#HE DOES IN FACT STRAIGHT UP MURDER PEOPLE HE HAS BLOOD ON HIS HANDS

[crossgartered]

AHHHHHHHHHH I FEEL LIKE I AM THE ONLY ONE WHO IS RIGHT ABOUT THIS CHARACTER

[yanderes-galore]

Could you make Yandere Platonic Splinter Vs Yandere Platonic Shredder (TMNT 2012)?

I can try, sure :) Did most of the personality from memory so this is like an overview with how they'd act.

Here's your two dads, lol.

Yandere! Platonic! Splinter vs Yandere! Platonic! Shredder

(TMNT 2012)

Pairing: Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Overprotective behavior, Violence, Attempted murder, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Forced (Shredder)/Dubious (Splinter) companionship.

Honestly, these two having a rivalry doesn't surprise me.

NEED I REMIND YOU THEY HAVE ALREADY FOUGHT OVER PEOPLE BEFORE?

For example, they fought for the same girl romantically.

Then later on they fight over Karai as a daughter.

I am not surprised if they both fought over you.

Maybe you're a ninja in training and manage to catch the eye of the two.

They may just see themselves as your teachers, but they could also see themselves as a fatherly figure in your life.

Although, they are very different in their approach.

Splinter already has a family so he's already very welcoming.

He treats you similarly to April in terms of training you alongside the turtles.

In fact you'd be lucky if you met him first.

The way you could meet Shredder is most likely through... kidnapping.

It would make more sense if he kidnapped you to get info on Splinter and the turtles.

Although it could've just been the wrong place, wrong time.

Either way, when you're there you manage to intrigue Shredder into sparing you.

Only to be taken back by Splinter and the turtles.

This could serve as your first meeting with Splinter too if you want, where you get involved with the family due to having nowhere else to go.

Both of them would want to train you if they felt an attachment with you.

Splinter is adamant on training you for self-defense.

While Shredder may do it to make you another pawn or weapon at first.

I can see their rivalry being... brutal.

It always has been brutal, even before you came into the picture.

Shredder already wants to kill Splinter.

Meanwhile Splinter has concerned himself with protecting his family.

When the two realize they both have a similar goal, it just gets worse.

Shredder wants to make you fully loyal to the Foot Clan so he can break Splinter.

Splinter focuses on having the turtles (and maybe April + Casey) protect you.

Splinter is much more caring, often showing affection and providing you shelter when you need it.

He just seems like a caring dad or mentor who wants to protect you.

Later on he seems to want to isolate you from your actual family... but right now he has Shredder to deal with.

Meanwhile Shredder is more cruel and intense.

He isn't really affectionate, just ask Karai.

Although he does care for you enough to show distress when others take you out of his sight.

Splinter would not usually kill to keep you in his care, not unless he was cornered.

Shredder on the other hand... would probably kill the entirety of New York if it meant you'd be his loyal apprentice.

As you can see... They are vastly different.

We've even seen them fight countless times in the shows, even times where Shredder brutally wounds Splinter.

Blood will be shed between them countless times before there is any conclusion.

The moment those two come together to fight, you can only hope whatever the outcome is will benefit you.

You no doubt are aware of the tension caused by your presence.

Yet even if you put yourself in isolation, one of them is going to find you.

I can see them both sending others to check in with you.

Shredder has countless soldiers and mutants.

Meanwhile Splinter has the turtles, April, and Casey.

I can also see you being thrown into a loop of constant kidnapping and rescuing... no matter who it is.

They try to convince you who is better, you end up tuning it out.

Frankly, you just want to go home... your REAL home.

While Splinter is more caring, he has his own issues with you being around others.

Shredder is straight up just volatile and cruel to those around you, yet strangely caring with you.

Even the best option here probably isn't healthy either.

You can only hope that some miracle saves you from this conflict.

The two have had tension for years between one another... one just waiting for the other to make a move...

With you thrown into the conflict, it's only a matter of time until things boil over and you're forced to see the fate that awaits you all.

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One

Masterlist

Thank you all so much for the love and support for Part One, it is always so scary sharing brain children. You are all amazing.

Part Two

(Or, Alastor Proves he Makes a Shit Hotel Host by Bullying a Murder Victim)

By the time you opened your eyes, you had been moved to a bed, a comfy bed, in a warm lit room that was modestly decorated. And you were alone, thank god. Sitting up on the edge of the bed and kicking the sheets off as you straightened up. You stretched in a vain attempt to bring yourself some comfort, at least in body if not the mind. Doing this however, resulted in an immediate eye opening panic, because the sides of your arms brushing against either side of your head caught onto nothing.

Y’no, nothing. Nothing where ears should be. Looking around frantically, there was a cracked door heading into what was possibly a bathroom- please god, please be a bathroom. You body checked the frame as you ran in, muttering a whiny ‘ow’ before flicking a switch that turned on the overhead lights by the sink. Door open, lights on aaaand yep. Yep, yep yep. Ears missing. Hyperventilating now, you stumbled to the vanity and braced yourself on the ledge, staring into your own reflection as the panic began to set in.

Hell took your ears!? This was fucking ridiculous. Could one bitch to the devil? But also…how…how were you hearing? Because you definitely could hear. In fact you could hear better than before, like the wind outside rattling against something and a creak from the walls possibly 2 rooms over. Your brain might have been empty of explanation but your ears more than made up for it in what you heard. You leaned towards the mirror, turning your head back and forth trying to figure out what had happened to you. Then you felt it, a twitch, a little itch, at the very top of your head. Eyes drifted upwards to the pair of soft brown ears (?) That didn't quite point straight up, instead pointing more in a 45 degree angle. The left one was flicking of its own accord. The scream that left your mouth was instinctual, and loud.

Almost immediately you heard a knocking at the door and Charlie waltzed in, breathing hard, indicating the speed in which she came to your need. You spun around to meet her eyes, hands whipping to the very soft - so soft - ears utop your crown, breath shaking as you tried to get control over yourself.

“Ooohhh, yes, yes you’ve discovered your adorable new features! Thank goodness, I was so worried!” Charlie said, hands waving in front of her before clasping them together on her chest. “Everyone who comes to hell as a sinner takes on a delightful new appearance that reflects the way they lived and died! It’s a great way for you to meet new people and uh…learn to live a better life in spite of them! Many people take on animal appearances, my dad thinks it’s because every soul transcends the image of a human body.”

Still taking large breaths to keep yourself from screaming, your stuttering proof of your inability to form basic words, Charlie continued.

“Angel Dust is a spider, we think because he was involved in a ‘web of crime’ with his exciting mafia family - Husk…well okay Husk is interesting because I’m pretty sure cats in the overworld don’t have wings but he was a gambler before death so maybe he was just lucky to get wings too! You know, cards fell in his favour ha-haaa…” She trailed off awkwardly, face scrunching in a manner that you understood as her realising maybe she wasn’t explaining any part of this new discovery very well. She rubbed the back of her head with one hand, the other one placing itself on her hip. “Alastor is a deer demon, and it looks like you could be one too! I mean, you’ve got similar ears, although yours are much cuter because they are kind of floppy. And your nose is so cute! Like a baby doe! You’re pretty adorable honestly.”

You glanced at the mirror again, hands finally falling to your face to rest on your chin with your fingers covering your mouth lightly, spaced apart to allow your haggard breathing to come in and out. She was right, you did have a cute nose, it was similar to Charlie’s in appearance, and your ears did closely resemble the ears of a hooved forest animal. They reminded you of a mule deer's ears, the only deers you ever saw in Oregon (where your home was). Looking closer at yourself without the same level of panic your eyes moved back and forth rapidly taking in the new details of your person. Your skin all around was a sort of fawn colour, if fawn the colour could look dead. It was as if Bambi had died and his fur turned an ashier colour devoid of the warmth of active blood. That was you! Your ears were a dark blonde peppered with black, complimenting the soft blondish brown of your hair. Fingertips and nails were black, the black creeping up your arms before ending below the sleeve of your short sleeved pyjama top. You looked down and poked your foot out a bit to see if your lower limbs matched and hooray…they did.

In another world, maybe one where this was a costume, you would admit that you were cute out loud. However denial was still the leading emotion so you just slightly nodded at yourself before slowly turning around to face your gracious host once more.

“So. I’m a deer, so that’s a fun new fact…will I stay this way while I’m…here?” You winced at your admission of hell being your new place of residency.

“Yup!” Charlie replied in a chipper voice.

”And if I manage to get to heaven…will I change into something new?”

Charlie paused, the hand that was on her head had shifted to her chin, finger now tapping in pensive thought. “Hmm, I’m not sure? But from what my dad has said, humans who go up to heaven also take on forms that reflect their earthly life. Soooo you would probably stay a deer.”

”How would your dad know? Can we talk to the people in heaven?” This casual conversation was helping hasten the subsiding panic.

“Uh no. Heaven and Hell are pretty much separated all the time, except for the extermination BUT we’re working on that…My dad is Lucifer. Like the archangel!”

Your face was in obvious shock. Jaw dropped lightly and your hands came to your sternum, and you gaped at Charlie with wide eyes. “Lucifer? Like…the Devil? Satan himself?” What the actual fuck, why was your luck so cursed?

Charlie rocked back and forth on her heels, slightly grimacing from your comments before answering. “Yes, my dad is the Devil - but Satan is his own person, lots of people get them confused, much to dad’s chagrin. Lucifer Morningstar is my dad, the Devil, the King of Hell, fallen angel, and Satan is just the Lord of Wrath. It’s all very simple once you’ve been here a while.” Charlie had come to your side and wrapped her arm around your shoulders to walk you out of the bathroom. ”You should really join us downstairs for a proper tour, breakfast was over a while ago but we might be able to find some lunch in case you’re hungry.”

Your stomach rumbled at the thought of food. Was Hell just like Earth, but scarier? And redder? Would you need to get a job? Pay taxes? Oh good god, was Hell was just the worst part of living on monotonous repeat? Brutal. And certainly great punishment.

“We can work on getting you some more personal clothing later, but you are Vaggie look to be around the same size so she’s dropped off a few pieces just to get you in gear for redemption! I should probably go tell the others that you’re fine. I can’t wait for you to join us!” Charlie was so sickly sweet it was crazy to think she was the daughter of the Devil. She was too cheerful for a normal person, never mind a demon. She waved to you and said bye before closing the door as she exited.

Picking up the first couple of pieces in the donated pile, you dressed yourself in a shorter dress with a billowing skirt oh my god you have a tail ignore it ignore it ignore it and thicker grey socks that went all the way up to the middle of your thighs, covering up your black skin meeting up with the length of the dress. The dress was a softer white colour, not as bright as a crisp, new piece, this was a well loved item. No complaints, it was broken in and you were grateful for the gift. The only questionable features were the X’s that were placed directly over the nipples of the top. That was…quite the fashion statement. No time to be picky, something would be better than the pyjamas you died in. No shoes were provided so you simply walked out of the room into the hallway without.

