#Carbon Neutral Watch

[gadgetgeniusinsights]

Apple Watch Series 9 [GPS 45mm] Smartwatch

Discover the Power of the Apple Watch Series 9 [GPS 45mm] Smartwatch!

[mlobsters]

I'm sure it's not universal but I find it funny how, for my ace experience at least, thirst traps are active repellants

[apathyfairy]

you know when you’re suicidal like 99 percent of the time but then some random thing comes and hits you and you just struggle so much with mortality and you want to live forever so bad

[in-class-daydreams]

Note: Gojo & the reader are ~40 in this, Sen is 18, and the guy you're seeing (if you don't already know who it is) is aged up accordingly (~30)

Imagine your and ex-husband Gojo's son Sen finding out you're seeing someone.

"You're going on a date?!" Sen asks in disbelief. "With who?"

You smooth out your outfit and check yourself out in the mirror. This look is one of your best, if you do say so yourself.

"Does it matter?" you ask neutrally. Sen is just mature enough to not blatantly freak out at this revelation, but only just. The less he knows, the better.

"Of course, it matters! I need to know who to hunt down if you disappear!" he replies, hands flying up to fist in his hair. "I need to vet this guy!"

Your ex-husband appears in your bedroom doorway. "Who are we vetting?"

Clenching your prospective clothing in your hands, you grumble, "Doesn't anyone knock any more?"

Satoru leans against the door frame like he's someone's booktok boyfriend (he used to be your booktok husband but that's beside the point). He takes in how you've cleaned up and instantly recognizes your date look. Of course, he's only seen it a million times.

"Oh, the kid didn't know you had boyfriend?" he asks.

"Boyfriend?!" Sen cries. Your temple throbs. "Who is he?"

Satoru shrugs. "I dunno, I just know he exists and his one move is sending flowers because he's basic."

"He's not basic and he is not my boyfriend!" you shout, throwing your hands in the air. "We go on dates, yes. We're seeing each other. 'Boyfriend' implies exclusivity, and none of the people I'm seeing are my boyfriend."

Your son and ex-husband stare at you wide-eyed. As Sen gets older, the black roots of his hair have become his last line of defense against looking like a carbon copy of his dad, and having both a young and old(er) Satoru look at you with their stupid big blue eyes is unsettling. Someone hurry up and blink.

"What?" you ask tiredly.

This time it's Satoru that has something irritating to say. "'People?' As in plural?"

"Satoru, don't start."

Sen raises his hand. "I'm with dad on this one. I don't trust anyone with you, not even dad--"

"Thanks, kid."

"--much less strangers."

Part of you understands that your son and ex-husband are the two people in the world that love you the most. Growing up as isolated as you did, your younger self would never have imagined having the both of them in your life. They're just trying to protect you.

The other part of you is on the verge of telling them both to step the fuck off.

You're all saved by the doorbell ringing and before you can even react, both of them are at the door interrogating whoever's on your porch. But you always met up with your dates instead of them picking you up in case of this exact scenario. There was no way he came to the door without your permission.

Sprinting to the door, you find your son, your ex, and a terrified-looking deliveryman holding a bouquet of flowers. You shoo the boys away from him and accept the flowers with thanks and a generous tip for dealing with them.

There's a handwritten note attached. It reads:

You didn't think I'd let you walk out the house without a present, right? Pretty girls need pretty flowers.

You can't hold in a grin. He always found ways to go above and beyond even without an official label.

"Well, at least he's a sorcerer," Sen says. He gestures to the note, "There's a teeny bit of residual CE on there. Not enough for me to recognize, though."

You try not to make your sigh of relief obvious. Sen was still in training and Sukuna said his ability to recognize specific cursed energy needed some work. Getting advice from his dad would help, but your son got his stubborn streak from you.

"Well, good. I don't need you tracking him down." Handing the flowers to Sen, you ask, "Put these in a vase for mama, please?"

Sen, ever the obedient son, runs off to do so immediately. You fondly watch him round the corner into the kitchen, then double back to grab you and place a kiss on your cheek.

"I don't like this, but please be safe, mama! Call me any time, I'll be there," he says, then returns to his task.

Once he's out of sight, you slip your shoes on, holding Satoru by the shoulder to stabilize yourself.

"I'll be back before 11. There's pasta in the fridge and I just washed the sheets in the guest room if you want to stay over," you tell him. Pulling up the back of your shoe, you look up at Satoru to find him stock still looking past you. You can't see his eyes, but you can tell they're fixed on the card you received.

That's when you remember that while your son may not yet be at full potential, veteran sorcerer, strongest in history Gojo Satoru knows damn well who sent you those flowers.

Shit.

Click [here] for more of Sen being mean to his dad | Ask stuff about Sen and the fam [here]

[spoonguy]

Light Underwater

Pairing: Deep Sea Alien x Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1255

Synopsis: Shipwrecked on an alien planet, miles underwater, you are rescued by a lonely alien.

Content Warnings: Claustrophobia, emetophobia, thalassophobia

They couldn't get over how soft you felt, how warm you were to the touch, the fine hairs coating your skin. They pulled you closer, flush against their gelatinous body, and enveloped you in their countless tendrils. You hummed and traced a finger lazily across their membrane, watching the bioluminescent trail that followed. They hummed as well, and cascades of warm, orange light rippled over their body.

The tidepool you were reclining in was warmer than any back on your home planet, and the air was muggy and hot, so you couldn't say you didn't enjoy the feel of their smooth, cool skin.

When you first crash landed, the air was nearly too thick to breathe, but by now your lungs were mostly accommodating for the lack of oxygen. You inhaled another deep, measured breath and sank further into the embrace of your rescuer.

Their real name was an incomprehensible combination of burbles, hums, and clicks, but they seemed happy enough when you called them by your best approximation, Qila. They had picked a name for you, also, a wavery melodic hum layered with the sound of a bubbling stream. Their native language was so beautiful, it almost made you forget about the oppressive, dark cave you were stuck in.

Your ship had crash-landed, leaving you stranded miles below the water’s surface, leaving you to watch the oxygen levels slowly diminish until a pair of tendrils wormed their way around the seams of the airlock and pulled you to safety. They had come to investigate the noise, only to have their echolocation clicks drowned out by the panicked beating of your heart. Since they had first laid their 

A few of the more prehensile tendrils wrapped around your waist and pulled you gently towards the underside of their gelatinous body. You were pulled into an air-filled pocket they had formed inside themself lined with glowing fluorescent algae from above the water’s surface. It seemed to do an alright job converting your expelled carbon dioxide to breathable oxygen, but you couldn't go more than an hour before you started to get lightheaded. Qila seemed to pick up on your lethargy whenever this happened and was sure to begin to surface shortly after.

The ride to their cave was mostly uneventful, albeit slow. Qila seemed to be even more susceptible to pressure changes than you were, ascending at a snail’s pace. The view was less than spectacular, inky black darkness stretching out for eternity, broken up only by plankton the size of your fist that Qila would ensnare with barbed tendrils that unfurled with uncharacteristic speed.

Their cave was small and far from any other members of their species, or anything else for that matter. Anytime they took you out of the cave, the only thing you could see for miles was ocean. It was always a relief when the opening of their cave came into view, decorated with algae and various aquatic plants. You slipped back out through their permeable skin and swam towards what could be considered your room. It was closer to a pantry than anything, housing materials that could not be stored in water. The walls were coated in the same glowing algae that made it possible to breathe inside of Qila’s body, but the greater volume allowed you to stay here indefinitely. You pulled yourself up onto a ledge, careful not to knock over onto the nearby cubes of salt, sugars, and other soluble minerals, wrapped in hydrophobic coatings.

You turned back to Qila, watching as the vesicle you had traveled in slowly healed itself, closing over until you could no longer see any break in their outer membrane. Only the top part of their bell-shaped body was above the water; the thirty or so feet of tentacles below them were submerged, well past the extent of your vision. They bobbed gently in the water and let out a series of clicks undercut by a high-pitched buzzing.

Well? A single thought resonated in your head, the result of the translation device embedded in your auditory cortex.

“I’m fine, just a little winded. Give me a second.” You weren’t sure if they could actually understand the words you were saying, but they seemed to be able to pick up on the general meaning of your most prominent thoughts and even better from your spoken words. “Can I get some food, though? I’m getting pretty hungry.”

Wait. Will return. Qila disappeared below the still water, leaving you in complete darkness without their bioluminescence. You sat in unlit silence for only a few minutes, listening to the periodic drips of condensation falling back to break the still surface. They returned holding half-a-dozen semi-opaque spheres, each containing a different plant or creature.

The first sphere held what looked to be some sort of crustacean. You peeled open the sphere and pulled out what might have been an arm or leg, encased in a thick black carapace. The shell was easier to remove than you expected, pulling it off in fragmented chunks, which you set beside you in a pile.

Discard. Why?

“The shell—I think that’s what it is, at least—is too sharp for me to swallow. It will cut up my mouth.”

You sniffed the meat and decided that it smelled close enough to crab that it was probably safe enough to eat. A tiny nibble let you know that the taste was at least palatable, if not a little sour.

Acceptable?

“Yeah, for now. Let’s wait to see if I get sick, though.”

The other containers held food that Qila and you had already vetted through trial and error. Who would have thought you could get food poisoning from seaweed? But the purple kelp-looking leaves had left you vomiting and feverish until you bounced back. After that, Qila had become extra cautious in monitoring you for symptoms of food intolerance.

“Thank you; I appreciate it,” you said after you had finished. Qila vocalized happily. “I appreciate you, also. I would have died without your help.”

Enjoy presence. Alone before. Now partner. Happy.

“Partner?” you questioned.

One to share thoughts. To sing with.

“Like a friend?”

Qila was quiet for a while before they responded.

Unsure.

“Qila, are there others like you?”

Far. Inaccessible.

“You can’t see them?”

Correct. Population too large. Exiled.

“Oh. I’m sorry.” You placed a hand along their body.

Request?

