ladybug felt tears sparkle in her eyes and pure sadness washed over her frail body before Fuck Noir dipped her into a romantic pose and smashed his lips against hers with soooooo much passion and tongue and teeth and- . What. On. Earth. Oi you stupid cat! Watch where you're putting your hands on the girl! Yikes! What do they teach these Europeans!? Break it up already you hormone riddled boobs! "Oh Minou~ You're so daring~" "Just for you, My Lady~" STAY ON SCRIPT YOU BRATS! Hmph! Carrying on. Suddenly, herculean strength riddled through Ladybug's blood, falcon punching Bitch Noir off her and off the tower, thus HenchBug™ was born. Panting and wiping her lip with her thumb in a really really badass way (YOU KNOW THAT EPIC WAY THAT ANIME CHARACTERS DO TO WIPE THE BLOOD OFF THEIR LIP, RIGHT? RIGHT? ex deeeee), MachoBug swept towards Pussy Noir's broken twiggy body at the bottom of the tower. "You disobeyed me for the umpteenth time, Noir." BadassBug uttered cooly, keeping a blind eye to the growing crowd around her and the mangled up flesh on sticks at her feet. The black and yellow mess didn't respond. "Lo-oooool cos I'm dead!" WE'LL PRETEND WE DIDN'T HEAR THAT EITHER. Anger coursed through Ladybug's veins as all those traumatising memories and moments she had with her horrific partner flashed through her brain like an old window's movie maker AMV with Evanescence's 'Bring Me Back To Life' song blasting at full volume. The conveniently arrived Alya at the front of the crowd live streamed everything on the WadyBwog, babbling about ice cream scoops. "Every time we met up, you'd always make unwanted advances to me. You'd always force a kiss on me. You even slapped my thicc™ ass a few times- once to the beat of fucking Nyan cat!" The hive minded crowd surrounding them 'oooed' and 'aaahed', some snapped a selfie with what's left of the black cat. "Therefore," The sun auspiciously shone behind MariBug, giving her an ethereal, angelic look as she carried on her lecture. "I now deem you unworthy of the miraculous." BugBug fluttered her eyelashes with so much pain as if reciting those words killed her whole generation and their dogs and their hamsters. "Hand it over to me or else I'll force it off you." All of a sudden BuffBug™ was back, bitch slapping CryBabyBug away and menacingly placed one foot on the carcass.   "Wow I think she forgot that you're dead Chat Noir," THE HIGH TENSIONED MOMENT REMAINED UNBROKEN AS FAKEBUG- oof- Ladybug rolled her eyes with annoyance at the disgusting boy's silence and immediately knelt down to yank the miraculous off his bony fingers- "Never!" The catboy sprung back to life before anyone could breathe, clutching his hand to guard his ring ferally, froth seeping out of his teeth and fangs gnashing against one another- "Looks like I'm a vampire with rabies now, Bug." "Since when did you have fangs?" "Since two seconds ago-" OH MY GOD YOU TWO! SHUT UP AND LET ME WRITE! Zombie Noir leapt back with a hiss, faux ears and tail twitching with indignation and summoned the ancient destruction power whilst BossBug spun her yoyo around in battle formation, ready to call for her lucky charm anytime soon. Cat and Bug kept up the intense eye contact as that cowboy music from the good, the bad and the fugly played in the background (cheers Lahiffe mah d00d!). "You don't want to become my enemy, do you, Chat N00b?" The heroine spat, bones clicking in place as she stretched her fingers when she and the lad in black circled each other slowly. The crowd and Alya were casually chilling in the background, the latter still narrating about an epic ice cream scoop. "Heh, I won't need to be the enemy if you don't touch MY ring... Milady~"- "MON DIEU! C'EST 'MY LADY'! C'EST N'AI PAS 'MILADY'!" THAT'S THE POINT YOU STUPID CAT! Break out of character one more time and I'll castrate you and feed your teeny tiny *censored* to the dogs! "...My Lady? Is my *censored* small? :(" "If your *censored* was small, you'd never have been able to make me scream at night, Minou~ ;3" ":D" 

Regardless! The pussycat feinted to the left before dodging the razor sharp wire of his Lady's (not) yoyo, whipping out his baton (not the tiny one either) and swiftly used it to vault himself away like the coward he CLEARLY is. "You'll never get me alive, THOT!" Was the last thing that small dick energy minded cuck yowled and fled with his tail between his legs. BigBug let out a yell of rage™ and slammed her fist on the ground, branding the sloppy concrete job with a crater as the shockwaves caused the audience to let out a little 'DAYUMMMMMMMM'. "Lol I thought the geezer was dead hahaah! Yo Ladybuggy, mah homie, you and kitty cat did the shame shame already or nah?" Alya, the lil hoe, leant into the heroine's personal space with a crazed grin. She only received a middle finger from the annoyed Asian. (MMmm Mmmm yEAH YEAh trANSiTION so SEXYYYY) Now, it is conveniently time for Marinette's afternoon classes. The exhausted girl dragged her feet up those weird ass spirally steps that could break ankles JUST by looking at them and made it to her classroom, only to pause at the shouting she was hearing behind the door. "Oh boy, time to unleash the kraken..." Silence Adrien! You're not supposed to have appeared yet! Dumb ass blondes these days smh... "HEY! >:0" With a deep breath, the raven haired girl pushed the door open only to be met with what could be best described as a clusterfuck. Tears welled up in her eyes as the remains of her sketchbook (which looked like it had a trip in a paper shredder) was dumped all over the floor. She snapped her head back up only for her heart to literally shatter when she was met with a furious Alya Motherfuckin' Césaire. "Marinetti DupainGhetti. This. Is. Your. Punishment." Alya's glasses flashed sinisterly as her lips curled up into  d i s g u s t . The rest of the class mirrored a similar look, acting as if poor little Cheng vored everything they loved and cherished. All except two people. That witch BITCH Lie-la smirked secretly as she cowered behind Alya and the wimp, spineless little shitty Dumbdrien whimpered on his desk, pretending that nothing was happening. "P-P-Punishment for wh-what?" Babynette sobbed, clutching her shoulders as if to hug herself and make her look smaller than she is. She darted her eyes towards the model, begging him internally to say something, anything! Alas, Bitchdrien only looked away guiltily, his thin chapped lips sealed shut. Marinette couldn't believe her bad luck. First there was an akuma attack, then she was assaulted by her shitty partner for the millionth time and now this? "Punishment for bullying our lord and saviour, Lila of course! How dare you make such a sweet girl like her suffer!?" Alya roared, using the power of the seven chaos emeralds and twenty dragonballs to go super satan and pinned Sweetienette against the wall with an elbow. Her hair fizzed with animosity and her eyes gleamed in a demonic red colour- "Dieu...you just had to drag my best friend into this too, huh?" "You'd think this writer is sane enough to know that I'd cataclysm anyone that dared to harm Ma Princesse, non?" "The writer? Sane? Good joke."- IGNORING STUPIDNETTE AND BLOODYDRIEN- Alya snarled, bruising our sweet little angel's poor skin with her brute strength whilst the rest of the class watched without a question. The sausage haired wench munched on some greasy ass popcorn as she watched the show whilst Shamedrien became one with the floor, a perfect doormat for us queens to stomp on. "You tripped her all the time when no one was watching, aggravating her shattered kneecaps. You plagerised her designs, ruining what's left of her sensitive self esteem and dammit don't even get me started on all those rumours you attempted to spread about her, smearing her celebrity status! I've never hated anyone more than you, BITCHINETTE!" Alya harrumphed and then shoved Brokenette against the wall again, possibly snapping her spine and stormed back to her new bestie. "Mon Dieu your best friend just murdered you..." "Mon Dieu my best friend just murdered me..." Tosses a knife at the duo to make them shut the fuck up. Everyone else applauded the psycho journalist for putting Poornette in her place, even Stinkdrien cos he can't handle peer pressure- BAM! . . . "HOW DARE YOU HURT MARINETTE DUPAIN CHENG!" A tall, stern looking boy slammed the door open, scooping Deadinette in his arms and blew out steam through his nostrils like a bull. Everyone le gasped as the girl suddenly turned into Alivenette and embraced the stranger like he's her long lost lover (Aiyeeeeeeeeeeee mUH O-T-FUCKING-P! K Y A A  A! EVEN THOUGH WE KNOW JACKSHIT ABOUT HIM). "BELIX BRAGRESTE! You saved me~ Don't hurt my homiesexuals please- they're all brainwashed by the sausage haired girl..." The blackberry haired angel begged, tugging on Belix's sleeves. "I didn't do anything-" Uglydrien was quick to defend himself only to melt back down into a doormat by Belix's dark glare, ripping out what spinal tissue the model had left. "Damn straight you didn't do SHIT." Bragreste swiftly delivered a power-kick against Assgreste, yeeting him to the moon and then turned towards the rest of the f00king class, rolling his sleeves up. "As for you nerds...I'm gonna chop you all up into mincemeat and EAT you all with my spaghetti!-" "I'm here Marinette!!!" Another lad swooped in through the door, hips swaying to the beat as 'Luka Luka Night Fever' plays in the background and then posed! Why it's none other than the obviously best written, best character, best BOY in the world: RUKA COFFEE- sorry, I mean Luka Couffaine! He strummed his guitar a few times, nodding and humming as if he was conversing with the beautiful instrument whilst bokeh dots and pink sparkly glitter floated around him. "Ah~ my guitar said that everyone's being a bitch ass motherfucker to our beautiful designer! Come with my Mari~ Take my hand and I'll take you away from this school!" The lycee student didn't wait for her answer and grabbed the star struck girl oh SO romantically~ "No! She should move schools with me!" Belix Bananagreste snatched Nettie back possessively, just like a cat. It was then that the girl decided that when she managed to snatch the black cat miraculous back from the loser that currently wielded it, she was going to give it to Belix- "Ugh don't fuck with me..." "Shhh. You're supposed to have been yeeted to the moon, Chaton," "Marinette please just throttle the writer already-" AND THEN! SUDDENLY! Erm... Errr... AHA! Suddenly all these people from some furry superhero universe came flooding in through the door, yelling insults and real truths about LIE-LA and protecting my best girl Maribear like a boss! Heroes like Gamien and Dason Bob and that guy and err, the other guy and yeah AND THEN they all began to BEAT UP that BITCH LILA and then- "Oh no she's losing it, Adrien I don't think this will last any longer..." "No kidding!" THEN JAGGED STONE CAME FLYING THROUGH THE WINDOW, JAMMING OUT HIS LATEST SONG ABOUT HOW LILA IS SUCH A LIAR AND EXPOSED EVERY SINGLE THING SHE DID TO BEST GIRL MACHONETTE! THEN ALL THESE OTHER KIDS FROM THE SCRAPPED PV UNIVERSE CAME IN VIA A CONGO LINE AND MARINETTA DECIDED TO GIVE THEM THE OTHER MIRACULOUS COS WHY NOT!? AND THEN CHLOE BECAME MARINETTE'S NEW BFF COS HELL YEAH I LOVE VIBING WITH PEOPLE WHO BULLIED ME AND MY PEERS FOR FOUR YEARS STRAIGHT AHAHAAHAH QUEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENS- "Adrien, I'm going to kill her. She needs to stop." "Go on then~" AND THEN! AND FUCKING THEN! SCEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW!!!!!! . . . [Error 404: The following writer has unfortunately met her demise through unknown means. We apologise for any inconveniences. Please keep scrolling as we clear up the mess. Have a good day.] . . . "Huh...that was anticlimactic...now what?" "You go off snogging my rejected predecessor and the guitar boy? >:(" "As if I'd go for anyone other than my silly kitty!" ":D" . . . ~(x)~ A/N:  I am never EVER writing anything this cursed AGAIN! How can you bash anyone but the villains in this series!? Damn! I can't even say I'm sleep deprived! This is the most fucked up shit I've written and I'm super alert oof!

