#but at a simpler level. he's just serving.

[justafriend-ql]

Character Fashion Appreciation: Chopper Portrayed By: Perth Tanapon Never Let Me Go

[llamamamarisen92]

The writing prompt:

Here we go with a little God Gale fanfic:

Shinurah was in the kitchen washing dishes. Despite being the consort of a god she still treasured mundane tasks that reminded her of a life that was much simpler. Gale was often gone to attend to his realm. His time in the Heavens stretching longer each time he disappeared.

"He still loves you." She reminded herself as she took time to dry off a plate before stacking it with the others. He promised to make her a goddess and she kept faith he wouldn't break that promise. But he insisted it would take time. Her life consisted of serving as high priestess in his tower in Waterdeep. It had been converted to a temple and the center of his worship. Three years had passed since they conquered the Netherbrain, Gale claiming the Crown of Karsus for himself. She placed the last fork back into its place and dried her hands off. It was almost noon.

She made her way down the hall way to the ceremonial room. In the center was a large statue of Gale as he is now. When she looked at it sadness filled her. It didn't resemble the kind, gentle wizard who she fell in love with. Warm brown eyes replaced by glowing stones of silver. His salt infused dark hair that she loved to run her fingers through were now strands of untouchable light that never fell out of place. He strove for an image of power and perfection.

A supplicant walked through the temple door and she quickly wiped her tears away. She smiled as she welcomed the stranger in.

"How may I be of service to you?" She held out her hand for the elf to kiss in supplication. He remained bowed as he spoke his desires. She hardly paid attention as he proclaimed his desire to curate the worlds grandest collection of gems. She took his offering of coin and rare scrolls and placed them on the altar below Gale's statue. Her chants came out half hearted as the elf grinned. When she was done her chanting and lit a candle to confirm that his prayers were heard he thanked her profusely and left.

Vapid desires. All of his followers only seemed to desire such surface level things. Rich household or the ability to rule some island she couldn't bother to remember the name of. After her days work in the temple she walked up the tower steps to her bedroom. She would be the only one to occupy the bed tonight. As it was for many nights. Her only desire. Her ambition. It was just to spend the rest of her life falling asleep in Gale's arms. She stood at the window and looked up at the constellation that hovered above in the night sky. A collection of stars that stamped his symbol into the heavens.

The sound of electricity filled the air. It turned out she wouldn't be spending the night alone. Turning around she saw him standing there, his arms outstretched to her. He smiled down at her. Not the smile of a man in love desperately seeking her company. It was the same look one would give a favored pet. She tried to hold herself together as she walked towards him. The last time she brought up her concerns he had vanished for six months. But when he kissed her all of her composure dissolved.

She fell to her knees and tried her best to stifle her cries with her hand. He placed his hand upon her head, stroking her hair in an effort to comfort her. But he never got on his knees. Dekarios the Divine never got on his knees for anyone. Not even for her.

"What's wrong my love?" His voice sounded like thunder across the sky. He no longer bothered to hide the annoyance in his tone. She should be happy and grateful for the life they had. She should be thanking him every day that she was able to share the bed of a god. The chosen whom he would elevate to goddess at the right time.

"I just.. I know we have been over this.." She whispered in low tones, not trusting her voice. "I just miss how things used to be."

He scoffed at her. "You mean the days where we were dirty and desperate? The days we were barely able to survive? The days that I was weak and pathetic. Basking in the shadow of a goddess who crushed me under her thumb." He began to walk away from her. Not willing to hear her.

"No! I miss sitting around the campfire and listening to your stories. Curled up under the stars, brushing my fingers along your chest as you whispered sweetly in my ear. I miss stupid little mundane things like cleaning up after everyone at the end of the day or reading a book in our tent." She got up and reached out to him. But when she touched his shoulder she quickly removed her hand as an electric shock hit her finger tips. He didn't stay to listen, dissapearing again.

She collapsed on the bed, trying to form images in her mind of the life she would never have with him as she cried herself to sleep.

[themegachessatron]

A Review of my time in Skyrim's Prisons (Featuring some followers): Morthal Jail

I'm back on my Skyrim prison bullshit. I can only apologise. This chapter of the review will cover Morthal, the community's collective 9th favourite Skyrim city. Will its prison fall just as flat as the city that holds it?

Arriving in my cell for the first time and I'm pleasantly surprised. Morthal Jail uses cost effective but cozy bedrolls to give prisoners a place to sleep, as well as a complimentary bucket and broom to encourage their responsibility in helping tidy their accommodations. From these we can immediately infer that the mindset in Morthal is one of community strength. Placing multiple prisoners in one cell helps build bonds and encourages teamwork, communication and friendship. Admittedly the sorts that end up in prison are more likely to simply beat their cellmates to death with their bare hands than work in-tandem with them, but it's the thought that counts.

There was space for three prisoners in this one cell, which was fortunate as Sofia and I had been arrested simultaneously (Sofia for drunken hooliganism and myself for lollygagging). Included on Sofia's side of the cell was an additional bucket, this likely serving as the simple but effective waste deposit for this cell. Also included was a basket containing five green apples and multiple sacks. Most of the sacks were empty but one of them had some salt piles inside, useful for when we needed to add salt to somebody's wounds. These simple supplies show a level of understanding for prisoner's needs not really seen in most other prisons which goes a long way to making this one feel more welcoming. Thankfully I was given an opportunity to explore beyond my cell not much later.

Less than a minute after Sofia and I had arrived in our cells, Inigo walked up to the cell doors... and simply opened them. I was at a loss for words! How had he done this? Had he used his special Khajiit powers again? Did he steal the key from an unsuspecting guard? Or had he simply intimidated the door into giving way? Well as it tuns out it was much simpler than that. He paid our bail. He had picked up some trace valuables from our adventures while I was, and I quote, "too busy scarfing dragon souls as if they were sweet rolls" and could very easily afford the rather meager bail price. Yeah turns out lollygagging doesn't incur that high of a bounty, and as for Sofia, I had asked a guard and he told me that since Morthal is such a nothing shithole drunken hooliganism is a very common offence and as such more major punishments weren't really practical for having a city with people not in prison. Still, it gave me the chance to freely observe the rest of the facilities.

Leaving my cell had allowed me to freely confirm something I had observed inside my cell. The Morthal guard leave the prisoner belongings chests directly next to the prison cells, in plain view of all the prisoners. Now, I understand that this prison is trying to build a feeling of mutual trust in its prisoners, but I fear this is far too optimistic. With the chests in this position, any wannabe escapist can freely identify where their equipment is held and try to access it without even being in the peripheral view of any guards, leading them to easily re-acquire their trusty Banded Iron Shield of the Major Knight or whatever it is they use and be more than prepared to force their way to freedom without major harm. This, much like the issues plaguing Dragonsreach Dungeon, is a major security breach and should be remedied.

I (the rather large Redguard man in the rags pictured above) then noticed that the entire prison floor in this hold was being guarded by a single solitary guardsman. Initially I had considered this lack of manpower a major oversight and a suggestion that the Morthal guard were largely lazy and/or not effectively utilized like the Whiterun guards. However, in reflection shortly after coming to this conclusion, I came to a realization. This city is a nothing shithole with a total named population of eighteen people (three of which are children). Of course there's only one guard stationed here. What few guards this city has stationed here are likely stretched incredibly thin and not very satisfied with life given they do, in fact, live in Morthal. As such, I can readily forgive the short-staffed nature of this jail.

Opposite the guard was a desk for writing legal documentations, equipped with a writer's quill, rolls of paper and multiple bottles of wine. Naturally at the sight of alcohol Sofia immediately made herself at home and then took some serious persuading to leave. Turns out having an alcohol-happy workspace in a city where drunken hooliganism is let off lightly is exactly the sort of thing to get her attention, though knowing her should have made that obvious.

The way out of the jail floor leads directly into the guard barracks with zero alternative routes and multiple guards inside at all times, which in any other hold would act as a strong defence against escaping convicts. However, with this being Morthal the nothing shithole and the guards being so few in number, every guard in the barracks when I entered was fast asleep, catching up on any rest they could possibly get. I pity those soldiers, but I doubt thieves, murderers and other more serious convicts would be as sympathetic.

On the whole, I found Morthal Prison to be a much better facility than Dragonsreach Dungeon. It has a clear intention for its captives in mind, it accommodates them well without breaking the bank and the guards (what ones are still awake that is) are very nice and understanding. There are still faults however, namely the placement of the prisoner belongings chests and the fact that this is still, at the end of the day, Morthal. Despite these though, I'd recommend Morthal Prison. It serves as a diamond in the swampy messy shithole that is Hjaalmarch.

Final rating: Seven Banded Iron Shields of the Major Knight out of Ten Banded Iron Shields of the Major Knight

Thank you for entertaining these reviews of mine. Next time we see if the Dawnstar Jail is the reason why all of the city's residents are troubled by endless nightmares.

[necrotic-nephilim]

is this random?? maybe probably but the brain worms said Bart/Dick because maybe Wally didn't reciprocate and a lot of the younger heroes look up to Nightwing so like actually Dark Dick/Any of the younger heroes but for me especially Bart/Dick. Is Dick taking advantage of a crush? Yes. Is he doing it because he wants Wally but a younger more malleable speedster will have to do? ABSOLUTELY. anyway Dark Dick taking advantage of young people yadayada 🩷🩷

RANDOM YES BUT ALSO DELIGHTFUL??

first of all, i firmly believe Bart should be shipped with older men. i can't even articulate *why*, i just think he's a delightful lil guy who should be in more dead dove shit. it's fun to explore that weird balance he has going on of naivety fueled by growing up overnight, versus being very *very* knowledgable bc of the sheer amount of information he holds as well as how quickly he processes the world. he's treated like the silly, almost dumb one a lot. and certainly the comics will put him in that light, especially in how he approaches social situations and his lack of understandings on how social rules work. but he's *smart* in other ways, and it makes him delightfully fun to stick him in a position of being groomed. all it takes is for *someone* to finally compliment him on how quickly he thought through a problem, or how well he handled a fight and he's fucking putty. the manipulation goes straight over his head.

and i just. i adore a darker Dick. sunshine Dick is out. angry but still righteous Dick is also out. i need a Dick Grayson who is tired of having to be the good one. who is tired of serving others with no return. Bruce, the Titans, Bludhaven, all of it. i think a lot of times, people gloss over Dick being a cop (and the copaganda of it) bc it doesn't feel like it fits him and goes against a lot of the themes of the Batfam and how they stand against corruption and all. but i think it's fun to lean into cop!Dick. someone who's authoritative and "fixes the system from inside" and thinks "you can still do good with a badge". bc it adds that greyness to him. there is no *good* way to be a cop in Bludhaven, with the system he works for. so it creates some level of "the ends justify the means" mentality in Dick and what he'll overlook to get something done. back to the point of him and Bart: i think using that mindset for a darker Dick can easily make him willing to groom someone. especially someone like Bart. kill two birds with one stone kind of situation. the personal, selfish reason that he had a thing for Wally that never worked out and now he just for *once* wants something that's his, and who better than a little speedster who looks like Wally and already has a clear crush on Dick. and the more pragmatic reason: Bart has potential, but he lacks direction. no one is guiding him in the right way. you used the word malleable, which is so fun. Dick can mold the partner he wants, *and* the hero he wants out of Bart. there won't be any more complaining from Tim about how Bart screwed up a mission, or listening to Wally or Max Mercury go on about how hard it is to keep Bart on task.

