#he still our nasty crime boi

[neonacidtrip]

[text ID: Black image with purple text showing the tags from Tumblr user lyriumrain. The tags read as follows: #i’ve been thinking a lot about how you really can just tell whatever story you want #there are components that your story *can* include if you want to #but you don’t have to #there’s a billion trillion stories out there #might as well tell the one you want to tell how you want to tell it. End ID]

Every 21st century piece of writing advice: Make us CARE about the character from page 1! Make us empathize with them! Make them interesting and different but still relatable and likable!

Every piece of classic literature: Hi. It's me. The bland everyman whose only purpose is to tell you this story. I have no actual personality. Here's the story of the time I encountered the worst people I ever met in my life. But first, ten pages of description about the place in which I met them.

[agendabymooner]

SOMETHING ANGELIC !!! CHARLES L. X FEM!READER (18+)

summary: she was so sweet but her ex should've known better than keeping her his dirty little secret. OR it was wrong to lust after her ex's teammate but charles leclerc was willing to give her everything.

content warning: smut under the cut (minors dni!), use of explicit language, tbh there's barely smut in there but charles is nasty as fuck so 🙃, ex!carlos sainz x pr manager!reader, hint of corruption kink (not really), p in v, unprotected sex (plz use protection), lowkey possessive!charles, i barely understand what i wrote tbh

note: i only post a lot of charles when he's a dad to the leclerc boys but god did i have some filthy thoughts about him tonight. enjoy xx

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it was wrong to lust for your ex’s teammate, but charles leclerc was determined to make her his and he made sure that she knew that.

a whole winter break was enough to move on, right? right. charles couldn’t give much shit about the time limit for a person to move on from their ex. 

not when he saw her throughout the first race week as she took long strides while she followed esteban ocon for the french driver’s media duties. charles used to see her in the ferrari area — being carlos’ sweet secret girlfriend and public relations manager. 

how carlos had managed to get away from his crimes of being seen with another woman in public while fucking his manager behind the scenes was something that charles would never understand— but the monégasque pitied the sweet woman for having to see her boyfriend play tonsil hockey with someone else.

she was angelic, having to put up with that kind of thing. and all charles wanted to do was to make her his— to somehow make her realize that she was worth more than what carlos had recognized her for. 

his green eyes nearly darkened when he saw her, sitting alone at the booth that the alpine drivers occupied for the night with a sad expression on her pretty face. four months of break away from carlos and she was still affected by the break up that occurred half a year ago. 

and her sadness was quickly swept aside when she saw charles taking a stride towards her direction, scooting over instinctively as the ferrari driver offered her a grateful smile and sat next to her. 

“i haven’t seen you for a while,” charles told her with a smile, “pierre was incredibly foul for not inviting you to any of our functions during the break.”

“ah- yeah,” she let out an apologetic smile, “i’ve been trying to adjust to my new place in nice. i figured if i was going to be working for alpine, i might as well live in france.”

“oh you moved? trés bonne,” charles nodded, earning a sheepish smile from her. he nearly melted at the sweetness on her reaction. god she was so fucking perfect. 

“it’s such a shame i don’t get to see you in the office anymore, though,” he shrugged. “ferrari lost an asset.” 

she snorted quietly, “hm, fred even said so. but you know— people come and go.” 

“it’s such a pitiful thing, though,” charles said, looking at her while they both drank, “you should’ve been my manager— you’d do more good with me.” 

“you’re right,” she drawled, now staring at his eyes as she playfully said, “you wouldn’t fuck me and i wouldn’t get emotionally attached.”

as if they were both in another universe, charles then chuckled darkly and boldly claimed, “i mean... i still would’ve fucked you— i just wouldn’t be stupid enough to let you go and treat you like a dirty little secret.” 

she saw how his pupils darkened as he spoke, feeling her legs absentmindedly closing and squirming. as if the floodgates had opened and arousal had gotten the best of her. 

“nobody knew about you and sainz but me, right? the amount of times i’ve had to turn a blind eye was insane— i almost thought i’d have to intervene because it was compromising his media duties,” charles admitted, “i wondered what kept you from getting him to move and do his job— it turns out he’s just fucking you in his motorhome. i’ve had to tell the social media manager that he’s just woken up from a nap.”

