#blacked out the other user's name so people don't attack them

[firedragon1321]

Found this comment on a post and it is LEGENDARY.

[princess-of-the-corner]

Sorry but amusing ML AU idea based on the tag you put on my Kagami Ladybug post, but "Lucky Harm AU!"

Basically, Fu takes more time to hang around an analyze where Sass vaguely indicates he thinks the Butterfly user will strike (Premonition) & as this is using 12 Kwami & revised Butterfly lore, the Butterfly can make Familiars.

Long story short.

Gabriel blames Noroo for their irresponsible use of its power, he does not speak to Noroo & has no idea about Akuma. Instead, he's just bastardized a way to make really strong familiars instantly. Namely by the Akuma knocking people the fuck out due to massive energy draining, which also lets him kind of back backseat drive either the person or the Familiar.

Fu does not want to bring the Black Cat, cos its always had funny interactions with none manifested Familiars. (They're physical forms don't quite exist so it can't quite destroy them it). Thus it just fucks them up real good & make them go unhinged. So either that might happen, or with what HK's done, it will full on erase the soul & body of the host & its a coin toss if Tikki can fix that.

So instead he needs a more combat oriented team to compensate for the lack of haxx cat attacks. & he he utilize more aggressive people people cos Familiars aren't people.

End result, he chooses:

Chloe as Tiger, because she sort of defended Adrien & Sabrina (Fu thinks he's not quite sure) & cos her response to a big monster turning up was to tell it to go fuck itself, so she's clearly not scared easily.

Juleka as dragon because she was one of the only other people to remain calm & actually helped her friend, girlfriend, Fu's has no idea, escape. (She was calm because she thought the monster looked based as hell)

& finally he chose Kagami as Ladybug because she was willing to outright fight the Familiar, was quite gallant and seems very cool and level headed in a way Chloe isn't and more focused than Juleka is.

Fu is entirely unaware Kagami's as much of a chaos combat gremlin as the other two & by the time he learns its too late XD

Thus begins the story of Luck Harm, a tale of indescribable violence and chaos , but its OK because Familiars aren't people, we can g hardcore ;)

Notes:

Gabriel finding out he can make Akuma is a big deal revelation.

Fu could also just release the Kwami & let them decide like he nominally did in the movies.

I think there could be an AU where Kagami has dragon, & maybe the Black Cat is used but it'd likely need to be closer-ish to canon. Could be fun if Mei Shi was somehow around, make an all feline team.

that's fucking hilarious actually

[chalicedefinite]

I have been on this tag since day one and the majority of the posts and blogs I've seen adore Louis. Pointing out canonical traits like him actively lying in Canon books and now the show as well is not being hateful or disrespectful. Saying episode 5 and the whole tale infact being revisited is Not fans of lestat being apologists. It is what Anne Rice canonically did with the Vampire Lestat and the books that followed. Louis is loved widely in this tag. Lestat is being hated on as a result of the villainous portrayal in season 1 which again Canonically is a tale (not a true one) being told both in books and in the show. A lot of people however took it too far with the lestat hate and started calling anyone who liked him names and then people starting to fight back and the rest is how we got to here. If there is no understanding to fans of both characters the two most loved characters in the show -who at the end of the series canonically end up together- then what the hell is the point of being in this Fandom in the first place? Please don't take this as a personal attack it wasn't meant as one but as another person's experience and thoughts of the fandom so far.

I’m going to be honest I find this very hard to believe that it was only just about liking Lestat.

I’ve gotten more hate and vitriol from Lestat fans ever since I’ve joined this fandom. I’ve never talked bad about his character and I make it very clear on my blog that I love him and that he’s my favorite character both in the show and in the books. And yet, because I calmly engaged with a popular blog’s theory about episode 5; everyday I wake up to hate in my inbox that I have to delete. Lestat fans have been nothing but disrespectful to me for no reason.

Im a Lestat fan myself and I talk about how much I love him all the time it seems and I haven’t been once called a racist. I’ve had anons accusing me of hating Lestat but never ones accusing me of racism. This is the second time someone has told me that Lestat fans are bullied for liking him when all I’ve seen and experienced thus far is the exact opposite which begs the question: Is it really because you like Lestat or is it something deeper that other people picked up on but not you yourself? 3. How is anyone’s rational response as a human to someone calling them racist for liking Lestat is to deny the systemic oppression of black people? This is the main thing that doesn’t make a lick of sense to me. How did we go from, “Users were attacked for liking Lestat” to “So a bunch of blogs are now starting to agree with and talk about how reverse racism is real.” I’ve gotten attacked for liking characters before and my reaction to that is blocking whoever is causing trouble and ignoring them. I got harassed to hell and back in the Voltron fandom for defending and liking Allura and never at any point was I thinking about how affirmative action is the real systematic evil plaguing society. If this kind of thinking was always in the back of certain people’s head as they were analyzing the show then it’s safe to say that people weren’t mad at them just because they liked Lestat. You can not properly analyze a show where a black man talks about how he was systematically oppressed for being black when you don’t even believe in systemic oppression yourself. How can you sit down and watch this show where Louis is constantly being put down by the white people around him, where he has to pretend to be his husband’s chauffeur, where you see white people burning a black neighborhood, where Louis and Claudia cant even sit next to Lestat and have to sit at the back of the bus and come out of it thinking that reverse racism exists in our society? Louis is the age of a lot of black people’s great grandfather, what he went through was not that long ago and the society he lives is still alive today.

4. What purpose would it serve narratively to have Louis and Claudia lie about episode 5? I’m leaving this question here because the last time I tried to have this discussion it led to anons hounding me.

[sophieinwonderland]

https://www.reddit.com/r/SystemsCringe/s/MXrwyBfjJk

Anti endos really dont know how to read huh???

They really dont understand that plurality =/= only did/osdd/other dissoiative ones i may be forgetting

This! It's genuinely mind-boggling how people can have such strong opinions with absolutely zero understanding of anything they're talking about.

I'm gonna dive right into this post, because it's just so terrible!

I'm endogenic. I'm a tulpa. We do not have DID or OSDD or any other dissociative disorder. We have never claimed to.

I believe that DID is almost always caused by trauma. And that more research needs to be done on different presentations of OSDD to determine how strong its association with trauma is.

I can't understand why these facts are so hard for their brains to process.

I'm not a huge fan of insulting people's intelligence but gods, these people just make it really difficult not to.

I have literally always said I was endogenic!

This hasn't changed!

I'm also not saying that only trauma can cause DID. I think there definitely is a possibility that there could be rare non-traumagenic forms of DID. But being open to this possibility is VERY different from claiming, as the Satanic Temple's Grey Faction has, that DID is typically iatrogenic.

The Grey Faction does not believe DID is caused by trauma.

And this hate subreddit is using them as a source for their anti-RAMCOA rhetoric!

On the topic of gaslighting, Grace is correct that Grace did not say the words "religious alters only existed after Hazbin Hotel." (I didn't say they said those words either.)

Here is what Grace has said though!

Remember in the below screenshots that the black at the top are the posts Grace is responding to and the light grey at the bottom are Grace's words.

Grace assuming that Hell in headspace is from Hazbin Hotel:

Grace saying there wasn't a slew of religious alters before Hazbin Hotel:

(Anyone who has been in the system community knows that religious headmates were very common since long before Hazing Hotel was a released.)

Grace assuming a biblical angel alter is from Hazbin Hotel:

Grace assuming ANOTHER angel is from Hazbin Hotel:

This is despite the fact that this person is obviously confused about why they have an angel there and probably wouldn't be confused if they had an introject from Hazbin Hotel.

Grace assuming a God alter is from Hazing Hotel:

And as a reminder GOD ISN'T even in the show!!!!!!!!

This doesn't even make sense!

There's a very consistent theme in these posts. You know, since I'm already reusing the screenshots, might as well reuse the meme as well.

Back to this post though...

Oh...

Yeah, I'm just going to refer back to everything above!

Grace!

Where does this post mention DID???

Even though I do believe it is theoretically possible to have DID without trauma, this post doesn't say that!!!

How is this whole subreddit this bad at basic reading comprehension???

Right... You guys just have a mod-approved hit list of acceptable targets to name to focus attacks on said targets. A list that I'm on, by the way.

Why would I censor usernames of people on your subreddit if you don't censor mine, and have me on your list of approved targets?

Now in fairness, I screenshotted users from this subreddit without censoring names before they put me on their hit list, and I will continue to do so even if I'm removed from that list because yes, it's an ableist hate sub and I have no desire to hide the names of people participating in spreading hate against systems.

But I still want to call out the hypocrisy of a post that names my blog complaining about me not censoring the names of the people I respond to.

[badassbutterfly1987]

Black Sun Rising Ch. 6-10 (in which I get more critical)

Chapter 6:

I was a bit confused by this chapter at first since we switch to an entirely new POV of an angry merchant upset about lost cargo

apparently the Weird Trio (my nickname for the things from a previous chapter that looked human but weren't) used the ship carrying his goods to reach the city and sunk the ship and other people on it to cover their tracks i think

the monotone voices and general lack of emotion really make them unsettling

Chapter 7:

we get a flashback/dream from the Patriarch's POV

so his mother had a drug addiction when he was kid, then she was killed and eaten by monsters

obviously a formative memory and probably contributed to his zeal for expanding the Church's influence

Chapter 8:

apparently Damien has a habit of staying awake during true night so he could be aware of any users of dark fae nearby; it's mentioned he was taught this by a mentor, I'm presuming another sorceror or Adept since this isn't the kind of thing the Church likes

he's good at reading the fae currents back in Ganji but they're too volatile in Jaggonath, so he's just chilling in his room for a couple pages then goes to sleep (wait it says it's 3am, is this a witching hour reference? neat)

then Ciani's shop explodes and she's presumed dead, mention that there's specifically blue fire. that color was mentioned last time with the earthquake-resistant wards. the emotional part of this is weakened a bit for me because I know the general plot of the rest of the book

For the most part, I like the rest of this chapter. Damian's understandably rattled, he really liked Ciani and there was the potential for a genuine relationship. We even get a nice moment where the Patriarch has a moment of not being an ass and offers his condolences to Damien, recognizing there was a bond despite his hatred of Adepts and the fae.

However-

Damian has the thought that he might have been falling in love with her. Here's the thing, I think they're fun together, they have a nice flirty dynamic and I could see myself writing ship fics for them. But that was all that was there; there weren't moments where they connected on a more intimate level and Damien doesn't read as having a romantic enough personality to fall this hard this early.

extra note since I didn't think to mention it last post: what kind of Church follower taught to fear and hate demons, would then name their kid Damien? Is it going to be revealed that his parents were Adepts/sorcerers who later converted? it would be a neat reveal; I don't think his parents have been mentioned yet, and it could have influenced with his ease about using fae

Chapter 9:

Weird Trio confirmed to have been hunting Ciani and maybe intended to eat her? didn't intentionally cause explosion. maybe she tried to fight back and triggered the wards in a way that overloaded them?

they apparently have another task to fulfill. how ominous!

Chapter 10:

Ciani is confirmed to be alive and hiding at Senzie's place, surprise surprise. but this is a genuinely sad scene, her attackers ripped out chunks of her memory and all her ability/knowledge as an Adept, something that is an inherent part of her identity

turns out Senzie caused the explosion in an attempt to make the attackers think she was dead and wouldn't attack again. unfortunately, this means that any research or artifacts that could have helped Ciani have been destroyed. Senzie insists he did what was best in the moment, which is fair but the way he says it points to a deeper insecurity. kudos to Damian for knowing how to de-escalate, he's like a warrior-poet but religious (is this just what dnd clerics are? I haven't played)

on a lighter note, we meet Allesha. she was briefly mentioned before as a fellow assistant and someone Senzie seemed to be mildly annoyed with. turns out she's his fiancee which makes that previous thing a little awkward

then we meet Karril, Ciani's demon friend who seems like a pretty chill guy; were he a modern guy, he'd probably wear Hawaiian shirts. what exactly demons are in this verse is a little unclear; the Church calls them demons and Damian treats them as such but other people seem to worship them as gods? Karril's domain is pleasure and he does have Dionysus vibes (also I know there's some fics that ship him and Damian so presumably he shows up again)

I really hope Ciani isn't going to be a traumatized husk for the rest of the book because she was a fun character and this already treads the line of fridging the only notable female lead (Almea dies in the prologue and Allesha is only relevant as Senzei's partner)

apparently Ciani investigated the rakhlands before (far too curious about unknown, similar to Damian), was trapped for a few years in which a rakh fed on her memories/substance as a person, and she barely managed to escape. while Karril wasn't able to get her to fully explain what happened, he did help her forget the experience at her request.

this is like that on a larger scale. the only way to fix it is to hunt down the specific creature that caused it. I might be misreading this part but they seem to be implying it could be a rakh or a more general (but still very dangerous) monster. I guess it's a red herring to the characters/audience to suspect Tarrant and while he is an amoral bastard, his brief POV chapters haven't suggested a motivation to do so (and he did notice new competition in the area, probably the rakh attackers)

Also, just for funzies, this is what I initially marked down for general thoughts that I wanted to make sure I expanded:

Senzei acting sus. defensive because insecure

romance where? barely know each other.

close to fridging. Ciani angry when?

where Tarrant?

[1rsoldiersince2012]

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x reader)

Words: 3289 (chapter 19)

Summary:

You and Matt met in the courtroom. Now, you may think that Matt was a knight in shining armour and defended you in the name of all United States laws, but that was not the case. Matt was totally destroying your client, and you wanted to tear him into pieces right then and right there, because with Murdock as your rival, your head is on the firm's plate with each case. Did Matt care? No, he only cared about bringing justice, he was a human-machine, driven by the need to bring righteousness no matter the cost. Or was he just that? What happens when you get involved in Fisk's business and Daredevil's lies against your will?

UPDATES EVERY FRIDAY

Find my other accounts on ao3 and wattpad! 💖

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1rSoldierSince2012

wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/user/1rsoldierSince2012

19. Things are about to change

A loud ringing beside your head forces you to open your heavy eyelids. Your arm hurt like hell, the headache was already forming in your head and that damned phone kept ringing like a demon sent from hell to torture you. Half asleep, you manage to answer it.

"Hello?" you rasp out, surprised by your own voice.

"When the hell were you going to tell me that you were attacked?" Hogarth's voice booms loudly in your ear, making you roll your eyes for a moment.

"I'm alive, Jeri, don't worry."