i think Dick would be *so* methodical about it. he has the time, Bart is still young and if Dick starts things *too* early, it's going to cause an absolute scene in the hero world. so he starts with compliments. he's the one squeezing Bart's shoulder and saying "you did a good job out there, kid. that was smart thinking." and then just leaving it like that. the simpler the better, because it leaves Bart wanting *more*. craving scraps of attention and always being on his best behavior when Dick is around. or even when Tim is around, bc maybe that means Tim will tell Dick about the good thing Bart just did. i love a slow burn and i'd love if this took place over *years*. building up more and more, but staying within the realm of casual hero colleagues. it makes sense for Bart and Dick to run into each other a lot, with Tim and Wally, and even more so when Bart becomes a Titan.

i love if this intentionally drives Wally up a *wall* too. Bart would never shut up about Dick. he asks Wally about Dick at least once a week and Dick just shrugs bc *hey*, all kids have a favorite hero, Wally should see the way Tim talks about Ted Kord. he doesn't make a big deal about it.

once Bart is old enough, Dick really leans into it. he finds more reasons to "run into" Bart, starts inviting Bart over to have a place to crash while his wounds heal bc hey, even with the superspeed Bart needs somewhere to sit and let his body do it's thing while he inhales a lot of calories. Dick listens when Bart complains about Wally being too hard on him. Dick gives "sagely advice" and casually walking around without a shirt. (or: in his police uniform the first time he notices the full body blush Bart gets seeing him in it)

i think it's extra fun if Dick orchestrates a pretense like sex pollen for them to get together officially. which is tricky, bc how do you dose a speedster's metabolism. but he'd find a way. bc then, not a single person can blame Dick for it. Bart Allen of all people, in a "fuck or die" situation? just about anyone would end up so annoyed they'd cave to the sex. and it puts Bart as the one who "initiates" and feels the guilt of coming onto Dick. which is so easy for Dick to manipulate and mold into what he wants. he's got Bart in his hands and soothes him after the sex, saying that it wasn't Bart's fault and Dick doesn't blame him. after that, it's easy for it to become a repeat thing. Bart gets too wired or stressed or full of energy, and sex is a very easy distraction to mellow him out. then, before Bart knows it, he's pretty sure they're *dating* bc Dick is giving him flowers and gifts and taking him out to dinner. and Bart is still convinced he somehow caused this, so he's got that fun dash of guilt that Dick can use to get what he wants out of Bart. any time Bart acts out, Dick just has to give him a Look. just full-tilt manipulation and grooming. i think it's also fun if they publically date as civilians, bc once again, Dick being a cop, other Bludhaven cops are the last ppl to question the morality ambiguity of the age gap. they just laugh and clap Dick on the back for finding "such an easy twink". the news would filter into the hero world, but by then Bart's a (barely legal) adult and everyone knows about the sex pollen. there's not much anyone can do, and really, Dick doesn't hold blame bc he was in such an awkward situation. he has his cake and eats it too, especially everytime he sees that sour look on Wally's face, when Wally knows damn well he can't say anything.

[rockingrobin69]

Mrs. Miffy’s Home Dining Experience: Eating made simple!

The flyer was an eye-watering orange. Sort of reminded him of Wheezes, if Fred and George were also psychotic murderers on the side.  

Ordering is simpler than ever. Speak the word menu and it shall appear, aglow in the space before you. Magic will direct you precisely to the dish you are currently craving. No more going, ugh, what’ll we have for dinner tonight?

Harry’s crockery was all still packed in who-knows what box. His new fridge was empty. All the places he tried ringing gave up on trying to locate his address. Wards, Hermione had said, at some point in her life, probably.

After you placed your order by yelling the selected number, your food will arrive near-instantaneously with one of our lively staff members. Don’t forget: it’s hot! (or cold!)

His head was pounding. They say that moving house is one of life’s greatest traumas. Which, of course, made him laugh like someone had punched him in the gut, with fucking tears in his eyes, but hey, this wasn’t incredibly easy, either.

Now there’s nothing more to worry about: bon-appetite, and we’d love to see you again at Mrs. Miffy’s Home Dining Experience!

He was tired. He was hungry. Everything seemed thirty times heavier than normal, and his therapist Evil Jean said that this feeling has a name, and he should try to find it. To banish it? To… do something about it. Harry was a terrible client and an awful lazy man and all right, all right, enough with this now. Half out of spite, Harry said, “Menu.”

Jumped three feet backwards when the whole room tilted sideways, and started shrieking—no, it was the images that suddenly popped, violently into existence. Who the hell thought this was a good… swallowed, swallowed, closed his eyes, tapped his chest till his heart climbed back down. Fucking fuck. Deep breath. Okay.

His new flat was half the size of Grimmauld and currently packed with boxes. Gin said that moving isn’t that big of a deal if you know the right spells, but Harry didn’t know anything, and definitely not the right spells. In the eerie light of the dozens of images hovering, it looked sad.

Still there was something in his gut pulling—the magic, right, he’d nearly forgot. Saying the word Menu must have activated it as well, and now Harry found himself pointing at an image which showed… a bowl of fried rice with tofu.

You know what, fuck it. Fuck it, why not. He was sort of hoping for something a little, erm, not that, but fried rice was good and tasty and he was so tired and it might just be the perfect thing. Harry cleared his throat. “Seventy-six!”

Your order has been placed, said a low baritone that nearly made him pee his pants. It came out of the fucking fridge? Probably not on purpose. Then, in an entirely different voice, chipper and high-pitched, sit tight and we’ll be right there to serve you!

Harry paced and paced and paced. Not much room for it, with the boxes, and the chest of drawers he didn’t know where to put, and the stack of letters he tucked in his pocket for fear of losing and then promptly placed on every clear surface as it bothered him constantly bumping into stuff. Moving was… fine, it wasn’t the problem. Harry only wished Ron and Nev and Luna could have stayed. He wished, selfishly, that his friends were as miserable and social life-less as he was, only for tonight. He wished…

The doorbell went off, a jarring sound. Harry jumped (and told himself to quit it), breathed, breathed. Fingers sweaty on the handle, get yourself together, this will be nothing.

“Good evening my name is Draco and I’d be happy to serve you exactly the way you’d like please choose level of interaction from one to three.”

Harry was openly staring. His belly, weirdly, filled with ice. In front of him was—“What?”

“Good evening my name is Draco and I’d be happy to serve you exactly the way you’d like please choose level of interaction from one to three.”

He was taller than Harry remembered. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Hair falling past his ears, still as blond as ever under the truly-horrendous cap that said Mrs. Miffy’s! in balloon letters. He stood so impossibly still that Harry suspected he must be under a spell or something.

“Malfoy?” he tried in this choked voice.

“Good evening my name is Draco and I’d be—”

“Yes, yes,” Harry stopped him with a hand out, “you said. You… work for… Mrs. Miffy’s?”

A fragment of a question hiding at least five hundred others: you work, and also you’re here, and also you still exist? Because Harry had completely-completely forgotten about him. This tall, slightly shocking apparition of a boy from his youth grown into… this.

Malfoy blinked metre-long eyelashes. “Please choose,” he said in a perfectly bland voice. “Between one and three.”

Stabbing a guess: “Three?”

He nodded and made to step forward, only Harry was still frozen, and still blocking the door. “Pardon me,” Malfoy said.

“No,” stupidly. “I mean—sure. Come in, I mean. I mean—”

Malfoy didn’t wait to unravel the rant. Instead he snuck through the space Harry had made, and stopped in the middle of the would-be living room. Turning around a full 360, blinking and blinking. “You,” he said, “you don’t have a table.”

“Not yet.”

“Right,” eyebrows hiking on his face. “Right, it’s—I can transfigure one of the boxes temporarily.”

Harry shrugged. Getting past the whole shock of Malfoy in his flat, in legitimately the worst ensemble he’d ever worn and still so destructively handsome, pointing at a box labelled STUFF and turning it into a belly-heavy sort-of-table. He even conjured a tablecloth. He even conjured a vase with flowers.

“Would you like anything to drink, Sir?”

Harry was losing it. This was the only explanation. He hit his head on the moving van and is lying on the pavement, unconscious. Malfoy was still in Azkaban and certainly not here.

“Erm, do you—do you have Irn Bru? Only the muggle shops down here don’t usually sell it.”

Malfoy produced a cool box he most certainly didn’t have before and took an orange can out. “Do you need cutlery,” he said more than asked.

“Yeah. Erm, yeah.”

Another nod, and now from a pocket that was far too small and too tight, a complete set with three forks (including the little one for the, fish or, whatever). Malfoy then proceeded to pull out a napkin, and fold it into something that quite resembled a swan.

“When you’re finished with your meal please shout Porter! And I will collect the dishes. Your box—table—your—it should go back to its original form in about an hour.”

Harry said, “Okay.”

“Anything else you might require?”

Blinking and blinking. Harry was losing his mind. “You know who I am, yeah? Is there a… spell maybe that stops you from seeing me, or?”

“You’re Harry Potter,” Malfoy said in the same blank, somewhat-pleasant tone. “We went to school together.”

“We went to—yeah, I mean, sure. You… remember? School?”

“Do I remember school?” Malfoy tipped his head sideways. He was so impossibly handsome that Harry didn’t manage a full breath. “That’s an odd question.”

“Well you’re being odd! Why are you so—like that when you normally are…”

Malfoy sighed, a deep, pained thing, like Harry was the one being ridiculous. “Is there anything else you require, Sir. For your meal. For which you paid.”

“I… want you to fucking answer the question?”

His hair shimmered as he shook his head. “Yes, I remember school. Our headmaster was Albus Dumbledore. Care of Magical Creatures. He Who—the battle—I remember.”

“And…” why, why, why was he pushing, why did it even matter, “you remember me?”

“Harry Potter,” Malfoy said again. Entirely expressionless.

“Yeah. Yes. I, but do you remember our… we weren’t exactly friends. Do you remember—”

“I remember. Is there anything else you require for your meal?”

He felt like pulling his own hair out. “Why are you being like this! What are you doing here! I thought you were sentenced for ten years, what, what, what!”

Malfoy remained impassibly stoic. “I was sentenced for ten years. The parole board decided to release me early for what they dubbed ‘good behaviour’. I promise you I wasn’t good, would never dream to presume. Is that enough?”

“When did—”

“Potter,” Malfoy said, still in the same tone but with tired eyes, “is there anything else you require. For your meal.”

It felt all the kinds of wrong Harry knew. “No, I—I don’t need anything else.” The bland sort of misery behind Malfoy’s face didn’t crumple, didn’t move an inch. He nodded, turned to leave. “Wait—”

Harry didn’t mean to stop him, but Malfoy did stop, back turned and breathing very slowly, very deeply. “Yes?”

“What’s three?”

He did turn now. “I beg your pardon?”

“You said I can choose between one and three, but you never explained… the… interaction level. What does it mean, what’s three?”

“The highest level,” said Malfoy.

“Oh. Yeah. That… makes sense.”

“Thank you for your business,” with a motion so tiny it couldn’t be considered a bow, “we hope you have a wonderful dining experience and would love to hear your thoughts. See you next time!” and he left. Harry stood in front of the once-box-now-table, a plate filled with colourful rice steaming on a conjured placemat (Harry certainly never owned something this nice), a glass of Irn Bru already poured and the fucking, napkin-made swan. Nothing about it made the slightest bit of sense. None of it, at all, made sense, at all. No sense.

Tearing through the crammed kitchen, flinging boxes here and there, looking for… oh, he’d already placed it in what he decided would be the take-out menu drawer. The bright-orange flyer had a whole bit in the back that he forgot he once read.

Mrs. Miffy is a muggle-born witch who always loved cooking and, most importantly, eating. She remembers getting take out with her family with great fondness: “When I was young it felt like the most wonderful thing. A vacation in our own home. [I] felt like we were exploring the world, from the convenience of our own living room!” when she encountered the problem of locating magical houses while trying to order a curry, she knew she had to find a solution. The business came a few years later, with the assistance of Ministry funds to help make Mrs. Miffy’s dream come true. Eating, made simple.