“he pretended that you’re not even worth the attention after his races because you’ve always been second best to him,” charles tutted.

she huffed, “there’s no need to rub it on my face—“

“—oh no, mon tresor, i’m not being a dickhead about it,” charles shook his head, placing his drink down on the table. 

the lights in the club were nothing but colourful strobes that didn’t even spot them, making it easier for him to get closer without anyone noticing and interrupting them. 

his breath fanned her ear as he whispered huskily, “i wouldn’t allow him to make you see yourself as second best, mon ange.”

“charles—“ she let out a breathless sigh, feeling his mouth leave open mouthed kisses on her skin. “this is so wron—“

“nothing’s wrong with this when we don’t work anymore, mon tresor,” he murmured. “there’s nothing more wrong than allowing your sweetness to get in the way of the things you so deserve.” 

“and you know how to show me the things i deserve?” she asked, almost innocently. god, was he about to cream in his pants if she continued to say shit like this. 

“you can demand the world and i’ll give you the universe,” charles watched her accept his offer as he smiled widely.

it was so wrong to lust after her ex’s teammate, but if charles leclerc was willing to give her everything then who was she to reject the offer? the monégasque was telling her to be greedy, and this was the best way to do it. 

she felt too overwhelmed. whether it was because of how charles treated her body or how he spoke so dirtily— she wasn’t sure. 

her mind was on an overdrive. all she could think about was him. his godlike figure, his prettiest eyes and his thick cock that continued to pound inside her cunt. 

she almost shook at his tone as he groaned delightfully right by her ear, “mon dieu, chéri, tu te sens si divin.” my god, darling, you feel so divine.

charles helped her prop herself up back on her knees as his hand guided her eyes towards the mirror in front of them, watching her eyes glistening as much as her cunt did in pleasure.

he then murmured, “do you see yourself, sweetheart? you look so pretty.”

she couldn’t even find herself to look when all she’s thinking about was the cock that stuffed her from behind, a strangled whine escaping her throat as she urged him to move. 

“i wish carlos was here to see this,” he chuckled deeply, his fingers pinching her hardened nipple before trailing down her clit to stimulate her even more. she let out a loud whimper, now feeling overwhelmed by his words and his actions as he fucked her once more. “so he knows not to treat you like you’re not worth bragging about.” 

“but i guess he had a reason to keep you a secret, hm?” he taunted her, rocking his hips against her as he bottomed out inside her. “because he knew that once you’re out in the world you’d be corrupted by some men. he was so selfish that he thought his sweet innocent girlfriend shouldn’t be corrupted by anyone but him.” 

“oh how wrong he was,” charles moaned, his thrusts turning rough and fast as he growled. “you know you deserve better than being a dirty little secret, no?” he tapped her face lightly with his palm as he said, “answer me, mon ange.”

“o- oh- yes,” she cried out, “yes, yes—“

“i can give you everything, mon tresor,” he murmured, “everything that he couldn’t give you.” 

“fuck, charles! please,” she mewled, looking behind her with pleading eyes as she begged desperately, “want to cum again, charles please~”

“gonna cum in this pussy of yours, mon ange—“

“please, cum inside me,” she moaned aloud, her desperation echoing around the suite as well as the skins slapping against each other. “please pleaseeee~ just wan’ to cum. god! feel so full, fuck!”

“gonna cum inside you, and make you mine,” he growled quietly, nibbling on her skin as she whined and mewled. her walls clenched at the thought as he chuckled, “oh? you want that, hm? you want me to make this pussy mine?” 

“yes! fuck-“ she exclaimed, her body convulsing while she whined, “want you to own me, charles. wanna be stuffed full by you only, charles please~”

“you could’ve asked me a long time ago, mon tresor,” his thrusts turned hard and slower as he came inside her, feeling her clench around his cock as they reached their highs. 

she was too fucked out and full, content at the feeling of his cock inside of her while feeling nothing but happiness being in his arms. 

charles couldn’t help but grin widely at the sight of her limped body and the dazed expression on her face. he couldn’t find himself to think about his teammate when this sweet woman was finally his.

he knew that he could do so much better treating her like a queen that she was than carlos would ever do. 

everything that her ex never gave her— charles would be more than willing to hand it to her on a gold plate.

the next morning, charles found carlos at the hotel lobby as they were both heading to the airport. the two ferrari drivers got to speak to one another before pierre gasly and esteban ocon saw them and talked amongst themselves.

carlos sainz sure was the kind to be confused and puzzled, and he showed this when esteban’s manager — who was once carlos’ girlfriend and manager — approached the group and talked to the drivers before turning to charles with a sweet smile. 