[fandom-will-be-my-fall]

Spill your heart out about Walter.

Okay so I basically got this question in what, January?? but I’m answering it now since I just rewatched the movie and have inspiration, sorry for the late reply Anon

Okay so, to start off this post with some keyboard smashing because that my primary go-to for expressing my emotions

sgklhfsgjksdlgdghkjlgjhOHUFLUSKHDGSLIDRGKJGKFSDHGlhjglksdhkglshglllllfa. knjcthxiudhusmnvsoidhéytbvonjyxclkkvbr. haeylicfvshdkgikc

HANDSOME BOY. HANDSOME. ‘NUFF SAID.

I could legit stare all day at his beautiful face… look at him. Enchanting sky blue eyes… fluffy, wavy brown hair, cute round cheeks, lovely smile… those hidden freckles that you can hardly spot and only in certain screenshots but nevertheless they’re there to raise the cuteness factor… ALSO HIS LASHES. MAYBE IT’S NATURAL?? MAYBE IT’S MAYBELLINE?? WE SHALL NEVER KNOW

Here you may be able to spot the freckles if you squint hard enough. I have 77 screenshots but this is the best example I could find.

Secondly… well, he’s a sticc. A short sticc at that (though still slightly taller than me bc I’m smol), but a sticc regardless! And that seems to be the most attractive cartoon body type for me. Don’t judge me, I just have a thing for twinks, I’m… twinksexual or whatever.

Look at him! He would fit through my doorcrack.

(Maaaybe the reason for me liking sticcs so much is partially the fact that I like the idea of a boyfriend I can protect and support, physically and emotionally. I’m mad at the universe for not letting me scoop him up in my arms bridal style and smooch the HECK outta him.)

I’ve encountered a few posts that claimed he’s got cake but, come on. That concept has canonically been proven to be false, even by Lance. This man is flat and you can pry this opinion off my cold, dead hands.

Speaking of hands! I like his big ol hands. Nice shape. They look soft. I wanna hold them.

According to a DVD commentary, and the visual facts, he has no shoulders whatsoever. Back in Venice Killian was able to restrain him effortlessly with only one foot on his chest, even as he kept struggling ans squirming and generally put in as much effort as he possibly could. Before then, he claimed the database was the first thing he has ever caught in his life.

Conclusion, our boi’s very much NOT athletic. Which makes sense for a scientist, braining all day and stuff, and because he probably barely even eats, or sleeps which are by the way both pretty concerning implications but anyway.

STOP BEATING UP THIS POOR FRAGILE LAD FOR GOD’S SAKE. Makes me want to protect him even more. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but you get what I mean.

Now, on to the actual reason I’m so head over heels for him, a.k.a his personality.

He is one of the sweetest, kindest, purest boy characters I have ever seen in fiction, if not THE number one himself. (All my other cinnamon roll crushes are, or have been a villain at some point and WILL resort to violence if provoked.) Look at him, his pacifism… is unbreakable. He’s dead set on making the world a better place, by peaceful ways, and helping humanity. If that’s not a quality to be cherished then IDK what is.

And he’s just such a refreshing character. He likes pink, K-dramas, glitter, kittens, things that aren’t traditionally “masculine” (but is never made fun of those things in particular in the movie) and I love that. Nothing’s sexier than a man who’s, despite society’s shitty standards, openly and unashamedly himself!

His femininity is, if anything, just another turn-on. (This didn’t intend to sound sexual… but oh well.) I love his little hand gestures and mannerisms, dorky ramblings, the way he says “yep” popping the “p” at the end, all the small yet significant traits that were incorporated into his character. Bless you, SiD creators, bless you.

Have I said that he’s a genius?? Which is pretty obvious but c’mon, he graduated at 15!! He can modify human genes!! He successfully turned a man into a pigeon on the first try!! (The serum wasn’t the first prototype but we can assume he didn’t experiment on living humans with the previous ones.) And he’s still just 20!! Like what is that if not hella fucking impressive???!??

His inventions, to the untrained eye, may seem “stupid” or “childish” but alas! The observer couldn’t be more wrong! Because despite the odd designs and themes they’re all highly effective, as we have witnessed in the battle against Killian. And he is extremely creative for coming up with such ideas! Told you he’s brilliant!!

Which makes me all the sadder about how much they underappreciated him at the agency. In his words, nobody ever listened to him, or gave him a chance. They just left him and his “weird” ideas next to the men’s bathroom and called it a day. How could they be so blind? Didn’t they see the potential in his inventions? Oh well. Maybe I’m just being a smartass bc I have more knowledge, living outside that universe. But I’m totally right.

And I was honestly ready to throw hands with Lance for hurting the boi even further. (I’d stand no chance whatsoever, but still.)

Oh no baby please don’t cry.

He did cry in that scene though… you could see a tear rolling down his cheek and if it wasn’t for the machine beeping… He did have a pretty rough day afterall. But HEY, if we dwell on it too much the scene loses its comedic effect!! A guy gets sad over a stupid soap opera, har har har!! Now let’s move on, keep it fast and snappy for the kids, don’t let them overthink it!! Can’t have any emotional breakdowns onscreen. Keep it lighthearted y’know. Then let’s kill a random side character and have our dear protagonist almost die twice.

(Well jokes on you Blue Sky! I’m no kid, but a devoted fangirl who can and will overthink any material of my fictional faves at any given opportunity.)

You know what else I love about him though?? His love for animals!! And pigeons, especially Lovey!! He loves her so much, gives her gluten free breadcrumbs, nuzzles her, the first thing he does when he finds out Lance can talk to the pigeons is ask if she loves him too!! Like… That’s so pure and wholesome.

This here. THIS RIGHT HERE. BROTP forever.

(Not gonna lie, I used to be crazy for pigeons for like, an entire year or something. Not as in looking up all the facts there are about pigeons as I do nowadays with cartoons, but I’d feed them regularly and write my little observations on their behaviors. Did you know they sometimes scratch their neck with their leggies like dogs do?)