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Sing? Together? Qila let out a tentative hum.

“Of course. Um, what do you want me to sing?”

Important song. Meaningful.

You softly began to hum the melody of your favorite song before you broke out into the first verse. Qila began to harmonize, adding percussive clicks and ethereal droning. The muted light inside them grew brighter, more brilliant, until it illuminated the whole cave. Each note their produce lit up different spots on their skin, only to fade as the sound faded. As you came to the end of the last line, you let your voice trail off, and the echos grew quieter until they were inaudible.

Qila was glowing; mesmerizing swirls of bioluminescence cast warm light throughout the dark cave. They continued to murmur bits and pieces of the melody that had stuck with them.

Request?

“Anything.”

Stay. Here, together.

“You know I can’t exactly leave. My ship is broken.”

Unimportant. Promise.

“Absolutely.”

The wave of light that radiated off of Qila was so bright it hurt your eyes. They warbled happy melodies, only parts of which your translator could pick up.

Joy. Companion. Here. Together. Always.

[normal-internet-user]

Hii! How are you?

I was hoping you could do a one shot or hcs for a platonic/sibling PJO thing with Percy. I was thinking this kid shows up at camp-half-blood (their age being like 11-13) and being like a carbon copy of Percy and everyone notices except for him. They become pretty close and during a capture the flag game the Reader gets claimed by Poseidon, and Percy is just in shock like: 😲 holy moly

I think it would be really cute and I love big bro Percy

The reader is gender neutral

This is completely /nf and feel free to delete it if you don't want to! Thank you so much! Remember to drink water and take care of yourself!

-Axel <3

Ahhh this is actually such a cute IDEA-

Percy With a Child Of Poseidon Reader...

When you showed up to camp, no one really thought much of it.

The Titan war was over, demi-gods were showing up left and right, getting claimed along the way.

The thing that was weird was your lack of the latter.

Weeks after you arrived you were still unclaimed, with no change in sight.

It frustrated Percy because the gods had literally JUST promised not to leave any kids unclaimed.

As a result, he decided to spend time with you, just because he noticed you were feeling slightly put out at your lack of a godly parent.

Percy seemed to be the only one who hadn't noticed that the two of you next to each other was like looking back and forth between a mirror of features.

Everyone else did though.

Annabeth really did try to just- nudge him in the direction that MAYBE POSSIBLY-

But no, Percy was as oblivious as a blind cat after you moved the furniture.

Honestly he liked hanging out with you.

It made him feel good to know he was keeping you occupied instead of thinking about not being claimed.

He felt like an older brother ironically enough.

He had you sit with him during meals, and during activities he was with the Hermes cabin most of the time to help you.

Your very first capture the flag was exciting for him,

Him helping you put on your armor before plopping am oversized helmet on your head was like a mother watching their watching their child ride a bike for the first time.

He was so proud!

Sure you tripped over yourself and fell on your face, but that's okay! Everyone stumbles sometimes!

You're doing great!

Honestly, it was his fault for not helping you tie your shoes.

It was safe to say, the two of you had sufficiently bonded.

Which must have been the reason Poseidon decided to claim you now of all times.

He must really like capture the flag if that's how he claimed both his kids.

Percy was floored, and incredibly confused.

Everyone else was more or less like, "yeah saw that one coming." and you were trying to look up at the floating trident over your head through your helmet.

Percy feeling a whirlwind of emotions.

Confusion, excitment, slight frustration- but mostly excitement.

He was confused as to how as a child of Poseidon you'd managed to stay alive this long.

Unless your mortal parent had also kept a Gabe around to hide your demigod smell.

The thought made him wince.

He was practically vibrating when he showed you around Cabin 3.

You'd seen it before, sure, but now it was your cabin as much as his.

He wouldn't be sleeping alone anymore and he was exstatic about it.

And he can't wait to introduce you to Tyson too.

And his mom, oh she's gonna love you.

Especially if your mortal parent isn't in the picture either by choice or tradgedy.

Percy was gonna be the best big brother ever, it was his job to protect you now, so he would.

Ta-da! This is legit, the first thing I have posted in FOREVER holy shit, it felt SO good to write this out, like-

Anyway, all done! Here you go, I wanted to keep going but I figured it was long enough lol

[fredwkong]

Angus, Beef

Dr. Angus Jacobson was a prodigy. At just 35, he was on the tenure track at a major university, researching intersectionality and climate justice. Some people thought it was strange that a straight white man from a middle class family had gone into the field, but Angus just laughed and said he had felt a calling.

Not only was he a great intellect, Angus was also always impeccably dressed in semi-formal or formal clothes. He loved wearing suits, or a polo shirt if it was hot, and keeping his hair short and professional. He thought that being presentable was a huge part of getting ahead in life.

As one of the foremost experts on climate justice in the country, Angus consulted with several large corporations on their eco-friendly projects. Often, that meant touring sites and giving recommendations on how to improve the design or the worksite conditions to better help people. He was always unfailingly polite to any workmen that he met while on his tours, but he found them hard to relate to. They just didn’t seem to have very complex life experiences compared to him. And even if they were working out in the heat all day, he couldn’t help but feel like they enjoyed being all sweaty and never using deodorant. The thought made his skin crawl.

One day, Angus was touring a site where a development company was building carbon neutral high rises. He had just finished speaking to the foreman and was walking away, taking notes on his tablet. The drainage system was going to need a big upgrade if the facility was supposed to stand up to the storms that occasionally came through.

Suddenly the foreman called after him. “Hey, Mr. Jacobson, you forgot this!” he yelled. He was a big, burly Black guy, and his voice carried across the whole site. Angus turned, surprised and a little scared. The foreman held out a small, folded piece of white cloth. Angus was sure he hadn’t dropped anything or handed anything off, but he took it anyway. He didn't want to say no to someone like this. It was strangely damp to the touch.

The foreman grinned at him. “See you ‘round, Mr. Jacobson,” he said, and walked away without another word.

Once he got into his car, a little European EV, Angus unfolded what turned out to be a white undershirt, wrinkling his nose at the thick scent of stale sweat and body odour it gave off. It certainly wasn’t his. Maybe it was some kind of prank? He could just throw it out when he got home. Angus tossed it on the passenger seat and started driving.

The smell was impossible to ignore. Even once he was back home, the shirt safely in the trash, Angus felt like it was following him from room to room, infecting everything he touched with the smell of unwashed man. Even after showering, applying fresh deodorant, and changing into his silk pyjamas, he swore the smell was still on him. He stalked restlessly from room to room, sniffing his pristine loveseat, his freshly ironed slate grey sheets, and his immaculate suit closet to try and find the source. Finally, he gave up, resolving that it was psychosomatic. He would just call the company tomorrow and complain about their foreman playing a prank.

The next morning, Angus was walked out of his bedroom confidently in his usual suit. He had completely forgotten the incident from last night. That is, until he walked into the living room to see a beat-up leather sofa in the place of his rarely-used loveseat, the white undershirt draped over the back of it. “What the fuck?” he breathed.

Angus never used his living room. If he wasn’t in his office, he was in his bedroom. He’d only used it for the few times a date had gone well, and a guy wanted to come watch a movie… Something about that line of reasoning felt wrong. He thought it through again.

Angus spent plenty of time in his living room. He had spent good money on a quality sofa to relax on. Guys loved it, too. They loved the feeling of leather against their backs while Angus pressed down on top of them.

Angus frowned. He was versatile, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to fuck on the first date… was he?

Anyway, he looked proudly at his sofa. What the hell was that grimy undershirt doing on it? He must have dropped it there on his way to put it in the garbage yesterday. He snatched it off—how was it still soaking wet with sweat?—and mentally promised that he would clean the couch after work. The shirt went back into the garbage and Angus headed off to the university.

When he got home that evening, he swore that his house still smelled like sweat. He found the shirt in his office, where he must have left it this morning. It was right where his antique phonograph had been… Where his weight rack was, draped over the back. Angus threw the shirt into the garbage, disgusted, then did his lifting while watching a lecture on climate stewardship. He was so glad he’d thought to put a rack of free weights in his office, it let him multitask so much better. He could tell it was having an effect, too, since his arms were looking bigger these days.

Once he was done his work, Angus found himself feeling horny and bored. It was unusual, since he usually ended his workouts grossed out by his own sweat, needing to shower and lie down… Of course, it was normal, exercising always energised him, and it was too early to shower. He headed out to a bar, and a few hours later Angus found himself lying on his couch, grinding against some hunk whose name he’d forgotten. After they came, Angus gave the guy a goodnight kiss and sent him home. He barely wiped the cum off his skinny chest before he fell asleep, forgetting to shower.

Things continued this way for a few days. Angus kept on finding the shirt, still wet, sitting on a his furniture. He kept on getting hookups, at least one a day. After a few days, he couldn’t smell the sweaty shirt anymore. Between his lifting bench, sofa, unwashed sheets, and dirty laundry bin, there was too much of his own smell in the house anyway. One morning, he found the shirt in his medicine cabinet, and he couldn’t find his deodorant… He had a big tub of curl cream, one of his hookups must have fixed their hair and forgotten it.

Angus found himself hooking up with Black guys more often. He’d never had a strong preference for any one race… He’d always loved big, thick Black men. He knew it was just a fantasy, but something about big, dumb Black guys appealled to him. He downloaded Grindr, found himself drooling over pics of thick men in construction gear.

Somehow, the undershirt was in his car one morning. In the place of his nice, planet-saving EV, there was a manual truck Angus had no idea how to drive... Angus loved his truck. He loved to feel like a real man on the road, even if the gas-guzzler did conflict with his morals. It was fine, though, he would just make sure his next car was an electric truck

One evening, Angus found the shirt on the floor of his closet. His precious suits were gone! Instead there was… The shirt had been hard to find, since most of Angus’s clothes were similar casual wear, half of it dirty on the floor of the closet. Even his work suits weren’t washed nearly often enough, giving off a bit of a stench. Every once in a while, Angus would see someone’s nostrils flare when they walked past him, catching his manly musk on the air. It gave him such a feeling of power and masculinity.