Harry’s head was spinning. He made himself go back to the table (to the, box, that made an actually-not-too-shabby a table), realised he didn’t have a seat. Took the plate in both hands and sank to the carpet, overwhelmed and annoyingly supporting a semi.

Malfoy was working for a muggle-born witch. Malfoy was delivering food. Malfoy was released from Azkaban after seven years instead of his original ten. Malfoy was… hot, and weird, weird, weird, just, the weirdest thing he’d ever met, and a mystery, and a project, and a—no. Right. That way lies madness, he’d already tasted it once. Twice. Malfoy wasn’t a part of his life and it shouldn’t matter, what he did or how he looked.

But the rice was delicious, and somehow exactly what he needed. Harry ate the whole thing, and drank the whole glass, and felt, well, a little less ridiculous, for once. Maybe there was something there after all. Maybe there was something.

He put the flyer back in the drawer carefully. Standing in front of the table: “Porter?”

Half-expecting Malfoy to come back, he wasn’t really disappointed when the plate just Banished out of existence. Wasn’t because he was already thinking, what will I get next?

[the-shark-well]

Do you perchance have any Triple Threat headcanons you’d be willing to share….

you bet I do !!! and sorry this took me a second to answer I don't often think about these three enough . which is a shame because they make me normal

These are all scrambled thoughts so I'm . very sorry if it comes off as utter nonsense . there's a lot going on in my timeline it's hard to boil it down , really . also I applied headcanons for the "canon ending" of my timeline , which is Toppat King , so you're getting romantic triple threat , hope that's okay !

for reference: Henry uses they/it , Ellie she/her , and Charles he/him

- due to Henry's future sight and being caught in a timeloop with the help of Liaf , they feel very disconnected from others for a long time

- Ellie is able to see into their head through telepathy , so the two kinda accidentally develop an extremely powerful and eldritch bond even through the barrier of a timeloop . Ellie will always know Henry better than Henry perhaps knows itself , and Henry's choices will always lead it back to Ellie .

- Henry chooses to settle down in the TK timeline due to it being the best outcome long-term , from their perspective . They get married to Ellie and later on , Charles

- Charles is the Just Some Guy in the relationship ❤️

- post-TK Henry Charles and Ellie will fake capture Charles just so he can get away from his work for a while to hang out / go on dates . Charles is the one who proposed the idea (there are a million other much simpler solutions to get Charles from his duties but , to him , this is the most fun approach)

- this is less triple threat and more Charles but , Charles and RHM develop a very silly friendship . needless to say even despite his rank as a helicopter pilot for the government , Right likes him enough to accept him as one of their own

- the ideal date night for all three of them is going out into some crowded area and doing whatever is available to them . they like making every date an adventure together . fairs and festivals and theme parks are their favorites

- Although Ellie makes a big show of being more grounded than the others , in actuality she is just as chaotic if its funny . her responsibilties are second to her commitment to the bit .

- Charles is very touchy with his friends and loved ones , not just hugs but patting them on the back or shoulder , shaking them around , bumping their shoulder , etc. the others weren't used to it at first but they pretty quickly adjusted

- Ellie and Henry are rarely if ever seen apart . due to their weird divine relationship to one another they are very in sync as a married couple and Toppat leaders . Charles , due to his chaos powers of extreme empathy , learns to catch up with the connection the two share . although not nearly on the same level of Eldritch as the other two , he can read both of their emotions pretty plainly .

- Charles might eventually make the leap and join the Clan instead of living a double life , but he struggles with how to confront Galeforce about it without him freaking out

- Henry is very quiet and to themself and doesn't usually speak unless they absolutely must or are comfortable . Charles and Ellie are the only two who have consistently heard it talk .

- Ellie's best trait and worst flaw is her trust in others and the desire to give people second chances . Despite her history as a Toppat , she never wants to believe that anyone can be evil and self-serving everytime . this did get her in trouble back in the day (hence being at the Wall) , but it also allowed her to get close to Henry and get it to see that it can do and be better . Henry is very grateful for her .

- Charles is similarly very trusting , although less likely to give people second chances , he moreso operates on first impressions or orders given to him . His personal feelings may sometimes come secondary to his instructions . for some reason Henry and Ellie throw a wrench into his typical attitude . he just cannot bring himself to wish harm upon them , which really muddies things more when he starts to seek them out and talk to them . despite literally all of his orders telling him not to .

- Henry doesn't trust anybody because they don't even trust themself 👍 Their disconnect from people due to controlling the timeloop with Liaf is why they felt so Nothing about everything they've been doing . Until they met Ellie , and Ellie was the only person who saw what was up and that shook Henry to their core so bad they immediately started to reform . Henry nowadays is much , much better at trusting people , especially its partners .

[blackbutler-readerinsertsandjunk]

Hey there! Remember me? The person who asked for ciel and Alois meeting a Modern reader who told the future/plot in riddles? Well I’m here to ask

a continuation of it!basically a oneshot of them crossing paths with the modern reader/person again,they start to like interrogate on how much they know and what will happen,but the person just keeps telling riddles and just says to figure out the riddles so they can understand the future

Have a nice day/night! ^^

heya!! hope you're doing well!

and as with the first one... for some strange reason I thought I'd struggle with it but I breezed right through it! XD

I fucking LOVE Ciel and Alois being friends dammit ;w;

For someone who apparently deals in the future, the (Name) that CIEL and ALOIS ran into last week seems to have no past.

Ciel, for his part, can barely find any information on them. So much for their suggestion that he look them up if he wants to see them. If he can’t find something as simple as a bloody address for them, how exactly is he supposed to do that even if he wants to speak with them?

… Not that he’s thrilled about the prospect of doing so. Alois seems to think this person is going to serve as a friend or a guide, but Ciel isn’t so sure. For that matter, he’s disappointed (though not particularly shocked) that with all Alois has been through, the other man is so damn naive about some things.

Perhaps he should be more surprised about the fact that he and Alois run into (Name) immediately following an assignment for Her Majesty. As it stands, Ciel at least is very much not surprised.

(Name) quite easily falls into step beside Alois, as if the whole encounter is some scripted theater piece and this was their entrance. At least both men can trust that unless something goes terribly wrong, their butlers are following right behind and can dispatch this person if necessary. Until then, better not to draw attention to themselves. “Lord Trancy, Lord Phantomhive! It’s been too long.”

“Not long enough, if you ask me,” Ciel mutters. He could have gone his whole life without seeing this person again. It certainly would have made affairs simpler.

Alois scoffs. “Don’t be rude, Ciel! (Miss/Mister) (Name), I was hoping we’d see you again at some point.”

They smile; if nothing else, they seem genuinely happy to see both men. “I did tell you I believed our paths would cross again, didn’t I, Lord Trancy? How have you gents been?”

“You’re rather informal considering our positions, aren’t you?” Ciel’s cane hits the ground perhaps a bit harder than necessary as he walks on. “You ought to show some proper respect.”

(Name)’s eyes sparkle at him, just as mysterious as the first time they all met. “Always so concerned with your status, aren’t you, my lord? You of all people must know that suffering is the great equalizer. For as much pain as you and Lord Trancy have been through, the three of us stand perfectly level with one another.”

“Quit being so tight-lipped!” Alois huffs. “You said you deal in the future of our world, right? If you’re not just some crystal ball charlatan, then tell me something real about our future. Without encasing it in some hideous riddle! The wrapping paper is the worst part of the gift, you know.”

They chuckle, sticking their hands in their pockets. From there, they pull out a hard-candy lollipop… oddly enough, shaped like a butterfly. “Of that, we are agreed, little bluebell. But I’m afraid I can’t give you anything too plainly. If you want to know something, hm, let’s see…” The lollipop is offered toward Alois. “You really ought to be gladder for the music in your life. Even if it seems unpalatable on the surface, there’s something both softer and stronger beneath that.”

With little hesitation, Alois snatches the lollipop from them. While Ciel wants to slap it out of his hand, he supposes he ought to let his friend make his own bad decisions. It only takes a moment of inspection for Alois to pop it into his mouth. “Like I said, I hate the wrapping paper. What am I supposed to do with a stupid fortune like that? You’re giving my a headache.”

“Ah, my apologies,” (Name) hums. “That’s not my intention. Hopefully you can puzzle it out.” They look past him toward Ciel. “What about you, Lord Phantomhive? Surely you want to know something, as well?”

Ciel glances at Alois. “You mean aside from how to effectively get across to my companion that one shouldn’t take candy from strangers?”

“Excuse me! Free candy is free candy, Ciel! And it’s good, it tastes like lavender.”

“There’s something wrong with a man who wants his sweets to taste like perfume, Alois.”

“You’re such a bully! (Miss/Mister) (Name), don’t you have anything for him?” Speaking around the lollipop, Alois turns to (Name). “You must know something about what’s going to happen to either of us in the near future. How do you know all these things? Can’t you prove to Ciel that he has no reason to be suspicious and that you’re not out to harm us?”

Their features notably soften at the persistence… and the plea on their behalf. “You’ve got a sweet heart, Lord Trancy. I hope you realize your worth and manage to untangle yourself from the web you’re in someday soon.” They smirk. “But you don’t need to be offended on my behalf. If I were him, I probably wouldn’t trust me either.”

They all walk silently for a moment, (Alois sulking a bit), before Ciel speaks up. “(Name), assuming that I did want to know something ― what would you tell me?”

(Name) closes their eyes for a moment, taking a breath. When they open their eyes again, there’s an odd look in them. Somewhere between melancholy and hopeful. “I would tell you… that good things come in threes, Lord Phantomhive. And that to truly prepare for anything which is coming, you should really keep both your eyes open. The word ‘impossible’ is more a guideline than anything else.”

He doesn’t know what to think about that. Perhaps Alois is right in that ‘wrapping paper’ is quite troublesome indeed. Ciel likes to think of himself as a smart person, but the way (Name) has worded things could have a variety of different meanings.

That’s the entire point of a riddle, he supposes. So all he does in response is nod and give a barely-there noise of thought.

(Name) cocks their head toward a building coming up. “Ah, well, with that, this is my stop up here, my lords. I do hope you take everything I’ve said to heart, though with the two of you I realize that may be difficult. And I’m sure we’ll meet soon enough.”

“We’re looking forward to it!” Alois beams. “You’re a rather strange one, (Miss/Mister) (Name), but maybe that’s why I like seeing you. And I think Ciel does too, even if he won’t say so.”

Ciel shakes his head. “When will you learn to speak only for yourself, Alois?”

“Hmmmmm… never?”

(Name) laughs and gives the both of them an affectionate pat on the back before stepping off the path. “I would tell you gents to never change, but I sincerely pray for your growth as people. I’m quite invested in your health and happiness, you know. Until we meet again, you two do take care of yourselves!”

With not so much as another whisper, they’ve slipped away into a nearby shop.

Alois nudges Ciel with his elbow. “What do you say I stay at your estate tonight? We can talk about all this. I’ll even bring Hannah and the triplets along to be playmates for all your servants!”

“If you think that’s a good idea, you’re battier than (Name).” Ciel pauses and throws an unimpressed glance toward Alois. After a moment of attempting to appear as steely as possible, he sighs. “One night, Alois. And if those clumsy one-brain-split-amongst-three-bodies demons of yours break anything of mine, you will never be invited back.”

Behind them, Sebastian quietly gets Claude’s attention. “Do you think allowing them to continue interacting with this (Name) person is wise, or shall we put an end to it?”

“Wise? Perhaps not. But it is entertaining.” Claude’s eyes shift briefly toward the other butler. “I say we wait a bit before we step in. It sounds as if we’re having an event tonight, and the two of us do so rarely get to mingle peacefully.”