The hallway appeared neverending from both sides, the detailed wallpaper and carpet going for visual miles. Which way was the right way? Good thing you were unconscious when you were brought up here, makes it much easier to retrace your steps. You were grateful for your giant new ears because it seemed like you could follow the sound of chatter down a hall.

Frowning, you let instinct take over and you went to the right. You were passing a door on your left and you felt the hair on your body begin to rise, a staticky sensation passing over your skin. It was a similar feeling to when you would take a giant fleece blanket out of the dryer when it was still warm. You shuddered and made an audible noise of discomfort. Thankfully it appeared that you chose the right path however, since you found yourself at a set of stairs that appeared to curve to the lower floor. You could hear the chatter clearer- “She screamed at the mirror? She’s adorable! She coulda been a worm or a giant slug or-” You shook your head, attempting to ignore the conversation you were accidentally eavesdropping on. A click was heard behind you and you whipped around to face the creature that resulted in your uncomfortable welcome to the hotel in the first place.

Alastor.

Now that he wasn’t talking and simply staring at you, analysing your being, you could really take in his face. Large, red eyes with a frightening depth to them were framed by darker red skin on his lids, his nose somehow sharp but similar to your own, his was more nose-like however. His smile was the worst part though. You were unsure of what could possibly make him smile so wide. His teeth were very large, and clean despite their colour. Strange for a person framed after a prey animal to have such sharp teeth, and you instinctively ran your tongue over your own behind your lips to discover sharper canines only, nothing comparable to the man in front of you.

In the silence his eyes narrowed and focused on you, making his face far more intimidating. Again, an unintentional shiver ran down your back and you shuddered under his gaze. You were a startled deer, caught in his frightening gaze. You were so unsure and uncomfortable with the situation that you had completely missed that he said something to you. You closed your eyes and shook your head to get out of your thoughts.

”Pardon? I’m sorry, I missed what you said there.” You admitted with crossed fingers that he would accept the apology.

”Yes, clearly. I merely asked you if you slept well! You took quite a nasty fall to the floor! Generally people know my history before I can make them faint from fear so I will accept the compliment. It appears as if my sabbatical has had very little effect on my presence.” He bowed slightly in a polite manner, arm crossing over his stomach as he did so, the other arm holding a microphone that was promptly used as a cane once he came up from his polite gesture. You had done a small curtsy in return, awkwardly grabbing the side of the small skirt to fulfil the action. He appeared to nod in acknowledgment, hopefully appreciating the polite return.

Your arms dropped back to your side as you processed what the man had said. Things were only going to continue to confuse you. This was all a nightmare, honestly.

“Now, on to a more serious matter,” He snapped his fingers, and the both of you were in a different room. Two chairs to your left were angled around a small table, the little radio featured on top of it. God damn it that fucking thing again. Farther behind one of the chairs however, the room opened into a bayou swamp environment - dark, marshy and foggy, the eerie sounds coming from it promised danger of an unknown kind. What kind of place was this? You could feel your ears flick from the ambient sounds coming from the strange forest as Alastor continued his interrogation. Walking to the antique, he asked “What were you doing with my radio, my dear?” Gesturing with his free hand to the little machine.

You essentially vomited out the story behind it, where you found it, why you were there, the reason you took it home with you. He listened intently, glancing at it once you finished your very brief history with the item. It truly wasn't a scandalous thing that you pilfered from some ritzy location, you salvaged it from a hoarder's house after it was put there by a woman with an obsession with Antiques Roadshow.

“If it is yours, why did it come here with me? Charlie said that possessions don’t follow souls into hell, but this did?” You inquired, hoping perhaps he held the answer.

Alastor became pensive “Hmmm. It is quite peculiar that it came with you. What were you doing with it? Please do not miss a single detail my dear, I am curious about our situation.

You frowned. What else other than grabbing the cord as you fell back? You listed out your actions on your fingers, reciting out loud the steps you took before your death. When you landed on the finger you paired with ‘took the back panel off-‘ he shouted a sharp ha-Hah! Confused and with a frown you continued, ending with cutting your hand on it before putting everything back together and heading to bed. Well, then dying. The actual ending.

“Are you sure that was all you did? Do not leave a single detail out, or you might regret it.” A sound attune with a record scratch sound from nowhere as you stared at the demon. Took radio home, took radio apart, bled on the radio, cleaned blood off the radio - your eyes went wide. And you silently checked off a step you missed in your story. You had cleaned blood off the symbols in the radio, the ones that looked like they themselves had been written in blood. Alastors gaze sharpened at your realisation.

“On the panel, inside the radio…” You started, “There were these symbols inside of it, I didn’t really get a good look at them before cutting my hand open,” You absentmindedly looked at your palm only to see a bright white scar where the long cut once was. Already? A Scar in hell? Alastor had stalked towards you and grabbed your hand to look at it. The air around the two of you was suffocating. It was difficult to think straight with him in front of you. And you were suddenly hyper aware of yourself, and him. Holding your hand was almost too much to handle and you tried to pull it back only for him to grip harder, nails pressing into your hand painfully. He raised his other hand palm up and held it beside yours. A matching scar was present. He frowned, though his smile was still prominent.

Dropping your hand he returned to the radio and black shadow tendrils rose from the floor and grabbed it, taking pieces off and placing the back panel of it in his hands. In silence he looked at the mess before entering into a low laugh, one that increased with each breath before he was near hysteria. His figure increased in size, antlers growing in size from his head, limbs lengthening - he swung his head to face yours as his figure started to loom over yours.

“Well my dear, we seem to have a problem” he said in a strange, distorted voice, his figure still looming. “You have compromised some old runes within my radio…it could possibly explain how you ended up here, with us, looking as you do.” Halfway through his terrifying statement he had returned to his ‘normal’ form and fluffed out the lapel of his coat as he did so. Eyes returning to yours the room became darker, and green symbols similar to the ones in the radio appeared on the floor, some appearing to raise up and float around the two of you.

“You will not mention any part of this radio or what you know of it, including where it was found or how you came into possession with it. You will not let others know of how your scar came on your person, and you certainly will not mention any of the runes you saw.” He wasn’t making a request, he was clearly demanding it. It felt as if wind was billowing his hair and coat as his eyes took on a much brighter look. ”If you do, I promise you will regret having ever come here and I will devour your soul only after a long and painful torture, am I clear?” You nodded in acknowledgement, knowing that the only reason you had not thrown up yet was the complete lack of food in your system, though the bile was resting at the back of your throat from fear.

He raised his hand to yours in a handshake motion, beckoning you with the outreached hand to join yours with his. You grabbed his hand with your own, both scars meeting in the middle, and they began to glow before he said only one word - “Deal?”

Well really, was there any other option? You nodded before he tsk-tsked your action, “I need vocal consent my dear, it is required.” The last word turning dark with static.

“Deal.” You barked out, and as soon as you responded, the room reverted back to its original state immediately. Alastor took his hand back and wiped it on the opposite sleeve. ”Excellent. You may leave now, the stairs will direct you right into the lobby. Please tell Ms. Morningstar that my afternoon has changed and I am unable to join her.” The door swung open on its own accord and black tangible tendrils of shadow had all but shoved you across the room and out the door before slamming the door shut so hard you swore the wood splintered slightly.

You paused to catch your breath, staring at the door, which you now knew led to Alastors Room. On the other side you could tell he must have been pacing back and forth, his heels clacking on the hard floors as he did so. Soon after however, it sounded as if a wild animal was throwing furniture and ripping fabric, loud screaming as it did so. Not about to stick around, you sprinted to the stairs and nearly slipped from the lack of shoes trying to place distance between you and the Demon upstairs. You kept up the pace on the main floor until you ran past an open door and caught sight of Charlie sitting on a sofa. You entered the room, out of breath and slightly sweaty from the encounter upstairs. She waved excitedly before patting the open seat beside her for you to sit as she held up an apple in her other hand. You sat, accepted the apple and took a bite before looking at the Television and promptly choking as you watched a news anchor discuss something called an ‘Extermination’, didn’t Charlie mention that upstairs?

Thankfully, once things had settled down in your head, you found yourself swept up in trust exercises, oh goody. Thankfully this spiralled into chaos and you were glad everyone had simply accepted your presence without hesitation, there were far more exciting things happening. It was especially comforting that Alastor would be keeping his promise and leaving on an outing for the day.

****

I will add here, this will be a semi-slow burn. Alastor is aroace pre-reader, but with time things change. Time, magic, and forced proximity.

[saintsenara]

I’ve curious about something you said… you mention that you believe 💯 that Barty Crouch Jr was a full on DE/Blood purist Before being sent to Azkaban but to me the trial scene made me think otherwise- could you elaborate on why you think he was faking and is a true DE?

thank you very much for the ask, anon!

barty crouch jr. is - obviously - a fascinating character. but this doesn't override the fact that his primary purpose in goblet of fire is to be a narrative device: the plot twist of the century at the denouement of the book, when "professor moody" is revealed as an imposter; and a man everyone assumed to be dead is revealed to be alive; and a man many people [including harry and, it's implied, dumbledore] suspected - on the basis of his performance at his trial - might simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, rather than a fanatical death eater, is revealed to be... a fanatical death eater, who has been working for a full year to facilitate voldemort's resurrection.

like in a murder mystery, the narrative purpose of crouch jr.'s unmasking at the end of the book is to reveal that several things the text presents as clues before harry [the reader surrogate] has all the information are actually red herrings once he does.

the first of these is that, like philosopher's stone, goblet of fire goes out of its way to suggest that the faithful death eater at hogwarts is snape - which it does magnificently:

A grim smile twisted his lopsided mouth. “Oh if there’s one thing I hate,” he muttered, more to himself than to Harry, and his magical eye was fixed on the left-hand corner of the map, “it’s a Death Eater who walked free...” Harry stared at him. Could Moody possibly mean what Harry thought he meant?

harry - and, therefore, the reader - is, of course, immediately primed to interpret this as the real moody suggesting that snape is still suspected of being a loyal death eater. what we learn later, of course, is that crouch-as-moody is actually accusing snape of being disloyal:

“I told you, Harry... I told you. If there’s one thing I hate more than any other, it’s a Death Eater who walked free. They turned their backs on my master when he needed them most.”

and the second is that goblet of fire treats barty crouch sr. not as a villain - per se - but as one of the long line of civil servants who appear in the series whose commitment to doing everything by the book - being precise, bureaucratic, inflexible, and so on - only ends up making them extraordinarily cruel. crouch is the precursor to how percy will behave in order of the phoenix, and he also has numerous things in common with how dolores umbridge [an unambiguous villain] and rufus scrimgeour [an antagonist, but not a villain] are written.