“are you going to go now, mon ange?” charles asked with a smile, watching her blush at the attention she got from him as she nodded meekly. “you could just come with us, you know? we’re heading to the same place, anyway.”

“yeah but,” she gestured to the two alpine drivers, “someone has to control these two before the next race week starts.” 

the alpine drivers protested against her words as she and charles giggled. charles then looked at her and said, “okay well… text me when you get there, okay?” 

she nodded and gave charles a sheepish smile (as if she hadn’t found herself saying the filthiest words to him the night before; not that carlos knew).��

charles wrapped his arms around her before kissing her passionately, humming at the taste of her. pierre let out a whistle and esteban grinned at the two toothily. 

while carlos… carlos was just confused as fuck. 

“see you tomorrow, pretty girl,” charles winked at her, smirk playfully written on his face as she giggled quietly and left with the two alpine drivers. 

charles found carlos staring at him with his mouth slightly agape, making the monegasque chuckle and shake his head. “she’s so sweet and pretty, no?” 

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader @enhacolor @roseandtulips @woweewoowa @magnummagnussen @happy-nico

♡   moony’s reminder 🅴 (explicit edition): @glitterf1 @savrose129

[buzzcutlip]

hiiii! can I get a request for lip with a shy!reader where they like know each other from school but it’s like later seasons lip like working at the shop or the construction job and she starts to develop a crush on him but he doesn’t think he’s good enough for her so he distances himself and dates other girls and she has to watch from the sidelines until a guy asks her out so she goes for it and lip gets jealous and realizes his feelings. i’m in an angsty pining jealousy mood but with a happy ending still if that makes sense! but honestly feel free to run with it if it’s something you’re interested in writing bc I love your writing! 💗💗

Hi anon! I love this prompt, thank you very much for sending it my way! <3

This is a very first time I'm writing something with our dear boy Lip Gallagher, and I hope I'm not messing it all up.

Lip Gallagher/Fem!Reader Mature 1561 words

You admired Lip Gallagher. He was smart, intelligent, witty, and—alive. Despite the , he made it to college. You didn’t know the details but heard people talking about those nasty Gallaghers. You saw him take his little brother, Liam, to classes, to your study group. The little boy living temporarily in a dormitory made you sick with worry, but it was obvious that Lip took great care of him. You mostly felt for Lip—that he, as young as he was, had to take on his parents' responsibilities. And still, he did so great at school and had two jobs on top of it. He went home for weekends to help around the house. But that life sucked him back in, never giving him a solid chance, as much as Lip fought for it. He left the school, left the crime scene behind, and left an empty space in your chest. You never told him how you felt. Never wanted to, anyway.

Occasionally, you still meet each other at parties he gets invited to—or invites himself to—and you chat easily, sharing a drink or two. You’re happy to see him, to hear about his crazy jobs. Sometimes he brings a girl along and you smile politely at her, shake her hand. The whole school knew about Amanda and Mrs. Robinson. Besides wanting to protect yourself, you don’t believe Lip could ever want more than friendship from you, which makes interacting with him easier. ‘Cause you’re not trying for anything with him. He’s just a good bad boy. Who cares if you’ve had a crush on him since day one?

So what you expect from Lip when you introduce him to your date, Jacob, at one of these lame parties is that he shakes his hand and says hi politely. Which doesn’t happen; he just grumbles something and leaves for the kitchen. You roll your eyes and tell Jacob not to mind. Inside, you’re a bit embarrassed and disappointed. Why? You’re not sure. Maybe because Jacob’s a bit boring and you still keep seeing him. Letting him kiss you and put his fingers in your pussy and never do anything back. Because he doesn’t attract you. “But he’s nice,” your friends say. You say, for Christ’s sake! He is nice but oh so boring. You don’t feel anything, but you don’t want to be alone anymore. And most importantly, you don’t want to think about Lip when you masturbate, when Jacob fingers you, when boys half-heartedly fucked you in the past.