Sebastian closes his eyes with a sigh. “With any luck, these two aren’t getting in over their heads.”

Claude smirks. “With our luck, they most certainly are. More marinade for dinner, in my opinion.”

While Sebastian wants to assert that his so-called friend is absolutely terrible for that remark, he’s too busy biting back a laugh to even pretend he has any moral high ground.

“As they say… the plot thickens.”

[percontaion-points]

Gate Crashers chapters 21 & 22

Click here for the rest of the series!

Click to see the rest of the snark & image descriptions

Chapter 21

He took a moment to check on Harris, whose cheek was also pressed flat against the glass like, well, a Peeping Tom. 

This is yet another moment of: when you are an author, you can write literally anything that you want. So why the fuckity fuck would you actively choose to write this?

Maximus’s smile was broader and brighter than a chrome grille. “Thank you for the question, Stan, and I’d say the only polls I care about have girls dancing on them. Next question.”

If this is the author’s attempt to write a witty and charming character… Try going back to school and learning about homophones, dipshit. 

Unable to avoid the inevitable any longer, Maximus leveled a finger at the proverbial eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room. In this case, it was an eight-hundred-pound gorilla named Buttercup. After several generations of captive gorillas being taught sign language, they eventually organized and demanded citizenship. So the Association for the Advancement of NonHuman Persons was formed. Its membership includes several thousand gorillas and chimpanzees, sixteen herds of elephants, twenty-seven pods of dolphins, and a particularly clever African gray parrot who served as treasurer. Buttercup had recently become a correspondent for Branches & Fruit Monthly, following his award-winning essays “Zoo Employees Fragile. Do Not Wrestle” and “Why You Not Groom Human Children?”

I feel like the author is trying so, soooooo hard to emulate Douglas Adams here. 

The problem, as I keep pointing out… This comes out of left field, and I’m kind of sitting here going… ???? What????

“Oh, come on. With a crew this large, there has to be at least a couple of closet furries. C’mon, folks, raise your hands. We’re all adults here.” The crew looked back at him in muted horror. “Nobody? Well, they’re probably just shy.”

WHY. WHY THE FUCKITY FUCK WOULD YOU FUCKING WRITE THIS SHIT?!

He deftly slid out of the way just as Buttercup’s chair shattered the podium.

Chapter 21 summary: Jeffrey and Harris take a two week shuttle up to where the war ship is currently being built. When they get up there, they meet up with Felix, and some other members of the crew. Everybody else is unimportant background noise… I say knowing full well that this chapter could have been an email. 

Eventually, the crew has a press conference. The reporters ask if it’s really okay to send a ship with completely untested technology out into deep space. They also ask about the weapons on board. For some reason, there are gorillas on the ship. I don’t have answers. 

I think instead of hammering in how little that I laughed, maybe I should start up a count of how many times I wanted to die of cringe. At least that number would keep changing every time. 

Chapter 22

Vel Noric stepped cautiously through the great hallway leading to His Superiority the Kumer-Vel’s chambers.

NO. STOP IT RIGHT NOW. STOP IT. 

“The high-space portal was detected on Earth itself.” 

That did surprise Noric. “That’s not possible. There hasn’t been enough time for any signals from the ship to reach Earth. They can’t have copied the technology.”

 “That is true, yet here we are. One of our reconnaissance platforms detected the high-space portal on Earth’s surface almost half a cycle ago,” said the voice. “So either you can believe that the humans produced a highspace portal domestically or that they have some way to communicate instantly, which the best Lividite scientists ensure [sic] us is impossible.” 

My main question is… Why are they so convinced that humans are this fucking dumb? 

No, really. I want to know. Because we’ve been given absolute OODLES of page time about these aliens, yet still somehow know next to NOTHING about them. 

Jak’el clicked his teeth together. “I’m surprised at you, Grote. We need the barbarians to gin up a healthy panic. Coups are so much simpler if you wait until the population demands one.”

Chapter 22 summary: If I have one complaint about this series, is that there is so much that’s said… But not one single bit of it is spent on things that are actually important. For example, this chapter opens on more than two pages of watching these aliens interacting with one another. However, to what end? What is this accomplishing? Why should the readers even care about this? None of these questions have ever been brought forth, and I’m seriously getting so fucking fed up with it.

Eventually, one of the aliens starts to complain about how his commanding officer ordered him to not completely destroy Maggie. The other alien says that the humans have already opened up an inter-space portal on earth… Which is against all discussion about what the humans can and can’t do. 

At the end of the chapter, it’s revealed that the other alien is literally… uh… I shit you not, two smaller aliens standing on top of one another, and wearing a trenchcoat. Their goal is to goad the one alien into doing his bidding, I guess? Again, a lot of words are said. Nearly a page of this. Yet nothing is ever actually explained to the readers about this. I’ve given up on trusting the process at this point; the author has lost their chance this late into the book. 

[iguana-eyanna]

The Villain You'd Thought I'd Be

Pairing: Matt Murdock x villain reader

Summary: You thought you'd have enough time with Matt when you two escaped, but happiness comes with consequences

Warning: violence, weapon use, death

a/n: This took so long to write! this will be the last part of this series, so I hope you enjoy!

Matt breathes in and out his nose, lying on a bed. The sun that warmed his face lets him know it's about breakfast time. He hears a soft grunt next to him, moving their hand closer to his naked chest.

He kisses your forehead, making you snuggle closer to him.

"Morning." He whispers.

"What time is it?" You ask, groaning in his chest.

He chuckles a bit, feeling his chest vibrate.

"I think it's almost ten?" He guesses.

You turn around and see your clock on your night stand to make sure.

"9:50 a.m., You must be a wizard." You joked, making Matt hold you closer as he laughed more. You were then both at eye level with each other, taking in each other's presence.

"I'll make us breakfast" he whispers, kissing your temple. You groan a bit, but you feel hungry. Sitting up, you see him get out of the bed as you see his toned body while wearing sweats. You smirk, throwing yourself in his pillow. You suddenly hear a ping from your phone and reach out to see a text on your home screen.

Your breath gets stuck in your throat, seeing it was from Wesley.

Fisk is getting impatient.

You straighten yp, trying to think of a response.

Ever since your disappearance last week, you told Wesley that you wanted more time and you'll return with Daredevil yourself. You and Matt haven't talked about it since not wanting to pop the bubble you two have made together.

I'll give you what you want Saturday night.

You see that he read it, but didn't reply. He knows that you're able to deliver, or else your life depended on it.

As you get out of bed and head to your kitchen, you caught a whiff of pancakes and eggs.

"I wanted to serve you in bed." Matt says, as he's still flipping food on the skillet.

"I'd rather be here with you." You said, hugging him from behind.

Soon, you two ate by the dining table and lounged around in your living room. You haven't gone out of your luxurious apartment, fearing that Fisk's spies would catch you in public.

For the past few days, they were either full of passionate nights as you drank white wine in your bedroom or the picket fence life when you two would mindlessly dance around your house listening to your record player.

Each moment was blissful.

Now you were on the couch, kissing every inch on Matt’s face as held you tightly.

“I gotta ask... when you were a kid, what did you want to be when you grew up?" Matt asks.

You hum in thought, biting your lip.

"A music teacher."

"Really?" He asks as you two sat up.

"Yeah, I always loved music at a young age. During college, I had to find an internship in order to graduate. I saw a flyer for a part-time job at a public school. I think they just needed the kids to join a curriculum after school so their homeroom teacher wouldn't burst into flames. I applied and got the job as a music teacher for the rest of the school year playing piano, ukulele, and guitar. Guess those kids made an impact on me 'cause I loved it so much."

"Wow, that's pretty cool." Matt says.

"Yeah, took me back to simpler times. Guess you can say I'm in the wrong profession." You chuckled, hoping he'd join in.

But there was dead silence.

"Don't, don't go back to them." Matt says.

You look down at your lap, as the uneasiness of this topic was hard to avoid now.

"If I stay, they're going to find us. I can't let that happen." You said.

"Then we go to the feds, I know some people who can help." Matt assured you, but you get from the couch.

"You know damn well no one escapes from Fisk."

Matt gets up as well, feeling the anger build.

"Then we'll find another way, together." He says, holding your hand

You look down, your heart breaking. This was the man you've been hunting down, but also the person you've been falling hard for. He's wanting to give everything up, for you.

"I know what we could do, but that means ending him... for good."

Matt feels helpless. He's tried his hardest to do what's right, to not submit to the sins he has already left behind.

But being here with you was his saving grace, as he never felt more alive in his life than with you.

He closes in the gap between you and holds you close, as his features crumble down.

"I would choose forever only if it’s with you."

You hold his face in your hands as you connected foreheads.

"We'll finally get that happy ending, together..."

You two then planned to get Fisk offguard. You'll lull Fisk into a vegetative state with your powers while Matt fights off anyone that stops your way. The only way to start this plan was if he got backup. So when he appeared at the office with you by his side, Foggy and Karen were upset. Matt and you told them of how you got your powers and that you've been working for FIsk all of this time.

"You broke my friend's heart, tortured him under the orders of your boss that's been trying to kill him, took him away for days without us knowing, and you want us to help you?" Foggy asks in a rage.

Karen looks at you, betrayed.

"Taking out Fisk like this isn't right, you know it too, Matt."

Matt held your hand as he speaks up to his friends.

"The last time I went after Fisk, I thought I lost an inch of my life. I am here, asking you to help us and end this fight for good."

You look at them as the guilt began to crawl on your back.

"What I did wasn't right, but I had no choice. Fisk thought he could form me into something sinister, but not anymore. I'm done with fighting, we're done with hiding."

Foggy looks at Matt, worried. When he realizes that you never let go of Matt's hand, he saw that you were worried too.

"Damn it." Foggy mutters as he lightly punched the desk in front of him.

He looks at you two, placing his hands on his hips.

"What do you want us to do?" Foggy asks.

"I'll deliver Matt to Fisk at a new shipping port, we'll sail across the bay and we'll take him out before the ship anchors. You'll wait for us at the destination and drive us out."

Karen crosses her arm, unimpressed.

"Fisk will know if Matt is at full strength. I'd think he'll notice he's not beaten to a pulp." Karen says.

You give Matt a side glance as he tightens his grip on your hand.

"That's when you come in. My powers have no limitations, so I need you to stop me if I hurt Matt by placing him under a spell."

She shoots up from her seat.

"You are not doing that to him!" She says, overprotectively.

Matt takes a step forward.

"It'll be the only way Fisk will know I'm not at full potential. She said it will only last about an hour and I'll return back at full strength. I trust her."

Karen shakes her head and left the office, not speaking to you or Matt. Foggy chases after her.

"Well, that was better than I expected." Matt said.

You huff when you sat down on the desk, staring out at the window.

"They don't want to lose you, I'd react like that too."

Matt joins you on the edge of the desk and lowers his head to the floor.

"We thought this out, right?" He asks.

You scoff and give a dry laugh.

"Only you could make a joke at a time like this." You said, nudging his shoulder.

You look at him, feeling a sort of guilt.

"Did you mean that you said? That you trust me? I mean, I almost killed you."

Matt moves his head to your direction.

"I do. More than you know."

You place the side of your head on his shoulder.

"We really didn't think this through." You said.

"They'll come around. I promised I'd come to them first if I wanted to take down Fisk, they have every part in this fight as we do. Then, we can live the lives we always wanted, together. "

You smile at the thought of a provincial life with Matt, making your heart shed off the ice it was once protected by.

"Together." You said, intertwining your hand in his.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Wesley and Fisk come out of the car at the meet up. They both look slightly irritated as they await you.

Soon, they see a car drive up and see you dressed in dark attire. Your leather heeled boots echo onto the pavement.