the text suggests on multiple occasions prior to its denouement that crouch's rigidity made him incapable of mercy [a virtue the series really values].

but, in addition to this, it suggests that crouch's cardinal sin isn't that he didn't show mercy to the genuinely guilty... but that he didn't show mercy to the innocent.

how do we know this? because he's the man who's responsible for the miscarriage of justice which defines the series:

Sirius’s face darkened. He suddenly looked as menacing as he had the night when Harry first met him, the night when Harry still believed Sirius to be a murderer. “Oh I know Crouch all right,” he said quietly. “He was the one who gave the order for me to be sent to Azkaban - without a trial.”

sirius also tells us that crouch was power-hungry and corrupt:

"Crouch’s principles might’ve been good in the beginning - I wouldn’t know. He rose quickly through the Ministry, and he started ordering very harsh measures against Voldemort’s supporters. The Aurors were given new powers - powers to kill rather than capture, for instance. And I wasn’t the only one who was handed straight to the dementors without trial. Crouch fought violence with violence, and authorized the use of the Unforgivable Curses against suspects. I would say he became as ruthless and cruel as many on the Dark Side."

and he also gives the reader a nibble at the other half of this red herring, when he suggests that barty crouch jr. might have been nothing more than a victim of his father's ruthlessness, just like winky - the innocent house elf whose cruel treatment at crouch sr.'s hands not only infuriates hermione, but is also given by sirius as proof of crouch's near-villainy:

“Was his son a Death Eater?” said Harry.  “No idea,” said Sirius, still stuffing down bread. “I was in Azkaban myself when he was brought in. This is mostly stuff I’ve found out since I got out. The boy was definitely caught in the company of people I’d bet my life were Death Eaters - but he might have been in the wrong place at the wrong time, just like the house-elf.”

when harry ends up in the pensieve a couple of chapters later, then, he and the reader are primed to view barty crouch jr.'s hysterics on the stand as authentic, to be horrified that crouch sr. could send his son to azkaban with such brutal ease, and to highly suspect that his conviction - like sirius' - was illegitimate.

but - of course - the twist at the end of the book is that harry [and sirius] is completely wrong about this.

barty crouch sr.'s decision to send his own son to azkaban was the right one. and the thing that ruined him was not making a ruthless decision, but making a merciful one.

because, as barty crouch jr. tells us, his father breaking him out of azkaban, around a year after sending him there, meant nothing to him... other than the chance to return to voldemort:

“And what did your father do with you, when he had got you home?” said Dumbledore quietly. “Staged my mother’s death. A quiet, private funeral. That grave is empty. The house-elf nursed me back to health. Then I had to be concealed. I had to be controlled. My father had to use a number of spells to subdue me. When I had recovered my strength, I thought only of finding my master... of returning to his service.”

these are not the words of someone who was anything other than a sincere death eater when he and the lestranges attacked frank and alice longbottom.

and they are, therefore, the words of someone whose performance of horrified innocence - just in the wrong place at the wrong time - at his trial is one hundred percent fake.

[magicalmanhattanproject]

okay so like the really fascinating thing about qbbh, and i know this is gonna be surprising to people who are just getting introduced to him by the qsmp, is this is possibly the least skeppy obsessed iteration of bad we've ever seen.

i saw a post a while ago that pointed out that he was perfectly happy to be a murder muffin and then he adopted dapper and got a moral compass and like that hasn't really left my brain because that's kinda how bad works, right? combine that with bad choosing Blood for his ordem room and like. like.

so bad is immortal, right? he's 11,000 years old, right? everyone he's ever loved has died, and a lot of them by his own hand, right? bad has two categories for people: people who will die and skeppy. bad gets attached to people. bad doesn't like losing people. so bad does what he has to do to keep the one person he actually can keep, even if it means destroying an entire world to do it

bad has always had a moral compass and it has always pointed directly at skeppy

and skeppy isn't here.

which like, that's not the end of the world at first. they're not attached at the hip. skeppy is a sleepy lil muffinhead. they can go for a while without seeing each other. sure, he missed the train, and the boat, and the plane, but he'll be here soon!

no the thing that makes things really interesting is dapper. because bad really likes dapper. bad, in fact, loves dapper. and dapper is a dragon egg and dragon eggs can live a long time.

which means that in the absence of a skeppy, bad does what bad does best: he points his moral compass straight at dapper and everything else proceeds from there.

bad demonstrated during the election arc that he was willing to give up on bringing skeppy to the island to win the presidency and the means to keep dapper safe. but that doesn't mean that bad is obsessed with dapper instead of skeppy. bad is never going to not be obsessed with skeppy.

but now he's got two options. he's being drawn in two directions. those directions could even contradict. and that's gonna make things very very complicated for a muffinhead who likes to makes things very very simple.

[uhohwhathaveidone]

Hello !! Can you do something about Sebastian and Hufflepuff Readers?

A lovely reader, gentle, friendly and kind. She didn't seem like someone who could hurt or kill anyone at all. But in fact, she could easily break someone's arm with her coolness. She looked terrifying and formidable every time she fought. (Sebastian hesitates to admit he's secretly scared of her, too.) It's like she's not the cute Hufflepuff he and his friends know.

But of course, she's still kind and sweet to him and her friends, but sometimes she's a little scary.

Me when I play any game that allows just straight murder

Loyal Hufflepuff (S.S)

I'm in here, look at me, bullying people, my favourite hobby. This has some death, because how are people supposed to fear you in battle if you don't protect your favourite boy from Rookwood's men by just bashing their heads in with a random anvil? Also, do any of your characters just randomly tell a goblin they defeat that their blood is on Ranrok's hands, because when mine said it i was just baffled like no don't say that little Hawke that's not very Hufflepuff of you to say. Anyway, enjoy <3

      Sebastian walked beside you, concerned as he watched the collection of plants in your arms tilt slightly. “Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He asked, showing you his free hand as you smiled, shaking your head. “I’m fine! Professor Garlick needed these right away, can’t waste much time trying to split them equally between us.” You breathed, peering over a pot to see where you were going. You wore your Hufflepuff uniform, your robe discarded back at your dorm as you opted to enjoy the decent weather. Sebastian had spotted you trying to open a door, failing as you tried to balance the many plants in one hand. He quickly hurried over and caught a pot that had begun to fall, confused as you thanked him. He decided to walk with you afterwards, opening doors for you and making sure you didn’t run into anyone, which you were grateful for.

      “Why does the professor need all these, anyway?” Sebastian asked, opening a door for you as you quickly squeezed by. “She didn’t really say, but I’m sure she has a plan for tomorrow’s class with them.” You replied, breathing a sigh of relief as you neared the Greenhouse. Sebastian shook his head, sighing. You continued to walk, chatting about small things that came to mind, when you felt a hit at your shoulder. You quickly turned your head, an apologetic smile on your face as you stopped. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there, I hope you’re all right!” You said, nodding your head slightly at the student you had bumped into. They smiled back at you, apologizing as well as they quickly walked away. You shifted the plants in your arms as you began walking again, hearing Sebastian scoff. “I don’t understand why you must apologize for that. You’re basically in the same state as Ominis, they could see that.” He said, grabbing two of the plants from your arms.

      You shook your head as you sent him a small smile. “I’m not blind, Sebastian. I wasn’t paying attention, and I’m sure they weren’t either. Just a simple mistake.” You said, watching your step as you descended down the steps, breathing in the earthy scent as you saw the doors to the classroom. Sebastian shook his head, sighing as he opened the door. Professor Garlick greeted the two of you as you carefully set down the pots. “Oh, I’m so glad you brought these over!” She said happily, picking up a pot of baby mandrake, inspecting its leaves. You smiled as you nodded, fixing up the order of plants in a way that she described on the list. “It was no problem, of course. Sebastian helped me get them all down here in one piece!” Sebastian smiled slightly as he avoided your gaze, nodding. Professor Garlick clapped her hands together happily. “Thank you so much, you two! Five points for Hufflepuff and Slytherin, of course. I’m excited to show you what I have planned for tomorrow!”

      The two of you left shortly afterwards, dusting the sleeves of your clothes for any stray dirt. “Thank you for helping me, Sebastian!” You said, smiling up at him. Sebastian nodded, smiling back at you as you walked through the halls. “Wasn’t any problem, gives me an idea about what we’ll be learning about tomorrow.” He said, a sly smile on his lips. You scoffed and shook your head, smiling. “Of course, a quick look into tomorrow’s assignment was your intention.” Sebastian furrowed his brows as he turned his head to you, continuing to walk. “What’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” You chuckled as you shook your head, pressing a finger to your lips. He sighed, opening his mouth to speak again before he was cut off. A student passed between the two of you, pushing his shoulders into both you and Sebastian as he stormed through. You hissed as you held your arm, frowning, while Sebastian quickly turned around to confront the student.

      “A simple excuse me would have been helpful, you know!” Sebastian shouted, walking over to the student as he stood a short distance away. You followed behind him, unsure what to do as the boy in front of you turned around, sneering at Sebastian. “Should be watching where you’re going, Sallow.” Sebastian scoffed, glaring at him as he crossed his arms. “I wouldn’t have to if students like you stopped trying to walk between two people as they talk, Hawke.” He spat back, scowling. The student scoffed as he took a quick look at you, shaking his head. “I’d watch your tone, if I were you. Wouldn’t want to lose another student like you did Anne, now would we?” Sebastian’s eyes widened as he felt his blood boil, ready to deck the boy in the face. He was too late, however, as he blinked and the boy was on the ground, nose dripping with blood as he looked in his direction in horror.

      Behind Sebastian, you straightened your vest and fixed you tie, grabbing Sebastian’s arm and steering him away. “Let’s not stick around for that, yeah?” You said, hurrying along the hall before the two of you disappeared down a corridor. Sebastian frowned at you as you continued to walk, unsure as to what happened. “Did you…punch him?” He asked, almost laughing at the idea. You shrugged, taking a glance behind you, as if on the look-out for anyone following you. “It wasn’t that hard of a punch, to be fair. I think he’s just fragile, clumsy even.” You said, turning down another hall, making your way to the Undercroft. Sebastian nodded, smiling as he looked at you.

      That was the first time you really acted out, and although it was funny to Sebastian, seeing you deck a kid in the face for him, he wondered about what else you would do. He loved to duel with you, and when you chose to go head-on with four other students in a duel, he watched in amazement as you took each of them out, barely getting hit the whole time. After each duel, of course, you would speak with your opponents, making sure they were ok and complimenting their style. It was only when the two of you decided to go explore some ruins that he saw the not-so-friendly side of you. Protective, would probably be a better word for it.