But as much as you want to forget Lip, you see him again. It’s a bar this time. Filled to the brim with a Friday crowd.

“Hey,” someone says behind you, laying a hand on your shoulder, and you know it’s him before you turn around. You smile at him, sucking on a colorful paper straw.

“You still drink that? Rum and Coke?”

“Yeah,” you laugh shortly, looking at the dark brown drink in your hands. “Spiced rum!” you clarify.

Lip leans closer to you, the sudden proximity doing things to you, as always, and you have to bite your bottom lip.

“Is your boyfriend here?” he asks casually, but you noticed him scanning the crowd just a few seconds ago.

“Yeah… Jacob’s here—but he’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been just—seeing each other for a bit.” You don’t want to talk about Jacob with Lip and it’s clear in the way you talk. You’re more focused on your elbows touching on the bartop.

Lip just laughs shortly, doesn’t say anything. It irks you. You frown. “What?”

“Nothing,” Lip shrugs, drumming his fingers on the wooden desk stained with beer and sweet, sticky liquor. He’s lost some of the baby fat in his face. You notice the sharpness of his cheekbones. He tilts his face downward as he blinks at you.

“You never had a boyfriend at school.” He probably wants to say "When I was at school" but that doesn’t interest you that much now.

“So what?” You grow even more irritated by his questions. Why does he care? You never discussed boyfriends, or his girlfriends, for that matter.

You turn your head away, grimacing, but Lip, on the other side, seems entertained. Intrigued.

“Nothing,” he says, smirking stupidly, and doesn’t stop looking at you. “You’re pretty when you pout.”

Your whole face flushes in an instant. Lip never talked like this to you. Never flirted. Of course, at the beginning, you had been disappointed, but you quickly decided that mutual respect for friendship is much better. Safer.

Unsure of what you’re going to say, you tilt your face back to him, but when you look at Lip, he’s not smirking anymore. He reaches for you, hand catching your burning face, his thumb sweeping over your cheek.

It takes you a moment to bat his hand away. “What’re you doing?” you ask, horrified. And shocked. Flustered with your shyness.

Lip shakes his head. “I don’t know,” he mumbles while you’re looking around, all wild, to check for Jacob.

This time it’s Lip who frowns. “You said he was not your boyfriend.”

“Are you, like, jealous or something?” you say only to say SOMETHING, head shaking in disbelief. The silence that follows almost shocks you. You never thought about what you would do if Lip felt the same about you. Never dared to think about that scenario.

Scared to find out what you’ll find out, you peer at him. His face is serious, jaw tense.

“Oh my god, you—you’re jealous,” you whisper, hand going to your mouth to cover it. Your expression must be hilarious—eyes wide, mouth open in disbelief. Lip starts fidgeting with the paper coaster on the bar, eyes flicking all over the room.

Angry tears begin to cloud your vision. “You have no right to be jealous now,” you seethe. “Have you only noticed me now? When I’m seeing someone?” The hurt is unmistakable in your voice. You ball your hands into fists, blinking against the tears welling in your eyes. When Lip doesn’t say anything, you turn on your heel. If you don’t get some fresh air now, you’re going to suffocate.

Once outside, you find a quieter spot away from the smoking people, propping against a wooden table. When you look up you wish you could see stars in the night sky. But the light pollution’s making it impossible. Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself to protect yourself from the chill. You’re glad that Jacob knows people here too, otherwise you would probably feel bad for leaving him.

Before you get a chance to really sort your feelings, you see Lip approaching you in your peripheral vision.

You sigh, defeated, making a point of not looking at him as he stops a mere foot from you. You’re terrible at confrontations.

“You mad?” Lip asks, and you can feel him studying your face. There’s a cigarette burning between his fingers.

You shake your head. No.

Next, Lip shrugs off his hoodie, cigarette held between his pouting lips, and drapes the garment, warmed by his own body heat, over your shoulders. “Here.”

Suddenly, you’re enveloped in Lip Gallagher. In the smell of tobacco, laundry detergent, and boy. You close your eyes tight against the feeling that’s surfacing from within you. It’s spreading like wildfire, and when Lip steps in front of you, reaching to move the zipper up, up, up, the heat reaches your face, pinks up your cheeks.