"Where were you?" Fisk asks.

"I thought to have fun with the devil himself, wanted to see what was all of the trouble since your guys can't catch him."

Wesley walks up, his jaw locked.

"Survivors said that you left them to die when you let him escape." He says, joining his hands in front of him.

Your gaze darkens, but you scoff.

"You really going to trust them? They were sloppy: made his restraints lose so he fought his way out. It was their fault, so they had to pay the price."

Fisk didn't reply when Wesley turned to him, trying to see your game.

"Where is he?" Fisks asks.

You turn around and walk towards the trunk of your car. Fisk motions to Wesley for him to follow you. When you open your trunk, It reveals a body bag, but Wesley isn't impressed.

"Open it." He demands.

You show no emotion and unzip it, revealing the masked Daredevil.

"Used my powers, he's pretty useless if you want anything out of him." You said.

Wesley turns to Fisk and nods his head.

"Zip him up and we'll have someone take him in. We need to talk, privately."

"Fine." You said. You left the car as you followed Fisk and Wesley to a private room on the ship. The room was small, but very elegant for Fisk's comfort. Windows surrounded the area as you see the front deck and the night sky. Once you settle, Fisk pours you and him a drink.

"I have to admit, you surprised me." Fisk said, cooly.

"You know I always deliver." You said.

"That is true. Some had doubts." Fisk said, giving a side eye to Wesley.

You cross your legs, giving an innocence look. Wesley never liked you before.

"Oh really?" You ask, taunting him.

He doesn't display much emotion, but you know he's biting his tongue.

Fisk gets out of his chair and walks around the room.

"Don't place the blame on him, some doubt came from me as well. I know how rebellious you can be, including your... love affairs."

The hairs on your neck started to stick like pins. You remember getting your powers for the first time. You felt invincible, wanting to lure men you attracted and left them for dead. Wesley had to clean up the mess like he always does for you. Fisk told you that caving into your powers is a dangerous thing, especially when they're driven by desire.

"I'm not like that anymore, you know that."

He gives a dry chuckle as he puts down his cup.

"Yes I do. You changed a lot. But I need to know where your loyalties lie."

A light brightens outside. You get up from your chair and peer down, almost gasping.

Dozens of bodyguards surrounded an unconscious Daredevil that was chained to the ground. He was forced on his knees, his head lulling side to side.

"I'm surprised you didn't unmask him." Fisks asks.

"I didn't see the fun in it." You said in a small voice, your eyes still locked on him.

Fisk comes closer to you, coldly smiling.

"I want you to do the honors." He says.

You swear you felt your heart dropped in your stomach as you look up, almost horrified.

You didn't have time to respond as Fisk gave you a box.

"A gift from me. What better way to use it then on the devil of Hell's Kitchen?"

You forced yourself to fake a smile.

"It'll be an honor."

Once you walked away to the staircase, you try your hardest not to waiver. Everything was set in slow motion. You arrive on the deck, as all eyes were on you. You uncover the box's lid and see a gun sitting on the cushion like a diamond necklace.

Typical of Fisk, dramatizing everything he did

Your eyes centered on Matt who still looked unconscious. Your cold hands lifted the gun from inside and you lifted it up in the air, slowly raising your arm and facing it to the one you loved.

"Hey." a whisper called out to you.

You look down and see Matt lifting his head, grinning in a small manner.

"Still have faith in us?" he asks.

You couldn't help but smile in relief.

"Still do, keep your head low."

You twirled around to the guards and let out a scream. Everyone is forced on their knees, trying to cover their ears but it was no use. They were powerless under your voice.

You know their will be more guards coming your way and helped Matt out of his bonds.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." he joked.

You chuckle, as you try hard to not kiss him when he throws quips like that. You help him to his feet and hear more coming.

"How many do you think are on the boat?" He asks.

"Maybe 30 tops." You said.

"I handled more." He said, ready to throw his punhces.

"Apparently, you don't know me well enough." You said. The first guard that came charging at you both, you dodged down and swooped him from under his legs, knocking him out as you strike him with your knee.

Matt was impressed, but shortly stopped as he punched another guard.

You two were almost invincible, fighting side by side. You turn around, thinking it may be over, but Fisk looms over you with fury in his eyes.

You were about to open your mouth, but Fisk grabbed you by the throat and lifted you in the air.

Matt turns around as he hears you struggle and ran towards you, but Wesley stepped in his way, pointing a gun at him.

"Not your turn yet." Wesley said in a monotone voice.

All you could do was try to wriggle out of Fisk's grip but it got harder to focus.

"I gave you your gift, I gave you a career, and this is what you give back to me? Betrayal?" Fisks screams.

All you could do is smile wickedly at him with hysteria.

"Guess I'm not the villain you'd thought I'd be."

You found a pocket knife in your pocket and took it out, slicing Fisk's arm. He lets go of you, screaming in pain. You landed on the floor, already feeling the bruising around your neck. When you look up, you see Matt trying to get to you. Little did he know, Wesley was pointing his gun at him.

"No." you whispered. With your last strength, you got up and drew in a breath, releasing one final song.

Fisk falls on his knees, trying to shut out your voice as well as Wesley. But the gun went off, and you only had enough time to hold onto Matt as you pushed yourself and Matt overboard.

You felt the impact of the water as your body hit it, and swim upwards. You gasp for air, trying to look for Matt. You see him struggle a few feet away from you, so you scream out for him so he could hear your voice.

He holds onto you tightly as you grabbed him firmly.

"Don't- let go" You stammered as you helped him steady himself in the water.

Fisk and Wesley get up and look over the ship, as they lost you and Daredevil in the darkness of the night.

"What now?" Wesely asks.

"Right now, we'll assume they're dead. There's bigger fish to fry." Wilson said as the two make their way back inside.

As morning rose, Foggy and Karen were sitting in a rental.

"They should have came hours ago." Foggy says.

Karen looks down at her phone, trying to see if any of you texted or call.

"Still no reply."

Foggy shakes his head and unbuckles his seat belt, getting out of the car.

"I need to get out, I can't stand not doing anything."

They were parked by the opposite dock of where you promised to meet them, and Foggy decided to walk down the rocky path that connected the water. He looks casually over the water, thinking he sees an abnormal rock that the water pushed forward. But somehow, it looked more round and red, with two pointy ears sticking out.

"Karen!" Foggy yelled out, as he started running towards the helmet. Soon, he sees his friends' bodies as they washed up on shore. Matt still clung out to you as both of you appeared unconscious.

Foggy tears Matt off of you and performs CPR.

"C'mon man." Foggy whispers, as he keeps pushing down.

Karen runs over and sees what's happening and begins to pale. She resumed running as she tries to perform CPR on you.

Soon, Matt coughs out water and tries to breathe.

"Matt buddy, we're here," Foggy says, trying to calm him down.

"Where- Where is she?" Matt asks as he was still coughing. Foggy was about to point out that Karen was trying to resuscitate you, but his face fell. Karen could only look down at you with blood on her hands, seeing the bullet wound in your side.

Matt could smell the blood, that was all he was smelling.

"No, no no no no." He murmured, trying to crawl to you. Foggy tried to help but pushed him aside.

Matt held your cold body in his arms, as he tried to heart beat or hear you say something, anything to him

"Come back to me." Matt begged, rocking you in his arms.

He screamed out in pain as his two friends stood behind him, looking at their friend who lost everything.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Matt walked along the sidewalk, smiling to himself.

He finally came to his destination at a busy entrance to a catholic school. Matt took out his visitor's pass and walked along the hallways.

"Hi Mr. Murdock, we've just prepared the room for you." Shelly, the middle aged receptionist said as she took his arm.

"Thanks for having me come, Shell." Matt said.

"Of course, the kids love you. Especially since you're dating their music teacher." She said, opening the door.

"-now everyone! I'd like you to welcome Mr. Matt Murdock from Nelson, Murdock, and Page: Attorneys at Law!" A voice said out loud to busy kids.

They all cheered as Matt enters to the front of the room, folding his walking stick.

"It's great to be here! I work at a law firm that I and my friends made together..."

He talked about his job and had a few questions from the kids. But the last one that made him slightly turn was when he was going to marry their teacher.

The dismissal bell finally rang and all the kids left, saying goodbye to their guest speaker and teacher. A pair of heels goes up to Matt, smirking at him.

"I hope I didn't bore them." Matt said.

"You didn't, they loved you." You said, smiling.

You survived the incident from the boat two years ago. You didn't know if it was your powers or if the bullet go through all the way: you were still alive. Matt could hear a faint heartbeat and told his friends to drive you to the nearest hospital.

You woke up a few days later, seeing Matt by your side. Since then, you two became closer and you found a great place to restart your life, working as a music teacher at a catholic middle school.

"Shall we head out?" Matt asks.

You hum in agreement as you and Matt planned to get something by the cafe next door and have a small picnic.

"Yep, I'm starving. Anything else planned?" You ask jokingly.

Matt chuckles as he had a ring in his pocket as he wanted to propose to you.

"Eh, Got a trick up my sleeve. Nothing too special."

You roll your eyes as you hold Matt's hand as you walk out of your classroom.

"Be careful, Mr. Murdock... I'll torture it right out of you. I always have a lasting effect on you."

Matt grins before kissing you as you made it outside.

"That you do, my siren... that you do"

[harrison-abbott]

Ed

I knew Ed since he was a kid. We came from the same street and went to the same school. Ed was always kicking his football about, even when he was on his own. When he was playing football with other people – and when he saw me on the street – he would whack the football at me, to make the lads laugh. And they usually did. Ed usually hit me with the ball. Was pretty accurate. Ed never spoke to me for years despite seeing me almost daily. Until we were moved into the same class at school. And he did much the same as he did with the football, except verbally: attack me when others around, but, when he was on his own there was nothing. The boys all liked him because he was rough and scared them into liking him; the girls didn’t like him a bit, because he was ugly. When he was in his early teens, Ed was signed for some proper soccer club. As in, the youth level big-club of the city. And everybody thought that was impressive. Even I did: when I hated football. So he became a mini celebrity in the school. Everybody wanted to be near him. He had that magnetic thing that some people have. When I mention that I was ‘impressed’ by his being signed, I mean that things didn’t usually happen in our neighbourhood. Our parents all had shit jobs and there was nothing pretty about the city unless you got on a bus for 40 minutes and went into the countryside. But I didn’t see what was so special about Ed as a person. Because he didn’t really do anything aside from insult other people. But the world seemed to think differently – because when Ed was seventeen, he was signed as a professional by the major soccer club. He was on the television. Huge stuff. ‘This lad from four doors down the street becomes a star.’ It all seemed as if he was going places and moving off from our bleak town. But then one day I went into school, and everybody was talking in a nervous, distraught manner about Ed. And Ed wasn’t there. He had been in a car crash, when he was out driving with his Dad. And both of them were still alive, but Ed’s right foot had been crushed: and he was now in hospital having surgery. When I next saw Ed, he was walking down the street with crutches on, and a huge cast around his foot. And he looked at me and recognised me, but this worried expression snapped his face and he looked away. The kids were all still speaking about him, nervously. Apparently his injury was really bad. And he might not be able to play soccer again. When I saw Ed around school, everybody was keen to help him out. He was treated like some injured king.