Lounging on his leather sofa in a pair of threadbare boxers, Angus was scrolling Grindr when he got a message. “Hey man, you ready yet?” It wasn’t from anyone he knew, except… It was from the foreman of the work site. His profile was full of pictures of him in hiviz gear, sweating in the hot sun. What could he mean? Maybe he wanted to do some roleplay. He was so hot, exactly what Angus loved imagining.

“Always ready for you, baby ;)” Angus messaged back. A few minutes later, he was texting the foreman his address, excited to see him again.

Just before he let the guy in, Angus realised he needed to put on a shirt. He had nothing clean. There was an undershirt sitting where his bedside table should be… Over his bong. He should wipe that down, see if the foreman wanted to smoke up after sex. He threw on the shirt and went to answer the door.

The foreman looked approvingly around Angus’s apartment. “Looking good,” he said, half to himself. He fisted a hand in Angus’s shirt, almost like he owned it, kissed Angus hard, filling Angus’s mouth with his huge tongue. “Seems to me that you’re way too white and educated for this house. Mr. Jacobson. You live like one of my labourers.”

Angus looked around. The foreman was right. For some reason, despite being a university professor, his house looked nothing like it. He didn’t have an office, just a home gym. He had no suits, no bookshelves, just casual gear and porn DVDs. Maybe it was all in at the university? That didn’t make any sense.

Before Angus could get too confused, the foreman grabbed him. He whispered in his ear, “Seems to me like you want to roleplay. You want to tell me you’re a big, dumb, sweaty construction worker, right, Mr. Jacobson? You want to fuck me with your big Black cock while still wearing your shirt?”

Angus did.

“You like that?” he growled a few minutes later, getting between the foreman’s legs. “I’m gonna open you up with my tongue. I didn’t get any fancy schooling to use fancy words, I just eat guys like you out like you've never been ate out before.”

He drove his tongue into the foreman's ass, enjoying the taste of his unwashed ass. As he did, Angus’s tongue lengthened, his lips darkening as his nose became wider. By the time he had the foreman moaning, his hole starting to gape, Angus’s face was black-skinned, his features strong and masculine.

“Yeah,” he grunted. His voice was deeper, slower. “I work hard in the heat all day, and I fuck hard all night. I sweat and leak so much I basically don’t need lube.”

Angus’s cock seemed to get even harder as he bottomed out in the foreman. He felt a burst of sensation as his foreskin grew back, a continuous stream of precum starting to leak from the tip. The skin around the base darkened, his hair growing in thick and black.

Angus started to rock back and forth as the foreman moaned underneath him. Having this burly Black man at his mercy made Angus feel even more confident. He continued roleplaying. “I’m such a thick Black construction worker, your cock gets caught between our sweaty bellies when I suck your neck. You’re gonna get off with your cock trapped between us.”

He leaned down and started to bite and lick at the foreman’s neck and collarbone as his chest and belly expanded. Angus’s skin darkened as hair grew thick over it, sweat beading as he fucked harder. Just like he’d said, the foreman’s cock was caught between their muscle guts, the foreman’s precum mixing with salty sweat to create the perfect friction.

Angus could feel the orgasm coming. He barely understood the words coming out of his mouth as he said, “Gonna pick you up and fuck you against the wall. I’m a big Black muscle bull, got no brains, just a big muscle ass and thick legs, so sweaty, dumb, smelly…” He trailed off, rocking back as he picked up the burly foreman like he was nothing, slammed him against the wall, and kept fucking.

He felt the foreman’s hands on his juicy muscle ass, tense and round as he rutted against the wall. Yeah, Angus’s body was the product of hard labour, a temple of Black manliness. He was glorious, a fucking god, he was… he was…

Angus came, filling the foreman up with shot after shot of thick Black cum. The foreman came too, his cock still pressed between their bellies, his cum soaking into Angus’s sweaty undershirt.

In a haze, Angus stumbled back from the wall, still holding the foreman off the ground. He collapsed onto the bed with a huge crash. Something had changed… Everything was fine… He was a beast… Angus fell asleep without pulling out.

The next morning, Angus “Beef” Jacobson woke up slow, enjoying the feeling of a mouth on his musty cock. Boss was so good with his tongue. “Morning, Boss,” grunted Beef.

Boss pulled off Beef’s big black cock with a pop. “Morning, Beef,” he growled. “Ready to head to the site?”

Beef grunted. He reached down, grabbed Boss by the shoulders, and dragged him up. “Not yet,” said Beef, lowering Boss onto his slick cock. He started moving his Boss up and down like a fleshlight.

Beef wasn’t the smartest guy. That was how he’d gotten his nickname, ‘cause he was like a big, sweet cow who loved to fuck. He was like a walking stereotype of a Black construction worker: burly, sweaty, musky, and totally dumb. Hell, he’d pretty much worn the same shirt for a week, an undershirt Boss had given him. It was so musky and smelly Beef was pretty sure anyone who touched it would be smelling him for weeks. That was a hot idea.

He didn’t really know much other than the physical stuff, but Boss told him he was helping to save the world, some shit about green buildings. Beef thought that was funny, since the building was grey concrete, not green. He was such a dumbass sometimes. Just a big piece of dumb Black Beef.

This story was part of a trade with @artificial-transmutations. See his half of our trade here.

[infiniteimaginings]

hello! can i request a max thunderman fic where he falls in love with a girl who seems like a goody two shoes but can be casually manipulative in a way nobody notices? thank you!

Sweet Deception (Max Thuderman x Fem!Reader)

Summary: Max doesn't like the reader because she's similar to Phoebe. A goody two shoes, follows the rules, never breaks curfew. His locker is unfortunately next to hers and he has a few classes with the reader so he hears snippets of her conversations. These conversations peak his interest, not because of the subject, but because of how she responds within them. You intrigue him. Pronouns: She/Her, You/Yours Warnings: Manipulative words, manipulation tactics. Word Count: 2.9k A/N: Sorry that this took a week lol, I literally did everything but write this TvT. I think this is casually manipulative, I had to research subtle manipulation. Also, I focused more on the manipulation aspect so he isn't like, head over heels in love with her. I hope that's okay.

Max Thunderman walked up the stairs of his lair in the basement, making his way to the kitchen. When he looked over he saw Phoebe and you, sitting and watching tv. The two of you heard his footsteps and turned to face him. His face contorted in disgust at how in sync the two girls facing him were, “Ugh.” He grunted, rolling his eyes and walking to the kitchen area.

Phoebe crinkled her brows as she crossed her arms, “What are you grunting about?” She asked him, not moving from her spot, you looking over as well, letting out an inaudible sigh. Max grabbed a drink from the fridge and smiled sarcastically at her, “When I see you and your practical carbon copy,” He spoke, leaning his back on the kitchen island, “I find the need to vomit.” He told her, nodding his head with the scrunch of his nose. Phoebe stuck her tongue out to him childishly, Max doing the same and hopping up the steps and kicking the button to his lair.

You bit the inside of your cheek, adjusting yourself on the couch. “Phoebe,” You said her name, causing her to turn back to you. “I actually have other things to do today, so if we aren’t doing anything I’m just gonna go.” You told her, standing up. The girl stood and awkwardly smiled, nodding, “Yeah! Of course, sorry.” She said apologetically, rubbing the back of her neck. She opened the door for you and you said your goodbyes, giving her a small hug and walking away, typing on your phone.

Phoebe closed the front door and breathed out a puff of air, causing her hair to move out of her face. Max still stood on the platform, his lair door open as he looked at the doorway where Phoebe stood with an expression Phoebe couldn’t understand. When the girl looked to her twin brother she walked a little closer, contemplating even asking the question she wanted to ask. The quirking up of his eyebrow caused her to just shake her head to herself, “Max, do you think I’m boring?” She asked him, brushing her hair out of her face. Max stayed standing on the platform as he thought about it, bottled drink in his hand. He tilted his head a bit, “Yeah.” He shrugged, sliding down to his lair, the door closing and leaving Phoebe with an annoyed expression. She poked the inside of her cheek with her tongue, “Of course.” She mumbled to herself blankly, dropping her hands to her sides as she walked up the stairs to her room.

The very next day at Hiddenville High, Max hoped he had gotten to school early enough to be able to miss you later on going to your locker. Your locker was right next to his and he didn’t enjoy the people he had the displeasure of meeting anywhere near his locker. He reached the locker with a relieved smile, you weren’t there, you must not be at school yet. He put in his combination, shuffling through the small space for a few specific items.

He was enjoying the silence until you walked up with your perky blonde friend Cherry Seinfeld, your expression was fairly neutral but Cherrys had her typical bright smile. When you reached your locker, Max wanted to bang his head into his own, not wanting to hear Cherrys high pitched laugh. This day though, Cherry wasn’t laughing, he slightly tuned into you guys’s conversation.

Cherrys hair bounced with her steps, her hands behind her back, “Did you remember to bring the folder of ideas?” She asked, occasionally looking into your locker, believing you were going to pull it out. You stopped shuffling around in your locker as you turned to her, blinking your eyes. “I didn’t know you needed it.” You told her, tilting your head as your brows knitted together. The blonde's smile dropped a bit as her hands landed to her sides, “I asked you to bring it today, last week.” She reminded you, moving her head with her words. You shook your head, turning back to your locker and grabbing a journal. You hummed to her comment, “You should’ve reminded me yesterday if it was so important for today.” You told her, moving a few magnets on the inside of your locker.

Cherry frowned, playing with her fingernails and looking down, “Well, I didn’t remember until today.” She slightly mumbled. You closed your locker, it closed with a slightly loud bang that caused Cherry to jump a bit. You turned around to her and put a hand on her shoulder, a small sympathetic pout on your face, “Well, you do tend to be a bit forgetful.” You said sweetly, the comment making Cherry nod sadly a little bit, but Max looked at the back of his locker with confusion when hearing the words. You nodded, painting a sweet smile on your face, “It’s okay though!” You reassured, patting her shoulder. “I’ll stop by my house at lunch and grab it.” You told her, causing the girl in front of you to light up with a smile. She clasped her hands together happily, “Thank you, and I’m sorry for not reminding you.” She told you, “It’s no problem, don’t worry.” You responded, walking off to your class.