      “What are we supposed to do?” Sebastian whispered, keeping close to you as some of Rookwood’s goons surrounded you. You bit the inside of your cheek, listening to their taunts, begging you to try and escape. “They don’t seem too inclined to a friendly chat, if that’s what you’re asking.” You said, looking over at Sebastian with a frown. Sebastian sent a half-hearted glare your way, gesturing to the Dark Wizards. “Clearly. You’ve tangled with these guys before, right?” You nodded. “Then what do you think we should do?” You didn’t have time to respond as a light flashed in the corner of your eye, you hand flying up to cast a protection spell around the two of you. “Get the girl, she’s the one we need!” One of the masked men shouted, more spells flying your way.

      Sebastian hardly had time to keep an eye on you as the two of you were sent into the fight, desperately holding up a defensive position as more spells came at him. You were farther away, dodging and running as you sent your own spells out, downing one of the wizards as you spun to immediately shield yourself form another spell. Sebastian had no idea how you were able to hold up so well against so many attackers, finding himself against a stone wall as two wizards cornered him. “The boss only said the girl, didn’t say we had to keep any stragglers.” One said, chuckling as he raised his wand. Sebastian was stuck, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to go against two at once.

      “We could kill him quickly, if that’s what you want.” The other said, narrowing his eyes, a hidden smile pulling at his lips. Sebastian raised his wand, shaking as he prepared for the worst. He watched with wide eyes as they raised their wands, just seconds from casting who-knows at him, when a shout sounded behind them. “Mind your head!” You shouted, sending an anvil over, smashing into the head of one of the men, sending him to the ground instantly. Sebastian was sure that a blow like that would kill anyone, and stared in amazement as a pool of blood began to form under him. The other man shouted in surprise, turning to you as you ran over. Without hesitation, Sebastian watched you summon lightning, striking the man where he stood, sending him flying into a heap in a bush. You walked over to Sebastian and took his hand, pulling him with you as you stepped over the fallen wizards and exited the ruins, huffing in annoyance as you were met with Ranrok’s men next. “They just don’t stop, do they?” You asked nonchalantly, readying your wand.

      Once again, you made quick work of the goblins, finishing the battle when you sent one of their weapons flying back at them, their body dropping to the ground. You walked over to the goblin, watching as he struggled to breathe, slowly dying. Sebastian tried to catch his breath as he hurried to reach your side, hearing you speak to goblin just as he died. “You blood is on Ranrok’s hands.” Sebastian furrowed his brow as he snuck a glance at you, your eyes dark as you looked down at the body, frowning slightly before turning to Sebastian. “Are you alright?” You asked, your gaze softening immediately as you studied his face, noticing the small scratch on his cheek. “Yeah, I’m good. Mainly thanks to you, of course.” He said, whipping his face with his sleeve as he looked around. You smiled gently at him as you breathed a sigh of relief, picking up a small bag of coins from the ground. “Perhaps we should head back, I think we’ve had enough adventure for today.” Sebastian nodded, following you as you traveled out of the woods.

      It was amazing, in Sebastian’s eyes, how strong you were when it came to protecting people. You basically murdered people that wanted to kill him, even attacking a student when he stepped out of line. Yet, you were still friendly, smiling whenever someone greeted you, offering to help anyone that asked. It was terrifying yet endearing. You didn’t just stand up to people for Sebastian either, you seemingly appeared out of nowhere if one of your friends needed help. Just the other day, Sebastian watched you seemingly appear from behind him as you made your way over to Poppy, staring down the students that had taken to taunting her and making fun of the creatures she was so fond of. He couldn’t hear what you said to them as he walked over but watched as the leader of the group frowned as he turned, gesturing for his friends to follow him as they left.

      He mentioned this to Ominis one day, asking if he noticed how you could get scary sometimes. Ominis nodded, smirking as he recounted the events from earlier that day. “I was walking by myself to Charms, I believe you were already there. Someone bumped into me, I’m not sure who it was, though.” He started, biting the inside of his cheek. Sebastian furrowed his brows, frowning. “Did they say anything to you?” He asked, watching as Ominis nodded. “Told me to watch it. I wasn’t going to say anything about it, but he kept talking after that, saying something about Slytherins, I think.” Sebastian nodded, waiting for Ominis to continue. “Next thing I know, he’s next to me again, with Y/n. Apologized too. She told him to shove off and walked with me the rest of the way.” Sebastian’s eyes widened, smiling slightly. “So that’s why you arrived together. You should have seen your face, red as a tomato it was!” Ominis scoffed as he shook his head, his cheeks heating up slightly. “Oh hush! You’re not so different, you know? Heard you were a mess after she punched Hawke, Poppy claims you were stuttering the whole time you talked about it.”

      Sebastian shook his head, playfully glaring at Ominis. “She’s protective, I tell you. But I suppose that’s what you get when you hang out with a Hufflepuff.” Ominis nodded, smiling. “Loyal to the end.” “Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to an end.”

[yandere-romanticaa]

@animeyanderelover asked: In your opinion, which Haikyuu!! characters would be most capable of sharing a darling since you already talked a bit more in depth about Akaashi and Bokuto?

These are just a couple of that I came up with on the spot. If you have any ideas, please share!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐔 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐖𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 - another pair which is like day and night. Much like the day and night cycle though, they work seamlessly with one another and need each other to cooperate properly. Wakatoshi keeps the peace while Tendou keeps you on your toes. Quite the package dare I say!

Tendou keeps you happy and entertained. Well, as much as he can without freaking you out but he always somehow manages to do just that in the end. Sometimes it is intentional, other times it is not. It's just that kind of effect Tendou has on people and he can't really help it. You either like him or you don't.

Ushiwaka is the stable pillar of peace with a sprinkle of need deep inside him. He's not as touchy as Tendou is but he wishes he was. He fantasizes about holding you but you are usually left in his friends care so he's not in the picture.

When he is, he is awkward. Imposing, but he doesn't mean to be.

That is where the eccentric red head steps in to help his buddy. Unlike Ushiwaka, he actually does have the capacity for some emotional intelligence. Ushiwaka meanwhile is on par with a celery stick, Tendou knows this.

And Tendou can't just let his poor buddy to suffer like that now, can he?

The two of them have a long talk and come to a mutual agreement to share you amongst themselves. It is hectic and messy at first, but they will make it work. Both of them are set up with success and not many will dare to challenge them. Not with Tendou's monstrous reputation and Ushiwaka's imposing person.

I'd rate them a 6/10 on the danger scale. There's potential there for a higher score but since no one in their right mind will come close to you, all should be well. Unfortunately for you though, there are two obsessed fools joined to you by the hip and are not leaving any time soon.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ 𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐘𝐀 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀 - these two are like two peas in a pod, it's only natural that they get to share you!!! Both of them are attracted to you like magnets and have the mentality of "sharing is caring, but only with you because you're my best buddy!"

They are intense and there is no other word to describe it better. Neither one is shy about their affections towards you and are not against throwing hands if someone starts getting a little too chummy with you (which is, almost anyone really...) and their presence is beyond suffocating.

A solid 7/10 on the danger scale simply because you won't have anymore room to breathe.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ This one is a bit of a shot in the dark and it has the potential to end up quite messily unless things are set straight from the get go. And who would that be?

Why, it is our beloved 𝐈��𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐌𝐈 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 - my my, what a predicament!

Oikawa is too clingy for his own good which, in turn, makes Iwa so mad that he could punch him. The way in which he's always slobbering all over you makes his blood boil but he would rather nail his tongue on a wall than ever admit that fact out loud.

Oikawa knows better though. He knows damn well that his dear friend is fantasizing about not only brutally murdering him but about you too, and how could he not? The way you cheer them both on when they're playing would make anyone swoon but your overall attitude is just so attractive to them both that they can't help but to fall for you.

Iwaizumi is more subtle with you than Oikawa, promptly focusing on whether or not you've eaten. You haven't? Here, have his lunch. No, he's not hungry, be quiet. Here, take his jacket. If you catch a cold he will scold you.

Oikawa on the other hand is a shameless little bastard because, why shouldn't he be? He absolutely revels in your reactions but is always careful to never cross any lines which could land him in hot water. He's just a naturally touchy guy, it's not weird how often he holds you.

Although, it is a little strange how all of your guy friends started to avoid you once you befriended the pair.

On a scale, I'd give them a 9/10. Yes, it's that bad. The combination of Iwaizumi's brash attitude and Oikawa's calculative nature and charm there is literally no one they won't stomp over if they cross you, or them for that matter.

There is also the added danger of them being both naturally jealous individuals, which clashes badly on quite a few occasions. Both of them want to keep you and can't come up with a proper solution sometimes which leads to the air becoming much heavier than it ought to.

[golden-buddle]

Hey mutual, figure the third Omegaverse thing was startin to get long again lol. So I thought I'd respond here instead >:3 (Also have links to the previous ones for easy access lmao) 1_ 2_ 3_

You know what would be kind of adorable? If it was Tim who got all angry at the gossip magazines. Everyone else is used to it and finds it kind of funny after all, since as you said, people outside of Gotham don't know the nuances of Gothamite body language. But Tim has been slowly coaxed into acting like a pup, been reassured that him acting like that is okay and is perfectly natural. So seeing people trying to claim Bruce isn't a good caretaker in a way that straight up targets that behavior? Oh baby boi is going to throw a fit.

Also love the idea of even other Gothamites going, yeah, the bats are more than a little feral, even for us lol. They've seen it all from the gleeful murder-baby first Robin to the trying-to-bite-your-ears-off second Robin to gonna-jump-off-this-bridge-and-take-you-with-me Batgirl. To the big bat himself who will see what could account as a straight up mob worth of people and go yeah I can fight that, and actually does, and wins.

Like that's just utterly hilarious to me lol.

Actually, before I forget, I feel like Damian's and Tim's relationship would be better in this. Seeing as Damian is younger and both Tim and Dick are very familiar with being unfamiliar with pup behavior or being forced to try and stop doing it. Which thankfully it wasn't to the extent of Tim, but still. He's the itty bitty baby of the pack who doesn't want to let anyone go the moment he realizes they won't betray him. Similar to how Tim is once he finally realizes the Waynes won't leave him and actually want him to stay.

Also remind me to sketch out the different fangs when my hands aren't shaking lol

Oh Tim DEFINITELY rips into the gossip mags.

He may be a lil pup and semi-recently got placed with the Wayne Pack, but by GOD is he going to send some angry emails.

Honestly I can see him reaching out to the daily planet as ‘Bruce’ and setting up an interview to clear it all up.

But until that happens, Tim gets scruffed and brought into the nest SO often to calm him down.

Like. Calm down pup! You are TOO angy!