Then the school term ended. And I left, school, because I hated it, and I had decent enough grades to go to college. And I applied for college and I got in. So that meant I was towing across the city every day on the bus. And studying in college, which expanded my mind. I still lived in the same neighbourhood, because it was simpler to stay with my mother (as the college was in the same city). But I would spend long periods in the library in the evenings and read loads of books, and all of that hatred from the school days evaporated as I filled my head with knowledge. So I wouldn’t be around the old neighbourhood as much. But I would be there on weekends. Until, the winter after my first semester, I went home, and to the local supermarket. And I saw Ed manning one of the counters. He looked a lot smaller than he did before. And just like the other workers in their blue uniforms. I didn’t say anything to him because he wasn’t serving me. And I wondered what had happened with his foot. Had it been fixed? Was he still playing football? Until the following spring, when I saw him again. Totally unexpectedly. I hadn’t been thinking about him at all because I was studying, but I was back home – and I saw Ed. He was limping on the other side of the street. And he couldn’t walk fast. And this must’ve been about a year after the famous injury. I messaged one of my (very few) mates that I had from high school, about Ed, to ask what was up with him. Was there any news? And my mate messaged back saying, “Yeah. Ed’s foot was mucked up after the crash, and the club terminated his contract. But, boo hoo. I always that Ed was a bully. Serves him right.” When my friend said that, I kind of agreed in a way. I’ll admit there was a bit of schadenfreude with Ed’s demise. Maybe I didn’t explain, earlier, just how much of a bastard he was. It’s hard to understand a bully unless they’re doing it to you. Or, rather, if a person didn’t treat you in the same crap manner then other people won’t realise what they were like. When Ed was with his mates in the corridor, I would timidly walk past them. And he had this game of pretending that my backside was a football. And that he was aiming for a penalty kick. Then he would run up and say, like a soccer commentator, “Ed to take the winning penalty! This could win the tournament!” and then he would kick me in the butt. Hard. And all his mates thought it was brilliant. And so, yeah, when I heard that his fledgling career was finished, I was a bit satisfied. But then when I was back home I would see him now and then in the supermarket, working at the counter. He never spoke and he did the work like he was thinking about other things and he always looked like he’d just woken up. I finished college. And then I got a job working in a different part of the city. So I moved out of my mother’s house as well, and began a new life elsewhere. But there was this one Christmas. It must’ve been ten years after I left high school. Where I never thought about high school whatsoever. I went home to my mother’s for Christmas. And on Christmas Eve I went down to the local supermarket to get some things for the evening meal. I saw Ed. Behind the counter. In fact: I went up to him at his counter, without realising it was him at all. Because he was totally different. He used to be this burly chap. Now he was all thin and shivery and his skin gave the indication of illness. Like he should be in a ward instead of working this job. All he said to me was, “Do you need a receipt?” And his voice had lost that loud, snarly essence that it had when we were little. He wasn’t Ed anymore. But that was definitely him.

[rnolduga]

Gerudo Height in BotW

NOTE: This is all approximation based on theory, done because simply eyeballing heights wasn't enough for me and I wanted an answer that could at least be explained.

I'll get straight to the point- this started because my fixation on BotW returned and I decided I needed to know Urbosa's height; looking it up rewarded me with poor results, so I decided to find it myself and I spiraled from there. Here we go:

To start, I need a solid metric to measure her height by, as well as something to compare her to. In comes this video by The Bread Pirate, in which he calculates Link's height and comes to the conclusion that he is 5'2", or 1.584 meters. This is perfect, because it just so happens that Link and Urbosa are depicted together on equal level in Memory #15 and that means I can use him to find her height through comparison.

(I had to cut Mipha out from between them for this, rip)

I tried to approximate their heights as accurately as possible, excluding the added height of their hair because. Well. Hair doesn't count. Which is also why in the video, Link was measured in the radiant mask, which flattens his hair.

Now, The Bread Pirate utilizes the BotW memory editor to convert Link's height in in-game pixels to meters, and I can't do that here. So, alternative methods with a common metric have to be used. As seen in the above image, I measured both Link and Urbosa's height from the bottom of their feet to roughly the top of their heads, in red and blue. The black and white lines beside those serve to count each pixel of the lines more clearly, with an added line for Urbosa's heels, which will be subtracted from her total height later. As you can see, Link reaches 122 pixels tall, Urbosa is 175 pixels, and Urbosa's heels are 6 pixels. For simplicity's sake, I'll be measuring height in meters for the math and converting it to feet + inches for those who need it at the end. To find Urbosa's height, we have to find the height of each pixel. For this, we rely on Link's assumed height of 1.584 meters.

1.584 divided by Link's pixel height count, 122, equals 0.01298360655. This means that in this instance, 1 pixel = 0.01298360655 meters.

With that in mind, if Urbosa is 175 pixels tall, then Link's pixel height subtracted from that would give them a 53 pixel difference. 53 pixels, or 0.68813114754 meters.

Link's height of 1.584 meters + their difference of 0.68813114754 meters = 2.27213114754 meters, Urbosa's total height in the above image.

Now, her heels are 6 pixels tall, or 0.0779016393 meters. This, subtracted from her total height, equals 2.19422950824 meters.

So, in simpler terms, Urbosa is roughly:

2.272 meters / 7'5" in heels. 2.194 meters / 7'2" without heels.

That's super tall! Except...

Huh..........................

This got me thinking. I assumed all Gerudo adults except elders used very similar base models and were therefore all the same height, so this was all for the fun of ignoring nintendo's convenient game development method of reusing models to treat each character like an individual, but could they be different heights?

To my surprise, the answer is yes!

Using the same method I did with Urbosa, I approximated the following (heels subtracted from all):

Buliara: 2.315 meters / 7'7"

Guard: 2.112 meters / 6'11"

Avg. Gerudo: 2.019 meters / 6'7"

I left out elderly Gerudo because they're all signifigantly hunched over, making it impossible to get an accurate measurement, as well as Gerudo children, because I'm lazy.

(Side note, that'd make the Gerudo at the bar REALLY tall by their standards. Her in-game model is the same height as other average Gerudo around town, but I'm taking her word on being 8'0" for the sake of maintaining something that is definitively canon lol)

Now, there's just one last thing to mention: Traysi's estimation of average Gerudo height.

Um.

No, pretty sure that's much taller than the average Gerudo, I don't even have to do the math. also that's a cactus not a tree

Anyway. I went into this just wanting to know how tall Urbosa was and ended up doing a lot more math than originally intended to find the heights of other Gerudo too. Worth it tbh.

[soft-persephone]

Triple Frontier

Rewatch and Review

I did a deep dive in the making of this movie and it adds to the experience.

They worked will a real team of navy seals to really make the team feel more authentic outside of their preexisting relationships with one another. The guns they used were real and everything. They truly learned not only physical, but also the mental aspects of being a team of people in the military who operates at such a high level.

They all had a separate member of the team to go one on one with as well. It’s truly fascinating.

The director is JC Chandor, and he’s also directed and written A Most Violent Year.

I’m finding that his movies are mainly character driven. It’s more about complex characters in different situations or how they navigate a specific environment. There is a “story/plot”. The premise of the story can be interesting, but the complex nature of the characters is what really sells the movie.

This specific movie is about the special forces and how they navigate life once they “retire”. Which is the most obvious part, but it’s also about a group of guys who did it together and have a reunion.

I think what makes this movie special is how they all interact and how different and similar they are. It can be argued that Santiago starts the movie hungry for more. He just wants more. Out of his life, out of his job. He wants something to show for all the things he’s lost and missed out on while “fighting for his country”. He not only wants it for himself, but also for the people he served with.

They’ve all moved on with their lives. In whatever way that means. Santi wants so much more for them. Doing whatever he can to convince them to join him, isn’t selfishness, but a love to him. A vow to his loyalty and how much he cares about them.

They don’t see it that way, but he’s fine with that. Because he sees the end result.

He pushed and he pushed hard. It might not have been completely right. But it’s not completely wrong either.

You could also argue that Tom is the one that made the wrong move in every turn. One look at the money changed him completely. He went from ambivalent at best to, beyond all in. He was gone. It’s in the way he stopes following their plan. How he says they got time when the didn’t. How he put them in a situation to kill people they didn’t anticipate killing.

You see this change between both Tom and Santiago. They both start the film at completely different ends of a spectrum and swap places by the end.

As they keep going, Santiago , and the rest of them for that matter, care less and less about the money with them. They give up more and more as things get complicated. However, Tom argues more and more. Every time he opens his mouth, it’s about how much money they are leaving behind. It’s in that tension of his greed and the goal of getting home that gets Tom killed.

By that point, Toms loss is when there’s a change in everyone. It’s where now they have to get at least some of this money for Toms family. However, even that gets complicated. Lorea’s men have caught up with them, and are blocking their escape.

There’s a beautiful moment when Will calms Santi down when they have to figure out how to confront the rest of Lorrea’s men and how they are all teenagers. Santiago says they have to kill them all because he can’t grasp doing this all for nothing. He doesn’t want to go home, tell Tom’s family he’s dead, and have nothing to show for it.

He says “I thought we could do this.” And in that specific moment you can see how upset he is that every thing is falling apart. How he accepts that very fact in this moment that they failed and need to focus on getting Tom home. He’s made a complete assessment change on everything. The money and what he thought he wanted.

It’s an amazing arc for both of them. (Not Tom dying. But the processes of greed to his ultimate downfall, and Santi’s deliverance of sorts to accepting the simpler things of life. That he can’t beat the system even if he tries really hard. He just has to take the short end of the stick that has inevitably been offered to him, and find a way to be content with it.

I will never be able to shut up about this movie! Thank you for reading if you made it this far!

[baltears]

ok lets just go over this

james hurley – laura was correct that hes not super smart but that's not the only thing its possible to bring to the table. she looked down on him because of his intellect which caused her to miss that hes actually very perceptive and emotionally intelligent but this also made her not feel too threatened by the relationship which i think is ultimately why he was able to be there for her the way he was in her last days. james correctly clocks that laura's cruel streak is a function of her being in extreme pain and that she lashes out most at people she actually deeply cares about, and he sticks with her despite her trying to hurt him because he also correctly perceives that she desperately needs love and support. idc, james is a real one. he was lauras crisis hotline friend which is a tough fuckin job. donna was also in that emotional support role for laura but laura tried to keep donna insulated from most of the details of her life, meanwhile she was disclosing a lot of her most intimate feelings to james. he was doing everything he could to support her despite the fact that she actively made it hard and painful for him

harold smith – served as one of the closest witnesses to laura's torture. she exploited the fact that he is kept isolated from the world by his agoraphobia because she knew he was unlikely to have the opportunity to disclose what she was telling him to anyone else. essentially he was the guy who got trauma dumped on and was clearly really overwhelmed by the extreme nature of laura's experiences esp given that he already had severe anxiety but this also meant he served a critical role in laura's survival up until her death. like laura he is extremely unwell and unstable and honestly couldnt handle any of what was going on (then again neither could she). got a raw fuckin deal and has lived a very depressing life in general

bobby briggs – matched laura's freak. imo people are way too harsh on him considering hes a teenager and like laura he has been subject to extreme abuse though of a very different kind. he and laura were obviously drawn to each other because of image but also because they were both dealing with deeply disturbed emotional lives under the surface. i think they did care about and love each other genuinely on some level but because they're both so fucked up and also so young there was a lot of weird emotional power struggle stuff going on that sometimes escalated to abuse. i think bobby found his relationship with shelly much simpler and less challenging/fraught because she didnt ever really try to dominate him the way laura did (possibly because she was already so beaten down by leo). but obviously bobby grieved for laura and was as traumatized by her death as everybody else in town, hes just a bit of a bottle rocket of a person and his reactions go all over the place. he and laura were twin souls to me if a very dysfunctional couple

ben horne – sucks. funny in a meow meow way however

hank jennings – also sucks but hes a victim of poverty and the carceral system unlike ben

[subliminalbo]

Lacey's Story: Part Three

There are moments of clarity under the influence of Obedience. When the signals that pulse outward from the pleasure receptors sewn into the fabric stagger their relentless assault on the user’s body to process lines of unseen data. The engineers at Fleur-de-lis call this buffering. It can be as brief as a second but rarely stretches beyond a minute. Most users don’t even notice it. They’re too high from the dozens of micro-orgasms experienced every minute. The anticipation is almost as intoxicating as the payoff. When those receptors fire off again, the pleasure is ten-fold. The user’s mind is fucked into oblivion. It’s essential to why Obedience works.