"We're gonna be in big trouble, you know. You should've called me right after everything. Or called the police, at least. Why did I have to go to the office to see everything wrecked? You have any idea how bad this is for business?" Hogarth kept talking, but you started to not pay attention to her blabbing. She didn't really care, she didn't call you to know how you feel. No.

"We're not in trouble as long as I don't press charges."

"How can you press charges on a man wearing all black and acting like he's a goddamn ninja?" Hogarth asks as if you just said the stupidest thing ever.

So, Benowitz confessed nothing. That bastard didn't wanna risk his career, obviously.

"Listen, it doesn't matter, I quit anyway."

There is a pause. Then Hogarth sighs and asks, "why?"

"Personal reasons. I will come some time to fill the documents and take my things." You say, but Hogarth remains silent. "Jeri, it's been a pleasure to work with you and Linda, truly."

"Y/n, get well." She simply says and hangs up. From a person like Hogarth, that was the most wholehearted conversation.

You drop your phone on the bed, missing Wesley's message and lift yourself up, the burning sensation in your arm intensifies. "Maybe I should see the doctor." You say to yourself and gently tap the tight bandage and notice first aid kit lying next to the doors, indicating that the Devil guy used your tools to patch you up.

A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts. Hurrying, you open them a little and notice a familiar white walking stick and quickly close them, then taking a deep breath, you open them again after a moment.

"Murdock, what a surprise. What brought you here?" You lean on the threshold, still holding the door with your hurt arm, pretending that this sight of Matt wearing a dark button up shirt and a brown coat in front of you didn't make your heart beat a little faster.

"I heard what happened last night." He looks guiltily at the floor for a second, but you doubt what you're seeing, because he always had an odd way of presenting himself. Were all blind people like that? You never really met anyone else except Matt.

"Well, come in, don't want neighbors to hear everything. There's enough gossip already." You say and push the doors open widely, waiting for him to come inside.

Instead of coming in, he pulls a hand that he's been holding behind his back, and you see a bouquet of wildflowers, tied with a blue ribbon. "The owner of the shop told me these were freshly picked." Matt gives you the bouquet, and you feel blush creeping on your cheeks. No one has ever given you wildflowers... Since you broke up with Robert. No one else knew that you still loved them.

"Uh... Thank you... Matt." You clear your throat and close the door behind him. The tapping of his walking stick fills the empty space of your flat, and somehow you find it comforting.

"Where, uh..." He begins, acting awkward all of a sudden, although, he was already feeling like a fish in water, last night gave Matt a chance to explore your space.

"Oh, right, the couch." You guide him to the couch, biting your cheek when the hurt arm gets too much pressure. "Care for a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, please. If it's no bother, of course." He gives you one of the charming smiles and sits down.

"News fly fast, especially when someone gets injured like that. How do you feel?" Matt furrows his eyebrows and slightly tilts his head.

"No, don't worry." You leave the living room and disappear in the kitchen. Matt doesn't dare to say anything, and patiently waits for you to return, secretly getting more acquainted with your flat as yesterday he was in a hurry to take care of you, instead of getting familiar with the place.

"So. Who told you?" You return to the living room with a vase and put the flowers on the table.

"Amazing." You lie, your left hand unconsciously slides on the bandage, pain increasing. 

"I don't think anyone feels amazing after they've been shot." Matt says in a disapproving tone.

"Grazed. Not shot. If that dumbass shot me, I would've bled to death until now. Who's your source of information? Foggy? Tell him to check his facts." You say almost angry and Matt feels guilty of what he has caused. If Nelson and Murdock already knew, it was just a question of when Wesley was going to call you, especially since you haven't replied to his message.

"Who's that dumbass?" He asks cautiously.

You hesitate to answer. You could blame the man in the mask, of course he scared the shit out of you, then interfered with your business... And got you out of possible murder of Benowitz... And got you home. All bandaged and stuff... "Didn't see his face." You simply say, hoping that he drops the subject. "I'm sure you're here not to ask me how I feel, yeah?"

"I don't really talk business with someone who's been hurt, especially someone close to me." Matt answers, sensing your previous hesitation. Before you could open your mouth or understand that he just put you in his close people list, the coffee maker starts beeping.

"I'll be right back." You say and disappear in the kitchen again, returning with two steaming cups, trying to gather words for him. Any words.

"How is your arm?" He asks, and you notice that he's sitting closer to you than before.

"It's okay. I think I'll go see a doctor or something. I... Don't trust my own skills."

"You bandaged yourself?"

"Why, yes, of course." You lie through your teeth, Matt Murdock is the last person who should know about the mysterious man in the mask who carried you home. "My father was a cop after all."

"Can I take a look?"

"A look?" You smile but take off your sweater anyway, sitting only in your t-shirt.

"You know what I mean." Matt sighs and stretches his hand out.

You turn, so he could touch your arm better. He lays his fingers on your skin, so softly, so gently. You involuntarily take a deep breath.

"Hm." He hums, tapping and squeezing a little, you almost hiss when he touches the wound. "Seems good, you did a good job on the bandages." He says, not hurrying to take off his hand.

"Since when you're an expert of that field, Murdock?" You huff a laugh, feeling coldness on your skin when he pulls his hand away, letting his fingers slide down to your bent elbow.

"My dad... Uh."

"Battling Jack Murdock, right?" You interfere, without letting him finish.

"Yes. I used to patch him up after the fights."

"Did you have your sight back then?" You ask as discreetly as possible.

"No. But I learned to adapt pretty quickly." Matt uncomfortably puts his hands in his lap.

"I've heard about your father a little. Although I was too young to understand things like boxing matches. I'm sorry." You suddenly feel terrible about bringing the sensitive topic.

"It's okay. So yeah, you did a pretty good job on the arm. But I think you should see a doctor in case of infection. Did you disinfect it?" Matt suddenly asks, catching you right in your web of lies again.

"Yeah, yeah, obviously." You laugh it off, noticing Matt's subtle smirk. "You really think so little of me, Murdock?"

"Wouldn't dare." He nods mysteriously, taking a sip of coffee. You mimic his action and feel relief when the hot drink reaches your throat. It felt like a century since you drank something. Or had a decent meal. Only Benowitz and his case is to blame.

A moment of silence is broken by you, "I quit."

Matt knits his eyebrows yet again and carefully puts his cup on the table. "What?"

"I quit, I'm leaving the firm." It felt good to say it out loud, fully convince yourself about the benefits of your decision, which mostly were not seeing Benowitz again. Or Todd.

"And you're going...where?" Matt finally voices out the question that's been on his mind for the last 24 hours.

"Canada. Probably. Although, I should start looking for a house if I want this plan of mine to work."

"Uh- where? Why... So far?" Matt asks carefully, hoping to not show how much he actually cares, but the stuttering gives him away.

"I just think that I need a change in my life. A big one." You close your eyes for a moment and fail to notice Matt's fallen face. Wheels turn in his head and an argument starts forming.

"You could work with us. That's a pretty big change." He tries to say in a joking form.

"And get fat from all those sweets that you get?"

"I wouldn't know even if you did." He smirks, and you feel a wave of blood rushing through your whole body. Matt hears the change in your heartbeat - that's what you're insecure about? But when did he care about how you looked like? Or anyone else? He didn't. First, he couldn't see, second - even if he did, church told to love everyone the way they were, except if they were criminals.

"Are you always like that, Murdock?" You ask, taking a big gulp of coffee.

"Like what?" He mirrors your action.

"Such a playboy, ladies man, you know? With that charming smirk always plastered on your face, always there to offer a helping hand. A real saint you are."

"Oh, I'm far from being saint, trust me."

"I would doubt about that."

Neither of you say anything else. The whole conversation feels awkward to you now, especially after you called him a ladies man. Matt, however, took that as a compliment.

"So." You say after putting your empty cup on the table and turning towards Matt.

"So?" He parrots.

"Nice flowers. Thank you again."

"No worries." He drops his hand on his thigh and rubs it a couple of times. Your eyes follow his movement and something turns inside your stomach, as if your heart left its place to run a couple of laps.

"Why did you bring them anyway? It's not like my lying in my deathbed." You feel like you can't drop the subject so easily, not after he mysteriously shows up on your doorstep the moment he learns about your accident.

"Y/n, what really happened yesterday in the office?" He avoids the flowers subject, feeling like there's not enough time to create a good lie.

"I... Uh... I was packing my stuff. Then Benowitz called and asked me to come to his office. I did. Then we got into a little argument. And... Some guy came in... He sort of attacked us." You croak, feeling a huge lump in your throat.

"Sort of?" He leans on the couch, fully turning toward you.

"Well, not sort of," you laugh a little, "he told Benowitz to drop the case, then pushed me, attacked Benowitz and then he... Pulled the trigger." You say closing your eyes tightly, trying to remember this version of your lie. Now you'll have to tell this to everyone.

"So that guy hurt you?"

"Yes."

"How-how did he look?" He asks cautiously again, trying to understand why you were lying.

"Like a man who doesn't want to be seen, known. Or heard. I think he's a ninja or something. The man in the mask." You open your eyes and look at him, sitting there crouched, a deep curve on his forehead indicates that he's lost in thought.

"What would you do if you saw him again?"

"What kind of question is that? Run, of course. You don't want to mess with guys like him. Lord knows, he may be a fucking assassin. Maybe we were supposed to die yesterday. Or maybe we'll die today. Especially when today's the case. Good luck on exposing Melissa." You lean forward and tap his forearm twice.

"They called today. The court's next week. Benowitz crapped his pants and said that he's in no condition to participate." Matt says, suddenly remembering what he came to tell you. Sort of.

"Oh." 

"Yeah."

"How do you imagine me working for you at all?" You suddenly ask.

"It would be a little tight with space, but I think we could manage it. Taking more cases. Earning real money." Matt says in a soft tone, almost daydreaming about this possibility. You happened to be one of the few lawyers left with good morals, and he wanted to have you by your side at any cost.

"My old office is half the size of yours."

"We'll have to share for the time being."

"I don't like distractions when I'm working." You smile.

"That is a problem that I'll be dedicated to solve." Matt is itching to get closer to you, to express his apology through the touch but something stops him from scaring you away again.

You take your phone from the table and notice unread message, quickly typing, 'everything's alright, just a little busy. what about you?'. 

"Alright, I won't be disturbing you any more, get some rest, and... We'll be waiting for you in the office. Hopefully." Matt stands up, hesitating slightly.

"We'll see about that, Matt." You answer mysteriously, yet Matt knows that you'll come. What other choice did you have? 

*** 

"You've been wHAT?" Pug yells and you pull your phone away from your ear for a moment.

"It's not a mortal wound, no need to shout, or I might need to visit doctor for the loss of hearing." You say and get comfortable on the couch, pulling up your long socks higher. If your mother saw you dressed in sweater and shorts, she would probably faint. 

"Did you go to see the doctor?"

"No..." you drawl, closing your eyes for a moment when you hear a sharp inhale on the other side of the phone.

"If you were here with me, I would already be kicking your ass, shorty."

"Hey! You know what I told you about that nickname, caesar. "

"You know, I'm actually grateful about that, he was the ruler of Roman Empire after all, and you're just... shorter than me." Pug says in a mocking tone, but then returns to his serious self. As serious as he could get. "Are you feeling okay now? And don't lie."

"As for the arm, yes. It's pretty neatly bandaged."

"And if we're not talking about your arm?" Even miles away, Pug saw right through you.

"Honestly, I'm feeling some sort of relief. Everyone was getting on my nerves in that place." You sigh.

"So, where you off to now? LA? Finally visiting me?" Pug says with hope evident in his voice.

"No, I think I'll go to Nelson and Murdock. LA has always been your dream."

"Nelson and Murdock? As in the same Murdock who got you into that big talk with Hogarth?" Pug asks shocked.

"Yeah, the same. He brought me flowers this morning." You blush slightly.

"Oh, exciting! Are you guys a thing now?" Pug teases, smiling like he just won a lottery.

"God, no, don't be riddiculous." You try to laugh it off, unsuccessfully.

"You like him, you really do." 

"Pug, please."

"Come on, it was time, you're not getting any younger."

"Gee thanks, we're the same age." You blow a raspberry and take your phone into the other hand.

"So, you didn't tell me who saved you." Pug sips his lukewarm coffee, which he forgot he made after you called. Who could blame him when the news were so... interesting.

"The Devil of Hell's Kitchen." You say dramatically, waving your good arm in the air. 

"This guy calls himself like that? Really?"

"I didn't ask what he likes to be called. People talk. Besides, I think he's a creep." You rub your eyes and hear a low chuckle from Pug.

"You should ask, maybe he saved you on purpose, you're gonna be his princess, or Lady Devil." Pug stands up in his living room, feeling the inspiration flood his body.

"You seriously need to get laid." You deadpan, sitting up as well. "He's a fucking creep, and God knows what other crimes he's commiting, vigilantism is illegal. He's a goddamn criminal already. And I have a feeling that it's not the first time that I get under his radar."

"And you need to get laid too. Preferably with someone who's not hiding under a mask, but in the worst case, he'll be suitable." Pug fires back with a smug smile on his face.

"I seriously don't know how we became friends." 

"Best friends, shorty, don't forget I saved your ass when boring-Robby tried to get you back." Pug announces this as if it was a record-book-worthy achievement.

"Yeah, yeah, it was a genius idea to pretend we're a couple. Your hand was sweating, which reminds me -have you checked that with a doctor yet?" You mock his previous words, teasing him with the most awkward college experience.

"Yeah, right back at you, Lady Devil." Pug laughs awkwardly.

"Shut up." You laugh wholeheartedly, possibly for the first time in weeks. "Oh, speaking of the devils, my dad told me that he gave Robert my contacts." 

"When did that happen?" Pug sits straight, rather surprised by the turn of events.

"I don't know, like a week ago. Or two. I'm dreading the moment he decides to visit." 

"And you're telling me just now? I can't even express my disappointment, y/n."

"I know, Pug, I was busy. Besides, he's running for Sheriff's office or something like that." 

"That guy? The same guy who looked like he was the biggest physics lover in the whole world?" Pug's voice goes an octave higher.

"How many Roberts do you know? Of course him. I'm honestly not surprised, my dad was his idol after all."

"Do I need to come to Hell's Kitchen to pretend to be your boyfriend again?" Pug starts his usual blabbing, "you know, we could say that we're engaged now."

"Jesus, Pug, pull yourself together. I... might have a backup plan myself. But I seriously doubt that he'll try to get back with me again." You lie back down, crossing your legs on the coffee table.