Cherry had a free period for first period so she hung by her locker, texting a few of her friends to see what to do after school. Max closed his locker and leaned on it, looking intently at Cherry. The blonde felt his stare and looked over, “Hi Max!” She greeted, with a smile, looking back down. Though she greeted him, he still looked at her. She pursed her lips and cleared her throat, eyes flickering up to him as she typed. She finished her message and put her phone into her back pocket. “Well, I should get go-” Cherry began, but she was stopped before she could even pick her foot up to take the first step to her next destination.

Max looked at her seriously, arms crossed, “What she said was kind of mean,” He said, referring to you, standing straighter, “and that’s coming from me.” He finished his sentence, slightly bewildered that he even spoke on it. Cherry was confused about what he was talking about and it showed easily on her face. Max nodded, “When she said you’re forgetful. She forgot to bring something and then said it was because you forgot to remind her. That was rude.” A small breath of a chuckle escaping his lips when apparently Cherry wasn’t getting it.

The girl crossed her own arms, head tilted, her blonde curls pooling over her shoulder, “Were you eavesdropping on us?” She asked him with her lips slightly poked out, eyes gently narrowed.

Max looked at her blankly, one of his hands pointing to the lockers they were right next to. “You guys were talking an inch away from me and my locker, I had no choice.” He stated, stopping himself from rolling his eyes. Cherry dropped her arms and shook her head, a gentle smile coming back to her face. “Well, it wasn’t mean.” She claimed, “She was right, I should’ve reminded her, a week is a long time for anyone to remember to bring anything.” Cherry defended you, which confused Max. Before the brunette could get a word in, someone walked past Cherry, gesturing her to follow and she did just that, leaving Max alone to his thoughts.

Max decided to keep a closer eye on you and your interactions, he tends to try to ignore you but your recent conversations catch his attention. He’s taken note that you don’t just do this type of thing with Phoebe and Cherry, you do it with everyone.

One day, Max was sitting at a table with his friends during lunch, talking about nothing important. At the next table over, you sat alone, scribbling in a notebook.

A boy named Tyler had walked up to you, clearly distressed. You were looking through your notebook, eating, your gaze only flickering up to him for a moment. “Hi Tyler.” You greeted, writing a few things in the journal. He sat across from you, adjusting the collar of his shirt nervously which caused you to put your pen down and look at him with soft eyes. “You okay?” You asked, folding your hands over one another, your voice taking him out of his own head.

Max heard your voice and slightly listened to your conversation, still giving responses to his friends.

Tylers eyes widened and he nodded before shaking his head. You looked at him curiously, as if telling him to go on with why he wasn’t. Tyler took a deep breath, “I know we talked about this earlier but, I still feel weird about it.” He spoke slightly, the words making your lips thin into a line before folding back out, Tyler didn’t notice. “How so?” You asked politely, placing your hands into your lap. The boy rubbed the back of his neck, “I just feel we aren’t really friends anymore since you hang out with everyone else more than me. I feel a little neglected.” He spoke, waving his hands around nervously. You nodded in understanding, “Yeah, I understand that.” You told him gently, moving yourself a bit to get more comfortable. “But,” you began, “We had this conversation earlier, yeah?” You asked him to which he nodded, his hands gripping the edge of the table. You nodded, “Yeah, we did. I said I’m sorry and you forgave me.” You told him and he looked down, he knew you said sorry, but he still felt upset about it. “If you didn’t forgive me and were still hurt, why did you say you forgave me?” You asked him and Tyler gently scratched his head. He eventually sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I’m just still worked up.” He suggested to which you looked at him with big eyes, “If you think so, then sure.” You spoke, reaching out and patting his hand that stayed on the table.

Max was listening to the conversation, his jaw slightly dropped as his eyes widened slightly, ‘What?’ He thought to himself, utterly confused. How was it possible that you could get other people to just blame themselves instead of you? That piqued Max’s interest far more than he thought you could.

He watched you more closely, you said these things so easily, so kindly that people just let you. He’s heard so many to the point Max was getting fed up with the people around you, it was absurd how no one noticed. It might’ve drawn him to you, but your friends had to be idiots.

You were talking to Flunky about some sort of idea he presented to the student council and it went badly, he told you that you said the idea would work but you simply frowned, brows pushing together, confusion written over your face. Max heard a phrase he quickly got used to hearing, "I don’t think I said that specifically, are you sure you're remembering correctly?” When Flunky started doubting himself you would side hug him with a soft smile. You would say “It’s okay, you just misunderstood me. Misunderstandings happen all the time.” As if you didn’t contribute to his downfall to the student council.

Max has heard, “I don't think you're seeing the situation clearly. Maybe you should take a step back and think about it.", "I didn't mean to upset you, I was just being honest.”, “You’re so negative, you should be more positive.” All with a bright smile on your face and everyone would just smile back, say you’re right and move along as if you didn’t just completely turn the situation around back on them. He’s never seen someone so, ‘good’, act in such a way, he couldn’t quite explain his feelings on it.

Enough was enough for Max, so one day before the last period bell rang he grabbed you by your arm and gently pulled you behind the staircase. You weren’t exactly shocked by who it was so you didn’t struggle, you walked along with him, asking a small, ‘Where are we going?’ which was ignored until you guys were under the stairs. You looked around a bit, an amused smile on your face, “Hello to you too Max.” You lightly chuckled but Max’s face was stone cold, only a small stem of light reflected in the brown of his eyes.

“You’re confusing.” He stated, arms crossed and you genuinely laughed. You stopped laughing, clearing your throat when you saw his face, “Okay, you’re serious.” You spoke, hiding your mouth with your hand before dropping it back down to your side. Your eyes blinked at him, “How am I confusing?” You asked, a small smile on your face, your brow raised. Max smirked, “I am so glad you asked!” He said with bright eyes before his expression dropped back into blankness, “You’ll say something with your sweet voice, but it’s so hurtful to other people.” Max told you, pointing at you. You nodded gently, arms still at your sides, your head slightly tilted to the side as you spoke, “It’s interesting to me that you perceive my words in that type of light.” You told him, your bottom lip slightly poking out.

Max inhaled sharply before letting out a deep exhale, “It’s been clear that everyone around you is blinded by your displays.” He said, hand waving in the air to gesture to you, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “I’m not.” He spoke bluntly, putting his hand down. He then licked his lips, looking around slightly before locking eyes with your amused expression, “Okay, I’ll say it outright since no one else has.” He spoke, walking closer to you, slightly leaning forward to gently tower you. “You’re mean, and you’re borderline evil.” He stated, his lips in a line, pulling back, “And for the second time within the past two weeks, that’s coming from me. “ He mumbled, surprised he’s saying such things.

You sighed, smiling a bit, “Do you feel better?” You asked him, noticing how his shoulders relaxed after saying it. He didn’t respond which made your smile slip a bit before it was placed right back, “I think it’s,” She paused, trying to find the right words and Max tilted his head. Were you stumped because you’ve been caught? You shook your head, disregarding your last thought, “I don’t think I’m evil.” You said simply, your eyes big and bright, but Max huffed a laugh at the comment. He smirked ever so slightly, breaking his majorly serious facade, “Your words are covered in venom but it’s like you manipulate everyone into only seeing honey dripping from them.” He told you, fingers scratching at his eyebrow as he tried to think about all your words. “You're some sort of wolf in sheep's clothing, you bite when someone gets too close to something you don't like.” He continued on, the phrasing causing your smile to drop completely. You bit your tongue slightly before speaking, “I’m sorry you think that.” You spoke quietly, the tone of your voice made Max create eye contact with you.

He smiled, smiled at you. “I thought you were insufferable,” He spoke about prior moments, “but, you interest me more and more everyday.” He told you, this made your eyes narrow in confusion. “I’m sorry?” You asked him, crinkling your brows, your nose scrunched and your mouth twisted. Max nodded, smiling, crossing his arms, “I just told you about how your words are manipulative and responded with ‘I’m sorry you think that’ as if it’s my fault. You’re doing it to me!” He laughed, he didn’t even seem mad about it. “You’re so interesting, I just can't stop myself from listening when you talk to people.” He told her, leaning on the back wall. Your tongue touched the bottom of the top row of your teeth as you looked away in disbelief, “You’re definitely looking into what I say too much, but you find it…?” You paused, leaning on the opposing wall, foot balancing you on the wall. He continued the sentence for you, “Intriguing. I find you intriguing.” He told you, his smile turned into his typical smirk.

Your expression softened, “So, you like me?” You asked bluntly, causing the boy to glare at you. “I said you interest me, you do things that make it so I can’t focus on other things.” He explained, rolling his neck a bit and you nodded. “Right, you totally like me.” You teased, “Quit it.” He responded, rolling his eyes. You shook your head and began walking into the hallway, Max following. “If I’m so…’interesting’,” You quoted, turning to him, “you can meet me after this next class that we’re late to, and we can talk more then.” You finished your sentence and he looked over to you boredly. You guys were by your lockers so he unlocked his and shrugged, “Okay.” he said, shuffling in his locker as if he were busy. You began to walk away with a grin, waving, “Bye Max.” You told him, walking into your class late.

Max was staring at the back of his locker with a matching grin, soon putting his head down on the bottom of his locker, a small flush on his face. He was definitely going to meet you after this last class.

[oleander-nin]

Horrortober Day 31- Trapped(Yandere Rise Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: LETS GO! I DID IT! 31 DAYS OF POSTING! I'm probably going to revisit a lot of the ideas I had because the time constraint made it so I couldn't do as much as I wanted, but I'm still very happy with this. Sorry this fic's kinda all over the place, I started having trouble finishing it so I just went for it and now it's really... Off. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Alcohol, being trapped in a vehicle, party, underage drinking, kidnapping, unedited.