Speaking of Tim and Damian’s relationship- they have the best relationship by far in the Pack. Tim can and will throw down for his new little brother. And the brotherly instincts he never had before (and thusly never had to stifle before) doesn’t help either.

Dami is more or less constantly following either his Mum, Jason, or Tim.

If he has to, he’ll tag along with Dick and Alfred, but in order of his favorite pack members Tim is definitely up there with Jason and Bruce.

He can and will use the fact that he’s just an itty bitty pup and whine and whine to get carried around. He may be an independent pup, and he DOES like to wander around on his own, but he absolutely loves being engulfed by his packmate’s scents.

It’s so very different to when he first left the cloning pod and all he could smell was blood and sterile alcohols.

And finally for how Gotham views the Feral Bats??

It’s DEFINITELY like that. Gotham is in awe over their guardians (and I can’t help but see them putting the Batfamily up as embodiments of the city, Gothamites definitely definitely made shrines for the Batfamily that dot about the city)

The Agent, the one who walked the streets long before the Bat flew for the first time, who holds ears in the highest of places and knows far too much that he rarely shares with others. The one who was only connected to the bats far, far down the line.

The Motherly-Protective Bat who has claws like in the old days, who bares his fangs and rips into flesh with no hesitation to protect his city-pups and actual pups. Who dragged the first of the costumed rogues back to Arkham by sheer force and detective skills.

The First Robin who was gleefully blood thirsty, somehow the most animalistic of the pack as he chirped and trilled and danced in the air. Flying like his namesake as he bares his puppy fangs in a barely constrained aggressive smirk.

The Batgirl (Cuckoo) who nearly flew as well as the First Robin, the one who chirped and warbled and forced herself into the Bat’s nest and first showed the City what happened to those who hurts those the Bat holds dear and who showed what happened to who the Bat deems as unwelcome to his territory.

The Nightingale, the first of the robins to grow up, the one with fangs he never hid and a voice as sweet as his feathers. The one who talks as much as he growls, the one who shreds his enemies with enough cheer and electricity to drown a clown.

The Second Robin, (Cardinal, clad in blood reds and spiked feathers, somehow still in the familiar designs of the First Robin) the one taken far too soon who didn’t quite fly as he did glide. The one who hid in his mother’s cape, only leaving to fight and protect-protect-protect just like his mother. The one who showed what happened to those who ignore that they were chased out of the Bat’s territory.

The Third Robin (Crow, Clad in blacks and shiny feathers but still the familiar Robin design) The one who is too smart for his own good- the one who ended the grip that the Bat’s bloodstained claws held on the city. He clings to his mother, only leaving to find more of his pack.

The Forth Robin, (Starling, purples and blacks and shimmering feathers that seem to mirror your face back at you) The blending of Batgirl and Robin, the one who was dragged into the Bat Pack when Crow wandered too far from his mother and needed her help finding his way back to the nest. All the gracefulness of the Bats and the Aggressiveness of the Robins twirled into one sparkling purple attack.

The Cardinal, the second of the robins to grow up, the one who took the name that was whispered in the alleys as his own. Who came into the scene with a splash of blood as bright and soaking as his initial departure. Who’s eyes glow with Unseen bloodlust and protection that followed his mother’s steps.

[shizukateal]

Grimm Variations - Episode Two Review: Little Red Riding Hood

A blonde, blue-eyed woman in a red dress gets picked up by a man while they are in some form of virtually-enhanced reality saloon. She's nervous at first, not just because of the date but because she's clearly not used to the fine establishments. But she starts to have fun with her new sexy partner for a moment... until, of course, the man brutally murders her when she drops her guard. Obviously he was going to be the the Big Bad Wolf in this story. He rips everything away from her, her dress, her tongue, and the technology hiding the fact that she's actually old. Granny gets eaten with no repercussions for the Wolf or "Mr. Gray" -first name not confirmed to be Christian- as he's called here. After all, he is truly rich and young and handsome, not just holographically pretending to be; and more importantly he is part of a club of other wolves like him who get each others' backs to make sure they don't get the heat for their actions.

We learn that in this futuristic setting, society is stepping further away from reality each day. Transhumanism has succeeded in uploading human consciousness into servers although, again, there's a way to interact in virtually enhanced reality through some special eyedrops. However people keep abandoning their bodies and uploading themselves into computers, probably because resources are so scarce there's hardly any real food at all.

It makes a certain sense, then, that our Patrick Bateman-like protagonist has developed an actual bloodlust. The man practically starves himself with a vegetarian diet because he does not want to eat the fake meat they serve him. Surprisingly for how gory the episode is they never explicitly show him eating the meat of his victims, though? Although he does explicitly like the smell of blood. In any case, Mr. Gray has an all-around comfortable arrangement with his fellow Wolves of Wall Street where he gets a safe space to butcher as many women as he can get his hands into 👍

But it's not enough. At some point the arrangement stops feeling like a proper hunt and more like shooting fish in a barrel. So Mr. Gray starts acting out the safety of his kennel. Before he can get far, however, he is stopped by his pack-pal, Mr. Brown, who gives him an address for a place to arrange another, more outdoorsy and risqué hunt. Mr. Gray goes to a slum still in his clean, tailored suit, where he meets Charlotte (once again, the little red haired girl from the promotional poster) acting as an old madam pimp. And so, she orchestrates a meeting between him and our Little Red Riding Hood: Scarlet.

(Boy can you tell the CLAMPs preferred designing her over the other characters in the story. They love themselves some short, straight-haired ladies)

This time, Mr. Gray goes to a rave in the slums wearing a leather jacket that also does fuckall to conceal the fact that he's some rich dipshit nepobaby. It's like watching Marty Mcfly in his ridiculous cowboy costume from the third Back to the Future. He follows Scarlet and helps her knock out some rape-y looser that was bothering her and the two go to her house. Mr. Gray acts just as demure and shy as the first woman we see him kill, as he has a hard time swallowing the fluorescent booze Scarlet offers him. She teases him about this. That's real alcohol after all, just like everything else in the room is real, outside the purview of the curated cyber-enhanced-world. Mr. Brown had offered him an authentic bottle of wine earlier, and he drank that easily, but in a sense the clearly artificial alcohol is the real deal because that's the everyday beverage of the people who actually live there.

He downs the rest of the glass and the atmosphere is almost sweetly romantic if you ignore the fact that this grown man paid to stalk a girl so he could kill her with no repercussions from the law...

And then Mr. Gray wakes up and finds himself tied to a dissection table. Turns out Red Riding Hood is already a much more vicious and experienced hunter than she was at the end of the Grimm's version of the story (for context, Perrault's version, which came earlier, simply ended with her death) and the hunt between them was always a battle between eating and being eaten. The Big Bad Wolf of Wall Street learns the hard way that, on an uncultivated forest away from his pack, he's prey to even a little rabbit. For all his pretensions of the reality of pain and suffering in blood and gore, at the end of the day he still lives a perfectly manicured life in his white silicon valley palace, so how was he to win against someone who is actually willing to get hurt and die for the sake of the hunt? What's the use of him having a perfect body with 8-pack abs, perfect eyes, and manicured nails if he's not willing to withstand the pain he causes others?

Scarlet faces no repercussions, of course. After all, if the Wolf decided to stray from the territory of his pack, then no one can go avenge him, as Charlotte informs Mr. Brown. Hearing this, Mr. Brown decides to upload himself to a computer. Might as well, replies Charlotte. The real world -even in this dystopic setting- has too many temptations.

All in all, I'd say this episode is better than the last one, in part because it's not a subversion, but it still has a bit of the same pitfalls that prevents it from reaching greatness. "Cinderella" suffered because it turned its protagonist into the antagonist in a way that ultimately proved to be shallow, and it undercut the genuinely interesting commentary the story was otherwise doing. Scarlet doesn't do that here since, again, the Grimms themselves turned Red Riding Hood into a hunter; however I also think that there's a lack in depth of flavor to the episode for not getting us into Scarlet's mind as intimately as we get to know Gray. The probably felt like it would take away some of the punch from the twist if they showed her "hunting" before, but I think that could have simply been avoided by simply getting to know the setting a bit more through her eyes and allowing that to also be an opportunity for characterization. You know, add to the reveal a little by making it seem like a more personal tragedy about sending a lamb to slaughter and then pull the rug from under our feet.

There's also this similar problem between the two episodes in that the post-climax reveals are kind of confusing because they are not all that well set-up. What I mean is that since Mr. Brown was the one who suggested Gray to go to this place after he acted out of line, he might have been deliberately trying to set him up to die, but the ending reveals that this is not the case and it implies that he's genuinely so upset about his friend dying that he decides to escape reality so that he doesn't end like him. Mind you, I'm not complaining that that's the truth of the matter, since it still fits the story thematically. It's just that it left me wondering why would Mr. Brown suggest this risk at all if killing him wasn't his intention. A nitpick, perhaps, but still a discordant note in an otherwise solid script.

Other than that, I'd like to talk about what the series as a whole might be building up to. These two episodes so far have shared caged bird imagery. First Makiko and Sawako in a gilded cage with two birds that are set free when they escape de Otawara house, and now Charlotte freeing another bird from its cage to let it fend for itself in the wilderness.

The next episode is going to be Hansel and Gretel, so that's one big juicy opportunity for that as well, and it makes me wonder if the prevalence of the symbol ties into whatever is going on with Charlotte and the Grimm Brother's in the background. We don't get much about that in this episode either, but I am interested in one of their dialogue exchanges. Charlotte says that the aspect of the story that worries her the most about the story is not the Wolf on its own, but that there may be more of them out there. William, however (the one with the glasses) laughs it off and says that there's only one wolf eating little girls and grannies, which is... patently untrue in the story? The original and this one? However given the tone of the series at large, and that a similar statement was made in the previous episode, its easy to take it as a deliberate contrast. I mean this episode does make a point that the wolves are an organized club, but the theme about the upper class joining forces to prey on the vulnerable with no consequence feels just a tad too secondary to everything else; and given the thematic fumbling in the previous episode I am afraid that the writers might not have any plans for all this commentary they're making and instead the focus will ultimately fall on making the good guys bad for the shock factor.

But we can still be cautiously optimistic since at least this episode has raised the quality a bit. See you next week!

[blackjackkent]

OK! Rakha returns! (Again.) Got her saves and mods all straightened out, and ready to send my poor broken girl crashing straight into the chaos of Act 3.

So far Rakha has been pretty overwhelmed by Rivington. She's also, so far, learned that there are people here who are willing to do things like evict refugees in need and blow up children, and none of them even have the excuse that they're wrestling with a horrible murder urge in their heads, so she is VERY unimpressed and pretty mad about the whole thing.