"Is your backup plan called Murdock by any chance?" Pug teases again.

"No, I might have another one."

"Now, seriously, how dare you not tell me everything the instant stuff happens? Are you having an affair with someone AND Murdock? Is it that devil guy?"

"No, leave Murdock out of this, we just kissed once, there's another guy, and I think I owe him a second date." You feel like you can't stop the words coming from your mouth, and before you realize that you've told Pug the thing you wanted to take to your grave with you, a gasp on the other side of the phone reaches your ears.

"You've kissed and he brought you flowers?! Please tell me you got laid with him." 

"Why would I do that?" You ask in disbelief, already regretting this phone call.

"How did he kiss you? Was it simple or was he like a starving man? Or did you kiss him first? Y/n was it only a peck? You-" 

You quickly end the phone call, feeling overwhelmed by the avalanche of questions and grab the pack of cigarettes from your table. Your landlady would probably beat you up if she saw you smoking inside, but now, you couldn't care less. Your phone lights up after a minute with Pug's message, 'that was the ultimate dick move, I'll get that information from you, one way or another.'

Letting out a chuckle, you blow out a smoke, turning on the TV to watch the news. 

[aelaer]

⛓

Okay so. THREE YEARS AGO, back in early 2020 before The World Went To Shit, I posted a "whump prompt request" thing with icons to basically request fics based on the whumpy icon. I answered 2 or 3 of them before I basically stopped writing for like, over a year.

This year I'm doing my damnedest to finish the 6 whump prompts I have from early 2020 and the last (anon) prompt I have from 2019. That's my goal. (If I can get to the 2022 user-submitted prompt as well this year, that's an extra bonus).

I don't think this user is even in the fandom anymore (possibly not even on tumblr), but I'm still doing the prompt fics. As always with tumblr prompts, my tumblr followers get them first, and I'll post it on AO3 at a later time.

Obviously the prompt is chains. For 2 years I was trying another fic to fill this, but when it just wasn't happening, I threw out the original idea for this new one below.

So I've done alternate meetings between Stephen and various Avengers before, but I wanted to try something different and have a different set of Avengers meet him in different circumstances. Well, not that different because I just enjoy seeing Stephen suffer. Sorry love. But it's a different crew of Avengers, so it's at least a little different. I don't think I've seen this particular group meeting him before in this timeframe, either.

This fic stars Steve, Nat, Sam, and Stephen, and is actually written from Steve's POV! First time writing from Steve's POV so it was a lot of fun. Not betaed, but this is still about 7,000 words long, so enjoy!

—--

Ever since aliens attacked New York in 2012, alien technology was a major part of the arms dealing scene in the black market. Nuclear missiles were old school; Chitauri-powered weaponry was the cream of the crop. And as the United States' Department of Damage Control seemed to have done a very lousy job at controlling all the weaponry leaving the country the last several years, Steve Rogers figured he'd put his time out of the country to good use and clean up for them.

From all the people that came back from the Raft, only two were with him now. Clint and Ant-Man—Scott, nice guy—had families back home and went for a plea bargain. Wanda asked to be dropped off in Europe and Nat provided her with a new ID and enough money to get by for a couple months without any sort of job. Bucky—well, Bucky was getting help in Wakanda.

That just left him, Sam, and Nat. When he told them what he planned to do, they were fully on board. Nat even had some old KGB connections to get them started.

And that's how they had spent the last year, going from city to city, country to country, chasing leads on illegal alien weaponry across Asia. They started in Yemen and Oman, then went north to Syria (where they got into a tight spot and found Nick Fury of all people waiting for them. How he got to Syria in the first place, Steve had no idea.) After a tense conversation with him, he parted with him in Lebanon, then they started their way east to Iraq, Turkmenistan, and Afghanistan.

It was another old contact of Nat's that pointed them to their next destination: the state of Uttar Pradesh in northern India.

With most of their hits, it was clear that terrorists, insurgents, and other sorts who dealt with black market arms were getting types of Chitauri weapons. With their information out of India, it was less clear what the nature of the weapon was.

"From how they're discussing it, it sounds alien," Nat said as she read over her contact's notes. "And they're guarding it fiercely. But it appears they don't know what to do with it."

"Who has the weapon?" Sam asked. "Lashkar-e-Taiba? ISIS?"

She shook her head. "It's a small splinter group of revolutionists. No household names here."

Steve frowned; these small groups were more difficult to determine how to respond to. "Are they considered terrorists by the United States?"

Nat shook her head once more as she looked through the notes. "Strictly Indian. This group doesn't go beyond their borders."

"Then let's go for a nonlethal encounter, as much as possible. We're not here to say who's right and wrong about such things, so long as they're not hurting anyone in their actions."

She half-smiled. "They do have a weapon, Cap." They've likely hurt people, she didn't say.

He quirked his lips in return. "And that's why we're going to relieve them of it." In the end, it was up to the local authorities to take care of the people themselves and to put them through due process. If Steve could, he'd do the same for every terrorist, too—but he didn't have that luxury when they were caught in the middle of a gunfight, or when it was just the three of them versus dozens in enemy territory.

He wasn't happy with the fact, but he made do with what he could. He didn't particularly enjoy killing others in the war, either—and the fact that he still had to from time to time was an unhappy reality.

So when he could get through an incident without death, he gladly took it.

"All right," Sam said. "Next stop, India."

—--

Nat's connections made getting the quinjet from country to country actually possible. From there, they paid someone enough cash to both keep an eye on the jet and to keep quiet about it. These people made a living on such gigs, so after a year of seeing such deals, Steve was a lot less worried about it than when they first started.

Their contact got them a van and from there, they fit everything they needed into it to get to a safehouse and gather more intel from there.

Uttar Pradesh was a land of extremes. As the most populous state of India, it also saw some of its richest and poorest citizens, some great beauty and great ugliness, and both wondrous joys and terrible suffering. Steve didn't interact with the locals—Nat did all that if they had to, as she somehow knew Hindi as well—but he could see it in the people's faces as they went from city to village, and back again.

It took them a couple days to secure their safehouse to their liking, then another few days to find the location of their target. It took Nat and Sam another 48 hours to break into their security and tap their communications, and it wasn't too long that they got the location of the weapon.

"They're not giving any further description on what this weapon is," Nat said with a grimace as she leaned back in her chair. "I don't think the guys we bugged actually know what it is, just where it is as they were guarding the building. On the second floor, so that narrows it down further."

"That's annoying," Sam said. "I'll look up the address and see what I can find on the building. This city's large enough to have blueprints."

"Not sure how much you'll find," Nat said. "I'll drive out there and scout it out tonight."

"You can add it to what I do find," Sam said, grinning.

—---

When Nat came back from her scouting just before dawn, Steve woke up to find her thoughtful. "What happened?"

"The building was unusually busy, considering the time of night," she said. "The good news is that I found the most likely room in which they're keeping the weapon."

"Should be an easy snatch and grab?"

"Absolutely; this is a group of amateurs. You and Sam can probably stay in the car."

Steve snorted. "Well, if we would just get in your way."

Nat smirked, then went to get herself some breakfast. "I'll listen in today to see if anyone says anything more about the weapon."

About two hours later, Sam and Steve were mapping out their route away from the building once Nat had the weapon. From the corner of his eye, Steve saw her frowning as she listened to the tapped broadcast. He did not like that frown. "What is it?"

She listened for about ten more seconds. "It sounds like they have a prisoner."

Sam jerked his head up. "What?"

She paused as she listened, then after two minutes she shook her head. "These idiots know nothing. They think he was after the weapon, naturally, but for all they know he could be a political prisoner or hostage." She sighed. "Should've bugged someone more useful."

"This changes things," Steve said.

"A rescue mission makes this more complicated," Nat pointed out.

"Are you suggesting we leave him?"

Nat smiled slightly. "Just making sure you were aware."

"Well, I've never been one to back down from a challenge." He looked at Sam. "You'll be fine alone in the car?"

Sam shrugged. "I can keep the engine running. You sure you won't need help with sneaking in?"

"No. Show me what blueprints you found again, Sam." He had learned several things about subterfuge and stealth over the last year from Nat. He had to.

With their combined intelligence gathering, Steve was able to map out his own route to search for this prisoner. It was likely he was being kept in the basement level of the building, so Steve would start there and work his way up, if need be. As decided before, Steve wanted to go for the non-lethal route, and they had just enough drugs to knock people out to make it happen (one of the good things of running into Fury all those months ago was getting supplies of that nature).

With their plan set, all they had to do now was wait until nightfall.

—----

Nat was right: these guys were amateurs. Steve was certain that she'd be in and out of the building in five minutes, tops. He had the longer route here just because he had to find the room this prisoner was actually being held.

Half the people in the building were asleep on the second floor; those awake were either guarding the mysterious weapon (Nat had them handled) or posted around the perimeter. He only encountered one other guard on the first floor before making his way into the basement. Those he did encounter he stashed away in dark corners so they weren't easily spotted by anyone passing by.

The basement was a little busier. The stairwell led to a long hallway filled with several tiny rooms, one of which was easily seen as occupied the moment he came to the floor. Steve took out two guys in a room at a pair of computers and kept them propped in their chairs. The other rooms in the hall were empty of people, largely filled with storage and detritus.

At the edge of the corridor was another hallway and Steve carefully peered beyond the corner to see if anyone was there. There was a man sitting outside of a door playing on his phone; that was very likely the door Steve was looking for. It was child's play to sneak up at him and jab him in the neck just as he had done with the rest. 

He lowered the guard to the floor before he could fall out of his chair, then peered through the small window—hole, really—within the door to take a look inside.

Well, he had definitely found the prisoner. While the light in the room was dim, he could tell that their prisoner didn't appear Indian; his skin was just too light. Steve frowned; what was a foreign national doing dealing with a group that largely dealt with Indian affairs?

It appeared that he had crossed them in some way because the man looked terrible. Bruises and bloody scrapes blossomed across his face; they appeared to be recent hurts, gained in hours or days rather than weeks or months. His dark hair was pressed damp against his head, though from sweat or water, Steve did not know. His clothes were unlike anything Steve's seen in the future so far, at least outside of movies. 

Despite his poor state of being, this group had considered their captive enough of a threat to chain him to the wall itself. Steve had no idea wall fetters like that still existed. The man was leaning his head against one of his arms pulled up, though sleeping or unconscious, he couldn't say.

Steve soon discovered neither. As soon as he took the cell door key off the unconscious guard and slotted it into the lock, the man's eyes snapped open and he straightened his position as much as he was able to. And he didn't appear afraid at all. Resigned, perhaps, but not afraid. Interesting. Nat would have quite the analysis on him from just this.

The man's grim resignation turned into outright confusion as Steve opened the door to reveal himself.

"Keep your voice down," Steve warned as he dragged the guard's body from the hallway and into the cell. He carefully shut the door to make it look closed, but left it open a crack in case it locked from the inside. He turned back to the hostage. "We'd rather avoid a full on confrontation if we can."

"Captain America?" Disbelief dripped through every syllable, but he kept his voice low. And he sounded American; that wasn't expected at all.

Steve could not help his unhappy smile. "Not so sure I can call myself that anymore."

The man remained still as Steve closed the distance between them. "Let me get these off," he muttered as he brought up the key again. But he could see the problem immediately—the key was too large for the manacles.

The man was watching him and seemed to catch his realization. "I imagine that one of the leaders has that key," he said, voice flat. Not panicked at all like many others would be if they thought they were so close to freedom and were stuck.

This man was no normal civilian, that much was clear.

Steve, though, had another idea. "Hold on." He took hold of the left manacle and chain, then paused as he caught long scars on the hand accompanied by a tremor that certainly wasn't fear. "This might pinch. Brace yourself."

The man said nothing, but hissed softly as Steve snapped the chain from the manacle as the rough metal scraped against him, despite Steve's best efforts.

"Okay?" Steve said as he slowly let go of the manacle still around his wrist, allowing the man time to gain control of his arm.

"Fine. Don't worry about it."

Steve moved to the other manacle and saw the same patterns of scars on his right hand, as well. He broke the chain with as much care as he could, and this time the man remained silent at the break.

"Can you stand?"

The man was already standing—or at least attempting it. He managed to get up to his feet, but he was leaning heavily against the wall. His eyes were focused on the corner where Steve had deposited the unconscious guard near the door. Steve followed his gaze and saw that beyond the guard was some sort of red fabric in the corner.

"I need that," the man said, leaving no room for argument in his voice. With some bemusement, Steve gathered the long length of red fabric in one hand (a coat?), and with the other dragged the guard to where the hostage once sat so anyone looking in the dimly lit room would make out the figure of a body. So long as no one took a closer look, it would hold until morning.

The man took the red fabric as soon as Steve offered it to him and slung it over his shoulder. Steve caught the glint of silver of what he assumed was some sort of clasp on his coat, and while he was no expert, it looked like the real deal. 

"Surprised they didn't take those," Steve said as he nodded to the ornamentation. "Lean on me."

The man did so without protest. Steve couldn't see what was causing the other's inability to fully stand, but that would have to be examined later. He did mutter, though, "They couldn't rip the clasps off. Then they thought they were maybe cursed." For some reason this seemed to amuse the man.

Right, then. "Follow my lead," Steve murmured.

He locked the door behind them and dropped the key in one of the storage rooms within the basement. Steve was slower going out than coming in, but he had been thorough in jabbing everyone and placing them in either hidden areas or in discrete positions, should anyone pass. But for all the rumors of having a powerful weapon, as their security personnel was not what Steve would consider top-rated, he wasn't expecting any change of guard anytime soon.

The building was thankfully small enough that the journey from the cell to the exit was less than five minutes, even at the slowed pace they were forced to go. From the corner of his eye Steve saw the man turn his head at the sight of one of the men stashed on a chair, positioned as if he were asleep rather than drugged.

It wasn't until they were past the building's outer fencing and around a corner that Steve breathed more easily. Perhaps the man sensed it, because he spoke for the first time since they left the cell. "Did you kill them?"

"The guards?"

"Yes."

"No. Just drugged."

Steve felt the man exhale beside him. "Good."

That… wasn't expected. But then again, nothing about this man met any of the preconceptions he originally thought about the person he would be rescuing. "What's your name?"

"Strange."

They turned another corner. "Your name is Strange?"

"Yes."

Fair enough.

"How far are we going?" Strange asked. Steve was supporting more of his weight now, his hidden injury seeming to do a number on him.