Words: 2005

Summary: Leo was the wrong person to call.

The phone in your hand rings a couple more times, your eyes darting back and forth between the lit up house and the dark street. The music was still blaring from inside, speakers pretty much pressed against the windows for mass volume. You could feel the ground vibrate beneath you, the trash and people littered on the lawn making the whole house look like a disaster waiting to happen. You can barely hear your phone’s ringing that signified your call was going through over the loud sound, the lights leaking out the window making you even more nauseous. You could feel the mistakes of the night take a toll on your body, the accidentally consumed alcohol making your mind fuzzy. The bitter taste should have tipped you off, but you wrongly assumed it was just from the carbonation. You hadn’t even fully realized what was in your drink until the third sip, your mind fogging over and making you panic.

The phone buzzes as Leo’s muffled voice finally comes through, breaking you from your stupor. You lift the phone fully to your ear, trying to think of what to say. You blink as you stare forwards, unsure what to do. You had forgotten why you called him, unable to think as you stare out onto the dim street.

“I think I want to go home.” You mumble, picking at the sleeves of your costume. The white button up of your vampire suit was starchy, and you swore you could feel it burning your skin. You wanted it off. You nod, agreeing with your own words as your voice starts to perk up. “Yeah, yeah. I do. Can you come pick me up? Please? My uh… My ride is gone.”

Leo’s quiet for a moment, and your stomach drops as you worry he’s going to leave you here. You look back at the house, not wanting to go talk to anyone there and beg for a ride. The one person you knew here had already left, leaving you behind with a cup of spiked punch while swearing it was clean.

“I’ll be there in a bit. Hang tight.” Leo responds, his voice softer than you usually know it to be. You open your mouth to respond, but your phone turns off, Leo’s contact shining brightly. You stare at the screen, feeling miffed. He hung up so quickly, you hadn’t even told him where you were. You sit down on the grass, the long cape acting as a small buffer between your pants and the ground. You watch the air around you while you goof off on your phone, waiting for a familiar blue portal to open up next to you. You open up his contacts, deciding he just didn’t know where you were, but the loud hum of an engine makes you stop.

Coming down the road was the turtle tank, it’s fortified outside looking daunting as it comes towards you. One of the people on the lawn starts to shout happily at the sight of the tank, a plastic cup full of foul smelling liquid hitting the side. You grimace, knowing Donnie was going to make you scrub it from top to bottom once he notices.

You walk up to the door and let yourself in, Leo’s impatient form sitting at the front of the tank. He pats the seat next to him as the door locks behind you, his eyes glued to the windshield and the road it showed.

“Thank you,” You mumble as you sit down, frowning at his silence. Leo was never this quiet. He always had something to say, especially to you, and his new attitude worried you. You shift awkwardly while he just nods and starts to roll the tank down the road, his free leg bouncing erratically.

“Was it worth it?” He finally asks, after you had driven at least a mile down in silence. You look up at Leo, surprised that was his first question. He doesn’t look at you, his jaw ticked to the side while he concentrates on the road. His body was slumped in the seat, his posture screaming relaxed if not for the erratic bouncing of his leg. 

You chew on your cheek, unsure how to respond. His eyes dart to you, waiting for your answer, but you stay quiet. You know he was asking about the party, but his question was too broad to make it into your buzzed brain. Leo waits a minute more for you to answer before letting out a dramatic sigh, his eyes rolling in their sockets.

“Was going to this stupid party worth blowing us off? Did you have more fun here?”

You stare at Leo, shrinking down. His words made you feel guilty, your hands fiddling with the cuffs of your sleeves once more. 

“I didn’t blow you off. I just made other plans.” You explain, trying to defend your decision to attend the party instead of the gathering the Hamato’s had every year. Leo breathes harshly through his nose, clearly not pleased. He plasters a smile on his face, looking at you cheekily.

“Oh I’m sorry. I must’ve forgotten you didn’t inform us of your plan change until three hours ago.”

You wilt in your seat, smiling weakly at the mutant. Leo turns back to the road, his hands gripping the tank’s steering wheel tighter than needed. Silence settles over you both once more, the tense and awkward atmosphere making you uncomfortable. You didn’t know what to say, trying to think of how to mend it. You felt bad, but in that moment, you really wanted to go to this party.

“You smell awful, by the way.” Leo remarks, glancing over at you. Your face heats as you scowl, no longer feeling guilty. He opens his mouth again, whether to insult you or to apologize, you didn’t care.

“When you go to a party with alcohol, you’re going to end up smelling like it.” You say coldly, no longer caring to try and mend the rift. Leo sighs, tapping his hands on the wheel while he tilts his head to the side.

“Did you drink?”

“Not on purpose.”

Leo looks at you, his brow-line furrowed and concern in his eyes. “Explain.”

“My friend gave me a spiked punch cup. Not sure if it was on purpose or not, but I ended up drinking a couple sips before realizing.” You bring your knees into the seat, curling up. Your eyes were heavy, and your body was starting to protest the late time you were up.

“I don’t like that.” Leo says slowly, his usually jovial attitude gone. You didn’t like how cold he was tonight, even if he seemed to be trying. His annoyance with you was making you more and more upset, your muddled brain taking everything much too dramatically.

“I never asked.” You retort. “And I wanted a ride home, not a lecture. It’s my Halloween, and this is what I wanted to do.”

“So you wanted to drink underage, got it.” Leo says sarcastically, his eyes darkening. You groan, rubbing your face as you try not to snap at him. 

“20 is barely underage, and I wouldn’t have called you if I knew you were going to be such a jerk tonight.”

Leo’s eye twitches as he slams on the brakes to pull into a parking lot, shaking you in your seat and making you grab onto the control panel for support. Leo puts the tank in park before unbuckling his seat belt and turning his chair to look at you, an irritated look on his usually relaxed face. 

You look at him, stunned. Leo wasn’t usually someone to act so huffy, so this whole night was a surprise. You wait for him to speak, to explain, but he doesn’t. Leo just continues to stare at you, his chin in his hands while his eyes look you up and down. You unbuckle your own seatbelt, standing up. You were tired of whatever fit Leo was throwing, and if he wasn’t going to take you home, you’d figure out how to go yourself.

You reach out for the handle that would open the door, grumbling all the way from the annoyance at Leo’s weird attitude. You snatch your hand back as alarms begin to blare and every outside entrance and view is shuttered, Donnie’s recorded voice coming over the speakers to announce the tank’s lockdown. You look over at Leo with wide eyes, his hand still on the button. He slowly slides it back, putting his chin in his hand once more.

“Oops.” He teases, grinning slyly. You stare at Leo, enraged at his actions. The childish behavior made you want to scream, to pull your hair out or to smash everything in vicinity.

“What was that?!” You demand, gesturing wildly to the now shuttered and locked door. Leo shrugs, still grinning like he didn’t care you were both now trapped for 24 hours or until Donnie came and figured out how to undo the lockdown.

“You tried to leave. I still want to talk with you.” He says simply. You stare at him, bewildered. Every word that was coming out of his mouth was making you more and more furious, the anger building threatening to burst.

“I have to get home!” You protest, throwing your hands into the air with frustration.

Leo leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other and his arms over his chest. “You weren’t going home, you were going back to that dingy apartment.”

“That is home.” You seethe, trying to not panic.

Leo stares at you, his eyes boring into your own while you slowly back down. His gaze was unnerving, like he was possessed and wasn’t himself. The last time you saw him like this, Raph had to hold him back from what he tried to do. You shudder, stepping back. You didn’t want to poke at his nerves when you were stuck with him for this long.

“I think it’s time I really brought you home.” Leo muses, seemingly thinking aloud rather than trying to tell you something. You look over at him, blinking slowly as you process what he said.

“You locked the tank. You can’t bring me home.”

“I’m not talking about that stupid apartment you insist on staying at.” Leo refutes, grimacing at the thought of your residence. You glare at him, not appreciating his words towards the place you worked so hard to get and maintain. “I’m talking about where you belong.”

“Yeah, in my bed, and not Donnie’s tank.” You grumble, making Leo snort. He stands up, coming up to you and taking your hand. You look at him questioningly, hesitantly turning to meet him. Leo squeezes your hand, smiling softly.

“I’m serious. I’m going to take you home once the lockdown’s over. You’ll be happy, and I’ll keep you safe. No more parties, no more stupid spiked drinks. You’ll be with me, like how it’s supposed to be.”

You furrow your brow, trying to take your hands from Leo, but he holds firm. You nervously laugh while trying to break free from his grip, unease starting to build up. “Ha ha, very funny Leo. Now let go, you’re starting to freak me out.”

Leo shakes his head, straightening up as he looks brightly at you. “I’m serious. I’ve been trying to think of a good time to bring it up, but after your little party stunt, I figured now was better than never. You’re coming home, whether you like it or not.”

You stare at the mutant, fully starting to panic now. Seeing the timer slowly ticking down helped hammer it in, your stomach lurching as your mind starts to shut down. Leo smiles, pulling you into his arms and rubbing your back soothingly, pretending like he wasn’t trying to uproot you from everything you knew. You had 24 hours stuck with him, and 24 hours of him to break you down. You really hoped you could last.

[adultish-momma]

Lunchtime Disagreements

Yuu and Ace get along for some very specific reasons. Unfortunately for Riddle, he is about to find out one of the things they have in common.

(Yuu on the other hand, has had a rough week. They woke up and chose violence. They will not be apologizing.)

A/N: Hi :)

Rule number 271: One must leave the table within 15 minutes of completing their lunch

"Yeah that's not going to happen."

Every Heartslabyul student around their lunch table seems to freeze, anxiously watching red rise to their housewarden's cheeks. Yuu on the other hand settles deeper into their seat, the picture of indolence. Grimm, always down for mischief, hops onto the tabletop, moving the empty Ramshackle lunch trays to the side so he can comfortably turn into a cat loaf in the smack middle of everybody. He shoots a satisfied shit-eating grin up at Riddle Rosehearts, delighting in the frustrated expression on the young man's face.