Our first stop, because we're kicking off with a bang, is a little barn that the group wanders past on the settlement's outskirts, because I realized that Rakha never talked to a certain person in Last Light:

They're investigating the barn as a potential place to set up camp when Rakha notices that it's not empty. There's a shaggy ox - apparently untended - idly chewing hay near one wall. And, more startlingly, Rakha realizes she recognizes it.

It caught her eye first in the Grove, so many months ago now; a notch on the horn, a scar on the nose, and an oddness to it that she could not place, something about the intensity of its eyes as it watched her go past and the way the Weave rippled over its skin. She saw it again at Last Light, too, in the barn where Dammon had set up shop, although she was too distracted by Karlach's engine troubles to investigate further.

And here it is again in her path, seemingly adrift from the teeth-lings but none the worse for wear - in fact, perhaps even more robust-looking than she remembers it in the shadowlands:

She pauses and stands in front of it with her head cocked slightly to one side, trying to discern the source of the strangeness about the creature.

[ANIMAL HANDLING] Peer at the ox with interest. There's something in its eyes...

Narrator: There's an invitation behind its great brown eyes.

Reach out to pet the ox.

She uses the same gesture she used to first pet Scratch and Buddy, knuckles out to sniff, and then a gentle rub back along its jaw. Its hair is stiff and coarse and tingles with magic on her fingertips.

"What is it?" she asks Wyll in a low voice.

"An ox," he says. "Beast of burden - that Arfur fellow had some in his yard, too."

"Are they magical?" she asks.

He blinks. "...Not usually. What do you see?"

"I'm not sure." She puts a hand in her pack, then hesitates. The last time she used one of the potions of animal speaking, she killed Steelclaw on the Moonrise balcony. Then again... she also met Squire, and that turned out to be a good thing, a thing not soaked in blood...

She pulls out the potion and downs a gulp of it in a single sharp swallow, feeling the pale green magic pulse through her veins and into her brain.

The ox tilts its head. Then it snuffs out sharply through its nostrils and paws a foot against the ground. "Hm. No," it snaps irritably. "Incapable."

Rakha blinks. This is not the response she expected. "Incapable of what?" she asks, bemused.

The ox's eyes narrow. "Not for you to know," it growls.

Rakha is, of course, at once deeply curious, desperate for an answer. She narrows her eyes in response, takes a step closer to the creature. [PERSUASION] "You've piqued my curiosity,"(*) she says sharply.

The ox shifts warily. "Well..." it murmurs. A pause, then-- "Come close." It inclines its head downward toward her hand. "Your mind to mine..."

Rakha has only a moment, as she reaches her hand out, to wonder what this might mean - does the ox have a tadpole? Some other means of telepathy? And then her hand touches that stiff, rough fur again and--

The images roll through her like lightning, like blows struck into her stomach. She staggers, falls to her knees, clutching at her head, as the beast howls in glee and hunger.

Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood. Blood.

The images are clear and brutal and familiar. Heaps of bodies and gore and broken flesh. So many dead. So many dead...

"Rakha!" She hears Wyll call her name behind her and drags a ragged breath in, struggling for control.

"I'm... all right," she grinds out. "I'm all right. I'm..." She trails off, forcing her eyes open and looking up.

The ox watches her dispassionately, slowly chewing its way through another mouthful of hay. "Are you satisfied?" it asks coldly.

She shudders. Her breath is quick and shallow and shaky, and it's a moment before she can speak. "Your mind..." she whispers. "The unwanted visions... we are... much alike..."

"A kindred spirit," the ox says. She doesn't think she's imagining the hint of mocking in its voice. "But I only wish to be an ox. Do you understand?" The words are underlaid with menace.

Yes. Of course she understands. The desire to be only a thing of quiet, against all the visions of blood... "You're trying to run from violent thoughts, too, aren't you?" she asks, pushing herself unsteadily to her feet.

The ox's next huffed-out breath sounds like a bitter laugh. "My little secret," it says.

She should go - should leave this thing, pretend they never saw each other. But it is a terrible sort of brotherhood, this moment, and she finds she can't look away. "What are you really?" she asks. Is there, perhaps, some answer about herself to be found in this barn?

But the ox snorts again. "Keep quiet, and you won't have to find out," it growls.

Rakha's neck prickles. It fears her speaking up, bringing down attention on its attempts to hide from itself. She tries to imagine herself in its position, hidden away, no longer harming anyone, no longer responsible for either saving the world or dooming its people... "Your secret," she says, uncharacteristically soft, "whatever it is, is safe with me."

"Good little hero," the ox sneers. A pause; then it tips its head to one side pensively, seeming to reconsider Rakha's presence. "Though... perhaps your better nature would extend a little further, for little old me..." It takes a step closer to her; she resists the urge to flinch. "I need to get into the city," it murmurs. "But its hard to shuffle your way to the front of the queue when you're, well... big as an ox. But what if I were smaller, more discreet? Maybe then a kind soul might bring me through, right in their little pocket."

Rakha hesitates. This thing has the same dark thoughts as she, even if it will reveal no reason for them. That means it is capable of the same darkness, the same indiscriminate devastation... and it wants her to bring it inside the city walls. Inside Wyll's city.

And yet...

I only wish to be an ox. Do you understand?

She believes it when it says it wishes for no more than this form. She has seen it living quietly in the Grove and Last Light, where there were plenty of innocents to sate it if it wished. And if it is true... then perhaps there is hope for her to one day look away from herself as well, to find some life of peace, when all this is done.

She swallows, inclines her head slowly. "I suppose so," she says cautiously. "What form will you take?"

The ox snuffs eagerly. "Oooohooo..." it murmurs. "This day has ended so much better than it started. Now don't you worry about me. I'll be a good, quiet little apple you can tuck into the corner of your pack, just until we're inside the city walls." It squirms, its body rippling and shifting and shrinking away suddenly. "Hail Cyric! I can't wait to get inside!"

(A/N: I'm about 85% sure the ox is voiced by the same guy that voices Abdirak in Act 1. Really cornered the market on mildly creepy worshippers of mildly creepy gods. XD )

And then its gone, and sure enough - in its place sits the unassuming form of an apple nestled amidst the hay.

"What... was that about?" Wyll asks, bemused. He has understood none of the conversation, only saw Rakha stagger and cry out and then the ox melt away into almost nothing.

Rakha leans forward and carefully picks up the apple in one gloved hand. She can feel heat from it press through the fabric on her palm, and the ticklish flicker of magical energy, the Weave undulating around the strange shapeshifting creature's form. "I don't know," she says hoarsely.

She doesn't know how to explain to Wyll the sense of brotherhood and hope and fear all tangled together that came from meeting this thing. She doesn't know how to tell him that she is bringing another monster like herself inside his city's walls and trusting it not to show its teeth.

"It... needed help," she finally mutters.

He nods. "A worthy cause, then," he says.

She shrugs and tucks the apple carefully inside her pack, and hopes desperately that he's right.

-----

(*) In-game line: "Ah, c'mon, now you've piqued my curiosity," which is not very Rakha-ish. XD

[heliads]

kill your darlings - britcedes

Lewis is a world-class writer. George is the son of Lewis' publisher. Neither of them will get what they want from this, but that won't stop it from happening.

masterlist

Lewis is a famous author. World-class. The best of the best. Any work of his is guaranteed to go straight to the top of the charts, the reviews, the lists. Everything. He is universally adored, except by his rivals, and even they can admit, in quiet, backroom editor’s chambers, that Hamilton has the game locked down.

George is the son of the owner of Lewis’ publishing company. He likes to turn up to headquarters and sit in on some of the important meetings. This makes him feel like he’s really shaping up to take over the business, even though he knows his father is probably going to hand off the title to his vice president or something. Or maybe he would give it to George anyway. It would be the proper thing to do, and proper is what the Russells do best. He is not known by many, except his schoolmates and his blood, and their knowledge, embarrassingly, only feels skin-deep.

Lewis lives in the same apartment building as George. The complex itself is owned by George’s father; the elder Russell is a renaissance man like that, savvy in snapping up good deals the second they cross his path. George hopes he inherits the company, but most of all, he hopes he inherits that hunter’s instinct, the eye for blood and limping prey combined with the premonition of when to bite down hard on flesh and bone. Lewis was given the penthouse rooms of the Russell building at an inhumanely reduced price as an encouragement to stick with the company. George has the suite one floor below, and tries not to feel any particular way about it.

Lewis has a habit, when writing, of not just killing his darlings but brutally murdering them. When he finds a sentence he loves but cannot include, he writes it out on a piece of paper and flings it out of his apartment window. George, while walking his father’s dog in a great display of loyalty and maturity, kept finding the scraps of penmanship and saving them in his pocket. It took him about six months before he figured out that the abandoned words were Lewis’. He’s got them stuck up on a great big pinboard in his room, the literary fragments all shoved together like he’s some kind of serial killer. All he’s missing is the red thread connecting names and places, and maybe the bodies too.

The scrapped words look down on him now, always. When he sleeps. When he wakes. When he comes back from work, needlessly tired from doing relatively nothing, and sits perfectly rigid in his antique armchair, the one that isn’t particularly comfortable but is something that a man like him should have. It shows class, you know. It shows distinction. He’ll earn it someday, too. When George does something base, like clean mud off his trainers or think about Lewis before a cold shower, he turns his back on the crucified sentences. So Lewis can’t see. So Lewis won’t know.

Lewis looks down on George. Not intentionally. It’s rather easy to do with George. He simply has a way about him that makes it impossible for anyone like Lewis to be his equal. George believes it’s only due to his earnest quality, the fact that George won’t ever condescend to anyone. If he will not look down on someone, then they must look down on him, or else stare him straight in the face, which of course is not proper. He does look down on quite a lot of people, actually, or tries to, it just doesn’t work.

When Lewis caves and lets George bring him back to his place after leaving the publishing company’s end of year party early, he has George take him to bed only to find the glaring mass of his discarded darlings hanging over the queen size mattress. He cannot decide if he is disgusted or comforted by it. In the end, he tries not to look, and tells George to get on his knees so he has something to say. He comforts himself by believing that this was a one-night stand, and doesn’t everyone have horror stories about those?

It happens again, after that. Obviously. A story is only good if it bears repeating. Lewis does everything to not think about the twisted web of his abandoned words hanging above him as he does nameless things to George on that bed. He closes his eyes. He turns his back to it. One time, he tries having George blindfold him, but it occurs to Lewis about halfway through the affair that he does not entirely trust George to behave with him like that, not just naked but unwitting too, unaware of what George might do to him, maybe pin him up on that board along with the lines he didn’t need, so he immediately pulls it off and pretends as if nothing had happened. The words burn like tattoos against his exposed skin. It is heaven and hell but mostly nothing worth mentioning. 