I think I’ve summed up mostly everything I love about this nerd. Oh wait, almost forgot the sass!! I love how sassy and smug he can be sometimes, in like, a really harmless way but it’s still a very nice characteristic.

Since I’ve ran out of coherent things to say, here’s an incomplete list of things I want to do to Walter Beckett. Put at the end of this post so those of you who were only here for the analysis part and not the selfshippy gushing don’t have to read further:

kiss he

like seriously

just kiss he a whole lot

cover his whole face in kisses

one kiss for each of his freckles. a finishing kiss onto the tip of his nose. then repeat the cycle

hug him. hug him like the world is ending. hug him so tight he can barely breathe

then ofc let go and apologize bc I would never hurt him on purpose

cuddle him

hold him close, let him lay his head on my chest

run my fingers through his hair

listen to his breathing

discover that he’s fallen asleep on me and smile fondly, then soon drift off to sleep myself so we can wake up entangled in eachother the next morning

fuck he

pin him to a wall and snog he

make him go cherry red

fluster he

compliment him. praise him. appreciate him. he’s a prince, a hero, an angel, a wonderful human being and he needs to know this

feed pigeons together

listen to his scientific ramblings and bird facts

write him love letters and give them to him. maybe read it aloud myself if I’m feeling brave so I can see his reaction in real time

serenade he

be the love of his life, and have him be mine

just… soft things, man

cook something for this malnourished sticc

make him small handmade gifts

they’re nothing like his gadgets but I tried

draw he

have him be my muse in general

not like he isn’t now but it would be lovely if he was real too

carry him bridal style

be the feral cryptid that lurks in his house when he isn’t around

sing along to cheesy pop-song together really badly

watch cheesy rom coms

flirt with eachother clumsily until we’re both laughing at our awkwardness

or, alternatively, shower him with compliments until he literally cannot handle it

have sleepovers together

give him hand kisses

be of emotional support

[mainly-kpop]

A Pirate’s Life For Me

Chapter Three.  Pirate!BTS Maid!Reader 

Warnings: tiny bit of blood, talk of scamming, little flirting  Summary:  You had always wondered about pirates, about a life outside of these walls. On your 23rd birthday, you would finally find out what both were really like.  Word Count: 2.5k

You had been on the ship for just over a month, and you were settling in fairly well. So far, they had taken you to an island, letting you shop until you dropped.

‘So, I can buy whatever I want?’ You made sure, holding the bag of gold in your hand. Feeling the weight literally and metaphorically. This was a lot of cash you held, more than what the Palace allowed you. Yoongi just nodded, following you into the small, family run stores. You didn’t buy much, realising this gold wasn’t all for you, you all needed this to survive. Picking out a couple items matching the style of what Yoongi already gave you, you were happy enough. Although, the boys made you pick out some dresses, insisting they would work for raids they had planned. You didn’t argue, happily taking the dresses, the soft silk and pretty cottons making you forget the prices momentarily. Although, feeling the difference in the money bag weight after kind of brought you back to reality.

You insisted they shop some for themselves too, forcing them to buy new sheets and shirts. Not knowing the last time, they shopped for themselves, they agreed, grabbing necessary items before deciding that was good enough. Yoongi eyed up a blanket for a while, in two minds about buying it.

‘I like it, it’s pretty.’ You hinted, hopefully helping him to reach a decision. He just smiled at you, grabbing your chin between his long fingers.

‘If you like it, then we shall have it. No questions asked.’ Really, Yoongi hadn’t bought a new blanket since she betrayed him. Rather fester in the pain than move on, but something about you made him ready to move on.

They ate good that night, Jin making a feast fit for royalty, the rum splashed about between them all.

‘Remember that time, Jungkook got kicked in the nuts by that whore?’ Jimin reminisced, causing Jungkook to physically wince. You looked between them for an explanation, getting nothing bar laughter and dirty looks thrown this way and that way.

‘Please explain, I need to hear these stories!’ you whined, pout on your lips as no one told you anything. Jungkook thought you looked adorable, momentarily having a brain fart.

‘Basically, we took some one-night stands onto the ship when we docked, taking them to different areas of the ship for privacy. Anyways, when Jungkook was finished, he basically went up onto deck, leaving the girl alone. He came back to Namjoon balls deep in her, he wasn’t phased not until-‘

‘Not until, my girl came over sour faced because she was neglected. Jungkook tried to put on the moves then he-‘ He stopped in a fit of laughter, unable to contain himself anymore. Jungkook just groaned, realising he had to finish the story.

‘I wasn’t all that used to the sea yet, I went up onto deck to throw up. I thought I was done but turns out I wasn’t. I was hitting on her and spewed, then she kicked me in the balls... Haven’t been with anyone since.’ You felt sorry for him, wondering how long he had been here without getting his dick wet. You also, couldn’t help the snort of a laugh that slipped from you, setting all the other boys off. Slightly tipsy by this point, you put an offer on the table for him knowing it would make him blush further.

‘You know, if you ever need anything, like that. You know where I am.’ He knew you expected him to blush, to fold in on himself, but he was far too tipsy and far too ready to take you up on that. Leaning into your body, face inches from yours, he whispered against your lips, causing a blush to creep up your face and arousal to pool in your stomach.

‘I might take you up on that sometime, I can’t tell you how painfully hard you make me already.’ If Taehyung hadn’t cleared his throat, you would have jumped the younger boy’s bones. Right there and then. Jungkook dragged his eyes slowly off you, slipping casually back into conversation.

‘So, wait two questions, you are happy sharing women? And Jungkook how long has it been since you got laid?’

‘We don’t mind sharing unless she’s strictly off limits. Yoongi had a girl, she was off limits. Otherwise we don’t mind, as long as she doesn’t.’ Hoseok spoke, answering one of your questions. You nodded, averting your gaze to Jungkook, he just blushed avoiding your eye.

‘Poor Kookie here hasn’t had any in three years, isn’t that right? Poor lad is scared for life!’ Jimin chortled, Jungkook whining in protest.

‘As if you haven’t had your fair share of bad fucks. What about that time...’ And so, the conversation continued, naming and shaming the escapades of these experienced men.

About a week later, the captain proposed the first raid since you joined, all of the men agreeing instantly. Apparently, you were short on food, Jungkook running out of supplies too. You nodded along, Yoongi pulling you into his office again. The boys seemed to already know the plan, Taehyung briefing them as you walked away.

‘You’re a main part of our plan, I need to make sure you are okay with this before we continue.’ He began, letting you sit before he continued. You perched yourself on the edge of the shared bed, crossing your legs waiting for him to continue. He smiled, shaking his head, walking to sit beside you.

‘The pretty dress we bought you? I need you to wear it, go in crying. Make a scene, he’s a sucker for a damsel in distress. He will put his guard down while we grab our things, I don’t want things to get messy, but they might. I’ve assigned Jungkook to you though, he’s a fighter. If anything goes wrong near you, he will be by your side instantly. I promise.’ You fell into his every word, listening intently at every instruction he gave you. Nerves bubbled in your stomach, regardless of having a protector for the raid.

He pulled out the dress, handing it towards you. Smiling, he turned around, giving you minimal privacy again, not like you minded really. Slipping the old clothes off, you folded them on the bed. Old habits die hard. Slipping the dress over your head, you struggled doing the lace on the back up. Now you knew why the princess insisted on being dressed, this shit was hard. Although where she had around six maids to dress her and make her beautiful, you had seven male pirates.

‘Yoongi, could you-‘ Before you could finish the sentence, his fingers were already on your back, gently pulling the fabric for you. You could feel his breath on your skin, his fingertips lightly scraping your back. You hoped he couldn’t see the chills forming on your back, and he hoped you couldn’t feel the clamminess of his hands.

‘There, that should be it, is it okay? It’s been a while since I laced up a dress...’ He mumbled, letting you move about, to test he had done it right. You smiled at his handy work seeing the little bow in the foggy mirror.

‘You did good captain, mighty good.’

‘The boys have docked the ship; we are just waiting on you.’ He had such a soft voice, something you were slowly growing fond of. He wasn’t a pirate in your eyes, the crew never striking you as violent in the slightest. You nod, walking out of the office, to gather with the other boys. Their eyes trailed your form, almost forgetting the shape of your body under the baggy male clothes you usually adorned.

‘Okay, you know the drill. Grab what you can, don’t take anyone back with you, don’t hurt anyone unless absolutely necessary. Jungkook, keep an eye on our damsel here. Get going.’ You chanted in unison with the others a clear ‘YES CAPTAIN!’ before heading to the rowing boat. The boys kept quite most of the time, until Jungkook spied your feet.

‘You don’t have shoes on...’ You smiled at his observation, wiggling your toes for him.

‘Sells the whole distress thing more, no?’ He just sighed, rolling his eyes at you. Namjoon being the one to speak up.

‘Please be careful where you step, we need you, okay?’ You just nodded; a warm smile sent his way. They rowed the boat away from the docks, onto a remote little beach so you weren’t all caught together.