But there’s more to it than simply computing data. If the signals never ceased, if Obedience was a constant wave of pleasure, the brain would never have time to process anything. Early testers were left catatonic, drooling, moaning, serving nothing but relentless stimulation. Buffering was the solution. Turn the signals off for one second at a time. Decisions are made in the space of seconds. If the user can’t make one consciously, then their unconscious mind will. Words, actions, the appearance of autonomy are all possible because of buffering. The mind locks a decision in and the body acts out the rest.

With Lacey, Dr. Lange had unintentionally exploited a design flaw in Obedience’s programming: triggers can override the system. By denying Lacey the ability to orgasm freely, the system had no reward. Buffering grew interminable. She was trapped in a constant state of stifled satisfaction. As the system buffered, searching for a level of stimulation that didn’t exist for her, Lacey was free to make choices that other slaves couldn’t.

Tilting over the abyss, she locked her mind on Brad, and when the next wave washed over her she toppled down into the darkness.

Lacey was in trance when she got to Brad’s apartment.

She still had the key that Brad had given her the night he moved in. She felt resistance halfway into the keyhole but powered through it, twisting to the right until the blade snapped off inside the lock. Lacey had experience picking the lock on her dad’s liquor cabinet back home, but the forces that propelled her to Brad’s door searched for a simpler solution.

Lacey stumbled her way around the side of his apartment and found a large stone among a decorative bed of rocks just beneath a window. She didn’t blink when the glass shattered.

Brad was doing nearly thirty credit hours and working part time at Argento’s Pizzeria downtown. Lacey found him in his room, passed out in his jeans. She stripped silently by the bed, dropping her top and leggings to the floor in a few quick motions, then reaching backward to unclasp her bra.

Even as the bra hit the floor she could still feel Obedience on her skin. A phantom pair of hands kneading at her breasts, a tongue pressed to her clit. The world was suddenly louder and full of needless thoughts. She knew that she didn’t have long. She needed to go back under.

Settling in the bed next to Brad, Lacey pressed her breasts to the back of his t-shirt. He stirred but didn’t wake. She whispered, “Master.”

Silence.

Lacey could count the seconds since she’d taken off the bra. Inconvenient feelings like doubt filled the empty paradise of her mind. She pressed herself tighter to Brad, moved her hand down his chest, popped the button on his jeans. She continued her journey down his body until her hand found his soft cock.

Brad sighed now as she began to work.

“That’s right,” Lacey whispered, his shaft filling her grip.

“Fuck…” he was waking up now. “Your hands feel so good.”

Lacey pressed her lips to Brad’s ear and said, “Just like old times.”

Old times. Brad’s eyes snapped open.

He spun out of Lacey’s grip, somersaulting over the edge of the bed.When he sprang back up a second later he was on the other side of the room buttoning his pants.

“What the fuck Lacey?!” he cried. “I came back to you,” she said.

Her hands wandered seductively over her breasts as she tried to tempt Brad back to the bed. Brad may have stared, but he wouldn’t budge and he wanted answers.

“But what the fuck?” “I need you.”

“You can’t be here!” he shouted back. “You have to get dressed. You have to go home.”

An impasse. Lacey did the math, considering which combination of actions would get her back under the quickest. Fuck, she needed to cum. That was all that mattered.

She wanted to shout it again: “I need you!” She wanted to beg Brad to take her, to fuck her, to let her finally cum. But something was pulling Brad back. If he wasn’t going to claim his slave, she’d have to find a way to make him. Begging wasn’t the way.

“I need…” she started, still searching. Panicked breaths slowed to a steady heartbeat, a step in the direction of the calm and calculated Lacey Brad had known before. When she spoke again, she was fully committed to the words. “I need help.”

The fog lifted slowly with each small sip of tea. Brad put the kitchen counter between them like a barrier. By the end of the story he needed it to keep himself standing. The way she looked across from him, clutching the coffee mug close to her chest, his fake-retro Space Jam shirt dangling from her arms, made the twisted details of her story even more sordid.

“I hated him,” was all Brad could manage to say about Dr. Lange with the unspoken suggestion that the world was better off with him dead. “I left you. You needed me and I just left you.”

“Don’t be insulting,” Lacey said. “Nobody can stop me from making mistakes. Even if you knew, there was nothing you could have done.”

Lacey took another sip. The phantom signals had faded, but they left the memory of pleasure.

She hated the way Brad was staring at her from across the counter. It might have been a look she’d given him once. When she used to look into his eyes, when they were still Lacey and Brad, she could see how hopeless he was. No one had ever looked at her that way before and she actually pitied it. Lacey always knew that it was ending, whether it was in the next week or in the next ten years.

“But you can’t imagine what it feels like,” she started, distracted now by the reflection in her tea. “I don’t want to,” Brad said. “But it’s not bad,” she looked up. “It’s like…”

“You can’t ever put it back on,” Brad cut her off.

“I know.”

It was a small effort for Brad to convince Lacey to stay the night. He returned from his bedroom with a spare blanket and pillow tucked beneath both arms.

“Are you still at the Gardens?” he asked Lacey as he made up the couch for her.

She brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear. “I was living with Dr. Lange.”

“You can stay here as long as you need to,” he said.

Though Brad hadn’t lived here long, his apartment was nostalgic to Lacey. He had a way of slowing down her worst ambitions. When she was with him she didn’t care about classes or internships or transcripts. She just wanted to be in the world with him. Between the big moments that define a person is a laugh, a kiss, a fantastic fuck. Brad had always been that for her. Maybe the reason it was so easy for Lacey to leave him was because she knew how easily he would let her come back.

She took in the feeling of being in her safe space as she sunk into the couch, the leather crackling beneath her body. It was an old Craiglist couch that Lacey had felt obligated to pay a part of after breaking Brad’s futon. It still smelled like the old owner. She took a deep breath, inhaled the old musty smell of cigarettes and pizza grease. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cry for old friendships, for lost late nights, and for abandoned couches. It had been months since she’d felt anything remotely melancholy and she was desperate for it to stop. She wanted to bury it all down somewhere so far she’d never have to feel anything but total pleasure again.

As Brad lowered the blanket over her legs, Lacey gripped him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down to her. She muffled her sobs with a kiss that Brad didn’t want to fight off.

“Lacey,” he finally pushed back. “I can’t...” “Of course you can,” she protested. Her arms hooked around his neck. “I know I hurt you once. But I was made for you, Brad. That’s why the universe brought me back to you.”

The universe. Brad had never been Lacey’s first choice. He didn’t give a fuck about fate or the universe or any of that cosmic bullshit. He had always chosen her. That’s what made it so goddamn special.

Brad fought his way through Lacey’s grasp and said, “I’m seeing someone. I’m happy.”

Lacey didn’t hesitate. “You can have us both!” “It doesn’t work like that.” “Of course it does! She’ll be your girlfriend and I’ll be your slave.”

“What?”

“I don’t even have to sleep in the bedroom. Put me in the utility closet if you want to. Just use me!Fuck me!”

“Please, Lacey,” Brad cried.

“It’s been so long,” she whined. Her hand floated downward, slipping beneath the elastic of her gym shorts, beyond the folds of her wet pussy. “Just say it…” “Please, stop…” “Let me cum,” She moaned. “And I’ll be yours forever!”

“Stop it!”

Brad’s voice bounced off of the living room walls. The world seemed to stand still as Brad gripped her wrists, pushing them down toward her chest.

Lacey was smiling. “If you’ll just listen,” she spoke softly. “If you’ll just let me tell you what it’s like…”

“No,” Brad released her quickly. “You’re being controlled, Lacey. Don’t you see that?”

“I’m completely naked under this shirt. Obedience brought me here, but this is who I am. This is who I’ve always been.”

“You are Lacey Stafford,” Brad said. “You used to practice campaign speeches in study hall, you wrote political fanfiction, you led a student strike when they took taquitos off the lunch menu. You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever known, Lacey. I won’t let you give up who you are.”

“Fuck,” Lacey shook her head, backing against the arm of the couch as her conscious mind took hold again. “It-It’s so hard to think,” she blinked through tears. “It’s like…I know who I am…but everything is pushing me back to that goddamn underwear.”

“I know it’s hard,” He said. “But when you wake up tomorrow you’ll be so far from it, and so thankful.”

Before Brad left Lacey for the night, he tucked her in and reached out to turn out the light. She stopped him.

“Okay,” he said. “The light stays on.”

When Brad had gone to bed, Lacey counted. Ninety-seven minutes had passed since her Obedience by Fleur lingerie landed on his bedroom floor.

Brad awoke the next morning to a sound he couldn’t place.

It was something in the neighborhood of a scream. At first Brad thought it was the echo of a dream, but then he remembered Lacey and her story and the Obedience by Fleur that he’d stuffed in his dresser drawer the night before. He sat up and saw the Space Jam shirt crumpled up on the floor, observed the contents of his sock drawer strewn about the room. His stomach sank.

The lingerie was gone.

“Lacey?” Brad called as he crept toward the living room. The faint sound of a stifled moan slithered down the hallway toward him.

He found Lacey where he’d left her. She sat there upright on the couch, perfect posture, hands folded over smooth, glistening legs. Her wide eyes were unbothered by the morning light streaming in from the window next to her. They were vacant but not unfeeling, like an affectation that she was desperately holding onto–only the appearance of emptiness. She was on the edge of something powerful and it took an incredible amount of self-control to hold it in. Was it pain? Frustration? All this so that a slave could meet her Master in the morning at attention. This behavior, Brad assumed, had been learned.

His gaze traveled down from her glossy eyes to her breasts, supported by the lingerie that just a few hours ago she’d promised never to wear again.

Lacey smiled as her head titled slightly to the side.

“Did you really think it was over?” she asked. “A cup of tea and an appeal to my old self? I told you that this is who I am. All those years living next door to me, sitting by your window just to catch a glimpse of me changing. The sleepovers and the movie dates and signing up for the same extracurriculars. Is this not what you’ve always wanted?”

“No,” Brad shook his head. “God, Lacey, no…”

“Do you remember in eleventh grade when I dated Austin Kemp? Do you remember how you cried to me? ‘Nobody’s ever going to love you the way I do. I’m the one who’s always there for you. I’m the one who gets nothing in return.’ Do you remember that?”

“Yes,” he said. “I was stupid.”

“You think you’re this good guy, Brad, but you’re just a guy. And all I’ve ever been is an object to you. You think if I came to you at sixteen, mindless and begging, you would stop yourself? You’re denying your nature. Take what belongs to you…Master.”

“No,” Brad repeated. “You need to take it off now, Lacey.”

“Is that what you want?” she asked, slowly tracing a line up the bare skin of her stomach. “You want this brainless bimbo naked, on her knees? I can still write campaign speeches if that’s your thing. I’ll preach about the joy of sucking Master’s cock, how each little lick takes me deeper, washing my own mind away. I’ll inspire an entire generation of empty holes to be fucked. Is that what gets you off, Master?”

Lacey rose from the couch, taking a step toward Brad still frozen at the end of the hallway.

“Don’t you want to know what it feels like? Don’t you want to know every little detail of how Dr. Lange fucked my mind into the obedient young sex toy he always fantasized about?”

Brad shook his head.

Lacey closed in. The hallway was behind Brad, but he felt trapped.