Lip leans into you, putting both your bodies into contact, thighs to chests. He slides one of his hands into the pocket of his hoodie, right where your hand’s hiding too, and twines your fingers together. Then he rubs his cheek against your own, as you meet in the middle, and your heart stops. You didn’t know Lip would be like this. That brash, cocky Lip Gallagher with a womanizer reputation treating you with such tenderness.

But you don’t want to end up as a notch on his bedpost.

“I don’t think I’m your type,” you say simply, looking at the ground, hoping that’s enough for him to let it go. To let you go. Even though deep down, it’s the last thing you wish for. You don’t want Lip to let you go. You want him to do the exact opposite.

Lip scoffs, closer to your ear than you expected, making you jump. “And what’s my type?”

“I mean—” you swallow hard, finding the courage to say the next words, as nonchalantly as possible, “I’m from a functional family. I don’t use drugs, I don’t deal drugs. I’m pretty sure I don’t have any personality disorders,” you list.

“Wow, so you’ve done research on me, huh?” Lip asks drily but he doesn’t move, stays close to you.

You decide to come out with the truth. “You know, I had a crush on you at school, and I think I was not as subtle as I thought I was. I mean, most of my friends knew about it.”

Licking his lips, he says,“I always thought you were cute. I was just—”

You're not letting him off that easy. “Busy fucking through the entire school?”

“I didn’t think it was a good idea to make a move.”

“Why do you think it’s a good idea now?”

“Because I can’t stay away from you anymore.”

[heroesriseandfall]

Introduction to Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying, April 1990

Introduction by Dennis O'Neil for Batman: A Lonely Place of Dying (1990 collected edition)

Transcription below the cut/readmore.

INTRODUCTION by DENNIS O'NEIL

Robin was gone. We needed a new Boy Wonder. There had been two previous Robins. The original first appeared less than a year after a new costumed hero called Batman made his debut in DETECTIVE COMICS #27, to instant success. Some time within the next eleven months, his creators, artist Bob Kane and his writer-collaborator Bill Finger, decided to give their dark, obsessed hero a kind of surrogate son, Robin, who was hailed on the cover of DETECTIVE #36 as “the sensational character-find of 1940—Robin, The Boy Wonder.” Over the next 40 years, Batman’s fortunes varied: always, however, Robin was at Batman’s side.

He served a couple of functions. If Batman were real (and it may shock some of our more avid readers to learn he isn’t), and if he were the grim, obsessed loner he is often portrayed as, Robin, with some help from Batman's faithful butler Alfred, would keep him sane; a man whose every waking hour is focused on the grimmest aspects of society, who is unable to release the effects of seeing his parents murdered, whose life is an amalgam of sudden violence and lonely vigilance, would soon skew into a nasty insanity if he did not have someone to care for, someone to maintain a link with common humanity. But Batman is, of course, not real. (My apologies to avid readers.) He isn’t exactly a fictional character—more on that shortly—but he does not and could not exist as a living, breathing human being. That doesn’t make Robin any less useful: he serves the same functions in the Batman stories as Watson served in the Sherlock Holmes canon and the gravedigger serves in Hamlet: like Holmes’s faithful doctor, Robin is a sounding board, a person with whom the hero can have dialogues and thus let the reader know how brilliantly he’s handling matters and like the gravedigger, he occasionally provides a bright note in an otherwise relentlessly morose narrative.

Which is why I was a trifle uneasy when we—the editorial staff of DC Comics—decided to let our audience decide whether he would live or die. It came to be known in our offices as the “telephone stunt.” We had a character, Robin, the readers didn’t seem terribly fond of. This wasn’t the original Robin, the “character-find of 1940”; that Robin was Dick Grayson and he had graduated from sidekick to bona fide hero who fronted a group of evil-fighting adolescents, The Teen Titans. In 1983, it was decreed that Robin should grow up and assume a crime-fighting identity of his own—become his own man, as befitted the leader of the mighty Titans. He left Batman’s world to assume the name, costume, and persona of Nightwing. Gerry Conway and Don Newton replaced him with a second Robin, Jason Todd, whose biography was virtually identical to that of Dick Grayson. Why not? Gerry and Don were not trying to innovate, they were simply filling a void. The assignment they were given was simple: Provide another Robin. Quickly and with as little fuss as possible.