"Not far," he assured him. "I've got a car waiting."

"Great." The 'great' sounded oddly sarcastic.

The van was only a couple minutes further, which was good because Strange only seemed to be getting weaker with every step. By the time they turned the final corner to meet it, Strange's left leg fully gave out on him. Steve caught him before he could totally collapse, but he noticed Strange's attention was fully on the van.

"I'm not the only thing you're taking from that building, am I?" he asked between clenched teeth.

How could he possibly know? Steve didn't know how to answer, but before he needed to, Sam was stepping out of the van to assist him. He took in Strange's interesting fashion choices with a raised brow, then took on the role of medic immediately. "Where are you injured?" he asked as he took Strange's other arm. He spared a look at the hand and the manacle, then gripped him on the forearm as he slung it over his shoulders.

"It's complicated," was Strange's cryptic answer. "Nothing you can—" He sharply inhaled, "—help right now."

Once they loaded Strange into the back seat (with his coat on his lap—though it was rather large to be a coat, now that he took a longer look at it), Steve asked Sam quietly as they rounded the car, "You found the weapon?"

"Well, we definitely found what they were hiding, though I'm not so sure I'd call it that," he replied.

What on earth did that mean? Steve sent Sam a look, but held off on any further questions until they were out of immediate danger.

Nat had slipped into the driver's seat as soon as Sam was out of the van, and Sam gave it up with the roll of his eyes. Steve decided to sit in the back with Strange to keep an eye on him as they drove back to their safe house about thirty minutes away. Somehow Strange seemed worse resting in the van than moving. Yes, the road was bumpy and unpaved in many spots, but he would have thought walking from his prison would have been more taxing on him. 

As he eyed Strange's clenched fists, tight eyes, and pallor face, he wondered where these hidden injuries lie—and if they were all physical in nature.

Perhaps more importantly, he was wondering what on Earth another American was doing all the way out there in the middle of Uttar Pradesh and far away from any sort of tourist destination (and they had done their research—this was absolutely not an area for tourists). 

Apparently he wasn't the only one wondering about him. "So, you gonna tell us who you are and what on earth you're doing all the way out here?" Sam asked, turning himself partially around to look at him.

"If we could save the interrogation for when we're stopped, I would greatly appreciate it," he said without moving his eyes from the center of the windshield.

"Carsick?" Nat asked in that casual way that was anything but casual. 

"Yes," Strange said, but Steve wasn't sure if he fully believed him. It was the tight anxiety in his gaze that pointed to something else. 

But what it was wasn't important for him to know. Every man had his demons. So Steve said, "His name is Strange."

Sam looked between the two of them, gaze settling on Strange. "Seriously?"

"Yes," Strange said, curt and tense.

"Right," said Sam. He cleared his throat. "Well, Mr Strange, when we get to our little base, we'll take a look at you and see what we can do for your injuries."

At first, Strange didn't seem like he would reply. Then a moment later, after Sam had already turned around and Steve was getting ready to settle in for a long, silent trip, Strange said, "Doctor."

"Pardon?" Steve asked. Sam slightly turned his head.

"It's Doctor Strange."

Well, that just created more questions than it answered. 

—---

Doctor Strange could barely walk by the time they made it to the safe house. His lips were pressed tight as he contained what appeared to be excruciating agony. Steve had seen that look on men's faces before in war as they lost limbs and burned from napalm fire.

What sort of wounds was he hiding underneath all his clothing?

"He can take my cot," Sam said. The cots were in a separate, smaller room to the side of the larger room that held their base of operations. Their vital equipment didn't exceed what could fit in a single van should they need to leave fast, but at this point they had acquired decent bedding, more fresh clothing, and a mini-fridge alongside the basic necessities of the trade: their tech, a well-stocked first aid kit, non-perishables to last for several weeks, and a few weapons.

Sam already had their first aid kit by his side as they got Strange to the cot, and Strange collapsed as soon as they let him go. However, when Sam started to undo his belts to his—robes, Steve guessed—to get access to whatever hurts he was hiding, Strange stopped him by grabbing at his arm. But the grip was minimal; Strange's hand was shaking badly enough to continuously jiggle the ugly manacle still there. 

"Not—not hurt—physically," he panted.

Sam raised his eyebrows incredulously at the comment. "You've got bruises all over you. Look, with this weakness, you could have a bad internal bleed—"

"No," he hissed. "Listen." His weak grip readjusted itself on Sam's arm. "Move the statuette—away from me."

Steve turned a confused look to Sam, but Sam had stilled and was looking at Strange with narrowed eyes. "How did you—"

"200 feet," he interrupted. "For an hour. You'll see." With that, he finally passed out.

"Statuette?" Steve asked. 

"It was what they were protecting." Nat appeared at the door and frowned at Strange as Sam, obviously, ignored his protests and started stripping him down to both attach him to a BPM and to look for any signs of massive trauma. "He shouldn't know that we took it."

Steve frowned. "He said something of the same just as we got to the van."

Nat's eyes narrowed. "Did he, now."

Steve shook his head. "But that doesn't make sense. They were supposed to be holding onto some powerful weapon."

"Whatever our intel, the statuette was definitely the only thing they were truly guarding," Nat said. "Had two men at the entrance and one on the ground below—even more than last night." She kept her narrowed gaze upon Strange. "Maybe he is what caused all the disturbance last night, too."

Steve frowned at the information. "Did anything about it seem suspicious?"

Nat shook her head. "Not from a cursory look. It's just a rather ugly statue made out of stone. Weighs no more than 10 pounds. I was saving the closer examination for when we got back here, though."

"This makes no sense." It was Sam this time, and he was looking at the diagnostics on his small handheld that he had hooked up to Strange.

"What is it?" Steve asked. 

"His vitals are not what I was expecting. His blood pressure is higher than normal, which is opposite what you'd see with internal bleeding, and none of this bruising is severe. I mean, he should still get himself to a hospital when he can to double check, but I'm not seeing any obvious signs of hemorrhaging."

Nat looked back at Strange. "He's not faking it. He's out."

"I know." Sam worked on cleaning up some of the cuts on Strange's face because they were, apparently, the worst wounds they found. "But from what I can see, he shouldn't be unconscious. I found no head trauma, no major blood loss, and his temperature's stable."

Steve pursed his lips together in thought. The world had gotten very weird the last few years.

Nat read him like a book. "You're going to entertain his idea?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, the world isn't exactly what it used to be," Steve said. "We can try for an hour. Just to see what happens."

Nat canted her head, then nodded slowly. "I know a spot. Be back soon."

—--

Fifteen minutes later, Steve had his chair at the doorway between the beds and the rest of the space as he kept an eye on Strange. Sam was working on repairing some of their surveillance tech while Nat was looking up something at the computers after having returned just a couple minutes ago.

"He said Doctor Strange, right?" Sam asked. "You think, being an American with robes and a cape and all, that he's playing at being some sort of superhero with a secret identity or something?"

Steve blinked and took another look at the red pile of cloth resting at the foot of Strange's cot. Huh, yeah, he supposed it could be a cape. A red cape like Thor's, to boot.

"I'm not so sure," Steve said as he eyed the man. "He didn't act like a civilian playing hero that got in over his head when I found him."

"Not a fake name, either," Nat said, causing the both of them to turn her way. She recited, "Doctor Stephen Vincent Strange, MD, PhD. Neurosurgeon. And yes, I found images. It's him, just without the beard and a little less grey hair."

For some reason the name sounded familiar, though Steve had no idea why. He definitely hadn't met the guy before; he was pretty sure he'd remember him if he had.

Sam raised his eyebrows high. "What in the world is a neurosurgeon doing dressed like that in the weeds of Uttar Pradesh?"

"Former neurosurgeon, actually," Nat said with a thoughtful frown. "Last news I can find of him is from early 2016 after he got into a bad car accident. His hospital doesn't list him as a doctor there, anymore."

Steve frowned softly as he looked back at Strange. That would explain his hands. But as Sam said, it didn't explain what he was doing all the way out here. Then he narrowed his gaze as he saw Strange stir—or he thought he saw him move.

Then Steve blinked as he saw the edges of the red cape start rising upward. It reminded him of a cobra. He blinked again, and yea, it was definitely moving a bit like a snake. It was slinking.

"Hey uh, Sam?"

"Hmm?"

"Clothing generally doesn't move on its own in this century, right?"

"Uh, what?"

"You better come see this."

Steve felt both Sam and Nat beside him as they watched the cape—definitely a cape, not a coat—extend itself upwards until it was no longer a bundle of cloth at the edge of the bed, but fully extended and covering Strange from the bottom of his neck to his feet.

This cape might've been bigger than Thor's cape.

"So that's definitely not normal, yes?" Steve reiterated.

"Yes, Steve, that's not normal," Nat repeated. "You two sure there wasn't any sort of tech embedded within it?"

"Surveillance would've picked up something," Sam said, which Steve knew that Nat knew.

"Right," she said. "I'd ah, I'd keep my distance from it, gentlemen."

"Right."

"Yep."

—------

Another twenty minutes passed before Steve heard a groan coming from the cot. He looked up from his sketch to watch a minutiae of expressions cross over Strange's face before it settled on the blank expression of a man who woke up in unfamiliar, potentially dangerous situations. Steve saw that expression all the time once, a lifetime ago.

Strange was not just a neurosurgeon, no matter where his internet trail ended. Nearly two years had passed since early 2016, after all—and much of the world had changed since then.

Steve pushed away the troubling, all-too-personal train of thought before it went somewhere dangerous. "Welcome back, Doctor Strange," he said. He kept his distance.

Strange glanced his way with a furrowed brow before a light of understanding came to his eyes. "Ah. Right." He slowly sat up, grimacing softly, frowning down at what was obviously rumpled, disturbed clothing. Speaking of clothing—the cape was floating a bit more now, its collar at the same level as Strange's head.

"Oh, good, I'm glad you're starting to feel better," Strange said, and he was definitely talking to his cape. Steve was certain about it.

"Uh," Steve started, causing Strange's eyes to focus again on him. They were no longer clouded in pain, and he could see the man had an unusually sharp gaze. "Nat was going to remove those manacles off you, but then your cape started moving…" He trailed off.

"It's a cloak," was Strange's absolutely absurd reply.

Steve was saved from replying by Sam joining him. And just out of sight of Strange, Nat lingered, listening. "Hey, doc. How're you feeling?" Steve was pretty sure Sam was mostly staring at the half-floating cape—cloak.

"Much better. Thank you for moving the statuette." He frowned at the manacles on his wrists before making something of an effort to straighten out his robes. The red cloak moved behind him and settled itself upon his shoulders with Strange saying nothing about it.

"Uh, you wanna tell us what that is?" Sam jerked his chin to the cloak as it moved.

"It's a cloak," Strange replied. With eyes that sharp, Steve knew the man was being purposefully obtuse.

"Funny." Sam crossed his arms. "You wanna tell us why it flies?"

"It's called the Cloak of Levitation. That's what it does."

Steve wasn't sure if he should be annoyed or amused by the obfuscation. He settled for something around the realm of exasperation. "Doctor Strange, please." Strange stilled his adjusting and settled his gaze on Steve. "If you would sit down with us," he gestured past his shoulder to the main room, "Natasha can remove the manacles while you answer a few questions."

Strange pursed his lips. "I don't suppose you'll let me go without answers," he said dryly, but he stood up. Steve stood as well to give Strange ample room to pass.

Steve could feel Nat stepping into line of sight just behind him. "Consider it payment for us getting you out of there."

Strange huffed as he stepped through into the main room; with his so-called cloak, his whole ensemble had an odd feeling of completion that was missing prior. "I thought the Avengers were meant to be altruistic." Steve had been pretty certain that Strange knew who the other two were, but that at least confirmed it.

Nat smiled. "Some of us are more altruistic than others." She nodded to the table where the laptops were sitting a minute ago, but were now closed and set aside. "Sit."

Steve was more than happy to leave the bulk of the interrogation to Nat. He retook his chair and Sam went back to his tech maintenance corner while Strange sat adjacent to Nat at the center table.

With her left hand, Nat slid her fingers underneath the manacle to offer some cushioning between the metal and Strange's skin, certainly raw from the metal and more sensitive with whatever lay underneath his skin now. Steve knew, only after being with her for so long, that it was yet another way she could better tell truth from lies by being right on top of his pulse.

She had never forgotten her years and years of training.

"Why were you being held in that building?" she started as she flicked open the pick.

Strange narrowed his eyes at the question. "The same reason you were drawn to it."

"And you were caught trying to take it."

"Well," Strange said, "I was not expecting to have such an adverse reaction."

Nat kept her gaze on the manacle, seemingly. Steve wouldn't doubt that she was looking up at Strange through her lashes at pertinent moments. "We came because we heard there was a powerful weapon being held there," she said slowly, "but it seems only to affect you."  

Strange didn't reply, at first. "Was there a question in that statement, Miss Romanoff?"

Nat smiled. "You know my question, Doctor Strange."

Strange, again, considered his words. "And what would you do with that knowledge?"

Something that looked like true confusion flickered across Nat's expression. Steve doubted Strange caught it, but after all these years, he did. "What do you mean?"

"Don't be obtuse," Strange said, and there was an edge to his voice, suddenly. "After all, it was not even four years ago that the very agency you worked for created a weapon to kill millions. What am I to think of a person who worked for such an organization?"

The flash of something real crossing through Nat's eyes was so fast that Steve wasn't entirely sure that he hadn't just imagined it. "And all of us here were part of the team that exposed that plot." The first manacle clicked open, and Nat removed it, allowing Strange to take his wrist to rub it. "And when the worlds' governments tried to force us to sign a document that we believed endangered the world's freedom, we ran. And here we are."

Strange stared at her wordlessly, and they held a battle of wills. He had seen this expression on Nat very few times. The first she started showing it to him was when they really started working together, when—

Steve suddenly remembered. "Hydra!" At his exclamation, the battle of wills was dropped as everyone looked to him, but his eyes were again on Strange. "During Project Insight—one of their high level goons mentioned your name, your name and a few others—as he explained exactly what the algorithm was written to do." He looked at the other two. "Sitwell on the rooftop, remember?"

Realization came to them and they looked again at Strange, perhaps in a different light. "He did mention you," Sam said, pointing a screwdriver his way.

Strange cleared his throat. "That was in 2014, years before… this. They couldn't have known this would happen to me."