"Excuse me?"

The Ramshackle prefect finishes off their burger, and then calmly turns to give Riddle Rosehearts their full attention.

"Thanks for the suggestion, but I'm good. Thanks but no." The prefect shoots the housewarden a polite smile before sipping on their carbonated beverage. The redhead blinked, thrown off by the other student's nonchalance of the subject.

"Suggestion... you can't just... the rules-"

"Are completely asinine, let alone inefficient and inapplicable to our current situation." They take another long sip of their drink while the older boy grows steadily redder.

"ASININE?!!"

"Mm-hmm" they hummed, bobbing their head in casual acknowledgment. Calmly setting down their drink, they raised their hand so they could count off for the Heartslybul Housewarden. "One, I am not a Heartslybul student. Therefore, your word is not my law."

Ace was trying very hard to hide his snickers at Riddle's grinding teeth. (He wasn't trying at all honestly but if anybody asks he's going to stick with his story thank you very much.)

"Two, this is not the Heartslybul dorm. There is no polite societal convention that demands I attempt to follow your dorm rules in the neutral territory that is the cafeteria."

Riddle now resembles a tomato, hair blending in with the color of his face. Deuce and Cater exchange nervous glances.

"Three, my next class is alchemy, and according to the time, the Alchemy Lab won't be open for at least 30 more minutes. So instead of staying here and, oh I don't know, getting ahead on my alchemy readings, you want me to leave. And do what, exactly?"

Trey was sweating in his seat. Tentatively, he reached out to the Ramshackle prefect, hoping to make this conversation just stop. "Hey, okay, I think you made your-"

"I'm not finished" they snapped, whipping around to glare at the Vice Warden's outstretched hand. When it dropped back to Trey's side, they turned back to the dorm leader. Riddle was seething, face so red that steam was quite literally going to rise from his face if someone poured water on him. And honestly, at this point, Yuu was kinda pissed too. So when Riddle opened his mouth to take advantage of the pause in their tirade, they stood up and crowded into his space, not willing to let this go until they said their piece.

"Your precious rules are more often than not completely senseless. Name me one benefit, one productive result, one good reason why rule 271 should be followed in every scenario, regardless of circumstance, and I'll take it all back."

They paused, to give Riddle a chance to rebuke them. They didn't pause longer than a second, but let the record show they did pause.

"You can't, can you? Because there are none. There is no good reason for your out-of-pocket rule. That's because it's an insane rule created by an insane woman."

"OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!"

Students wearing rose-red armbands flinched in the courtyard, frantically searching for where their leader could be. It was a fearful response, fueled by the sheer anger they heard in his voice, but they were also curious about exactly what moron was capable of upsetting their mini tyrant so immensely. The Heartslybul students in the courtyard soon figured that since he wasn't in sight, Riddle must be tearing into someone still in the cafeteria. There was collective relief, but those students also sent up a collective prayer for the poor soul on the other side of their housewarden's unique magic.

Meanwhile, inside there's a flash where the freshman prefect was standing, bright light taking its time to dissipate from their silhouette. When it does, the cafeteria is silent, shock settling heavily in the atmosphere. Riddle, who had still been as red as his namesake, rapidly began to pale at the sight before him.

Yuu stretched their neck, with no collar on them to impede the motion. They slouched back into their seat, reaching over to begin petting Grimm behind his ears. The creature's body is forced to relax under the careful touches, his tense posture melting back into a content cat loaf. The prefect themselves are pretty content with the way this argument turned out, although... one last nail in the coffin couldn't hurt his ego any more than they already have.

"I don't have any magic Housewarden Rosehearts. 'Off With Your Head' is useless against me where there is nothing for your spell to contain. So if you want to effectively throw a tantrum next time I'm verbally kicking your ass..." Their eyes locked onto his stormy grey eyes, a small, conspiratorial smirk tugging at the corner of their lips.

"You're gonna need to turn that collar into a muzzle."

[drabbles-mc]

Small Price to Pay

Takeshi Kovacs x F!Reader

Summary: In the wake of another close call, Takeshi finds himself once again fighting the urge to pull away from you for your own sake. Not that you've ever been one to let go that easily.

Warnings: 18+, language, blood/injury, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 2k

A/N: I've been wanting to write more for Takeshi and when I got hit with this idea I just couldn't turn my back on it. Hope you enjoy!

Altered Carbon Taglist: @garbinge @destinedtobeloved (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

Consciousness tore through you, ripping you down the middle with a gasp that faded into coughs that racked your whole body. You were sitting upright without remembering bracing yourself into that position, each ragged and failed breath sending a lash of pain across your abdomen and into your limbs. You were looking around the room before your vision had completely righted itself. Whether it was disorientation or tears that were making things fuzzy, you weren’t sure. All you knew was that nothing looked clear, nothing felt right.

Blinking your way into clearer vision, you hardly even noticed that the tears were on your cheeks now. You were finally able to take a few regular breaths between coughs, not that it helped your pain subside at all. The room you were in faded into the background as you reached up and touched your own face, feeling for something, anything familiar. All you felt was pain, bruises and open cuts—not the right type of familiarity. Holding your hands out in front of you, some of the tension that you’d so suddenly picked up dissipated. Hands and arms that you recognized. A body that was yours, well, as much as anyone’s body was really their own anymore.

When you felt a hand on your shoulder, you jerked yourself away as best you could, sending yourself into another coughing fit in the process, pain radiating all throughout your body. It was all for nothing—the hand didn’t budge. If anything, its grip tightened, fingers digging into the exposed flesh of your shoulder. It was painful but somewhere in the back of your mind you were aware of the fact that it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“Hey, hey,” he finally spoke up, voice low and rough wrapping around you to help steady you. “You’re alright.”

Clutching his hand with your own, you turned your head to look at him. Takeshi’s face was almost always neutral, feelings always buried a few layers deep under the skin of whatever sleeve he was wearing at the time. Since that was the case, the only coherent thought you could conjure up was that you must’ve looked like you were in even worse shape than you felt, his lips pulled down into a deep frown, worry swirling around his eyes. The tight pinch of his brows undermined his attempt at reassurance.

“Talk to me,” he tried to make it not sound like an order, but it didn’t really work.

“Tak?” was all you managed to get out, your voice hoarse, throat like sandpaper.

His shoulders sagged in relief at the singular word. He let out a deep breath as his hand slid from your shoulder up the side of your throat until he was cupping the side of your face. His thumb was beneath your chin, pressing into it just slightly to tilt your head to make you look up at him. No matter how light his touch was, you could feel the pressure on each bruise and cut on your face. You wanted to pull away from the pain but you couldn’t make yourself pull away from him.

He was in better shape than you, although that wasn’t saying much. There were fewer bruises on his face, and with the dark cloth of his shirt you couldn’t really see or get a good idea of the damage done on that front. You wanted to ask, but you didn’t have it in you. You leaned into the touch of his palm instead, never mind the blood you were smearing onto it.

He watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, the way that you pressed into his touch despite the way it made you wince in pain. Your breathing still hadn’t steadied, but at least you were breathing. There had been a moment when he thought that he’d lost you. Maybe not forever, because real death was hard to come by. But he thought for a moment that he’d be left to carry your stack on a chain around his neck until further notice, until he could get his hands on a new sleeve. And you always hated that, hated the turnover. He liked to chastise you, call you sentimental in a world that had no infrastructure for that anymore. Deep down though he had a certain type of respect for it—not that he’d ever tell you if e could help it. He had lost track of how long you’d been in your current sleeve. Clearly it’d been long enough for him to forget. He didn’t want to see it change either. Maybe your sentimental nature was finally becoming contagious.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up again, glad that your eyes were closed and you couldn’t see the tidal wave of emotions cascading across his face, “we’ll get you patched up, alright?”

You managed a nod, not bothering to speak as you let your head fall from his hand until your forehead was resting against the planes of muscle that ran up his side. You could feel each breath he took that way, keenly aware of every one as his hand came to rest on the back of your head, fingers splaying.

After a few long, silent minutes passed that way, you tried to clear your throat and speak again. It hurt a little less the second time around. “Split your nose open again,” you told him, eyes still closed, face still pressed against him.

He let out a short chuckle. “Split open more than just your nose.”

You wanted to laugh but you knew that it would hurt more than it was worth. You managed a low hum of amusement instead. “How bad?”

“How bad’s it feel?”

The momentary sting of leaning deeper into him was worth the payoff of being closer. “Pretty fucking bad.”

“Yeah.”

“You have to bring me back?”

He sucked in a deep breath—you could feel the impending sigh before you actually heard it. “Yeah. You can’t fuckin’ do that to me anymore.”

You couldn’t fight the laugh that time, and you paid the price for it. “It’s not like I set out with that goal in mind, you know.”

He pulled away from you, much to your disappointment. His hand was instantly coming to cup your jaw, movements gentle and firm all at once as he made you look up and into his eyes. The traces of humor that had been lingering between you were gone—you could see it in his eyes.

He shook his head slightly as he started to speak. “I can do the rest of this on my—”

“Tak,” you cut him off, the smolder of anger blooming in the pit of your stomach no match for the burning pain you were in, but you could still feel the difference.

“I’m serious.”

You wished you had the strength to yell. “So am I.”

“Look at you,” he said, helpless in a way he hardly ever was.

“I’m fine.” He scoffed and you corrected yourself. “I’ll be fine. If I gotta trade in—”

“No,” his tone was harsh, more than he had intended.

You flinched, not expecting it from him. “It’s just a sleeve,” you tried to reason.

“It’s the first thing you look for every time you come back,” he argued.

It was true. Before you cared about your surroundings, or the people with you, you looked to see if you were still the same person you were when the lights went out. Tak had worked overtime to make sure you always woke up recognizing the person in your reflection. You figured it was a professional courtesy, if nothing else something to make his life easier so that he didn’t have to hear you lament about it. This was the first time it ever sounded like he actually cared.