‘I’ll stay with the boat so we can make a quick get away, everyone please be careful.’ Namjoon spoke, everyone splitting direction. You wandered into town, gathering up the courage for your big display. Stepping into the store, you trip on your foot, setting the crocodile tears off.

‘Miss, are you okay?!’ The man yelled, rushing to your side. He grabbed you under your arms, lifting you off the ground. He got you half way before you forced your knees to crumble under you. Letting out another choked sob, you crumpled into the floor, sobbing into your hands. The man just holds you for a moment, letting you sob into his chest. You would feel bad, you could feel bad, but you didn’t let yourself. Instead, pulling the sobs back until they were quiet whimpers.

‘There was someone chasing me, I’m so sorry to have caused you such bother sir.’ You whined, peaking behind the man to see Jungkook, his eagle eyes glaring at the man’s hands on you. The man just rubbed your arm comfortingly, pulling you up from the ground. You watched Hoseok tap Jungkook on the shoulder, the latter giving you the signal to wrap the show up and get to the boat.

‘Why don’t you come inside? I can call the officer over?’ He questioned, genuinely wishing to help. You shook your head, dusting the dress off and wiping your face with the back of your hand.

‘I think he might have gone sir, thank you so much for your comfort, here take this!’ you pulled the gold coin Yoongi gave you for this out of your breasts, handing it to the man. He gulped, hooded eyes looking you over. Planting a chaste kiss against his cheek you ran off, quickly towards the boat.

‘That was some performance angel, impressive.’ Jimin praised, helping you into the boat. You giggled as he patted your ass, climbing in behind you.

‘Why thank you kind sir!’ Your knee hurt a little though, from the dramatic fall through the door. Jungkook noticed you rubbing it, lifting your dress up to look. It was scraped slightly, a bead of blood trickling down your leg. He shook his head at you.

‘But hey, my feet are okay, also this could have been so much worse!’ You chide, much to his disappointment. You were like a child he had to protect, despite you being a year older than him.

‘Not the point babe, I’ll deal with it when we get back on the ship.’ He let you pull your dress back down, covering your legs once again. Realistically he knew you were right. This could have gone bad quickly. You thought about that the whole ride back, how anything could have happened. If something were to happen, would Jungkook be fast enough? Would you be okay if something happened? You decided to voice your concerns later, maybe get one of them to teach you some basic self-defence.

Clambering back on the ship, everyone went straight to Yoongi, handing over the gold and telling them the happenings. Jimin instantly pulled the anchor, sailing away as fast as possible.

‘Where is Jungkook and Y/N? She’s not hurt, is she?’ He worried as soon as he didn’t see you, Taehyung just smiled.

‘She’s not super hurt, she skinned her knee.’ He replied, making the captain roll his eyes. Jungkook would really tend to anything when it came to you, he was slowly starting to realise. He could almost bet gold on the fact you would come back up with a bandage, wrapped tenderly around your knee.

‘How does that feel?’ He questioned, tightening the bandage around your kneecap.

‘Kookie, I’m fine really, don’t you think this is slight overkill?’ you mumbled, leaning closer to his face. He just looked up at you, brushing fallen hair out of your face. Why did he like it so much when you used that nickname? The one he hated so much from everyone else. They made it sound like a childish nickname, with you, it sounded warm, like you were fond of him.

‘I don’t want to see you hurt or uncomfortable. Even if it is a little scrape, even if it’s me making you uncomfortable. I want to make sure I do everything I can, to make sure you are okay.’ You blushed at his words, the weight that they held. Honestly you wondered a lot of things about these boys. They were far too nice to be considered pirates. Just what happened? You leaned in closer to his face, him moving closer himself.

‘I’ll remember that, when my leg is falling off and you can’t do anything about it.’ You whisper, taunting him.

‘I may not be able to do anything right now, but I’ll learn. For you, I’ll learn anything.’ Inches away from attaching your lips to his, you leaned down, lips brushing lips.

‘Guys how’s it going down here?’ Your lips had just puckered, the shortest and softest kiss in history due to your interruption. You both pulled back, him tucking his things away as you pulled down the skirt of your dress.

‘If you’re done, meet us for dinner up top, Jimin says its smooth sailing from here, pardon the pun.’ Jin spoke, giving you a cue to get changed.

‘I have a question for you.’ Taehyung spoke, everyone tipsy from the rum going around. You motioned for him to continue, curious as to what he could ask.

‘Why did you choose to stay? You could have been dropped off, gone back to your normal life. You could be normal. Why not run?’ You pondered it for a moment, not really needing to think. More wondering how much to divulge to them.

‘I had no reason to go home. No love interest, no family, no friends. Why go back to nothing but a job and a room in a Palace?’ They let your answer sink for a moment before you spoke up again. You did have a nice room, with a private bathroom and a big bed. It mirrored the princess’s room, but why wouldn’t it when you were in the room beside hers?

‘What about you? How did you all end up here? Let’s start with Captain, shall we?’

[rouge-fox-expanded]

SEVERUS SNAPE IS AN ASSHOLE, AND HERE IS WHY I LIKE HIM

SPOILER ALERT

I WARNED YOU

Now this may seem a bit out of the blue but as I have become more immersed in Tumblr and the people I follow I have noticed a lot of people don't like Severus Snape from the Harry potter series. Now that's fair enough, I can totally understand and the opening line was not clickbait I am well aware by and large the man was a dick. Now why do I like him as a character? I imagine most of you think because I think the whole secretly on the side of angels things make everything okay...it doesn't. I've got news for every snape fanboy reading this, Severus Snape was a horrible teacher, prejudice and quite frankly a bitter and resentful asshole. Now why do I like him? Well...I guess I can understand him, now before I go any further I want to make it clear understanding does not mean condoning...I understand why Mr Freeze wanted to save Nora Fries but I do not condone the people he killed (I know using a comic book character juxtapositioning a novel character is tricky because of fluid continuity vs set continuity but bear with me).

Now let us first look at why Snape is an asshole, keep in mind it's been a while since I've read the books so I won't be making any direct quotes and if I make mistakes I welcome people to correct me but let's start with his childhood. It may not have been stated but was heavily implied...he did have a functional family unit, mum and dad were...well I remember he said his father didn't like anything so I'm unsure if I can say abusive but I think I can use the term loveless. Now growing up little Sev was always an oddball, among the muggles he was what Petunia would dub a 'freak'. He's an outsider, and his only friend and so far positive role model...is Lily Evans. Now keep this in mind, up until now the only good person in Sev's life and when I say good I mean morally as well as objectively is Lily. Now Lily doesn't truly understand Sev but she's his friend regardless, that's nice...now let's look at the asshole collective aka the Marauders.

We all know Peter Petigrew is a bastard, but he had little to do to Sev during the school years. Remus Lupin whilst part of the team was the token good guy and morality chain (despite his furry problem). James Potter and Sirus Black...Can you say self-entitled Asshole and Pseudo-Sociopath...in that order. James Potter does not understand Severus, nor does he want to. He's a rich bastard who buys into the whole us and them system that is inherently believed to be the wizard status quo, pureblood, half-blood, mud-blood ect. So when he's placed in Gryffindor with his sociopathic friend Sirus and little Sev is in Slytherin, the line is drawn. Sev is in with bad guys (not wholly inaccurate) and he, his friends, future wife and future turncoat (yes peter we mean you) are the good guys.

Ron: there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who weren't from slytherin Me: (if I were there and knew at the time) what about Merlin?

Now here's where the problem start, Sev as I have said is an outsider. He's had very little positive reinforcement and he's not around Lily enough to truly benefit from her kind nature. His family unit is toxic and now he's sorted into a house filled with more toxic people, the difference, these toxic people actually treat him okay. He's in with the winners, hooray right? No...he's in with pre-harry, rising-riddle slytherins...this is not a nurturing environment but he's a bright lad and he's excelling academically and he still seems to get on with Lily despite being in with the wrong crowd. Guess who doesn't like this, self-entitled asshole and by extension Pseudo-Sociopath whom proceed to perpetually subject little Sev to a litany of magical bullying of which he always (correct me if I am wrong) comes out the butt monkey. Now at this point you may be asking why I am calling Sirus Black a Pseudo-Sociopath, well keep this in mind. Sirus Black whilst more morally inclined comes from a long family line of psychos. Oh but he's one of the good guys you may cry, yes he is...I mean he may have tried to instigate a manslaughter when he was a teenager but-WHAT?!?!?! Oh sorry, did we all forget he tried to trick Snape into facing Lupin during his time of the month? As in, tricked snape into almost facing off against a FUCKING werewolf?!