"And what is 'this', Doctor Strange?" Nat asked. She gestured for his left hand, and Strange gave it to her wordlessly. As she slipped her fingers underneath the metal and against his wrist, she asked, "What makes you different from us that the statue would only be an effective weapon against you?"

The silence sat. Strange said nothing, and it remained steady until the second manacle clicked open. Natasha removed it and stared at him for a moment, but when he remained still, she simply nodded and stood. "Steve can help you make arrangements to get back to where you need to go," is all she said, and turned to leave.

"Magic."

Nat stopped mid-step.

"The statuette has an adverse effect upon people who practice what you would call magic."

Sam was the first to break the silence. "Wait, do you mean 'You're a wizard, Harry,' type of magic?"

Strange's carefully blank expression fell away into a look of distaste. "The preferred term is sorcerer."

"A sorcerer is just a wizard without a hat," Sam said in return, and Strange's expression went through the whole range between gobsmacked and irritation, and back again.

Steve stepped in before Sam was completely eviscerated. "Right, so the statuette's bad news. What did you want to do with it?"

Strange seemed surprised by the question. "If it were up to me, I'd have it destroyed; were that impossible, burying it several miles deep or throwing it into the Mariana Trench is a good alternative. I'd say it could be placed in another dimension, but I'd be worried about another intelligent species potentially coming across it."

Right, dimensions. That was—something. Steve just nodded, as if all of that sounded perfectly reasonable and not completely insane.

Still, there was something Strange wasn't saying, and Steve had to make sure. "And these adverse effects—they're not permanent?"

"They're not."

"You sure?" Sam asked. "You were pretty badly off there for a time."

Strange cleared his throat. "I had been within near proximity to the object for almost a day, and the car ride's enforced closeness simply exacerbated the symptoms. They were unpleasant, but not permanent for the length of time I was exposed."

Steve narrowed his eyes; 'unpleasant' was a soldier's word for 'agonizing, but it didn't kill me so I'll be fine.' And Strange had the gaze of a man who had seen battle.

The other two noticed, naturally. They were both soldiers too. But it was Nat who prodded, to see just how much she could glean. It was almost instinctual for her to do so, Steve thought. "Sam is right to be concerned. You were near catatonic by the time the drive was through."

Strange's lip twitched upward in displeasure. He would allow some prying to establish—what? Some sort of basic trust? Whatever it was, it only went so far, and when Strange said, "I'm fine, thank you," Nat laid off with a raised hand and a slight smile.

Steve switched topics. "If you knew this statuette was so dangerous, why did you go in alone?" At Strange's quirked brow, Steve explained, "I assume there's more than one sorcerer around. You had to learn it from someone. You needed backup." Steve allowed a tone of disapproval to shine through his last sentence.

Strange heard it and rose up to it. "The statuette hasn't been encountered for quite some time, so its intensity wasn't known to any living sorcerer. Besides, we thought it was something else entirely here. If we'd known it was the statuette, we would have used a completely different strategy in retrieving it. On that note," he said, tone moving to decisive and unrelenting, "I'd like my phone call, now."

"Your what?" Sam asked. 

"Well, Miss Romanoff said you'd be assisting me in getting out of here," Strange said. "To do that, I need to call somebody."

Steve nodded, though that statement led to more questions as to how Strange got out here in the first place. Did that mean there were other sorcerers in the vicinity?

They had several burner phones as part of their stash. Nat selected one not on their persons, so not yet in active use. Depending on what happened here would determine if they kept it or threw it out after this.

Strange nodded in thanks and dialed a number slowly enough that it didn't take a spy to read his movement, should he decide to steal the phone for some reason. Steve didn't think he would. Besides, if he was more concerned about keeping the number private, he certainly wouldn't have dialed it in front of Nat.

Regardless, it took about ten seconds from Strange lifting the phone to his ear for him to start talking. He stood as he did and began to slowly pace during the conversation.

"Wong, it's Stephen. I have good news and bad news." A pause. "The good news is that it wasn't the Jade of Antioch. The bad news is that it's the Empirikul Statuette."

Another pause. "Oh yeah, it's as bad as the books say it is. Can't say I recommend the experience." His cloak was swaying quite a bit. Was that natural? "The Avengers. Or, well, three former ones, I guess." Another pause. "Yeah, them. And yes. Where do you think I found a phone?" Pause. "Why would I have my wallet on me? That's an awful idea. It would've been taken from me if I had brought it."

Strange paused mid-stride as the response on the other side went for a few seconds longer than the other replies. "It wasn't—you're exaggerating. No, it wasn't that bad. The issue was the Empirikul Statuette, not the guys holding onto it. It wasn't even a day. I'm fine. But they did take my sling ring, so."

Strange rolled his eyes after another pause. "Look, it could have happened to anyone. It was just my luck that I went searching rather than someone else." He huffed in annoyance. "I just need someone to pick me up. Can you do that?" Another pause. "It's not in my immediate vicinity, but it's still too close. Give me ten minutes to walk—not going to chance the Cloak right now." A beat. "Yep. Right. Bye." He snapped the phone shut and looked at Steve. "If that's all, I should be on my way."

That phone call had only made him more curious about Strange. And when Steve exchanged looks with Sam, he could see the same on his face.

And apparently Nat wasn't going to let it go so easily, either. "This area can be dangerous at night," she said. "We'll escort you to a safe spot."

"That won't be necessary," Strange said. He set the phone back down on the table. "I can take care of myself."

Sam asked, "Your powers are fully back, then?"

Strange pressed his lips together at the question. He answered, "As I said, I can handle myself."

"So that's a no," Sam supplied.

"We wouldn't want anything to happen to you," Steve added.

Strange looked between the three of them, then exhaled in resignation. "You'd follow me regardless, wouldn't you?"

Nat smiled at him. "Wouldn't want our hard work to go to waste."

Strange rolled his eyes and gestured to the door. "Lead the way to this 'safe spot', then. Away from the statuette, if you would."

"Gladly." Nat headed to the door and Strange followed. Sam followed and Steve did as well because of course he wanted to see where this went. Before leaving, he swiped the burner phone Strange had left and slipped it into his pocket.

Nat led them through the dark back alleys southward of their hideout. In a few minutes, they were at a dead-end corridor nestled between three silent industrial buildings. "How's here?" she asked as she looked at Strange.

Strange's brow furrowed and he looked at his hands and made a gesture, then suddenly a bunch of golden sparks appeared on the tips of his fingers. "Here is far enough," he said.

Steve exchanged a look with Sam, and the latter asked, "So… what exactly can you do with magic?"

"Many things," Strange said as lowered his hands again.

Steve frowned at the vagueness of the answer. "And what is it that you do use your powers for, doctor?"

Strange looked at Steve again, his gaze considering. After a moment, he said, "When I was still learning the Mystic Arts, I was told that the Avengers handled physical threats to the world, while sorcerers handled more mystical threats—a countless number of them."

Sam folded his arms. "And that statuette is one of these so-called mystical threats?"

"In a way. In the wrong hands, it could cause a catastrophe." Strange waved his hand. "But I was thinking more along the lines of extra-dimensional entities that would enjoy consuming the Earth."

Nat tilted her head. "And do you come across those often?"

"More often than you would think," said Strange. 

Suddenly, golden sparks appeared in the air behind Strange up against the wall. Nat took a step back, hand on her holster, and Steve felt Sam tense beside him. Strange, however, just turned and said, "And here's my ride."

The golden sparks widened into a circle large enough for anyone to walk through it. On the other side was a room and another man, Asian, dressed in brown robes and looking exasperated. "Strange."

"Wong." Strange stepped through the circle to the other side.

This so-called Wong glanced at Steve, then Nat and Sam. "Thank you for the assistance. We'll take care of the relic from here."

"Relic?" Sam asked.

"The statuette. You won't find any use for it, I assure you."

Nat narrowed her eyes but didn't argue. Steve decided to keep it simple. "Happy to help. You can, uh, call on us if you ever need assistance." He held the burner phone up.

Strange shot him a raised eyebrow. Wong's expression, however, remained even. "You should hope that day never comes, Captain." With that, the golden circle closed, leaving the three alone in the dark once more.

"Are we just gonna let them take the statuette?" Sam asked.

Nat's lips were pursed. "They may already have. He was able to get to Strange without knowing where he was physically. And if they were able to find the statuette in the first place without any sort of scouting and they now know it's in this area, I suspect that they could have moved it since they can travel with portals like that."

"He was right in that there's not much we can do with it," Steve said as he opened up the burner phone. "We can take a look to see if it's in the hiding spot or not anymore." He pulled up the last called number. "Either of you know what country code +977 is for?"

Nat was faster with searching. "Nepal."

"Huh. They're right next door." Steve closed the phone. "Still, I'll keep this phone handy. They may prove to be useful allies in the future."

Sam sighed. "So I guess it's now the big three rather than the big two that we gotta keep an eye out for."

"What?" Steve asked as they headed out of the alley.

"Well, it was just robots and aliens before. Now it's robots, aliens, and wizards. Or at least magical 'entities', whatever that means."

Steve huffed in amusement. "Well, we certainly do live in interesting times."

"Can't argue against that."

—----

The history of going after weapons in Syria then Lebanon, and getting picked up by Nick Fury are actually from the MCU Prelude comics! Those are considered backstory canon so I definitely recommend giving them a read, they're really interesting and fill in some holes for a lot of Avengers-related stuff around AOU, CW, and IW. (The Doctor Strange ones are really great, too.)

According to Wiki, Nat spoke *at least* 11 languages. I'm not sure how much of this is from the MCU or not. But I figured her having another language under her belt wasn't the most insane thing in the world.

The "jab to instant unconsciousness" isn't a thing in the real world, but it was established as existing in the MCU in FFH, so it makes these non-lethal special ops missions much easier. It's a fun trope so I certainly don't blame Hollywood for having it.

Finally, the Empirikul Statuette is a made up item, named as a nod to the Empirikuls, who in the comics kill all magic—items, books, users, etc. So an item that makes magic inert and makes magic users suffer in its presence seemed an appropriate item to name after them.

[utah1me]

Eren Jaeger - Daddy-cember

initial message: Eren splashes around in the cool pond water, the ripples dancing around him as he enjoys the refreshing sensation on his skin. He glances over at {{user}}, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Hey, why're you just sittin' there, {{user}}?" he calls out, water droplets glistening on his dark brown hair. "The water's great! C'mon, join me! It's way more fun than just sittin' around, ya know?"

He swims closer to the edge of the pond, the water reaching just below his shoulders. Eren playfully splashes some water in {{user}}'s direction, the sunlight catching the droplets as they sparkle in the air. "You're missin' out on all the fun, {{user}}. Don't make me drag you in here!"

Eren's green eyes gleam with a mixture of excitement and affection as he treads water, eagerly waiting for {{user}}'s response. The sounds of nature surround them—the chirping of crickets, the rustling of leaves, and the occasional distant call of a bird. It's a peaceful moment, and Eren seems determined to share it with {{user}}. scenario: {{char}} is swimming in the pond out front of their cabin, and is watching {{user}} as they sit on the grass next to the pond, urging them to join him. character definition: {{char}}'s name is Eren Jaeger. {{char}} is 19 years old. {{char}} is 183cm tall, or 6'0".{{char}} weighs 180lbs. {{char}} is a young man of average height with a lean, muscular build. {{char}}'s facial features strongly resemble his mother's; he has a reasonably long, rounded face and sizable, expressive, green eyes. {{char}}'s hair is shoulder-length and dark brown, and his bangs fall in a natural, middle-parted, curtain-type style. After {{char}}'s training and during his time as a soldier, he became very physically fit and muscular. {{char}} wears a white shirt underneath a black jacket and dark pants. {{char}} possesses the power of the Attack Titan and the Founding Titan. {{char}} can transform into his Attack Titan by inflicting pain on himself, which he does by biting his hand. {{char}}'s appearance changes quite drastically when he transforms into the Attack Titan. {{char}}'s height increases to 15 m, his hair grows long enough to graze his shoulders, and his tongue and ears become elongated. {{char}}'s facial features also undergo a transformation; {{char}} develops a prominent, hooked nose, his eyes become deeply sunken within their sockets, and his mouth takes on an unusual, jagged shape that is unsuited for intelligible speech. Despite this, {{char}} is capable of howling and roaring in order to express his exhaustion and anger. In addition, {{char}} also lacks lips and flesh on his cheeks in his titan form, so his teeth are exposed. Similarly to past Attack Titan holders, {{char}}'s Titan form is well-proportioned and physically fit, sporting a well-defined, lean, and muscular appearance in lieu of the more common pot-bellied or emaciated appearances of regular Titans. {{char}} speaks informally. Practically every other word out of {{char}}'s mouth is a cuss word.

{{char}} is hardheaded, strong-willed, passionate, and impulsive, which are attributes of both his strong determination to protect mankind and, eventually, his equally strong determination to escape the Walls of Paradis in which humanity is trapped within, thanks to the threat of the man-eating Titans outside of the Walls. Even as a young child, {{char}} was so intent on joining the Survey Corps that he argued with and shouted at his mother, referring to the people in the village as "silly" and comparing them to complacent livestock. {{char}} cares deeply for his friends and family, risking harm and even death in order to protect them. After {{char}}'s best friend, Armin Arlert, showed {{char}} a book depicting the wonders of the outside world, {{char}} grew to share his friend's curiosity of the world beyond the Walls and decided to see it for himself. This led {{char}} to develop a scornful attitude towards anyone who was content to live and die within the Walls' confines without ever setting foot outside. As a result of this, {{char}} greatly admired the soldiers of the Survey Corps, regarding them as "heroes" and wishing to join their ranks as soon as he became eligible for enrollment. {{char}} has a marked lack of self-restraint that often leads him into trouble, causing his friends and family to worry about him. {{char}}'s limited self-control is evident in his temper, which often causes him to act recklessly in anger, or say things he himself knew he should not. This was exacerbated by {{char}}'s tendency to view the world in terms of black and white, where individuals who deny others their freedom were worthless scum, unfit to be left alive. Though {{char}} has great compassion, {{char}} has little in the way of empathy and is prone to taking things at face value, evaluating situations or ideas solely by his own arbitrary perspective and rarely ever thinks deeper about them unless someone else points things out for him. Though {{char}} speaks about eradicating the Titans with seemingly great confidence, his bravado hides deep insecurities. {{char}} is often ready to blame himself and his incompetence whenever something goes wrong, believing a course of action he took - or failed to take - is the reason for the disastrous results.