“Like it even matters to you,” you muttered.

“It matters to you,” he said, sincerity dripping from his words in a way you couldn’t ignore or deny.

“Know what else matters to me?” you asked, voice sounding more assured as your mind and body started to get back into sync with each other.

He already knew where it was going. “Don’t.”

There were things that you wanted to say that you wouldn’t. Things that he knew without you having to say them out loud. The look in his eyes said it all, and you were willing to settle for that for now. “We came this far. I’m not,” you lifted your chin from his hand so that you could clasp it with your own, “I’m not leaving you now. And you’re not leaving me.”

He knew even when he started the conversation that it was going to end this way. But he still had to try. Truthfully he didn’t actually want to do the rest of this without you, but that was the selfish part of him talking. That was the part of him that he tried to kill a long time ago but couldn’t ever quite manage it. So onward you two went. But every close call became a heavier and heavier weight resting on his shoulders. Each time it got a little harder to stomach. He never could make himself take off in the dead of night on you, though. You’d probably find him anyway—limp your way to him no matter how many miles or years stood between you.

You could see it in his eyes that even though he was looking at you, his mind busier with much more than just taking in how you looked. You squeezed his hand. “We can lay low here for a beat?”

He nodded. “Until you’re ready.”

It was a relief, to say the least. You sighed, letting your head drop back a little bit and ignoring the pain in your neck. You stared at him for a moment, wishing you could read his mind. Resigning yourself to the fact that you weren’t quite that adept, you kissed his knuckles and asked, “Patch me up?”

He ends of his mouth turned up just slightly, enough to erase the deep frown he’d been sporting for most of the conversation. “Yeah.” He leaned in, leaving a quick, soft kiss on top of your head before pulling away to grab his bag with all his gear. “Gonna have to do it, you know…” he trailed off and held up the thread and needle.

“Old school,” you offered with a weary chuckle.

He was shaking his head at you but you could see the way that his lips pulled up just a little bit more. You watched him as he sat down and started to lay out what precious little he would need to stitch you up and put you back together again.

The two of you had done this dance together so many times neither of you even had to think about it anymore. Your bodies were roadmaps that the other knew every inch of, even the parts that were left uncharted by everyone else. You could recite his scars from memory, find them with your eyes closed, with this sleeve and all the others. If anyone asked him, he could tell them where the two of you were for each stitch and patch job that kept your body together—on the run, in alleyways, in haunts much shadier than that of The Raven, he could recall them all like they were fables from childhood.

He started with the laceration that went across half of your forehead. You closed your eyes, not that it really made all that much of a difference. He cleaned it as best he could before setting about stitching you up. It was too familiar to both of you for him to bother giving you a warning. You winced at the initial puncture, hand darting out and gripping tightly onto his knee.

The pain didn’t lessen as he went along, when he moved from one wound to the next. It was a silent affair, a careful brand of intimacy that required no words and sparing eye contact. It was just his hands on your skin, you trusting that he was doing the right thing no matter how much it hurt. On another day the roles would be reversed and you would be doing the same for him. It would sting and burn him the same way it did you, but the pain was a small price to pay to be alive. It was a small price to pay to wake up each time with someone you trusted.

[monimccoythings]

Miguel O’Hara headcanons

Warning: This contains slight spoilers for Across The Spiderverse

I’m a new person after watching Across the Spiderverse. Words cannot describe how much I loved this movie. But the things I loved the most was how the characters were portrayed, like, you could tell their actions were wrong and that they were taking the worst approach to the situation, but still understand why they behaved like that and empathize with their reasoning behind their actions. Another thing I truly loved was their approach to their supposed love triangle, they mostly took the same route they took in Venom, Miles was a bit jealous at first, but the supposed love rival (Hobie my beloved) was just a cool guy who genuinely wanted to help and there was never any rivalry or hostility between them and that’s very healthy. I also loved Oscar Isaac’s portrayal of Miguel O’hara, absolutely wonderful.

I usually try to make the reader as gender neutral as possible, but this time I decided that this time reader would be fem!reader, but please feel free to use any pronoun you feel more comfortable with.

Imagine Miguel who after the incident with his alternate self’s daughter closed his heart off to everyone else, genuinely believing that to be Spider-Man you need to suffer and vowing to never love anyone ever again.

Imagine Miguel finding a carbon copy of his alternate self’s deceased wife in his real “home” universe and realising that he could have had a family here after all.

Imagine Miguel deciding not to pursue you and start a family, thinking that it would all end in more heartbreak and pain for them.

Imagine Miguel keeping tabs on you despite everything, because he wants to make sure you are safe, happy, well cared and surrounded with good people.

Imagine Miguel’s shock when you start working at the same laboratory as he as a lab assistant and having to self restrain himself from holding you against his chest and never letting go.

Imagine Miguel having to become cold and aloof towards you to save you both the suffering, thinking it will be easier if you hated him even if it’s killing him. Nonetheless, you still see through his façade and realise that behind that cruel and cold mask there is a scared man. Because you always do see him, in every universe.

Imagine Miguel pretending to not care whetever  you are dating someone or not, but still tearing his private lab into pieces in the middle of a jealously induced rage fit.

Imagine Miguel finding and beating the shit out of the date when they inevitably break your heart.

Imagine Miguel’s walls slowly coming down no matter how much he wants to keep them up because that’s the effect you always have on him.

Imagine Miguel’s learning to appreciate and love your version’s differences with the one from his deceased counterpart universe and value you as your own individual.

Imagine Miguel’s sudden understanding as to why Miles was so adamant of protecting his family when he sees some thugs about to shoot you.

Imagine Miguel losing it and becoming a rabid beast ready to murder those thugs.

Imagine that the only way to calm him down his to hug his broad back and whisper soothing and reassuring words to him. Even if you are trembling with fear, you find more important to hush him before he does something he will surely regret.

Imagine Miguel finally deciding to pursue you romantically and open his heart. He is not risking losing you ever again.

Imagine Miguel always fearing something bad might happen to you so he is a bit overbearing and overprotective. He always is expecting the worst of everyone. But you are always there to reassure him you are not going anywhere.

Imagine Miguel almost expecting a canon event to take you away from him again. But as time passes, your romance blossoms, you get engaged, you get married, have beautiful babies, and nothing happens. Not like Miguel isn’t there to make sure something bad happens, as mentioned, he is very overprotective.

Imagine Miguel being kinda worried that his children may inherit his “special traits” and you comforting him, telling her that no matter what you love them all.

Imagine Miguel waking up one day and realising nothing bad is happening because this is the future he was meant to have, a happy one.

Imagine Miguel stepping down from his role as leader of the Spider Society and giving it to more capable hands to spend more time with his family.

Imagine Miguel finally allowing himself to relax and enjoy life and his role as Spider-Man with his family by his side. Healing from trauma once and for all.

[moonshynecybin]

#prince of a small country addressing the nation concerning his recent marriage to italian motogp superstar valentino rossi <- oh. OH !!!!! genuinely i need more….. how did they meet…. is marc giving up his title to marry vale….. much to think abt…..

i love this one it’s about marc like. putting down the pr mask and realizing he can have something for himself…

so! much like our marc, in his youth he was a tiny adrenaline junkie obsessed with motorcycles, valentino rossi, and valentino rossi’s y2k bisexual swag. unlike our marc, he was not allowed to continue racing past a certain age bc he is the crown prince of a nation and it was considered too dangerous for him. he rides too hard, he doesn’t want to put that on alex if anything happens to him, etc

but our brave marc is not a complainer! ever! even when he absolutely should be! so he grits his teeth buckles down and does his duty. for his family. for his country. for his brother. for years. but he still keeps tabs on vale, allows himself that small joy. catches races whenever he can—watching them on his phone in airports and the back of cars all over the world. instagram stalking him like a weirdo. trying to covertly attend races with alex in silly disguises SURROUNDED by security, hat pulled low… a wistful thrill in his stomach as he hears the bikes roar past… eyes on valentino the whole way

and then they meet! marc is in his early twenties and they’re at some party marc hates but he’s keeping the big smile on his face as he greets people and vale (here for sponsorship obligation comma bored) notices him across the room and goes hey. that guys hot and looks equally bored! so he goes up, does a silly bit, and is immediately confronted with a full frontal assault of marc’s big dumb smile and shining eyes <3 also realizes he is a fan IMMEDIATELY even though marc is trying to keep it on the DL which he reallyyyyy enjoys so they spend the whole night snickering in their own little world…

whirlwind romance ensues!! and they have history’s least carbon neutral affair over the next few months with the amount of plane rides they charter anshshsgg… truly marc learning to love life and ignore some of his responsibilities for once… insane sex in expensive hotels bc vale wants to show him a good time… extravagant rich people gifts…. personalized helmet tribute only the two of them get… lots of references to marc in interviews that only marc and him understand. like FULLY inside jokes with themselves excluding the press so the other will smile when they watch the interview later when they’re apart… and the CROWN JEWEL PUN NOT INTENDED: ranch visittttttttt where they have a BLAST. vale gets to excercise his clear love of teaching and praise marc, be impressed with his raw talent on the bike. and marc is. SO happy. looks valentino dead in the eye at the end of the day vale’s big hands on either side of his face and tells him this is the best day of his life… and he looks at vale and loves him SO much but feels so trapped by the monarchy (his advisors know this and have been quietly maneuvering the nation towards democracy… marc does not know this) and something cracks in him and he’s just like. i don’t think i can do this anymore. and vale’s face DROPS and marc’s like. do you want to get married. bc he’s insane <3 and it’s the only way he can think to bind vale to him permanently in a way the monarchy/his duty can’t interfere with… like no one can argue with a royal wedding!