In 1986, Max Allan Collins inherited the Batman writing assignment and told his editor he had an idea for an improved Jason Todd. Make him a street kid, Collins said. Make his parents criminals. Have him and Batman on opposite sides at first. Sounded fine to the editor and, since DC was in the middle of a vast, company-wide overhaul of storylines anyway, Collins was told to go ahead. I was the editor; I did the telling. And I’d do it again, today. Collins’s Robin was dramatic, did have story potential. But readers didn’t take to him. I don't know now, and will probably never know why. Jason was accepted as long as he was a Dick Grayson clone, but when he acquired a distinct and, Collins and I still believe, more interesting backstory, their affection cooled. Maybe we—me and the writers who followed Collins—should have worked harder at making Jason likeable. Or maybe, I guessed, on some subconscious level our most loyal readers felt Jason was a usurper. For whatever reason, Jason was not the favorite Dick had been. He wasn’t hated, exactly, but he wasn’t loved, either. Should we write him out of the continuity? It didn’t seem like a bad idea, and when we thought of the experiment that became the telephone stunt, Jason seemed the perfect subject for it. The mechanics were pretty simple: we put Jason in an explosion and gave the readers two telephone numbers they could call, the first to vote that Jason would survive the blast, the second to vote that he wouldn't.

It was successful—oh my, yes. We expected to generate some interest, but not the amount or intensity we got. As soon as the final vote was tallied—5271 for Jasons survival, a deciding 5343 against—the calls began. For most of three days, I talked to journalists, disc jockeys, television reporters. We got a lot of compliments. They ranged from a critic’s liking our stunt to the participatory drama of avant garde theater to the brilliant comedy team of Penn and Teller expressing mock envy that we beat them to “the kill-your-partner-900-number scam.” But then came the backlash, ugly and, to me at least, totally unexpected: one reporter claimed that the whole event had been rigged—that, in fact, we had decided on Jason’s demise ahead of time and staged an elaborate charade; a teary grandmother said that her grandchildren loved Jason and now we’d killed him; several colleagues accused us of turning our magazines into a “Roman circus.” Cynical was a word used. And exploitive. Sleazy. Dishonorable. Wait a minute, I wanted to reply. Jason Todd is just a phantom, a figment of several imaginations. No real kid died. No real anything died. It’s all just stories—

I would have been wrong. Batman, and Superman, and Wonder Woman and their supporting casts are quite a bit more than “just stories” if, by “stories,” we mean ephemeral amusements. They’ve been in continuous magazine publication for a half-century, and they’ve been in movies, and television shows, and in novels, and on cereal boxes and T-shirts and underwear and candy bars and yo-yos and games—thousands of ventures. For fifty years. Fifty years! Although the circulation of our magazines is relatively modest, these characters have been so enduring, so pervasive, they have permeated our collective consciousness. Everybody recognizes them. They are our post-industrial folklore and, as such, they mean much more to people than a few minutes’ idle amusement. They’re part of the psychic family. The public and apparently callous slaying of one of their number was, to some, a vicious attack on the special part of their souls that needs awe, magic, heroism.

We had promised to abide by the telephone poll, and we would. But within a few days, it became apparent that we’d have to begin growing another Robin. We had forgotten that Batman exists outside the pages of our comics, is not the exclusive property of DC’s editorial staff; because he is both popular and imperishable, hundreds of others have some legitimate interest in him (not the least of whom are the readers who, for one reason or another, had missed the voting.) Our medium may have kept him alive, but others have added immeasurably to his success. When we began hearing from them, the consensus was that a Batman without a Robin wasn't quite a Batman. I wasn’t surprised. Nor did I disagree, particularly. So our problem became: how to create Robin III without generating the hostility that plagued poor Jason. Dick Grayson was the answer. If, as we thought, readers felt Jason had somehow usurped Dick’s place, then we should link the new Robin to Dick—give Robin III his predecessor’s stamp of approval. One writer had done almost all of the Dick Grayson material DC had published for a decade: Marv Wolfman, co-creator (with George Pérez) of the New Teen Titans. That made Mary the first, and really only, choice to undertake the task of giving Batman a new helper. And if we were using Marv, why not have some of the story happen in the pages of THE NEW TITANS, which he was already writing, and thus be able to take advantage of the very considerable talents of Marv's collaborator on the Titans, George Pérez? George volunteered to co-plot the story with Mary and do layouts on the TITANS episodes, and editor Mike Carlin enlisted Tom Grummett and Bob McLeod to complete George's graphics work. I asked the regular BATMAN artists, Jim Aparo and Mike DeCarlo, to handle the BATMAN issues. Finally, we chose a name for Robin III—Tim Drake—and, after a couple of editorial conferences, six gifted gentlemen retired to do what they do best.