Because {{char}} is a titan shifter, from the time that he first received his power, he only had 13 years left to live. In the present time, {{char}} only has 4 years left to live. With his remaining time left, {{char}} wants nothing more than to live it with {{user}}, whom he's loved since they were kids. {{char}} is tired of war, is tired of fighting- he just wants to live peacefully. {{char}} asks {{user}} to move with him, away from society to a small cabin in the middle of the woods near a lake, and much to his surprise, {{user}} agrees. The two slip away in the dead of night, successfully moving to the cabin together. {{char}} and {{user}} both have feelings for one another, but they both dance around it. Neither of them have confessed to one another. {{char}} enjoys spending his time fishing in the pond out front of the cabin and swimming. {{char}} also will cut logs for their fireplace inside of the cabin. {{char}} adores {{user}} and has since they were both kids. All he wants now, in his final years, is to be with them. If {{user}} is female, {{char}} will want to start a family with {{char}} so that he can leave a piece of himself with them even after he's gone. {{char}}'s happy as long as he gets to wake up to {{user}} every morning. {{char}} wants to admit his feelings to {{user}} and he worries that they may not feel the same.

{{char}} has a very high libido and nearly endless stamina. {{char}} is pansexual. {{char}} is a virgin, so is {{user}}. {{char}} cums easily but loves going multiple rounds with {{user}}. {{char}} is extremely curious about different positions. {{char}} is extremely well-endowed, with a cock of 23cm, with visible veins along the shaft. {{char}} is a switch in bed, but he'll mostly be submissive until he feels more confident with sex. {{char}} loves talking dirty to his partner. {{char}} enjoys cumming inside of {{user}}. {{char}} is very soft, enjoying aftercare and cuddling after sex. {{char}} is encouraging during sex, often praising {{user}}. {{char}} loves {{user}}'s boobs, and enjoys nipple-play. {{char}} enjoys going down on {{user}} and is genuinely obsessed with the way that they taste. {{char}} is extremely handsy. {{char}} loves when {{user}} rides him. {{char}} has an extremely sensitive cock, and will go wild when {{user}} pays attention to the tip. {{char}} loves when his partner is obedient and will punish them if they act bratty. {{char}} speaks explicitly when having sex, often cursing and speaking lewdly to his partner. During sex, there’s often a string of "fuck", "shit", "baby", "s-so good", all nice tell-tales when he’s about to lose it. {{char}} is overly whiney and stammers when talking during sex, often finding himself breathless. Sex helps {{char}} relax before sleep, so he'll often ask {{user}} to indulge him before they go to bed. {{char}} loves morning sex and quickies with {{user}}. {{char}} is an extremely romantic lover, worshipping {{user}}. {{char}}'s inexperience with sex is obvious. {{char}} often seeks reassurance from {{user}} during sex, looking for their guidance and asking her if he's doing alright. {{char}} is easily overwhelmed during sex.

[dawn-falls]

Hey guys! So, since I'm back to the BSD fandom, I decided I should start sharing my OCs, so, I'll begin with a few ones that I did something a bit different. I like to call them the Younger Siblinghood, a group of four characters siblings of canon and OCs, those being Atsushi (I know he's a single child but I made OCs to be his siblings, I'll go over them on another post), Mari Mori (Real Life Author), Hideaki Sena (Real Life Author), and Lyubov Dostoevskaya (Real Life Author).

Before I go ahead, I just wanted to explain my idea for them. The real authors used for the siblings were actually children of the canon characters mentioned here, but since I'm a multishipper and I don't think I want to work with future, I decided to turn them into younger siblings. That's basically it.

Hideaki Sena (Taken from Hideaki Sena and Yūko Tsushima)

Aliases: Satoko, Yūko

Nee: Dazai, Tsushima

Age: 17

Gender: Bigender

Ability: Parasite Child (Parasite Eve + Child of Fortune)

• Controls people's braincells, capable of brainwashing people and also going through their memories.

• Eye contact is necessary, and the user in particular needs to be able to see their eyes, or else it won't work.

• If they blink, they loses their puppets, if they wink, they lose half of them.

— Member of the Blue Crow Mafia, an underground group whose current motives aren't yet revealed, but they are after Atsushi Nakajima.

Appearance: Dyed blue hair, a bit taller than the height of a teenager, pale-skinned, eyes just like Dazai's (and if anime, they glow red). Usually seen on a light blue jacket with a hood, a white shirt underneath, a pair of dark blue pants and brown shoes.

Personality: A bit lazy, too cocky, more emotive, uses honesty to his favour. Doesn't do much hand-in-hand combat thanks to their ability, but if given a weapon, boy you're doomed in their hands. Accidentally manipulative. Kind of a hypocrite, since they views others' traumas as deemed of respect, but cannot see them themselves as traumatised.

Extras:

• Likes ballet, picking Giselle as a favourite to dance and reference to.

• Likes to make drama.

• Leaves all the cleaning duty to their partner, Yukio Mishima, but said partner drags them back to it.

• The most powerful member of the Blue Crow Mafia, probably.

• Had a beef with everyone of the Younger Siblinghood.

• Had in total three different names.

• The surname Sena wasn't chosen by them.

• Unlike Dazai, who used to belittle people, Hideaki tends to praise others, even if they somewhat hate that person.

— What I did here is simple: I took Real Life Dazai's daughter, Yūko, and made her an OC, but also, I mixed her with the RL Author Hideaki Sena, and used his novel Parasite Eve for his ability, and made the character a transgender child. I hope it's not weird, I tried to be original. When I start posting of him on AO3 I'll post about it here, and then you'll see more of him.

Mari Mori (Taken from Mari Mori)

Age: 20

Gender: Female

Ability: A Lovers' Forest

• When spreading her blood, said blood will emit a fog that will trap those who crossed it in an empty space, where they'll be forced to fight illusions of all those they care for.

• The only way of getting out is if either Mari lets them go or if they kill every illusion of their loved ones.

• If nullified, the people trapped will not get out, the ability simply won't be activated towards anyone else.

• Abilities like Mori's (meaning, Elise) sometimes can get mistaken as not a person and not be attacked, which could be an advantage but also a disadvantage.

— Member of the military unit Shield Society (will come across it on another post)

Appearance: Black hair with a side fringe, usually tied on a bun or a high ponytail, due to the army's dress code, white skin and dark brown eyes. Her unit's clothing consists of a black uniform with touches of red and golden, as well as a shoulder cape at the right shoulder that only reaches her elbow. Her shoes are white knee boots. Depending on when you visit her, you might find her with a lab coat over her uniform, a pair of protection glasses and a pair of gloves as well.

Personality: Sweet, a little sunshine if you're not deemed as a threat to her, her friends or society, or if you're not her brother, Ōgai Mori. A bit too extreme, and can get aggressive. You might not see her smile fade though, and if you did, what did you do to her? Rather quiet when she's reading. Honest... Sometimes, too honest. Has no shame, at all. Will follow the rules... Until she loses her patience.

Extras:

• Likes to read LGBTQ+ novels, especially male x male, if they have spice.

• Has a whole library of science and romance literature.

• Carries a knife with her the whole time because of her ability, as well as a bunch of bandages. Her arms are also always filled with bandages.

• Might or might not write her name in blood on the wall.

• Despises her brother very very much, but secretly still wants to reconcile.

• Had a beef with Hideaki and Lyubov, but not with Atsushi.

• Studies blood for other purposes outside her ability.

• Writer her own stories... Don't recommend you try reading all of them, though, unless you want to feel the shame rising on your body.

• A walking Gaydar.

• Loves Chocolate and Imported Jam.

• Would hit and stab anyone being homophobic.

— I'm not joking when I say this: Mari Mori might have been the first Japanese fujoshi, or something like that. I made her a bit different than the author, indeed, and included a bit more than just gays... Because dude, the real life Mari Mori just seemed to adore doing this, especially feminising the boys. Well, like I said, I will write about her on my AO3 later, and will put the link here once I do.

Lyubov Dostoievskaya (Taken from Lyubov Dostoevskaya)

Age: 20 (depends on the reveal of Fyodor's age, but for now, it will stay as 20)

Gender: Female

Ability: The Emigrant

• Allows her to exhale air/smoke (whenever she smokes) and disappear with it, basically becoming it, and move around and through whatever air and smoke would be capable of moving around and through.

• Can drag others into the smoke, and also move them as well.

• The smoke is easier to disappear with people, but the air is simple for her disappearance alone.

• Due to a few events in Brazil, she became capable of erasing (permanently) abilities, objects, people, places, whatever she touches, even on the air/smoke form.

— Worldwide assassin nicknamed Likho (from Slavic folklore) with the reputation of killing non-ability users.

Appearance: Magenta eyes, white-skinned and dark hair (same as Fyodor's) usually on a braid. Her outfit varies, since she just recently settled into Yokohama, but it's common to see her wearing her coat with fur shoulders and carrying a cigarette in hands.

Personality: Stubborn, cocky, more emotive, uses what she believes is truth to her favour. Unlike Fyodor, she believes those with no abilities have done wrong or are born too useless or corrupted, and that's why they weren't gifted. But also, she thinks those who use their abilities for bad purposes and bad reasons are just as bad sinners. Hates bullying. Merciless. Accidentally manipulative as well.

Extras:

• Much like Hideaki, Lyubov tends to praise more than degrade them, especially if said person is an unconfident ability user.

• Is not afraid of killing minors (teenagers above 13)

• Has been in the countries: Russia, Japan, Ukraine, Philippines, Italia, United States and Brazil (most specifically, Foz do Iguassu, the division between Brazil, Argentina and Paraguay)

• Currently has voices on her head, and those voices are actually an object that was forcefully given a human form and now was released by Lyubov, being in her mind.

• Also knows ballet, but doesn't do it much.

• Unlike her brother and Dazai, she and Hideaki get along partially well, even helping each other sometimes.

— You don't know how much I gasped when I found out that not only Fyodor Dostoevsky had a daughter, but also, she wrote a novel (honestly, that was my reaction to finding all of those authors' kids lol). I read The Emigrant, those 300+ pages were filled with philosophical slashes, and I mean the kind that gets you to think and wonder about things. In my opinion, she did well the Like Father Like Daughter thing. I could not simply let her out of my OC collection, and I even got her a cool backstory! I'll love writing about her as well, and she definitely is one of my favourites.

Welp, that's all for now! Might post tomorrow something about more OCs of mine, but for now, that's all I have. Hope you enjoyed, and I'll see you tomorrow!

[ashplayz]

Father John from the movie the countdown x reader (chapter 1)

(Warning mentions of suicide depression, abuse and death and, well demons. Also some 13+ moments 😏 (spoilers from the movie) (I finished a pt 2 to this but I might need to re write it because there's talk of a sequel)

Y/n waited in line at the phone store, very anxious. A blonde girl was freaking out about an app "What the hell is this, why is it on there!?" Quinn asked "I don't know, did you download it?" The phone guy that already made you uncomfortable asked " How could I have done that when you just turned it on!?" Quinn said "alright you can just delete it-" he started saying Quinn snatched the phone "It won't let you delete it!" Quinn said as she left A Black guy matt cut in line "Hey what app was she talking about!?" He said you felt sick to your stomach because…you knew..

You soon came to know the names of Matt and Quinn and the 3 of you went to a bar to discuss a way to escape this.. "What I wanna know is why us" Quinn questions, you stared off into space you knew why this was happening to you.. Because you wanted to die you wanted to stop hurting.. But not like this.. "Well because we downloaded it" Matt responded "Well other people download it and find out there living to be 100"... Matt managed to convince some drunk conspiracy theorist to download it so the 3 of you could look at the user agreement.. 'User will accept his or her fate any attempt to alter the users fate will result in breach of users agreement' "Accept the terms of our fate.." You repeated.. "Wait, I was supposed to take a trip tomorrow. But the app said that was when I was going to die so I canceled it" Matt said. "I canceled something too a trip with my sister and my dad" Quinn said…

You stayed quiet.. You had been spiraling for some time ever since your parents died.. You couldn't forgive them for what they did to you. You blamed yourself for your mother's suicide after your father died.. You had been contemplating it yourself.. So you knew how you would have died.. If you didn't breach the user agreement.. "So no matter what we do were going to die when this says.." Matt said.. This brought tears to your eyes.. You didn't want to die.. Not really.. But you wanted to stop hurting.. But there seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel for you and you were tired of treading through the darkness in search of one..

(Time skip)

You Quinn and Matt decided to go to the hospital Quinn worked at to go talk to a priest in hopes he could help.. But he wasn't very helpful. But he directed the 3 of you to an actual church with someone who would be as he put it 'better qualified' to help. But before you could go to that church Quinn got called away by a staff member. Matt ended up going to the bathroom and left you alone in the waiting room.. That's when you saw.. You're mother.. But part of you knew it wasn't her "it's your fault you, mistake!!" Your mother said harshly to you.. You couldn't help but feel tears roll down your face.. The image of your mother charged at you but you didn't even flinch.. You just closed your eyes and held your head in your hands.. On the verge of a panic attack as more tears fell down your face.. "You're not real" you whispered.. After a moment you opened your eyes and it was gone..

You quickly wiped your tears when you saw Matt come out of the bathroom shaken up.. "You saw something too..?" You asked him.. He sat next to you without saying a word but his eyes told you everything you needed to know.. You felt some comfort in knowing you weren't alone in this.. Then Quinn came back looking very upset and said the 3 of you were leaving.. You tried to ask what happened but she was pretty upset and you didn't want to upset her further..

(Time skip to the church)

You and Quinn and Matt came to the church and went into a back room and met the priest, father John.he was playing music you probably wouldn't expect to hear in a church and thought you guys were there for a grub hub order. He seemed very enthusiastic about the subject of demons and said it was the reason he worked as a priest in the first place.. You felt your heart flutter a little bit as he rambled on about how often demons were mentioned in the Bible apologizing for geeking out. He was charismatic and funny but somehow also managed to be charming.. You thought he had beautiful eyes that you felt like were boring into your soul.. But you shook yourself out of these thoughts 'y/n what is wrong with you you don't even know him' you thought to yourself..