SO THEY ELOPE!!! scandal of the century!!! and then marc’s advisors (everyone say thank you to his fictional advisors who create democracy in a nation not bc it is a better form of government but for pure love of the yaoi game) pass the resolution to change the government and marc is FREE to follow vale around the world and get really good on the bike again and learn that it is OKAY to love things and not sacrifice your whole self at the alter of duty :)

[officialdaydreamer00]

Nui shenanigans

in which you have a tiny nui version of your fire-headed significant bother

character: idia shroud

content: cw for suggestive things (i spoil you too much gd), an unhealthy amount of tooth rotting materials, the brainworms are worming so please excuse the rotting ^-^, reader is not yuu, gender neutral reader (mainly leaning to afab/fem aligned readers)

pausing the event to whip up a birthday present for @identity-theft-101! happy spawn date you biteable fucking gremlin <3

this feels so much like im working on PR lmao

first of all, the idia nui is sentient, let's get that over with. idia nui is an exact copy of the real idia, just in tiny doll form.

he's only 10cm tall (or about 3.9 inches) so he can fit snuggly in your palm or your shirt pocket.

very, i mean very, affectionate. touch starved too, he craves and will soak up any physical contacts from you like a sponge. just like idia lmao

also very squishy and biteable, since he doesn't take any physical damage. use that information to your likings :)

now that's out of the way, we gonna talk about the interesting stuffs.

when i tell you he's a carbon copy of idia in doll form, i mean rook hunt level accuracy. the resemblance is concerning.

from the mannerisms to the actions, idia nui acts just like our local fire hair ipad kid. except that it looks even cuter, somehow.

idia nui can be carried to places. just place him on your shoulder, in your shirt pocket or hoodie hood. for fem aligned folks, you can even let him vibe in your bra pocket.

idia nui, of course, has quite a case of social anxiety. he doesn't do well with people, so hide his existence when you're in the presense of other human beings, please.

you can always share your love and interests with idia nui. he will listen to your ramblings with rapt attention and encourages you with his adorably shy smiles.

as expected, idia is seething with jealousy, seeing how idia nui can do things that he can't. social anxiety fucks with his brain so badly.

ans now you have two blue fire wet cats fighting for your attention and affections. let the war begin

all he can do is watching over you through his floating ipad and silently seething. he would gritted his teeth whenever idia nui notices the ipad and gives you affections, and will explode in flames if the nui sends him a mocking grin, which is more likely than you think.

one time, idia finally manned up and actually smooched you, he had a blue screen moment and then he dipped.

you've never seen idia ran tf away so fast lmao.

spoilers: in the end you rewarded them both with cuddles and kisses so all was good ^-^

remember to reblog if you enjoy my works! ^-^

[gatormeister]

Gundam SEED Finished!

So, I came into this show with no idea what to expect. I was uncertain of how I'd think of the series, and even partly expected it would disappoint. Anyways, Gundam SEED deserves every bit of praise it's received. The show is genuinely fantastic.

Yes, the show re-uses a lot of ideas from UC Gundam, I mean if I didn't just watch through SEED, I probably wouldn't be able to tell the Archangel from the White Base. You have the story begin in a neutral colony, with the colony being destroyed, several civilian teenagers recruited to fill out the positions on an experimental battleship, and one kid who's special because he's the only one who can pilot the giant robot. It's not exactly the most subtle throw back, but even in that first half of the show, SEED manages to stop itself from feeling like a carbon copy of 0079 thanks to the show's greatest strength. Its characters and the different dynamics going on between them.

You have Murrue and Natarle and the tension over what decisions Murrue should make as Captain, neither one of them being entirely wrong or right most of the time. You have Kira and Athrun, neither one wants to be fighting the other, but circumstances forcing them to come to blows frequently and violently. You have the whole Heliopolis kids particularly Sai, Kira, and Flay. How all three of them clearly want to be able to just sit down and talk things out with each other at various points, but are too afraid to actually suggest it. Flay is a fantastic character with fantastic character development both positive and negative btw just thought I should mention that.

But then you get to Orb, and everything starts to feel almost entirely original from that point on straight to the finish line. And all throughout the last half its characters are going strong as ever. Especially the ones with less of a chance to shine in the first half.

My one biggest complaint would be in regards to Chairman Zala and Azrael. They're ultimately just monstrous people who do monstrous things in positions of power. The Chairman at least gets something to him being Athrun's father. Azrael and the Earth Alliance as a whole feel kind of empty. We hear about stuff, but the show never really has anyone on the inside to follow and show what they're all about until the very end.

All that aside, the next show I'll be watching is Gundam SEED Destiny. I didn't know what to expect from SEED, and came out loving it. This show however, even when I see people who enjoyed it's basically never all praise. I am both excited to see what happens next for the Cosmic Era and concerned about finding out why so many people came to hate it. I'll be watching through either way, so hopefully it's at least entertaining.

[corvuserpens]

Saw the trailer for the new The Crow movie with Bill Skarsgård and...

Well, it looks cool and fun at least, so I'll definitely sit my ass at the movie theater for the first time since Black Panther: Wakanda Forever came out, but I can't help to feel like making it a "remake" of the original 1994 film (bless Brandon Lee and may he rest forever in peace) with some MASSIVE changes (RIP to my girl Sarah and Cool Dad Sgt. Albrecht, they deserved better) was a bit of a missed opportunity? Because look, it's like this

say whatever you will about the quality of the sequels, and whether you liked them or hated them is entirely your business and valid either way. I mean, I only watched City of Angels once and barely remember it, it was that good. Never managed to catch Salvation (read the plot) and watched Wicked Prayer a couple of times (David Boreanaz and Danny Trejo were in that movie, HAH!) and I'm basically neutral about it because THAT was practically a remake of the original but in a different setting with different characters, the plot beats were the a carbon copy.

In summary, the tradition with this unloved obscure franchise is that with every movie, the story changes. You have a new cast, a new city, new villains, and the only constant is that someone is brutally murdered along with a loved one, and their soul can't rest, so the crow that carries them to the next life allows them to come back to right the wrongs before moving on. And independently of how successful the storytelling was, they at least tried to do something different each time (except for Wicked Prayer): City of Angels was about a father being brought back to avenge the murder of his son and Salvation was about a guy being wrongly accused of the murder of his girlfriend and coming back from being executed to solve the mystery of her death and avenge himself and her. And this new film is just--

Oh we have two cishet people who are in love and get murdered and they're both just called Eric and Shelly and this isn't supposed to be a reboot, it's just the same plot as the '94 movie and the main characters are different people but have the same names as the two lovers from the original and we're gonna ramp up the supernatural element even though knowing so little about it is what made the original so mysterious and tight in its themes and instead of our titular Crow looking like "a Nine Inch Nails member" he'll look "like a rapper on SoundCloud" (quoted from a great YT comment btw). Oh and Eric and Shelly are delinquents so we can toss some poorly construed redemption arc, just to spice things up a little.

Just ?????? WHAT?? That's IT????

Ever since the rumors of a new Crow movie started traveling around the internet, I was hoping they would really try and make something interesting with it because this is a kind of universe (I hate that term, fucking Marvel) where there's strict rules, true, but within its boundaries you can get really creative! Like why not have a female Crow, for a change? It's always been a male playing the part! Why not an LGBTQ+ Crow, like hear me out:

how about a lesbian couple who were super in love and happy but got murdered by homophobes one night so one of them is brought back to exact vengeance so brutal, vicious and graphic even the devil would get chills (and the anti-LGBTQ+ fake fans in the audience would shit their pants)?

And I didn't have to think too hard about that one! It's basically the original plot but with lesbians! You get a female Crow AND a LGBTQ+ Crow in the same film!!

And it doesn't have to be about lovers being murdered either, like I said City of Angels was about a father and his son, in Salvation the guy got wrongly executed for the murder of his gf, why not have a daughter coming back to avenge her mother? Why not a friend coming back bc they can't rest after they and their BFF were gunned down? Why can't it be total strangers who hit it off after meeting for five minutes and have a "wrong place, wrong time" scenario going on??? How much better would that be?

So many possibilities, but nooooooo, we gotta go with the tired Sad White Boy (no shade on Bill Skarsgård) loses his One True (Straight) Love plot and he has to be conventionally attractive (and get jacked up when he's brought back bc yeah, I mean in the original Lee's character looked exactly the same pre and pos resurrection, his only superpower was that he couldn't be killed but whatever) and look badass while killing all the bad guys. BORING. Oh and 2024's Shelly is a black woman who gets murdered, don't think I didn't notice that casual racism.

Since we're on that note, why not have a black Crow???? Or a Mexican Crow??????? I realize that in Wicked Prayer Jimmy Cuervo maybe was supposed to be Mexican, but he was still a white man (with Mexican heritage, I'll give it that) so we're back to the same white-people only club! I realize there are white Mexicans, but that's not the point, the point is to give brown skinned people the chance to play a main role where they get to be badass too! Just..... AHHHH.

Listen. Anyone who truly knows me is aware I'm a big romantic bimbo. I LOVE a good love story that ends in tragedy or in bittersweet terms bc the couple are so in love and true love never dies (see what I did there, fellow Crow fans?). But nothing is gonna beat Brandon Lee's movie in that sense, that's why I love it. What buggers me the most is that, from what I've been told, the director and writers wanted to make an adaptation more faithful to the graphic novel (which I have not read YET! I recommend Into The Depths video if you wanna know more about the author James O'Barr and his story, which is a very sad one indeed) that started it all, and yet it doesn't look like it will be any more faithful to said graphic novel than the '94 movie! Like, if you're gonna bullshit about it, at least make up a better excuse.

Hhhhhhhhhh. Hollywood's gonna Hollywood, right? Joke's on me expecting better.

TL:DR The Crow (2024) is trying to be a remake of The Crow (1994) when we already have a remake (The Crow: Wicked Prayer (2000)) instead of trying to make something new and it's silly, but I will still go watch it bc at least it looks fun to look at. And there's a bit of poetry in knowing this new flick will release 30 years after the original, ig.

Rant over.

Bloopers: try to guess how many times I ended up writing Wicked Grace instead of Wicked Prayer bc I'm back on my Dragon Age era lmaooooo.