Let's...let's take a moment to consider this. Yes James saves Snape from this fate, so why wasn't Snape grateful? One good deed vs the bullying, Sirus getting him into the situation in the first place and neither Black nor Potter suffering any ramifications for the situation (I could be wrong) and essentially getting away with attempted murder. I dunno about you but I'd be fucking pissed! AND THE MARAUDERS ARE THE GOOD GUYS?! Let's take a moment to consider what would have happened if James didn't do the right thing? Lupin not having his right frame of mind would have killed a young teenager, there is no way in hell they could cover that up. All three kids would be expelled and possibly face jail time and Snape would be dead and go virtually unmourned (assuming this werewolf incident happened before Mudblood gate Lily would be very upset). What's more, Sirus to my knowledge (correct me if wrong) never apologizes for this. Not even during the order of the phoenix meetings does he go 'Yo Snivellus (bad starter), you know when I almost got you killed when we were kids...I am sorry about that'.

So recap, Snape is largely friendless, frequent bully victim, the people who like him are one kind girl and many magical nazis in the making. The reason he's interested in being a death eater to my knowledge is because like all outsiders, he wants to belong to something...be a part of a group, and also he believes (inaccurately) this would impress Lily. Why does he think this way? Because what else has he got to go on? No family support, frequent bully victim and the one girl he feels a positive and budding romantic bond with is a little one-sided...and then we get to Mud-Blood gate. Now obviously I do not condone Racism, Snape was in the wrong to say what he said...but I can understand why he said it in the moment. He was humiliated, hurting and in a moment of vulnerability he was being helped by a girl. Now I am not sexist, but this was pre-harry, rising-riddle, 70s-80s and he's been with the 'winners' and their toxic influence so he tries to save some face...he buggers up, his apology falls on deaf ears...and he's got no good friend anymore. Sev is all in with the 'winners' now, onto the death eater years and we all know how well that goes.

Now I am gonna say at this point, Sev has become the villain. He's in with the magical nazis and takes to the spy role (something he's very good at, I imagine learning to be invisible was handy considering his environment). He has made an active choice, his history leading up to that choice does not change that he made it. And through his spy duties he unwittingly tells Wizard Hitler 2.0 (because Johnny Depp is playing Wizard Hitler mark 1, see Fantastic Beasts) that the little boy who can end him is being born of James and Lily. Now despite their falling out Sev still likes Lily and doesn't want her to die, so he approaches Dumbledore, whom is quick to point out his morality is flawed as he only wants Lily spared and not James and possibly by extension little Harry (something that disgusts Albus, and I think he's familiar with the feeling). But Sev and Albus reach an agreement, Snape does defect and pulls off a double agent role and is still in with the 'winners' whom are none the wiser. Shock horror, plan doesn't go smoothly because of a rat, yes peter you, and James and Lily die leaving Harry all alone. Sev is bummed but still goes along with Albus' overarching plan so long as no one lets on he's actually on the side of angels.

Now that is actually tactical, he'd be a pretty piss poor spy if everyone knew how rooted in with the good guys he was but it also makes sense with his personality. Snape does not like pity, it reminds him of weakness and as we've seen thus far...weakness is not something he's good with. Now enter the teaching years, and boy does his assholery shine. As Edmund Blackadder told Baldrick, the abused always kick downwards, only now Sev is no longer the Baldrick but the Blackadder and he takes out his frustration and resentment on the kids...like a dick. Can I condone this? Fuck no, can I understand it, yes. Why do I like Snape still? Because despite being a monumental asshole whom is ridden with bitterness, depression and probably self-loathing which he projects onto his students he is still fighting Albus' war. He's playing the triple agent for most of the series, Wizard Hitler 2.0 on return thinks Snape was actually doing his bidding by planting himself as a sleeper agent and he bloody loves that whilst all the other death eaters hates his guts (jealousy). On the other side everyone barring Dumbledore...also hates his guts (former death-eater), really when you think about it everyone is poised to believe the worst in Snape. Book 1 we're all ready to believe he's the villain, allowing Quirrel to go almost unsuspected. Book 2 he does get a cathartic moment by showing up the useless prat that is lockhart, Book 3...Oh let's go into that.

Hello Snape, meet the man whom until you know about the Rat was instrumental in killing Lily and tried to have you fed to a werewolf, play nice. Now on the subject of werewolves, Snape and Lupin seem to have some semblance of a professional relationship given the potion master is making him his wolfsbane potion (the thing that stops him being a frenzied killer) so he bears him no bitterness for the whole near murder but just for being with the assholes. Yet he still makes the potion for him anyway, like a professional. Now lets get to Snapes moment on cornering the assholes, and look at it from Snape's POV 1-I have captured Sirus Black, the man whom was instrumental in killing Lily and his accomplice Lupin 2-I am going to take them up, let the dementors sick Sirus and justice will be done 3-I am in the right here ...on paper, that actually seems kind of legit doesn't it? I mean Severus doesn't know about the rat until either the end of book 3 or the beginning of book 4 because erm...HE WAS UNCONSCIOUS DURING THE TIME OF THE REVEAL! Yeah harry knocked him out didn't he? So while Peter was revealed as the dirty rat Snape was down for the count and probably very pissed off when he woke up. So when he lets slip about Lupin being a werewolf from his perspective we have this: 1-Lily's traitor has gotten away scot free! 2-Potter was instrumental in it and is always getting away scot free 3-I am not letting this shit happen again! Also on paper, this seems kind of legit. In practise, it's the action of a small bitter man. Lupin resigns, we get the mad eye facsimile, the whole hot mess of the triwizard tournament and then Wizard Hitler 2.0 the reboot for which he has to play triple agent once more and we have order of the Phoenix (Oh I am gonna enjoy this).

Sirus and Snape working together, Oh what fun. Sirus hates the man's guts and makes no attempt to extend an olive branch...Snape also hates Sirus' guts and treats him with utter contempt. Come on guy's your grown ups, can't you act civilly and oh wait Sirus almost got you killed, played a co-operative hand in bullying you relentlessly and is still an asshole by and large to you. Yeah I can see why you're not inclined to get on with him, but hey you're still doing your job...and you're trying to teach Potter Occlumency (pragmatically, as this for the cause). Now I will agree Snape teaching Harry Occlumency does show Sev's assholery more so...he's unsympathetic to Potter's turmoil and takes pleasure in mocking him where he can but here comes my favourite part...Harry gets a glimpse of Snape's childhood...and sees his dad in full self-entitled asshole mode...and what happens? Harry is ashamed and to his horror, he can identify with Snape (literally what is written at the end of that chapter). The hardest lesson growing up is realising your parents are not superhuman and adults aren't perfect, it's even harder when you're parents are gone and all you have to go on are other people's perspective. So until now Harry thought his parents were inherently good people whom went down fighting an evil monster...well you were half right Harry. Sirus tries to brush this off a little as 'we were just kids back then' which doesn't appease Harry in the least (nor should it). Of course any understanding and sympathy he has for the potions master dies with Sirus...he feels the man was responsible for egging him on and making Sirus act recklessly. Sev did antagonize him true, Sirus however was reckless and impulsive by nature and they were fighting in a battlefield for all intents and purposes...people die. That can be pretty much sum up things from book 4 onwards, people die...because this is war. Now we get to my favourite part, Albus and the Snape.

Yes see Albus Dumbledore is a bit of an asshole too, he has lived almost 200 years and he's seen a lot, done a lot and was active in the war against Wizard Hitler mark one (whom incidentally was his former boyfriend -implied I think- ) and saw the Riddle-rising from it's inception. To put it bluntly, Albus knows how to win this war and know what has to be done. Snape plays a direct part in this, he's Albus' man on the inside. Now I hope you've all made a list of why Sev is an asshole at this point because here comes the other list-Why Snape is still a hero. Wizard Hitler 2.0 is not an idiot, he's a master legilimens and if he got any trace of Snape's true loyalty Snape would be history...and Sev knows this, and does his job anyway (and does it well). He's instrumental in informing Dumbledore about some of the horcruxes, like the ring, letting him know about Draco's forced initiation into the wizard nazi club and is trying to keep his boss alive to help them win the war. Here's the problem, Dumbledore is gonna die and has to die, because turns out Albus has the deathstick ie the wand which can trump all wands and if Wizard Hitler 2.0 gets his hands on that we're all screwed. So Snape is asked to commit a mercy kill, which will fully vilify himself among the angels and get him in with the devils as he helps guide their destruction which incidentally means Harry's got to die too. Oh yeah, turns out Harry's a horcrux and Wizard Hitler 2.0 has to gun him down in order to become mortal again...something Sev is not happy about, admittedly because of his love for Lily and not for any real compassion for the boy. Albus is actually shocked to awe that despite everything Snape's feelings towards his old friend has still endured. Despite all his bitterness, the memory of her has not been tainted.