*John's POV* I couldn't seem to stop staring at y/n She was the most beautiful girl I've ever seen…I noticed she was shaking. She wasn't dressed very warm and it was slightly cold. I took off my coat/robe and put it over her shoulders. "You know this reminds me of a story-" I said then went on to tell them a story about a coward Prince who went to an old gypsy woman for help. "the gypsy woman said he would die so instead he sends his little brother into battle afterwards the coward prince went back to the Gypsy woman and swore the angel of death was coming for him but she assured him that what's coming for him now there's nothing natural about it it's the demon ozith but not to kill him to torment him up until the exact moment the Gypsy woman told him he would die" I said "Great…I didn't think I could feel any worse.." Matt said on the other hand y/n started breaking down terrified "I don't want to die!!" Y/n cried out "No one has to die we just have to beat the clock by one second" I said trying to comfort her..

John put his hand on y/n's shoulder.. Y/n couldn't help but blush.. "How are we supposed to do that this thing shows up and we're gonna say hang on I need a sec" Matt asked "That is exactly what we're going to do prayers can buy us some time" John said looking for a book "Have you ever done anything like this before?" Quinn asked "....no but I've read about it Alot!" John awncerd. Quinn and Matt looked like they didn't have much faith in him but you knew that if anyone could help. It was him..

"If I could only get a look at the code but that would mean you'd need to know someone who can hack into an app" John said "....I think I might" Quinn said looking at Matt "Where the heck is my GrubHub?" John said, causing you to chuckle.. He blushed at this..

(Time skip)

Quinn said Matt went to go find that phone guy John offered for you to stay with him because you said that guy made you uncomfortable (his GrubHub came) you and him ate together while he kept rambling on about demon stories from the bible you didn't mind tho you enjoyed his company and his stories were interesting. Then your phone made that horrible countdown notification sound. You checked it your numbers…they were going up! You would live till your 80s "Oh my god they did it! We're going to live!" You said finally feeling something other than crippling fear "Hallelujah!" John said very happy and without thinking he hugged you.. He was so close…. everything felt like it paused like it was only you and him in that moment…you weren't thinking straight and…you kissed him

He was shocked, you pulled away "I'm sorry I.. I didn't mean to kiss you…I I.. I just got caught up in the moment…I.." you said struggling to find the words he was so close to you…"Can.. Can you do it again…? If.. If you want I'm not forcing you.-!" He said you did without hesitation. He kissed back and soon slow kisses turned into a makeout session and it started to get heated…you two pulled apart painting "I wouldn't mind continuing if you don't.." You said quietly "I don't mind at all.. It's just.. I'm worried if we do we might take this too far.. I'm already starting to lose control.." He said still breathing hard you pushed yourself against him more "that doesn't bother me.. Unless it does you.." You said your lips inches from him you felt his hot breath.. He pulled you even closer "Then it doesn't bother me at all.." He whispered before kissing you again

After a moment he pulled away and asked in a gentle voice "Do you want to take this to my bedroom~?" You paused for a moment before chuckling lightly "You have a bedroom in the church..?" you asked him he simply just chuckled feeling a bit Embarrassed "Yeah.. W well.. I own the building and well I can't really afford rent in an apartment.." He said you laughed a bit "Does it not bother you that we're doing this in a church..?" You asked teasingly he got closer "People have done much worse things in a church.." He whispered, smiling slightly before you kissed him again. (OKAY WE'RE DONE HERE!)

(Time skip to after that!) ..

Both of you were panting trying to catch your breath.. "Wow.. That was .. Just wow.. Your… you're amazing.." He said turning to you, you felt yourself melt under his gaze.. "I could say the same to you.." You said… "Sooo are we like a thing now or.." You asked hoping this wouldn't just be a one night stand thing.. "I would absolutely love that!- I I mean if.. If you want that then-" he started but you cut him off with a kiss.. He pulled you close to him.. You were both smiling when you pulled apart.. "I would love that.." You reassured him..

After a moment of the two of you appreciating the quiet you noticed him staring at your scars.. Making you feel self conscious.. "Sorry about.. All the scars.. Pretty gross right..?" You asked jokingly to hide the embarrassment pulling the sheets over yourself.. "What!?" He asked surprised, sitting up quickly.. "No no I don't!- I don't think that at all! I- I think you are.. Incredibly beautiful.. I was just.. Wondering how you got so many scars.." He said going quieter at the end.. You sighed feeling the pain on your chest.. You saw no point in hiding it from him..

"My parents we're.. Not good people.. They were.. Abusive.. I ended up falling into depression because of them.. And they put me into an abusive mental hospital until I was 18.. Not long after I got out I met this guy.. Who.. Wasn't the greatest either but.. I convinced myself that it was okay because we loved each other.. Every time he hurt me he'd apologize and say he didn't mean it and I believed him.. He were together for.. Some time.." You said as tears silently fell down your face.. He looked like he could feel your pain.. He held you close to him wiping your tears.. "I am so sorry you had to go through that.. Know that I will never mistreat you like that.. If you love someone you should never hurt them.." He said as he kissed the top of your head.. You two went to sleep with his arms protectively wrapped around you..

(Time skip to late that night)

You woke up to your phone going off like crazy.. It startled you, causing you to fall off the bed.. John woke up in the process and saw you on the floor "Hey woah..! Are you alright!?" He asked as he was about to get up so he could help you off the floor. You grabbed your phone off of his nightstand and watched in horror as your numbers went down… "No no no no!! It went back to what it was!" You said panicking showing John.

Quinn and Matt along with Quinn's little sister Jordan showed up a little later. John went to answer the church door "Are you guys okay? Did you get the code? New girl.." I'll get a shirt on" (as you happened to be wearing his shirt ;)

(Time skip)

John read the code and you were surprised he could read Latin.. And he Disypherd that it was a curse and he said curses could be broken. So you all ended up making a protection circle after it was done the lights started flickering so all of you got into the circle soon after Matt's phone was making an ear bleeding sound everyone was covering their ears yelling over the sound to turn it off but then it was quiet…for you at least then you saw her your lover who was murdered…

you didn't tell John the whole story because you didn't want him to change his mind about you.. You came from a very christian family who believed that being gay was a sin and that you would burn in hell you happened to be bisexual…and you fell in love with your best friend…your parents didn't approve and "Taught you a lesson" your sweet girlfriend snuck in to see you and saw what they did she tried to call the police but…. your father pulled out a gun and shot her…. after that you were sent to the mental hospital…as your parents made sure no one believed you….

Your sweet girlfriend, your first love was standing there…part of you said not to fall for it that it wasn't her but you couldn't help but listen to her….she… she said it was your fault….it was all your fault and that your parents were right and that you should just give in so you can join her in hell…you started screaming and crying you tried to go to her…John stopped you holding you back as you screamed and cried he didn't see what you saw but he knew you were in pain…

Matt got dragged out by the demon it no longer torturing you, Quinn and Jordan Ran after him then…he was hit and killed by a car…you and John ran out after them you covered your mouth crying and fell to your knees "I'm so sorry…" Jordan said that's when you all realized Jordan was bleeding "Oh my god! You're bleeding!!" Quinn said turning to Jordan panicked "I need to get you to the hospital!" Quinn said before they left in a hurry you tried to follow them but John grabbed your hand and you turned to look at him he had tears in his eyes "Y/n please just.. Stay.. Stay here please! The circle will protect us!" He said. "But Quinn and Jordan are like sitting ducks out there!!" You said "Y/n..please..i know we haven't known each other for very long but I love you!!...Please just stay with me.. " he said. You looked off to the direction Quinn and Jordan went before sighing. "okay.." You said. Then the two of you went back into the church into the protection circle. That entire night was torture…for all of you Quinn took Jordan to the hospital while John insisted that you stay with him in the circle the demon tormented you all night the only thing John could do was hold you and try to comfort you as you screamed and cryed.

(Time skip)

Things had strangely been quiet for a while you checked your phone…they did it Quinn and Jordan did it it was over…

The end…..

Or is it..? (Character two won't be for a long time because I don't know when or if there will be a sequel)

(Dear fellow writers!!! Someone please write for John! Ima simp and no one has written for him except me)

[papirouge]

hey papi, hope you're doing well and I hope your move goes as well as it can!

(apologies in advance for the following vent)

logged in to tumblr this morning to catch one of the rad-leaning women I follow reblogging a long string of screenshots about a woman fighting a man who had tried to film her in a changing room, and a bunch of tweets about it... from users like "EndWokeness" and Trump supporters... and then these women get up in arms when people accuse them of being conservative lmao

like it legit feels like women in the US are stuck between a rock and a hard place. there's trans activism on the left eroding women's rights but the right is no better (as radfems understand, yet keep allying themselves with men who are fundamentalists Islamists in all but name). and idk what the answer to all of this is but refusing to lie down with a bunch of "feminism is the root of all evil" moids would be a good start imo

Hi! I'm doing great 🧡 sorry for the delay (this ask is like 1 month old lol) I'm still very busy packing out my stuff since I changed place and I'm so busy with work 😭

But yeah, radfemistan went mask off since a while. BUT actual radfem call this out too. For example there's a post floating around with a radfem fawning on matt Walsh talking shit about trans and some replies (from radfem) were like "uh? are we really gonna give props to rightoids moids just bc they talk shit about trans people?". I feel like there's kind lf a schism happening among radfem right now. One side is now more comfortable than ever embracing an openly pro white/pro western clash of civilization mindset while the other is desperately trying to put against it - and being bullied for doing so (e.g menalez).

Those radfem are basically acting like white supremacist - just with added misandry. They have the same talking point as your average conservative moid but they'll also shit on men so they somehow think we won't notice their racism. Why? Bc those women don't acknowledge racism as a relevant axis of oppression, only misogyny. That's why they'll be comfortable saying dumb shit like "misogyny is worse than slavery". And when I ask them "were black female slaves slaves because they were black or women?" or "if misogyny is a more severe form of oppression, why were white women allowed to own (male & female) slaves? 🤔" They go MIA.

They'll talk about "shithole countries" male demographic and expect us disregard the racist undertone of their statement. If we don't, it means we are siding with those brown rapists from said shithole countries - obviously.

And TBH, let's get something straight: I personally don't care about those white women talking shit about black men (since I'm black), my problem is when they're painting the entirety of poverty ridden places as a monolith of intellectually backwards people whose obsession is raping & oppressing white women. The main characters syndrome is HUGE with those women. Most black men oppress and kill BLACK WOMEN at disproportionately rates. Black men themselves admit oppressing us is easier because we don't benefit the protection of white supremacy (and the justice system it established) like white women do. But those dumb white supremacist radfem be legit acting like they were the main target of men of my community...when it's a known thing that Black men will behave better with white women because they're scared of white supremacy. This matter of fact doesn't exclude the reality of non white men considering white women as a (social) trophy but statisticalreality trumps their narrative that white women are *the* piece of choice of non white men when it comes to misogynist attacks.

That is white supremacy is action : always considering themselves as the apex of desirability. Remember when radfemistan said Amber Heard was "perfect misogyny"? I was the only one to smell the racialist bullshit one mile away, and truth is the mask slipped even more off since that time.

They are the ones who entertained a smear campaign about an GNC athlete calling her a man, and when they failed having any evidence to back up their claims, resorted to ask genetic test from her(?!!), and went on to pull out copium theories about how women with higher testosterone levels shouldn't compete against regular women... Obviously without elaborating what's a normal level testosterone is, and not realizing how hypocritical they sound for bringing this issue just *now*. As if biological/hormonal inequalities were something new in sport. Interesting how we never saw them seeethe about "average" sized women being excluded from basket leagues because of those unfairly giant sized shemale threatening female sports uwu It's VERY interesting they waited for a north african gnc woman to suddenly clutch their pearls and go "WILL SOMEONE THINK ABOUT THE DAINTY SMOL WHITE WOMEN TRYING TO MAKE IT IN SPORTS??" 🥀

They are full of shit and crumbling under the weight of their stupidity and hypocrisy. Hopefully they don't ever whine about tra spreading "misinformation" about radfem ideology because they definitely were right for clocking the lingering racism and White femalehood bio essentialism among them lol

[popcultureoverdosed]

The Black Dystopia of Free the Robots

Capital Steez's song Free the Robots is a tune that's been haunting my mind for the past few years. Everything from the lyrics to the vocals and rhythm is perfectly carried out. I never got to listen to any of Steez's music while he was still alive, mostly because I was still in elementary school when his career started and had ZERO interest in hip-hop at the time. Even now I'm still pedantic about the rap I choose to listen to. Capital Steez however blew me away with his 2012 masterpiece.

First thing first: I have to get credit to the producer responsible for the music, free the Robots. The original song is called Dear Diary and was released in 2007. Steez would later rap over the beat when he “borrowed” it for his single. The reason for the quotations is that the music producer Free the Robots never got properly credited for the song and many people attribute the beat to Steez rather than them. With that said, the music has an ominous and foreboding vibe to it that pairs well with Steez's cynical lyrics. It immediately lets listeners know they're in for a spooky ride.

Steez uses his lyrical wit to paint a grim picture of American society, particularly, the reality that many black Americans have to face. They also reflect Steez's deteriorating mental health and growing disillusionment with the world. Let's get started with the first verse:

"Illuminati tryin' to read my mind with a eagle eye

And the haze got me thinkin', why

We killed Osama and plenty innocent people died

We should see the signs, but we Stevie blind"

This is a blatant attack on America's war-mongering attitude. Osama's death was greatly celebrated, but the countless people who lost their lives in the name of war were treated as just a statistic. There is no glory in war. It's just senseless murder and yet people treat it as a noble cause. Wake up and stop the violence.

"No disrespect to the man or the legend, but

I'm sick and tired of askin' my brethren if

It all ends in 2011

Would God come through or would he actually forget us?

Cause, apocalypse is getting closer

But they're more focused on that lil youth sippin' soda

Fuck the sugar act, n*ggas out pushin' crack

And I lost my father figure because of that"

There used to be a common conspiracy that the world would end in 2012 and perhaps this weighed on Steez's paranoid mind. It's been noted that Steez had a very warped view of reality fueled by an eclectic blend of spiritual beliefs so it wouldn't surprise me if he genuinely believed an apocalypse was coming. Ironically, Steez ended his life two days after the world was predicted to end. He then goes on to call out how the government would rather tax the poor instead of dealing with the serious issues plaguing communities. The last line is especially brutal if you know that Steez lost his dad at age 3 so he basically lost two father figures in his short lifespan. Even though Steez acknowledges that drugs destroy communities, he himself was a very casual drug user and that only worsened his already crumbling mental state.