Lewis leaves eventually, breaks up with George even though there wasn’t really anything to break up at all. Can you divorce a situationship? In a fit of rage, George pulls some strings and has his father restore Lewis’ rent back to full plus some extra. Lewis leaves the company and the apartment building. George tears down his wall of darlings and shoves them in the dumpster outside where they can rot along with the feelings that neither of them had about this. He finds one last scrap of paper with Lewis’ final word some months after he left. It’s a small piece, only big enough for one word:  George. George tries to think about what could have been written around it, if Lewis was bashing him or hating him or just letting go, and then throws up in the kitchen sink after turning it over too long in his head.

Some time later, years maybe or just months, Lewis and George cross paths again. They go back to George’s place. Lewis braces himself to walk into George’s bedroom but finds that the board of cut sentences is gone completely. He’s harder than he ever has been.

f1 tag list: @j-brielmalfoy, @juphey, @faerieroyal

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[jjsstars]

thiamweek2023: Day 5, The Pack

|| for @thiamappreciationweek event

|| tags: lowkey stiles bashing but it’s more him just being a dick yk, references to liam’s parents not being supportive of him being bi (nothing graphic)

“Him? You’re dating him?” Stiles scowls and Liam’s jaw clenches, gripping Theo’s hand tighter because he feels like he’s going to pass out or burst into sobs- the smell of concern wafting off of Theo helps nothing.

“I know he’s not part of the pack y-.” The yet gets cut off.

“Damn right he’s not. What the hell Liam?” His eyes tear away from Stiles and his harsh words, landing on Scott instead, he doesn’t look nearly as upset. Thank god.

“My parents don’t know, please don’t tell them.” It softens something on Lydia and Kira’s faces; Liam can’t tell if it’s how normal-teenager that sounded or them getting more okay with the fact that Theo and Liam are dating.

“We’d never, don’t worry.” Lydia assures and gives a smile that probably shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is considering Stiles is all but seething next to her.

“Like hell we won’t- you’re dating a murderer!” It makes Liam’s stomach drop- whether it be the idea that he might be outed or the way Theo’s whole body tenses up hearing what Stiles called him is up for debate, but Liam’s pretty sure it’s both, and probably a million other things about this situation.

“No you won’t.” It’s the first thing Theo’s said throughout this whole thing, his voice sharp and eyes even harsher.

“He speaks! I thought you were going to sit there brooding while Liam tried to convince us you’re not the monster I know you are.” There’s already so much anger built up in Liam’s system, specifically towards Stiles for how he talks about Theo, that the comment almost sends him spiraling into something that’d earn him a forced cold shower a year ago- but Theo rubs his thumb across Liam’s knuckles and that helps, it always does. He wishes he could shove it in Stiles’ face and show him that Theo isn’t a monster, that he cares, that he deserves a second chance, that he’s already changed significantly.

“Out Liam to his parents and I’ll have a lot more to say.” It must just dawn on Stiles that what Liam meant by not telling his parents is that he’s not out to them yet as his face falters, shaking himself out for a moment before he gives a short nod.

“I- I’m not going to out him. But I’m not okay with you two dating.” A beat passes where Stiles and Theo hold too strong eye contact before Scott interrupts them by clearing his throat.

“Stiles that’s enough, if Liam’s happy and nobody’s getting hurt then we’re all going to do our best to support him and Theo.” He says easily and turns to look at Liam and Theo head on, holding a hand up to Stiles’ open mouth as he was obviously going to start arguing.

“I’m not promising it’s going to be easy or there won’t be tension for a little bit, but I’m happy you guys are happy. And I’ve seen that Theo’s already been changing, I know he’s not a monster.” Liam would go bear hug Scott right now if he wasn’t in a room full of people that are still divided on opinions about his relationship- he thinks Scott gets it anyways.

“Thanks Scott.”

“I can give him a chance for you Liam but one step out of line and I’m killing him.” Ever so blunt, Malia gives a short nod and eyes Theo for a moment, she’s not lunging to rip his throat out so Liam will take what he can get.

“We gave Peter a second chance, I don’t see why we shouldn’t give Theo one too.” Lydia isn’t looking at Theo or Liam as she says it, instead staring straight at Stiles with a challenging look in her eye. Sometimes Liam forgets how scary the redhead can be with just a simple expression and crossed arms.

“Fine. But when he goes evil again, I know he will, I’m not going to let him off easy.” It’s a middle ground and that’s all Theo and Liam were really looking for from this conversation— they knew the pack wouldn’t be jumping up and down with support, but no blood has been shed and that’s enough, and Liam knows they’ll come around more. Eventually.

[yanderes-galore]

I think a romantic or even platonic Tony vs Steve rivalry is hella underrated, especially during Civil War! Do ya mind writing a concept about it? Thx! <3

Of course! I'll keep it around the Civil War era yet I'll talk about a general idea of it. Been awhile since I saw Civil War so I did what I could do :)

Yandere! Tony Stark vs Steve Rogers

(Civil War Era)

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Overprotective, Manipulation, Tracking, Kidnapping, Trust issues, Violence, Dubious relationship, Trauma mention, Isolation, Attempted murder, Possessive behavior.

For this I'll be focusing more on the chaos this pair causes rather than how you meet the two.

You could meet in many ways, honestly if you somehow have connections with one of them you most likely know about the other.

Out of all the times this rivalry could take place, this is the most intense time.

The Avengers are already being torn apart by different ideals... with you in the picture?

You will not know peace.

Tony wants you on his side as he feels he can protect you better if he supports the Sokovia Accords.

Superhuman accidents would be monitored and with his tech you'd surely be safer than with Steve.

Steve's always been one for freedom and feels he would be limited if he agreed with Tony.

As a result he feels you'd be in danger if there wasn't anyone to help you... which makes him want you to join him.

They both have similar ideas at their core.

They're heroes... they want to protect the people...

They want to protect you.

The two can't agree or share in the slightest.

It would be better for you if you distanced yourself from the situation as best you can.

In fact, going into hiding is definitely better.

They'd both be desperate to have you on their own side.

Tony may try to bribe you while Steve does genuine attempts to convince you.

Tony feels Steve wouldn't protect you.

Steve feels Tony would restrict your freedom (which is ironic).

They would fight verbally and physically.

You just become another reason they can't agree, tearing apart The Avengers even more.

There would be differences in the rivalry depending on who you side with.

>> Choosing Team Captain America

If you choose Steve, you have to deal with Tony's team hunting you down.

Steve's protective and caring with you.

He brings you into hiding with him and Bucky, promising to protect you both.

His best friend... and his darling....

Steve asks Sam, Clint, Scott and Wanda to defend you and Bucky with him.

He knows damn well how Tony feels about your decision.

The man is no doubt pissed.

Steve's right.

Tony gets his team to scan everywhere for you.

He can't believe you!

He offers you protection and you go with Steve?

Unbelievable!

Tony isn't going to rest until he finds where you and Steve are.

Meanwhile... Steve tries to reassure you that you made the right choice.

With a comforting yet eerily possessive hold, Steve promises he'll never let you go.

Even if it requires him to have blood on his hands.

>> Choosing Team Iron Man

If you choose to side with Tony, you now have to deal with Steve's team.

Tony praises you for your choice and gets straight to business.

He's caring yet a bit more cold... he's stressed about Steve and his war criminal friends.

Tony is more paranoid due to trauma and locks you up in a secluded building he has.

He claims it's for your own safety and it appears he's one of the more unstable of the MCU yanderes.

Would you rather be caught by Steve? It's too dangerous, baby....

The isolation is much better for you.

You won't be alone... after all, he's here.

If he isn't? Then there's James, T'challa, Natasha, Vision, and even Peter to help him.

You're under much higher security with Tony, yet not much freedom.

Steve would try his best to locate you but it may take longer.

No matter who you choose... at some point the two team will clash and you may even be traded among them.

You'll get tired of it fast.

Tony and Steve get violent towards each other.

You're surprised they haven't killed each other yet.

In fact... they just might go through with it.

For plot reasons they may not entirely murder each other.

Their respective teams will prevent that...

But they REALLY try.

They may just come to the conclusion the only way to guarantee your safety is to... get rid of the other.

Safe to say they've lost their minds due to the stress and obsession rooted in their mind.

Steve doesn't like the idea of killing Tony... but he has to defend himself and you, no?

Meanwhile... Tony?

Tony's so self-absorbed he doesn't care if Steve is thrown in jail or dies.

He just needs to be out of the picture.

By the end of Civil War, one of them will emerge "victorious".

It could be either of them.

By the end of it... you just want to rest.

You just want to be alone.

Yet... you'll be stuck with one of them in the end.

They both say they want to protect you...

But is their protection really what's best for you?

[annemissingshoe]

WTTMV Keeper!Poppy, Stitcher!Julie, [Observer!Wally]Theories (also a non WTTMV character, Solver!Frank in part two)part one

so yeah I’m going to talking about theories about Keeper and Stitcher, also will point out things I noticed about either blog. Also just the timeline or what I think when certain events happened. Umm so let’s start with beginning of Keeper’s story I’m probably going out of order with the timeline, not too soon after this XD

This where Keeper’s story started, the first part of the timeline. With her show being cancelled and the unfortunate consequences of that being her friends fading away until it was just her. Something I noticed was that her colours faded too just like her friends did, that one of the things she was referring to; she wondering why only her colours faded away but not the rest of her. Additionally there’s the fact her memories of the neighbourhood and her friends is also fading away. She doesn’t even remember what they look like anymore:(

This is when she became peaceKeeper, when a shooting star fell into her world and expanded it from what used to be. The arrival of the first of ms Keeper’s little ones; Fliante!Sally, the little shooting star was holding to what little life she left. Fortunately she had fallen into the wings of the right bird, who took care of her until she was better. yes I saw opportunity on that one and took it

I wonder how long was Keeper alone in her au; how many years passed before she met Fliante.

Keeper’s au changed a lot from when it got cancelled to when Fliante arrived there and to where we are now. People might had help with decorating the place. This is the first example of Keeper’s memories fading away.

I think this was the event that cause Stitcher to leave Keeper’s domain. Stitcher, Coupier and that thing attack Messenger, Keeper took notice of this situation and left her domain to save Messenger. After this Keeper decided that Stitcher couldn’t stay her realm anymore as she was a danger to everyone who there. Keeper still cares about Stitcher and believes she can change one day.

I think either Stitcher or Messenger lost an arm in this fight, I’m leaning more towards Messenger on this one tho.

Stitcher said that Observer destroyed her world, and was ejected into the out of bounds. The things is Stitcher isn’t a reliable narrator, his pov and how they remembers what happened isn’t something we can completely trust.