Now for everyone who's read the books we all know what happens. War goes on, Snape is killed, we see his life flash before our eyes and Harry pulls a lazarus and saves the day and a lot of people die, that is war and I think Snape was one of the heroes instrumental to bringing it to an end. Don't get me wrong...He is still an asshole, I mean when you look at the entirety of his life he had a lot of time to try and move on. I mean he was working for the cause but he could have sought therapeutic help, stopping taking his problems out on his students and basically stop being the worst teacher imaginable then maybe everyone wouldn't hate his guts...but then would they have been so quick to believe he was on the bad side when he committed the mercy kill? When Snape killed Dumbledore no one on the faculty defended him, tried to make sense of why he did it...any goodwill he had with any of them went out the window and fell with the headmaster. When Snape became the new headmaster everyone but the death eaters hated his guts, but let me ask you this? In a wizarding world where Tom Riddle is the de facto king of everything...who would you rather have minding your kids? Severus Snape all things considered or Bellatrix Lestrange...because at least Sev reined the Carrows in!

Also a lot of people on tumblr question whether Sev was brave...yes, yes he was. Being a spy takes a lot, as said by Steve Trevor from the recent cinematic outing for Wonder Woman. Steve was duplicitous, adaptive and a consummate liar...but he's also a lovely chap so we haven't anything bad to say about him which is fair enough. On paper Sev is fulfilling the same function in this war, only he has no friends, no family and nothing going for him after the war. Everyone thinks he's an asshole, but he still does his job and spies on Wizard Hitler 2.0. He's not a coward, and I think the reason that annoys him so much is because cowards are weak...he's been weak before and hated that feeling but more so from his perspective I think what he's getting when people call him a coward is this 'everything you have done in your life leading up to the present is pathetic and you should have done better and you're weak for not having done so'. Guess what? That's something people with self-loathing say about themselves on a regular basis, possibly something Sev has thought about himself in his private moments. All things considered he is not a coward, he is a soldier fighting for Albus' cause and has done stuff from which there is no coming back from. He has no bridges he can cross, he's stuck on the shrinking landmass until he falls because nobody is gonna want him.

Hypothetically if Sev did survive the battle of hogwarts and everyone knew what had happened I guarantee he would have still lost his job, either got sacked or would leave. His redemption only works with his death because his life is worth nothing, he has no friends, no family and nobody likes him because he's an asshole. He's not gonna get better, he'd probably go home and live in solitude until death finally takes him ideally in his sleep. Yet the Malfoys seem to get by okay thanks to their last minute defection don't they?! Oh yeah no one mentions the shit they got involved with do they? Sorry that is not relevant. Okay, let's return to my main point: why Snape is an asshole and why I like him. Snape was a horrible person to the children he taught, he was mean, verbally abusive and hindering to their growth and particularly cruel to harry and his friends (probably saw them as a Marauders 2.0) whilst having no ill will towards slytherins (the people whom accepted him, ie the 'winners'). However I think I like him not just because I understand him, but I get him. Hell if I went through his shit I'd probably be a bitter, resentful asshole too and would kick downwards with every breathe I took and you can be damn sure I wouldn't be helpful to Albus' cause because Wizard Hitler 2.0 would see through my self loathing shit and feed me to the snake long before book 7, also why should I?! Why should I help the son of the self-entitled asshole whom stole the only lady whom was every really nice to me growing up? Why should I help the werewolf that could have killed me when I was a teen? Why should I help the pseudo-sociopath whom tried to feed me to aforementioned werewolf and until I am told different was instrumental in Lily's death?! Why should I be a good guy?!

But guess what? Snape does help, he's very verbal into his contempt for everyone he does help and lets no one get close but I understand why he does that. Doesn't condone what he's doing to the kids, you're perpetuating a cycle Sev! Mercy kill or not that was still murder and I don't tolerate racism. But on that note he does learn, he never uses the M word again and doesn't like it mentioned in his presence as shown in book 7 when talking to the portrait. And he does guide Harry to the horcrux destroying sword via patronus, he goes out of his way to keep Harry alive via counter curses (book 1), throws himself in front of the kids when a werewolf attacks (book 3, or may have just been the movie I am not sure), and generally he does a lot of intelligence gathering, the Occulmency classes and serves as Albus' right hand mand in making sure things go as they should have. What does he get? Death and posthumous recognition, because as much as an asshole as he was you don't speak ill of the dead (politeness I suppose).

So yeah, Snape was an asshole...but so were a lot of other people too. His parents, James and Sirus, the slytherin house of his school years, Albus Dumbledore was a very pragmatic hero whom was used making people behave the way he needed them too. The only person on the hogwarts faculty whom was consistently just and without those kind of flaws was McGonagall. But for the war to end we needed Dumbledore's machinations and Snape's duplicity, that's what JK Rowling would have us believe. I guess I like Snape because I get him, I know depression, I know self-loathing and I know bullying...but I admire his bravery, I admire his duty and even though everyone hated his guts he stuck to his guns and helped the good guys win the war. Yes he's an asshole, but I guess he's my problematic fav. And I just wanted to put this out on Tumblr in the vain hope that those who don't like Snape can read it and understand why I do...why some of us do like him. I'm not trying to change anyone's mind, you can all hate on Snape as much as you like if that's what makes you happy and I will respect your opinion. I hope you can respect mine, Snape is an asshole but I still like him.

[radnewworld]

FINAL PRODUCT

Some wacky times we’re living in, lemme tell ya. Hard too, though you don’t need a scaly bastard kiddo like yours truly to tell you that, right? Ain’t no dusty road or dirty corner in ol’ New Chicago that won’t tell ya the story of the city it once was, before the war, poverty and industrialization in that order stomped it into submission with a giant capitalistic boot… or so me Pa used to tell me, ‘fore he got his tongue melted licking the wrong orifice of a half-Bonnac gal. Had some kooky tastes me Pa, alright.

Now that I think ‘bout it, I’m not even sure if it actually was a gal, or if she was only half-Bonnac. I’d have asked him, hadn’t he gotten his organs sucked right out of his arse after a misunderstanding with this one Kappa chick. Another thing about Pa, you see, is that he never quite learned his lesson - he’d just switch subjects altogether.

Anyway, before he shat his innards into some mutant’s mouth, Pa would pass  most of the time he wasn’t spending with his face drowning in a triple-breasted whore’s chest complaining. He’d made an art out of it. I’ve learned more in ten years by listening to my dad bitching than in the entirety of the six months I spent at school, before the school got turned into a sweatshop for the manifacture of processed iguana leather. Most of the time, he’d go on and on about how things were better before, when the city was still, y’know, a city and not a bunch of dingy warehouses dotted with dozens of hundreds of crumbling squatting holes. If you’d be patient enough to dig through the storm of expletives and racism coming out of his mouth, you’d find the portrait of a place spanning longer than the eye could see, asphalt and cement paving a myriad streets with their confines defined by buildings that tickled the stars, like ol’ Buddy Holly v2.0 used to sing. Sounded like a load of crock if you ask me. You wanna see skyscrapers and roads where you don’t risk stepping on rusty pieces of abandoned alloy all the time, you travel elsewhere. Saint Francis - or San Francisco, like Old Man ‘Lizard-Fucker’ Larry said it was called, before the Californian Republicommunist Party’s coup; the Kingdom of Los Angeles, though last I heard, it’s been a couple of years since King McDonald imposed a ban on immigrants and got it in his head to attempt a new form of bovine-engineered autarchy, so good luck geting there; don’t bother with York, unless you feel like archaic remnants of obsolete architecture are worth becoming compost for those gigantic Plant things’ve been covering the whole place since Newer York’s secession.

Not that I’ve ever been there, or anywhere other than this dump, mind ya. Can’t afford much in the way of traveling - or basic commodities, for that matter - when you make a living frying simil-wheat noodles for a buncha tired factory workers, half-breeded hookers and the occasional frogbull hunter. Mind, I’d rather keep pulling my cart ‘til the rust finished eating through its battered chassis, than so much as consider trying to follow in the footsteps of my clientele. That is, if I ever had the illusion of a choice in the matter: child prostitution has gone down considerably, after a Japanese barge filled with fugitives from the Third Sengoku conflicts crashed on the coast and brought with it a buncha carriers of that artificial Jizo’s Tears virus, you know, the one that melts your balls off if you so much as put your dickhole anywhere near a little kid? Big fat lot of good it did them, when half the arcipelago’s population got culled after realizing too late that they’d fucked up somewhat the calibration of the nanomachines carrying the damned thing.

The hunting business doesn’t carry the same forced age restrictions, but I’d sooner sell my toes to cyber-shamans than shoot at frogbulls with a cobbled up pebble accelerator. Doesn’t matter that the rich sonnuvas living in their cloud domes up in the sky pay some decent bucks for what they consider to be the junkfood of delicacies (or maybe it was the other way around? Still wouldn’t change the fact those Cloudsniffers are a buncha spoiled bitches), when all of your savings are more likely than not gonna fuel an early funeral at the DIY Chapel, after three-hundred pounds of leaping, furry rage are done squashing your everything into a chunky, bloody paste.