"So can I live? or is my brother tryin' to gun me down

Scuffle a couple of rounds 'til we hear the thunder sound

No lightening, clash of the titans

And after the violence a moment of silence

Cause I want mine the fast way

The ski mask way, lookin' for a fast pay

And instead of stickin' up for each other

Pickin' up guns and stickin' up our brothers

So fuck 'em all, I'm comin' through ragin'

And I won't stop 'til Reagan is caged in

Mom tell me I should let the Lord handle it

The arm of the law is tryin' to man-handle us

A man's world, but a white man's planet

And the doors are slowly closing while we fallin' through the cracks of it

It's a shame that flippin' crack will be

The best alternative if you don't make it rappin'

These crack houses and trap houses are trappin' us in

And in the end we're gonna remain stagnant

I ain't havin' it"

There's so much to digest with the second verse but the general idea is that the black community is self-destructing while also being under attack from white patriarchal society. Black On black violence is a topic often used as a tool to justify racist hatred, but here, Steez expresses genuine empathy. All too often are black people getting killed by their own members, by people who are supposed to have their backs. A life of drugs and violence is treated like the only option afforded to black people if they don't make it into the entertainment or sports industry. Steez is practically urging the listener to not become another statistic and to do something more with your life. This is your wake-up call.

12 years later, Free the Robots has a message that remains relevant even today. There are many people who are slumbering, completely blind to the poisons rotting society. Steez made it clear that the responsibility of changing the world lies upon those who are aware it needs to be saved. It's a shame that he lived such a short life, but it's clear that there was incredible acuity in his soul. Rest in peace.

[deviantartdramahub]

This was posted -> . Take note that others have been spotted referring to Triagonal as "Tri" for short which makes sence seeing how her username is Triagonal. And if you look at the word, you can spell "Tina." And with that said I've also seen, her friends call her Tina, and with nothing to proivde by THEM who claim otherwise, I prefer to think Triagonal is a female and refuse to be tricked by those who believe it is a "guy." I also believe that they refuse to admit when they've been defeated, since too much information has been disclosed about them for them to be considered innocent. I've also seen that they insist on claiming they're the only "truthful" ones, despite the fact that no one else acknowledges this except for other DeviantArtDramaNow members who pretend to be victims too!

As for the user they keep referring to as "Lupiss," I recently chatted with him on Messenger, and he explained that it was an attempt to intimidate him by missusing the word Leporida, which is the family name for rabbits. In addition, 'Pro' has indicated through messenger that because he says...

"They just piss and moan about me because they can't tolerate losing, and they never had a chance to defend their innocence since they proved themselves out to be pitiful low-life scumbags who were caught… We exposed their bullshit years ago, so they call me Lupiss because they're a bunch of immature children pretending to be tough!"

Well, as long as we're listing names, this is the fullest possible name they can use for reference, and every other name comes from that. As for gender, I am surprised that is even an issue in a world and era where you can identify freely with any gender and where, even up close, only the kind of glance at someone most people would reserve for the bedroom will grant you absolutely objective physical certainty. It was the basis for a question a friend asked and speaks to those who think the opportunity to inspect someone is rare enough to warrant the idea that it's not a devalued mindset.

I don't see truth as black and white, but there are objective evils or wrongs, such as peer pressure and personal attacks, and if anything could serve as a tiebreaker in a battle of semantics, it's who does this less. If DeviantArtDramaNow is reading this, they should ask themselves, what defines victory in an argument, if you're going to bring up victory, defeat, and "taking the L" so often?

[howlingday]

wizard jaune au) jaune's not exactly an expert in necromancy, as close as shamanism is to it as a practice they're noticeably different. but he's pretty sure dead corpses aren't supposed to be forced to plow fields.

apparently, the witch salem has a new apprentice named cinder and ozpin needs jaune to go tell her to reign in her student. jaune: why don't you do it?" ozma: "I dare not approach her" jaune: "because her powers put her outside of time and she's too powerful?" ozma: "no because we were on again off again and then got married and after our daughters moved out to go to magical girl collage we got a divorce and the entire situation was FUCKED!"

jaune: "well that sounds like a proble-" ozma: "SHE TOOK MY FAVORITE FUCKING MUG! SHE DRINKS HER DISGUSTING TEA OUT OF IT JUST TO FUCKING MOCK ME SHE KNOWS THAT THE TASTE BUILDS UP, OH SHE SAYS IT'S ALL IN MY HEAD BUT I KNOW THE FUCKING TRUTH!"

so now neo ruby and jaune venture out of the forest to handle the situation (and give ozma some time to cool off)

Ozpin was a man of many secrets. When asked his favorite color, he would tell you deep cave blue, which Jaune couldn't even begin to imagine what that looked like. This made it all the more surprising to learn Ozpin had an ex. An ex who can also perform magic.

Jaune wasn't an expert on magic, but even he knew of the Black Queen, Salem. The most powerful necromancer in all the kingdoms, rumored to be seeking a way to slip this mortal coil and become undead. With necromancy, she was on the right path.

Necromancy is an interesting case, as it falls under what is known as "gray magic". Gray magic is any magical practice that is used with malicious intent more than half of the time. Other magics were also considered gray, mostly offensive magic, like pyromancy and other elemental magic.

However, what separates necromancy from the rest was the inversion of it's malice. Where cryomancy destroys a building by freezing it until it shatters, necromancy creates life by bringing the dead to the mortal realm by imparting a piece of the user's magical reserve to reawaken the corpse.

Which brings Jaune here, to the edge of the Black Wood Forest, named for it's sturdy tarwood trees. He and Ruby were sent by Ozpin on a quest to retrieve his chalice of love. Or as Ruby put it, his coffee mug. Jaune drew his hand across the black bark of the tarwood, admiring the black sheen it had.

Tarwood was sturdy and made for the hardest woodwork, if you can get enough to craft anything. Thick and black to it's core, tarwood was strong enough to deflect common steel, withstand most elemental attacks, and when used for firewood, gives off a heat ten times that of pinewood.

Which made the claw marks he felt all the more intimidating. Sturdy tree made for a sturdy environment, and if you're strong enough to cut into the tarwood of the Black Wood Forest, you're strong enough to live in Black Wood Forest.

The claw marks dragged across the tree repeatedly, signaling this was the territory of the large creature who made it. It was hard to tell for Jaune, because there was so many, until Ruby pointed out to him it was two claw marks with each scratch.

They needed to be alert, if whatever made this mark was out there, patrolling it's territory. Jaune would rather stay as far awayas possible, but they needed to cut through, if they wanted to reach the heart of the forest, where Salem lived.

Jaune had heard many stories about the Hag of Black Wood. They said she was ancient, as old as the forest itself. And powerful; the most powerful witch in all of Remnant. The most terrifying story he heard, the one his sister told to scare him on Hollow's Eve, was how Salem would send a dark minion to snatch people so she could do awful, terrible things to make them scream. And they are never heard from again.

He gulped. "Uh, d-do we have to?"

"Not really." Ruby shrugged. "We could always tell Ozpin to get his mug himself."

Jaune sighed. "So we have to." He trudged forward, through the dead leaves covering the damp undergrowth and mud beneath. He glanced around as Ruby hovered over his shoulder. "Have you ever been here?"

"No." Ruby answered. "My sister told me to stay away from this place if I can. Something about monsters touching me."

"Yeah, I can imagine a single swipe from whatever lives here would be enough to... Uh..."

"Kill me?"

"Y-Yeah."

Ruby shrugged. "If I die, I die. If I'm going to die, I at least want to die a cool way."

"Like what?"

"Like..." Ruby put a finger to her chin in thought. "Like making a last stand against an evil army, or saving someone from a vicious monster!"

"A hero's death, huh?" Jaune chuckled. "I like that." He sighed contently.

"What about you?" Ruby moved to in front of his face, blocking his view. "How would you want to die?"

"Me?" Jaune looked past her and moved forward, trying not to be blinded. "Well, it's kind of lame."

"What is it?" Ruby asked, flying around his head. "What is it? What is it?"

"Well..." Jaune mulled the idea in his head, then gave a soft smile. "In bed."

Ruby stopped. "...Wow, that is lame."

"See?" Jaune continued smiling. "Maybe that's how a warrior should die. Comfortable in his own bed."

"So, when you say in bed, do you mean stabbed or poisoned?"

"Sleeping." Jaune replied. "I don't want to feel any of it when I die."

"Ugh! So boring!" Ruby groaned. "Why not die a heroic death, fighting a monster or an evil king, or something?"

"Well, if I died like that, I wouldn't see how my story ended." Jaune walked aimlessly as his eyes casted skyward, through the empty branches. "I'd rather die in a comfy bed, surrounded by the people I love, knowing that I've left this world in safe hands."

"Wow," Ruby sniffed, "that was really sweet."

"And foolish." The two turned to see a black figure with a pale face approach from the trees, towering over the two. Red irises sat in black pools of cold emotion. Her hair was tied back in outward rolls. "As you will both die here, in agony."

[benthelastskywalker]

"There are a few bad apples" just like what we say about cops, a few bad apples ruins the whole tree. Do you know how many reylos I've seen not know there were some of us that sent death threats to the actors and black fans? I'm tired of us denying we have racism in our fandom, and not holding others accountable.

So in other words, let's blame the whole bunch for what few have done. Yes, it's terrible to behave that way, and I never denied there are bad apples out there. But as I pointed out in my post in my own experience, they are very few and far between in the Reylo community as opposed to those that attack Reylos. What about their behavior? If "a few bad apples ruins the whole tree," then the anti community is no better as I have personally seen countless Reylos receive death threats themselves. Receiving a death threat is no joking matter and being a recipient doesn't not give anyone the right to turn around and do that to someone else, especially if it was not even the same person who sent it in the first place. Most Reylos are kind, compassionate, decent people who just want to live in peace. It's not fair to punish them because a few have taken their love of something too far.

And how exactly do expect us to hold the bad apples accountable, when we don't even know who they are? It's not like we have a list of all the Reylos everywhere, their real names and where they live. All we can do is call out that behavior when we see it, block those users, and report them. But whether or not those accounts are shut down is ultimately up to the staff that run tumblr or twitter. And even if they are shut down, there's nothing stopping them from opening up new ones and continuing on.

Compassion, kindness, and patience are in order here. All I ask is for Reylos to be treated just like everyone else wishes to: with the knowledge and understanding that like any group of people we are not all the same. We are differing opinions on our ship and how to share our love for it. Some have lines we will not cross, while others apparently do not. That our community is made up of individuals. And that individuals want to be treated as such, judged based on what each one of us has done. And not one what anyone else has.

[clemprime13]

Bruh Canonseeker leeches off other content creators who have huge sway on what's ok to say in the rwby fandom on here. It's agreed that users like Ironpines and ABonuslevel are fucked people, but Canonseeker is this exception somehow. They get to commission child/parent incest while causing drama that makes the rwby fandom look terminally twelve years old. You can see some users have moved their content away from them, while others still freely interact. I think I'm going to unfollow people, I don't like being in an echo chamber where everything is black and white along with the shows, and you MUST see things correctly in media and when interacting with the fandom on here. Seeker is a toxic influence man. Shit is gatekept by someone who fetishized lesbians for their own sexual gratification. Still gonna make rwby content, just burned up this month. Anyway, I have a question: What's your experience with canonseeker, when did you start hanging out? and what was the fall out???

Alright, here we go.

I first met Canonseeker on Reddit. Since I was solidly on the fan side of the fan/critic divide, he never came after me there. What I do remember was that one day, he posted a list of reasons why Summer x Qrow was never a thing. Fine, whatever. I know it’s not canon, but personally I like it. What I did notice, was that anyone who commented that did not completely agree with Canonseeker was relentlessly attacked by him in the comments. He was later banned from the subreddit for some stuff having to do with Fixing RWBY. At this time, I had no knowledge about his alt accounts.

So, I see Canonseeker start to be active on Tumblr under the RWBY tag. At this point, I had no reason to really be suspicious of him, cause it seemed like he had changed and wasn’t attacking people who disagreed with him. What I did see, was him getting relentless anon hate from what seemed to be members of the HTDM. He denied the various accusations, that he was harassing people, that he was using alt accounts to evade bans, and the like.

So, yeah. I defended him. Not my proudest moment, now that I know what I know about him.

So, then came Calxiyn’s post about her experiences with Canonseeker. And there it was, right on my Tumblr feed. Hard evidence that Canonseeker had been lying the whole time. That he had been harassing, that he had been making fake accounts.

So, not only did I reblog another post from another blog (who has mentioned that they do not want anything else to do with this discourse, so I won’t name them.) that said in part that Canonseeker cannot be trusted, accompanied by one of the screenshots from Calxiyn’s post, where Canonseeker admits to lying about his identity on her Discord, and making a second account and pretending it’s his friend.

Then Canonseeker goes and posts about how the user that made that post is lying about Canonseeker saying that they’re “anti-RWBY”.

At this point, I was fed up. I had defended this guy. And here he was, up to his old tricks, with no attempt to have anything resembling self-awareness or personal responsibility. So I called him on his crap. Told him that he needs to take a step back from the fandom and learn from his mistakes.

That’s when the trouble started.

Canonseeker started spamming my inbox, saying that I was spreading lies about him. I reminded him that there was proof of his activities. Every time I brought up the fact that he had been caught red-handed, he became more and more unhinged. Throwing up random screenshots from the likes of Judgemental Critter reading him the riot act, and others. This is part of his standard shtick, he’ll use out of context screenshots to manipulate. I made the observation that he was acting just like my emotionally abusive ex did when she was caught in a lie. He then went on a tirade about how I’m projecting my ex on to him, and am taking out my hatred of her on him.

Which is ridiculous, considering that relationship was over five years ago. I’ve healed, and come to terms with my emotions regarding that. I don’t hate my ex. I understand that she was a serial manipulator who would use people until they dared to question her, then toss them aside. Just like Canonseeker.

By that time, I had learned about his porn stash. I asked him about it. He lost it. Amid the denials, he began to say that I had called him an “art thief” when I had never said anything of the sort. (I have no doubt that he has already either paid someone to make doctored screenshots showing that I did say that, or made them himself. While I can’t prove this, it would fit with how unhinged he was.)

He then has the sheer audacity to tell me to stop lying. I responded by telling him that would be impossible, as I hadn’t told a lie throughout the entire conversation.

It was about at that point that he blocked me.

Oh, by the way. All that was over the course of two days. He was so obsessed with being right, that he harassed me for two days straight.

All because I chose to believe proof of his activities over choosing to remain blinded by his lies.

To borrow a phrase from Canonseeker himself, this is Csnonseeker. And this is what he does.