So we don’t know what exactly happened there I did send an ask to both Keeper and Stitcher asking how they meet, but if I had to guess how they met. I doubt Stitcher was doing ok after her world was destroyed especially since she lost a leg, Ms.Keeper probably noticed someone was in the out of bounds and wasn’t doing so well; she made the choice to call them to her domain.

He isn’t beating the murder allegations. Observer has a lot of blood on his hands from the looks of it, confirmed by Stitcher and Observer himself. I can’t say much about this part yet still waiting for more lore and asks to be answered.

As we can see she doesn’t like most of WWTMV cast and that she hates Observer. The only people he’s close to is Admin, coupier and Seamster. Despite whatever happened that cause Stitcher to leave Keeper’s domain, Stitcher still has a high level of respect for Ms.Keeper; it’s makes sense since Keeper would have taken care of her while she was her domain, she would had time to get to know her and to build respect for her too. Keeper is really nice, friendly and friendly it makes a lot of sense to me. I’m curious on why and how her and Admin are close, I find that pretty interesting.

This was the first time we saw Stitcher, Keeper tries and wants to help people even if it’s not the best idea too. She still nice to those who have hurt before, Stitcher probably is one of those people who have hurt Keeper but even now Keeper still wants to help her heal and move on from she doing. :(

Stitcher believes what she’s doing is right, that he saving her “friends” by “fixing” them and giving them shelter by putting them in her collection. In reality she turns them into monsters. Also more Observer Slander heh, Stitcher claims that Observer destroyed her “friends” aus which is why she offers them shelter in her collection.

Stitcher doesn’t care about making the multiverse perfect, she just wants a place where she can exist as she is. The whole wanting to fix the multiverse is Seamster’s thing, I think one of the reasons, she helps him with the perfect paradise because he accepts her as she is and actually appreciates everything she put into her work. She finally has a place where she can be herself without any judgement for it.

not to sure about it yet, but I have my eyes out for this one

part two

@arikihalloween

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

-- to be a hero in chaotic times, is to be--

Unscrupulous. That was what they called him. The word was uttered in low voices. Whispered behind his back. Muffled behind cupped hands.

Cao Cao had been a boy when he first heard that word direct at him. Some serving girls had been gossiping and they clearly thought he was too young to understand. But he did, he'd always had a knack for words even while in split-pants. He doesn't remember being angry, but he does remember hiding a pair of his Lady Mother's earrings under their pillows, and watching the girls getting flogged until they were bloody.

It didn't put an end to the whispers, though. The word followed him into adulthood, like a loyal old hound trotting at his heels. He heard it from his family. His colleagues. So-called wise men who ought to know such things. He had never cared enough to contradict them—but the oversimplification had always annoyed him. Cao Cao did have scruples. Plenty of them, in fact. But unlike other people, he had never let them distract him from his goals. 

The seven-star dagger was in his hand. The hilt was so warm it felt almost alive, a consequence of being hidden so close to his skin. The watered-steel gleamed. Before him, Dong Zhuo lay on the couch, snoring loudly.

An unscrupulous man would relish the kill. His heart would race with excitement, instead of beating slowly and solemnly in his chest. An unscrupulous man would look upon Dong Zhuo's face and see only a thief and murderer. He would not remember all the kind words the Prime Minister had said to him, the generous favours he had performed, or the earnest, beaming pride he had taken in Cao Cao’s intelligence. 

Old man, you are full of contradictions. Cao Cao thought to himself, as he slowly raised the murder weapon. You have slaughtered innocents yet you are a father to your men. You are a usurper clinging to a stolen throne. You once turned down a huge promotion because you didn’t want to leave your loyal soldiers behind. Dong Zhuo, the amiable, power-drunk madman, who kills on a whim and befriends anyone he meets, be they barbarians or the grandsons of court eunuchs. It doesn't matter where they come from, only what they can do.

That makes two of us, doesn't it? Because Cao Mengde is equally hard to pin down. Fourteen years ago, when he was just a young, green district commander, he would have had Today's Cao Mengde tied up and flogged at his own whipping-post. Today, he will slit your throat and watch you bleed out without batting an eye.

Perhaps the whispers are true, I am what they say I am. A more scrupulous man would look back upon your kindness, and their hand would hesitate. Their heart would be moved. I do look back on it, but my hand does not hesitate. It does not even shake. My loyalty is for the Great Han, not for you. Should this knife fail to strike true, thousands more people will die and their blood will be a stain on my honour. 

The world has enough weak, moralising fools. Men who are too squeamish to dirty their hands and fret over what the poets will write about their dusty, old bones. They would rather consign others to a lifetime of suffering because they care more about getting a good nights sleep than doing what is necessary. I am not one of those men. Extract #2

Cao Cao had learned from a young age that he could not afford to be honest with people, not unless he wanted to end up as a friendless pariah. People tended to get upset if he made an off-colour comment that was a little too callous, or suggested a plan that was a little too underhanded.

His Lord Uncle had been disturbed by it. His Lord Father had sighed and tugged his beard. Dong Zhuo was the only one who did not blanch at his way of thinking. He would clap Cao Cao on the back with enough force to stun a pack-mule and guffaw mightily at his 'wonderfully straight-forward' mind. The man was a brute, to be sure, but it was a relief to be honest with someone for once, to drop the exhausting facade and speak his mind. To not coat every word in sugary little euphemisms, least he upset someone's delicate constitution. 

There was no shortage of greedy, self-serving men in Luoyang. It was practically a requirement for politics. Even so, Cao Cao had never fit in at court, even before he had been branded as Dong Zhuo's lapdog. His mind took strange, dark turns that made even the most conniving Cabinet Minister nervous. On more than one occasion, Cao Cao would try to speak frankly, and be met with appalled silence. His colleges would stare at him like he had just drop-kicked a baby, instead of suggesting a perfectly reasonable solution that everyone was probably already thinking.

It didn't bother him. The side-ways glances, the whispers that made the back of his neck tingle—No. He was just annoyed to be caught out of the loop. Scorn rolled off his back, but Cao Mengde hated feeling ignorant. Sometimes it seemed like there was a secret book out there, detailing what people should, or should not be offended by, and everyone else had read it except him. 

Perhaps if he could get his hands on that book, it would fix him. It would slot into him like a missing piece. Unlock some hidden door in his mind, and he would finally be let into that strange room he'd been locked out of for all his life.

--Oh, who was he kidding? If such a book did exist, it was no doubt a pile of idiotic, contradictory drivel. Not even worth the bamboo it was written on.

"Right" and "wrong" was as fickle as the winds, and worth as much as as breaking wind. Killing soldiers was fine. Killing civilians was wrong. It made no damn sense to Cao Cao. Soldiers were drafted from the civilian population. Soldiers ate the crops planted by civilians. Used the weapons forged by civilians. Were protected by the walls, moats and trenches built by civillians.

Cao Cao had his own people to defend. His own helpless populace of women, children and the elderly. He had his own loyal men to lead. The only way to keep them safe was to utterly crush their enemies and break their spirits. Burn their cities to the ground. Raze their farms and lay waste to anyone who dared to resisted him. Fear was armour. Fear could strike harder and reach further than any onager. It swept across the land more quickly than wildfire or plague or flood. It passed through walls and unmanned the bravest of heros.

Fear is how a you achieve security.

Fear is how you achieve peace.

--------------- Notes:

I wrote this a while back to get a grasp on cao cao's voice for my fic. as you can see, I ended up going with a different character interpretation, but I thought this would be a fun thing to share! I'm trying to replicate the feeling of being tugged around when i read san guo. One minute you feel kinda bad for the guy, who is in many ways a product of his time, next minute you're being plunged head-first into another atrocity.

[butwhatifidothis]

Was Cap the one who popularize that odious take about the Slithers being the good guys? Cause I cannot imagine what mental gymnastics one has to take to believe that a group of terrorists who kidnap and kill people and assume their identities, conduct blood experiments indiscriminately and burns villages down, turn innocent people into demonic beasts, assassinate political figures, have nukes of mass destruction, calls everyone a "beast" , speak and have dialogue like saturday morning cartoon villains (seriously listen to Solon and Thales' banter), and of course being racist and have committed genocide are the good guys.

I don't know if he popularized it, and to be completely fair he doesn't say TWS are the good guys... just that the Nabateans are basically just as bad as them. Which might actually be worse than saying TWS are good arguably.

If I were to take a shot as to why either of these takes have gotten so much traction, my guess would be that it's all (predictably) to make Edelgard look better. While she does play lip-service to the idea of taking out TWS, and "would have stopped them" from do certain things (such as her saying she would have stopped Remire had she known it would happen), the truth is that a lot of that... isn't true. Like, some of it is straight up lies - she literally did know Remire was going to happen and did nothing to stop it, directly against what she tells Jeralt and Byleth. She only ever takes down TWS after her war - after she's wrung all the use out of them.

The truth is that Edelgard does nothing against them unless forced to by others - she doesn't try to stop Remire, she doesn't rat out Kronya or Solon when they pose as Monica and Tomas, and she flat out helps Thales get his hands on Flayn and literally doesn't try to help get Flayn back afterwards. In fact, that last thing has her outright help TWS get Flayn by directly helping the Death Knight if 25 turns pass.

It's very clear that Edelgard is fine enough working with TWS that she will directly help them achieve their goals in exchange for them helping her achieve her goals. But that clashes with the idea that Edelgard is the nicest bestest sweetest kindest caringest person in the whole wide world who's only ever forced to do mean things because the world and every single person in it hates her and the shoes she walked in with. So instead of actually acknowledging what Edelgard is doing, and acknowledging her villainous tendencies as her villainous tendencies, they just make the targets she personally hates the most - the Nabateans - out to be the real bad guys, in an attempt to justify Edelgard's actions as "necessary."

Now, in this hypothetical, since the Nabateans are "just as bad" as the Agarthans, Edelgard has "no choice" but to side with some form of evil for the greater good. Now she's "brave" for trying to finish a genocide, because those genocide survivors are just as bad as (if not arguably worse than) their genociders. TWS' proclivity for torture, murder, kidnapping, and human experimentation is fine for Edelgard to either ignore or directly help in doing, because siding with the Nabateans would've been no better.

Edelgard can't help but do and be evil, her hands are forced to grab hold of a weapon and do violence. She wants to do good, but she is helpless to do anything but bad, because the world and everyone in it hates her and forces her to do bad. That is how, if no one else, Cap'n genuinely sees Edelgard: a helpless victim of fate who makes zero active choices, who physically can't make choices to do and be good without Byleth coming around to save her. Because viewing her in that way absolves her of all accountability for what she's done to countless people, and the only way to do that is to make her victims deserving of what she does to them so that she stays completely in the right. And the result of that is, well, about as bad as you can imagine