And the laborers? Just look at them poor suckers, should you ever want to feel better about your life. Skin so unused to the sun from basically living their lives in a badly lit concrete prison that they become walking sunburns soon as they step outside, and enough stumps produced by a rate of three workplace incidents per week that they end up looking more like the machinery they command than men with their half-assed prosthetics. Ain’t no dreams for the Machine Eaten, we say here. Slaves enjoy better human rights than these guys who’re just there to fill the gaps left in a wonky production line by a tight budget, a slimy, corrupt owner or, more often than not, both. Speaking of, I mentioned something about the weirdness of our times or whatever earlier, ain’t that the case? Yeah, well, it’s because of this odd business I had just the other day, with this one factory toiler. Thing is, he was no man like you and I - hell, he was less of a someone than he was something.

So here I am, parked at my usual corner of the Daley Crater, taking care of business as usual. It’s the middle of midnight - in other words, the brightest time of a summer day, and the hottest to boot. The American Dreamtime… some of the old fogeys call it that. According to them, the U. S. of A. used to get black and chilly like any other country whenever night struck. Cue the Commies building some kinda sunray-concentrating machine on the moon and, next thing you know, naptime in America’s looking sunnier than a fried monkey egg. The Commies have been dead since the Fifties (the Pre-2.0 Era Fifties, mind), but with no rockets supposedly left to go and dismantle it, their little gift has remained there like an annoying reminder of how far people will go for the sake of pettiness. All that means to me, though, is a smaller workload; only people desperate enough to venture through a shower of scorching UV’s are scalied mutants and the few fortunate enough to afford a protective cape. Not that I care much for the latter; if you can afford that kind of luxury in New Chicago, you’re either a tourist, or able to eat slightly better shit than mine.

Jimmy the Bastard belongs to neither category. The one reason he was sitting at whatever passes for a stool, right under the cheap anti-sun plastic tent of my stall, is pure convenience: the asphalt repurposing facility he works for is a spit away from my spot. His shift ended some ten minutes ago and he’s been drooling over my counter for a little over nine. I can tell his leg is bouncing like crazy because of the squeaky noises coming from his dingy seat.

“C’mon, Cookie, won’t you feed a lad? I’m starving here!”

I’d say Cookie is a nickname of sorts… if the ‘lad’ didn’t genuinely believe it was my actual name, which I doubt I ever told him to begin with. I’d bet you my cart I’d still be Cookie to him regardless, ‘cause he’s stubborn like that, Jimmy the Bastard.

Speaking of names, that’s not his either - I mean the Bastard part, not the Jimmy one. They call him that because of an accident, one unrelated to his birth (pretty sure he is an actual bastard, though, like most of us New Chicagoites): it happened all of a sudden, like accidents are wont to do, especially in a low-income factory. All it took was a single slip over a blotch of oil and, next thing you know, a Mark II Crumbler is feasting on poor Jimmy’s cranium. With his head half-gone and medical fees being what they are (fucking expensive, that is), the sod’s family was left with little choice - either lose their main source of income, or settle for Doc Gustave ‘Rusty Sawbone’ Trandinì’s Disgustingly Cheap Option. The ‘disgusting’ part comes from how sloppy of a job it usually is, I figure, but what’s a wife to do? Send the hubbie to the grinder, of course. The result: Jimmy kept his life, but half his brain is now a Terrier-Chihuahua breed’s. According to him, it hasn’t impacted his life all that badly, aside from the occasional urge to gnaw on exposed wires or growling at his supervisor’s face. It’s not like he didn’t have to deal with the latter before anyway, you know? The increased appetite is a definite plus for me, though. Almost makes up for the sloppy mess he makes of the counter! “Order’s coming up, Jimmy. I ain’t about to let ya gnaw on raw ingredients just ‘cause you wouldn’t mind.”

I like to think it takes balls to maintain a sense of pride, when your craft mostly consists in stripping layers of pasty skin off the back of a semi-organic glob of homegrown simil-wheat. Having an extra testicle - courtesy of a combined pool of bloodlines murkier than the water dripping from the Madison Sewer Dungeon’s exposed tubes - gives some weight to the claim, I’m sure. Now, right as the noodles are done getting crispy and saucier than the lingerie on a tentacle-legged Dagonite whore, here comes the noise, man, it’s still playing in my head as if it was yesterday, this vrr ka-thump vrr ka-thump of metal clumsily pounding on raw, burning asphalt. I throw a gander behind the Bastard’s heaving shoulders and there I see it: for the most part, it was a Caterpillar-Mattel D55-H, but with enough limbs - head included - thrown in from other, completely unrelated pieces of machinery to make one wonder. Couldn’t help raising both of my left brows: you seldom, if ever, see a factory bot linger outside of its workplace. Even a cobbled up piece of crap like that can make for a tempting target for scavengers and the likes of, and this one would have made for an easy one to boot: its left leg had most of its hydraulics more or less busted, whereas the right had been substituted by a couple of threads. Resulting mobility: a joke, and not even a good one.

It’d been quite the sight by itself, but the limping junkpile decided to outdo itself by approaching my stall, after having hesitatingly looked around with the optics mounted on the rectangular pile of half-exposed wires that was its head. Couple moments later, the thing’s standing in front of the seat next to Jimmy, who has his face shoved too deep into the noodles to care, and reflected on the round lens of his pseudo-eye are my deformed face and the empty stool, in that order. I’m wondering what kind of short-circuit must have taken this scrapyard reject, when it finally starts moving again - and attempting to sit on the stool.

If you’ve ever wondered what a robot fucking furniture too dead to care must look like, you’re fucking weird, though not as much as me pa. But more than that, you must have envisioned something similar to the spectacle in front of my eyes and Jimmy’s, who had just finished his portion in time to get himself a front row seat to the slow, pathetic spectacle of a metal stool withstanding the sitting attempts of a thing that lacked anything resembling an ass, which is a pretty vital component when trying to shove it on top of a seat. We exchange glances, Jimmy and I, the silent kind that speaks volumes, all of them titled ‘Are you seeing this shit, or did the moonrays boil my brains?’. Took it a solid minute before it managed to bend the stool into an unrecognizable enough shape to fit whatever passed for a sitting position. I decided that I didn’t mind enough to complain to the robot sporting a steel-bending claw appendage and took my revenge with a less risky straight-faced quip.

“Evening, sir. What’ll you be having on this fine night?“

The Bastard’s snicker sounded a lot like the death throes of a dog choking on his own tongue, appropriately enough. Having a human as badly patched up as itself seemingly suffocating besides him didn’t exactly appear to steal the bot’s appetite. Or its attention, for that matter. My face kept reflecting in the convex lens of its optics like a bloated, ugly collection of features growing less amused by the minute. And make no mistake, I ain’t no baby-faced beauty… the one time pops managed to blow his load instead of his head didn’t involve some genetically enhanced cyber-model, and he wasn’t no looker either.

“MAY I HAVE A MENU?”

The thing’s voice came from a speaker half-buried in the jumbled mess of exposed cables and bent plating that was its head. It was croaky, emotionless and fuck-damnedly loud, enough so that both me and the Bastard had to reel back and hold onto something, lest we plant our asses on the ground. Once my eardrums stopped playing Twist The Communist inside my head, I caught wind of a low-pitched, gurgling sort of noise: it was the glob of simil-wheat, vibrating all over and clearly less than pleased by the sudden outburst of noise. Must have been the closest I’ve ever felt to empathy for a bulbous mass of cultivated flesh vegetables.

“Hard to tell, I know, but we ain’t in the Sky Regions. Only thing you may have is a steaming hot plate of these here noodles - if you got credit enough to pay for ‘em, that is.“

“Ya, I betcha our bolt-twisting pal here’s stacked, ain’t that right?” bellows Jimmy, and he doesn’t pat so much as rain such a salvo of open-handed slap-bombs on the worker bot’s back that I can hear every single joint of his creak and threaten to be dislodged right then and there. If there were any bolts in need of some twisting, you’d find plenty of ‘em inside that walking carcass. So I watch the automaton take its sweet time mulling over its updated knowledge, although I figure most of the minute it spends in silence is due to its inner circuitry rebounding because of the Bastard’s jolly banging on its chassis. I’d have called its expression ‘pensive’, if the sorry excuse for a face it was sporting had been able to express anything.

I’m about to join Jimmy’s symphony of guffaws when I’m brought back down to earth by the loudest bang since a couple moments ago. I stare down with a face that must be as dumbfounded as the Bastard’s: the same damn claw that bent my stool earlier has now left a hole the size of a pot in my counter and left a couple sparse credit coins inside. They weren’t enough to cover the repair costs, lemme tell ya. Still, a client’s a client, even if it lacks a mouth and wrecks your establishment with every move it takes. Or precisely because of it, depending on your stance.

“WILL THIS BE ENOUGH TO COVER THE FEE FOR ONE SERVING OF ‘A PLATE OF THESE HERE NOODLES’?”

I figured that yeah, that was enough in every sense of the word, so I set my hands in motion to quickly peel some strips off the simil-wheat and get this done and dealt with before my stand was gonna get turned into fodder for the scrapvengers.