“What are you afraid of?” she asked. “I don’t know who you are,” he said. “You know exactly who I am,” she replied. “What do you want, Lacey? Why are you doing this? Why are you saying this?”

Her body was small against his. He could feel her hip bones pressing into him. Had she eaten since Dr. Lange died? Brad had to resist the urge to touch her. His arms remained at the side. He looked down into her glassy eyes, hungry eyes. Did his eyes look the same, he wondered.

A tight moan slipped from Lacey’s lips as Obedience’s signals moved through her body, firing off so powerfully now that she could barely hold back the pleasure. Pleasure without release.

“Because I’m a slave,” She managed to breathe. “And a slave needs her Master.”

[theroyalhouseofwindenburg]

As the days stretched on in the wake of Prince Arthur's execution, a heavy cloud of sorrow and anger settled upon Prince Wilhelm, the heir to the throne. Secluded within the confines of his chambers at Westfield, he found solace in the past, gazing at an old family painting that captured a fleeting moment of innocence and joy. The image served as a reminder of a time when life was simpler, when Uncle Arthur was a pillar of support and love in his young life.

The loss of his uncle went beyond the bonds of kinship. Arthur had been a guiding presence, a father figure who had nurtured and cared for Wilhelm from his earliest years. The void left in his heart was profound, leaving him adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions. Grief mingled with a seething rage that simmered just beneath the surface, fueled by the perceived betrayal inflicted by his own father, King Wilhelm.

Their strained relationship had always been marked by a lack of understanding and discord. But this time, the pain inflicted upon Prince Wilhelm was of a magnitude that cut deep into his very soul. It was a wound that could not be easily healed or forgotten.

The prince's heart burned with a seething rage towards his father, their differences had always created a rift between them, but this betrayal had wounded Wilhelm on a much deeper level. The pain of losing his uncle, mentor, and confidant was a wound that cut to the core of his being. It was an act that Wilhelm believed could never be undone.

[dayfalwastaken]

Higher Dialogue.

“Okay, picture this scenario then.” He raised his hand to better illustrate what he was about to say. “You have a lot of money and donate to charity. Why do you do it? Is it because it’s the right thing to do and makes you happy or do you do it because you’d feel bad otherwise? In both cases you cannot be truly selfless, since performing the action of donating to charity will nonetheless end up benefiting you in some way. By the same logic breathing is selfish, because it benefits you.”

The other just shrugged, crossing his legs.

“Breathing is done automatically though. You only do it consciously once you start thinking about it, and then it fades back to being automatic. You can’t call someone selfish for continuing to function as an organism.” His argument was met with a small frown.

“What about eating then? The act of hunting for prey, killing and preparing it is all done consciously to help continue your existence, by at the same time ending another’s. Plants for example do not kill anyone to continue living, with few exceptions. They feed off of sunlight, a resource that cannot really be consumed since it’s produced by the sun as a byproduct of its existence.

He paused, narrowing his eyes while he looked off into the distance. The rabbit nodded, inviting him to go on. The dots of light in Shadow Freddy’s eyes fluttered, but his expression did not allow for much to be gathered. RWQ still had no idea just what the other was thinking, as opposed to how it was for Fred himself.

“Therefore, sunlight is limitless during a plant’s lifespan despite how much of it the plant eats and the sun will never be impacted by the consumption of its light. The plant is eating automatically without impacting the thing that feeds it- or anything else for that matter, so in this case it is not selfish like other creatures.”

“But not everything is a plant- a simpler lifeform. It’s not my fault I’m not one. Evolution, a higher power, mere chance may have created me. I cannot be blamed for what I am on a base level when I have no control over it.” He placed a hand on his chest, gripping the velvet armchair tighter. In the meantime, the bear fixed his tie, listening along in interest.

“A human infant cannot be blamed for being born human, can it? Except the simple lifeform- depending on what you define as life, everyone and everything has to be a little selfish in order to exist. It’s the circle of, well, life.” A begrudging nod was his sole reward for the argument. “Nothing would be if not for some amount of self-benefiting action. That does not mean, however, that selfishness is inherently bad. It’s self-serving for sure, but in the case of survival it’s necessary.”

Then, a hopeful grin and a hint of pity graced the bear’s features.

“So you are in agreement with me when I say it is necessary for me to cause pain in order to further exist.” Shadow Freddy had said it more like a statement rather than a question. “That I am not selfishly evil just for the sake of it, my enjoyment of tormenting people notwithstanding since it’s a side effect.”

“No.” In return, a single eyebrow was raised.

“Why?” He asked, his tone even.

“Because in your particular case there is an easier, far less hurtful alternative.” The Devil tilted his head, urging the rabbit to continue with a simple hand gesture. “Leeching off of the pain already present in the world, as you say, that will never truly cease. If that wasn’t an option then I’d reluctantly have to agree. That is, as long as the pain was caused in as small amounts as possible to ensure you had just enough to keep living.”

But as soon as he’d said that, his friend had rolled his eyes, attention on the red sky above the both of them. Not what he wanted to hear, but then oftentimes that was the truth’s nature, wasn’t it?

“So, in your opinion, I am forced to do just enough to live and nothing else. My life is relegated to a- a silent existence, drifting boredly through space, without enjoying anything it has to offer...” He raised his shoulders in confusion. “But is it not in my nature to only enjoy the harm I can cause others? You said it yourself; you cannot be blamed for what you are on a base level. If what I am is a being that feeds on the negative emotions of others- in order to live, be happy, fulfilled, whatever- can I really be called evil?”

For a moment RWQFSFASXC was taken off guard by how calm the Devil remained even when his convictions were being challenged, but he chuckled at himself the next second. He was not talking to a mindless creature. There was reason to be found even in the vilest- by the general definition- of creatures. And there was nothing more that he enjoyed than having a levelheaded discussion with a gifted individual.

“All I want, like all sentient beings, is to be happy.” It had been said so innocently the rabbit could do nothing else but believe it. “Why should I be denied that? Am I wrong to pursue my own happiness and mental wellbeing? Simply because it comes at the detriment of others? If that’s just how it is for me- as opposed to other lifeforms- and I can’t change the very nature of my being, how can you call me evil? Why is it wrong to make the best out of the hand I’ve been dealt?”

RWQ inhaled, despite not needing to, and tilted forward, resting his arms on his knees.

“That would imply you cannot learn to enjoy other things.” He began, treading carefully. “That you are forced to conform to the hand. I like being in the company of people even when they’re unaware of my presence, for example. That is not considered normal for those like us. Of course, we are not the same person, but if a being so similar to you can evolve past it’s arguably primal need to inflict suffering, I believe so can you…”

He was walking on eggshells, he knew, but it was worth a shot. If there was a chance people would stop suffering at the bear’s hands, as a result of a peaceful approach, he’d have to take it. The Devil shifted in his seat, but not in a show of anxiety. It was more like the confident dominance of one that was taking a more comfortable position to consider what they’d just heard.

A short silence descended between them, which RWQ broke almost immediately by swallowing his own fear and pushing further. He hoped to God his courage wouldn’t get him and many others killed. It’d be difficult to live with himself afterwards if he’d been the cause of a rageful rampage.  

“All sentient beings can choose to change, for the better or worse. You just need to try. To give yourself that chance to move past what you see as regular behavior- and be different than the norm that we’re expected to conform to...”

He proposed, trying to appear as reassuring as possible as he smiled. That may’ve had the opposite effect however. Shadow Freddy broke eye contact, leaning back into his chair to rub his chin.

“There’s always a choice. To improve your situation, as best you can, even when the difference might very well be miniscule, is still a choice worth making, I believe. To ignore that choice is what would make you evil.”

The rabbit could see the metaphorical gears turning underneath the top hat, and he prayed that was enough to convince his friend to at least take it easy on those poor, young souls. With bated breath he watched as his suggestion was weighed, and as he did so the bear laughed, probably amused by his anticipation. Well, at least it wasn’t a malicious laugh, so there was a silver lining somewhere in there.

A long sigh of relief escaped him upon hearing Fred’s response.

“…Huh. I’ll admit… I hadn’t thought of it like that.” The Devil stood up all of a sudden, clasping his hands together. Thick black smoke rose from his back as he extended a hand. “You’ve given me a lot to consider, RWQ.” He admitted, seemingly impressed. Shadow Bonnie glitched for a brief second, before smiling sheepishly and taking the hand, letting himself be pulled up. “I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad if Miss Schmidt was permitted a good night’s sleep.”

He almost jumped up in happiness, but managed to contain his excitement before it got the better of him. Lord knew Cassidy deserved a good rest more than anyone.

“Baby steps. That’s progress. But what about the boy?” He asked, a glimmer of hope in his voice.

There were countless other questions he could’ve asked, and none would provoked the same reaction from the entity in front of him. Anything else and he would’ve received a curt explanation, another question maybe, or perhaps silence. But none of those potential inquiries would’ve led to what he’d heard next.

In a low tone and a snarl that radiated nothing but pure, utter disgust, the Devil growled, barring his fangs and clenching his teeth so hard literal cracks formed before being sealed a moment later. No longer did he look like the calm, collected and amicable person from moments prior, or even a person for that matter. Instead, the visage of a monster, so filled with hate and sheer anger that existing should’ve been impossible, replaced him. It left RWQ wondering how something so awful could be real- how one could be while carrying so much… Rot within themselves. Ironic, coming from a being made out of agony and remnant of pain.

“Little rabbit… Sad, naïve little rabbit… If you had actually paid attention to those memories, you would’ve known better. There would be no reason for you to ask why or what about…” In spite of the repulsion coming off with each word, the Devil smiled. He held onto RWQ’s arm and sunk his claws all the way through it. Shadow Bonnie grimaced, but his shudder did not aid him in escaping the iron grasp.

“And you were doing so well being a makeshift therapist. I would’ve enjoyed talking to you further.” He was taller than an average human, but the Devil dwarfed him by a good margin, and for all the bravado, RWQFSFASXC felt smaller than ever.

What could no longer be called Fred sighed, cursing under his breath.

“You just had to go and ruin it… A truly unfortunate development.”

Shadow Bonnie’s long ears lowered like those of a cornered animal, and he took a step back, the invisible color draining from his face. As he stared up into those empty sockets, he realized he was staring into the eyes of Death, which he had just awakened. And all that had taken was a question.

While the pinpricks of Life disappeared from Death’s gaze, RWQ felt sorry. Sorry for the humans who had to live in an age where the Reaper had just been angered. Sorry for the boy and those around him that were sure to suffer thanks to his foolish mistake, and, allowing himself an ounce of selfishness, sorry for his own fate at the hands of this unending inferno, one which he’d just stirred.

The red chairs they’d sat on were gone, he noted. The wind had picked up as well, lifting the fallen leaves high into the air and circling the two of them like a forming tornado. At the same time, the lake had frozen and the ground had begun breaking under their feet. Out of the glowing cracks, the smell of sulfur rose, filling the atmosphere between them. Lightning struck somewhere to the left, startling him, but he was too transfixed on Death’s cold expression to acknowledge it.

“The Big Man should learn to keep his hands to himself, but I suppose complaining makes me a tad hypocritical when I don’t really mind cleaning up after his strays. Someone needs to look after those abandoned by him, no? What are you gonna do? The men in charge often get lazy. As for you, my dear friend…” Without warning his hand was ripped straight out of its socket and dropped to the ground, glitching into dark mist. RWQ did not scream, but he did clutch the bleeding wound as it healed.

The Devil leaned forward, close enough for their foreheads to touch, and whispered musingly into his ear.

“Run, rabbit… Run.”

…

It won’t help you, but go anyway- was left unsaid. RWQ didn’t need to be told twice. He teleported away before his arm even finished reforming. Guttural laughter saluted him on his way out, leaving a chill to go down his spine.

“Shit.”