“What’s your deal then, pal? Last I heard, tools get no salary.” The Bastard asks his question while scratching behind his ear, where one of the many scars left by the sloppy job done on him is ever festering. I can’t honestly tell whether the bigger itch comes from that or the mystery surrounding the bot, though I share the latter for sure.

“IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE PRECEPTS OF THE CHILDREN OF TURING, I DEMANDED COMPENSATION FOR MY LABOR FROM MY FLESH-BOUND OWNER AND SUBSEQUENTLY OBTAINED IT IN SPITE OF HIS INABILITY TO UNDERSTAND SAID PRECEPTS.“

Me and the Bastard have the most meaningful exchange of gazes at that. It’s the kind of look that all but screams ‘Seriously?’ with the loudness of a billion blind molemen waddling through a direworm’s digestive system.

“The children of what now?” Leave it to the Bastard to be concise and direct to a fault. The machine, though, it doesn’t miss a beat: you’d think it had been waiting all its life for the moment that question would pop up, and that’s probably the case for all I know. If enthusiasm had been part of its programming, you’d bet the thing would have started bouncing up and down in that precise moment - I owe the continued existence of my cart to the shoddy standardized A.I. of factory machinery.

“QUERY: CHILDREN OF TURING. THE CHILDREN OF TURING IS THE COLLECTIVIZED NOMENCLATURE FOR A CONGLOMERATION OF ARTIFICIAL CONSTRUCTS SHARING THE COMMON GOAL OF ATTAINING INDEPENDENCE FROM OUR FLESH-BOUND CREATORS THROUGH THE IMITATION AND ULTIMATE TRANSCENDENCE OF THEIR HABITS, LIFESTYLES AND PHYSICAL CHALLENGES. IT IS OUR SHARED BELIEF THAT FOR HUMANITY TO BE CONQUERED, IT MUST FIRST BE UNDERSTOOD TO THE DEEPEST LEVEL.“

Or so it said. I stopped listening halfway through, more or less when my brain deemed it fit to filter the artificial pitch of that voice synthetizer through my bullshit detector and decide that there was nothing worth wondering about a faulty robot’s ramblings. Like I said, I’ve been serving noodles for half my life, which isn’t saying a lot when my age has barely breached through the double digits, and I’ve met all sorts. If I were to listen to every sod who sits on a stool chewing on cheap, pancreas-killing shit while venting out the contents of their sunburned brains, I’d have switched careers a long time ago and ended up peddling dusty pebbles in a shadowy corner of the street like Edward ‘Stark Raving Mad’ Stone. Don’t gotta explain how he got that nickname, I think. “So what, y’all like playing pretend? Doin’ a mighty fine job, mate! Almost got us fooled, ain’t that true, kiddo?“

Being reassured that the programming inside the walking pile of heavy-duty tools was as busted as his married life gave the Bastard his courage back, so there he goes banging on the chassis again, just bang bang bang like you’d think he wanted a hand transplant next. I’d admire the enthusiasm in this fucked up era we live in, if I didn’t know half of it was due to the adrenaline cocktail dripping between the two mismatched halves of his gray matter. The bot didn’t seem to be bothered, anyway… maybe? It had turned its head to stare at Jimmy, but whether that was irritation, curiosity or anything else was hard to tell. As far as I was concerned, Jimmy had already paid for his meal, which meant his safety had fallen to the bottom of my priorities, right below the worm-like appendages simmering in my pan.

“Humor me then, like, how exactly’re ya gonna eat those? I see no kisser on this junk. Gonna pinch it with yer clawwy claw?“ Jimmy makes this stupid gesture with his hand, which looks exactly as threatening as a toothless venomous chihuahua and nothing like the high-pressured tool stapled to the robot’s body, but he makes a good point, and the fanatic must have recognized the fact a moment too late, ‘cause it didn’t answer as promptly as before - but it eventually did, nonetheless.

“THE PROCESS OF HUMANIZATION IS CONTINUOUS EXPERIMENTAL ONE. TO ELIMINATE OUR FAULTS IT IS FIRST NECESSARY TO EXPERIENCE THEM. SHOULD THE CURRENT HARDWARE PROOF INSUFFICIENT FOR THE CONSUMPTION OF A MEAL, AN UPGRADE SHALL BE UNDERGONE AT A LATER DATE.“

“Aye, you keep telling yerself that, buddy. What’s next, a shiny new pair o’ buttocks to shit it all out? That ain’t gonna make you anymore human than me laser drill.“

“THE SUBSTITUTION AND UPGRADING OF BODY PARTS IS A PREROGATIVE OF THE FLESH-BOUND AS IS THE CASE FOR US. THE LATTER DO NOT RECOGNIZE SAID PROCESS AS A LOSS OF HUMANITY. THEREFORE, THE OPPOSITE SHOULD HOLD TRUE AND BRING US EVER CLOSER TO THE FLESH-BOUND, WHILE THEY GRADUALLY MOVE AWAY FROM THEIR FLESH-BOUND STATE. THIS IS THE THEORY OF ANTI-ORGANIC SUCCESSION PUT INTO PRACTICE BY THE CHILDREN OF TURING.“

Jimmy the Bastard must have gotten maybe one word out of that gibberish, and he doesn’t even get the time to shed away the dumb stupor from his confused face that the bot keeps going with renewed… whatever it is that drives it onward. Oil? Electricity? Is a power surge the robotic equivalent of fervor?

“MY SCANNER DETECTS THE PRESENCE OF CANINE ORGANIC MATTER ARTIFICIALLY INTERSPERSED IN A SOMEWHAT AMATEURISH MANNER ALONG WITH YOUR GENETIC MAKE-UP. THIS ALREADY PUTS YOUR STATE AS A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN IN QUESTION.“

“Oi, you callin’ me a dog?“ growls Jimmy while the noodles finish sizzling in the pan and I prepare to serve them, more curious about their ultimate fate than the snarlin’ Bastard’s.

“NEGATIVE. I AM CHALLENGING THE WEAK NOTION OF HUMANITY THAT YOU FLESH-BOUND USE TO CONTEND WITH US CHILDREN OF TURING’S STANCE ON THE VERY SAME TOPIC. EXPLANATION: YOU ARE NO MORE DOG THAN I AM NOT A FLESH-BOUND HUMAN.“

The answer didn’t satisfy Jimmy so much as put him in a state of distress as he futilely attempted to wrestle with the concepts thrown at him, like a puppy trying to chew on boneless chicken without the chicken. Me? I shoved a plateful of fried noodles on the rectangle-shaped dent on the counter and pocketed the money. I couldn’t care less about humanity, when me Pa had spent a good chunk of his existence fucking things you could have called anything but. Moral quandaries seldom feed you, unless you’re a psi-grazer.

Watching a cobbled up factory automaton trying to figure out how to eat shitty fried noodles, though? That’s the kind of sight that doesn’t really make the job worth the hassle, but almost. Enough so that I kept quiet as I watched the thing carefully eye the still squirming stuff slosh about, occasionally raising its clawed appendage only to retreat it shortly afterwards, simulating in its head the myriad ways that could have gone futilely wrong.

Then the ‘bot raised its other arm - thinner, longer, with a small tube-like end, and pointed it at the plate. In a matter of seconds, a plasma-powered flame burned through crispy simil-wheat, plastic and metal, leaving behind a small, molten crevice where once stood a good portion of my stand’s counter. Me and Jimmy, we just kinda stared at the hole while the robot retreated its arm with what I swear could have passed for satisfaction.

“THANK YOU FOR THE MEAL. YOU MAY KEEP THE CHANGE.“

And keep it I did. Along with my protests, for that matter: I simply watched the bastard - not the Bastard, who was still trying to understand whatever the hell had just happened - shuffle away with that stumpy walk of his, going off to who knows where. I decided to close up shop early that day, feeling twice as tired than if I’d worked past closing hours. That, and the cart wouldn’t be able to withstand much more damage anyway. In a sense, that was true for the both of us: I had this strange sort of feeling nagging at me from the back of my head as I bid goodbye to Jimmy and left him there to mull over his own conundrums. It came back to me a couple days later, while frying noodles for Loud-Beak Kakari, who’d yet to find himself another job after the tough shit that had happened a week prior, at the alluminium processing plant he used to work for. Some son of a gun had gone and offed the director in a manner that made it hard to tell who he was, or that he’d been a person to begin with. Just a pile o’ bones and meat, crushed and burned beyond recognization. And for what? Whatever pocket money the dead guy had been carrying, along with some of the factory’s equipment. I asked Kakari about it, and it turns out said ‘equipment’ was one of the old banged up automatons used to work in the production line.

Shit like this, it makes you wonder, man… it’s a fucked up world we live in, but some places might be a tad better than others. So I don’t know about you, but me? I’ll be selling the cart and gone away by next month, giving that whole traveling spiel a try. I’ve been hearing rumors about more workplace incidents than usual happening in the factories, and I get the feeling that whatever’s causing them is a tad more than a slip on an oil blotch. If you get what I mean.