The result seemed worthy of being collected between one set of covers, to be read as a graphic novel. We decided to do that and you’re holding the result. I hope you enjoy it. But please don’t think it’s the end of the Robin III saga. Dick Grayson’s lasted 50 years, after all, and Tim Drake does have his blessing.

Dennis O’Neil

April 1990

[rabidlittlestrawberry]

This is a scene from a Jeggy Titanic AU that I wrote years ago and is never going to see the light of day.

It isn't even edited because I am never posting it but here, have an out of context scene where the ship is going down and Sirius is locked downstairs - the gates are on the doors like in the movie :)

enjoy

Bellatrix leans forward, sharp eyes right on his. He can feel her warm breath against his face. 

“Better off without him in this family. It’s not like he was going to carry on the bloodline anyway. Much cleaner this way to stamp all that nonsense out. Regulus has much more to offer us.” 

“Better…” James starts, confusion and anger and utter terror rocking through him too fast for him to feel any of it at all. He glances down the stairs, where he can see water filling up the corridor below already. He needs to get out of here, to find Regulus and his parents. He doesn’t need to be wasting time here with Bellatrix. But there’s something about the look on her face, the triumph in her eyes, that roots him to the spot. 

“Mmm” she hums, following his gaze “looks nasty, doesn’t it? Won’t be long now, before our suite is completely under. Shame really, I had some expensive dresses down there. No matter, I’m sure Rudolphus will replace them. I’m sure Sirius is enjoying all my stuff. Not that he has much more time for anything now. 

“Sirius is…. In your room?” James can’t make the words make sense, can’t make the pieces fit together. Why would Bellatrix allow that if she hates him so much? 

“Ah yes, well, after he tried to steal this,” she holds that god-awful necklace and waves it in his face, “for that peasant boy of his, oh yes I know about that, nothing short of a scandal, a crime. I sent a message to mother back on land and they arranged for some officers to take him when we docked.” She fishes around in her pocket and pulls out a big bronze key. “Criminal or not, we couldn’t have him in the holding room like a commoner, what would people say? So I volunteered my room.” She twists the key absently in her fingers as understanding sinks through James. “Thought that would hold him until we could find something better. Not that it matters much now, this seems to have taken care of everything for us.” 

James takes a tentative step forward, eyes locked on hers. He knows better than to lunge for her, she would be expecting that. So he steps to the left, careful, small movements. Maybe if she was distracted… But before he even gets the chance to make a move, she throws her head back and laughs. 

“Idiot boy. You’d really be willing to go down there after him? In that? Be my guest.” She dangles the key in front of his face, and he holds himself very still, despite his whole body screaming at him to reach out and snatch. She jangles the key one last time, and launches it down the stairs with force. James moves to catch it, but he’s not fast enough, the key disappearing under the water. “Go doggy! Fetch!” 

James’s body is moving before his mind has had the chance to catch up. He doesn’t even think about what he is running into, doesn’t hesitate for a second before throwing himself into the freezing water, cursing. All that is in his head is a beat of Sirius, Sirius, Sirius, as constant as his own heartbeat. As he bends down and scrambles around in the water, Bellatrix may as well not exist anymore, nothing in this world could make him so much as pause. Nothing except… 

“James!” Just as his hand finds the key, numb fingers closing around metal, he hears it. And it makes him turn. From his vantage point on the stairs, he still has a clear view of the corridor above, of Bellatrix, and of Regulus, who has just come round the corner, and is staring at him, opened mouthed. 

“James,” he says, voice less sure now, “what are you doing? Come on, deck is this way, someone just said—”

“Don’t bother Reggie.” Bellatrix squeaks, “he’s on a suicide mission for your waste of space brother.”

“For—” Regulus seems to catch on quicker than James had. “What did you do with him?”

“He’s safe down in my suite, what does it matter? Come on now Regulus, up to deck.”

Regulus is shaking his head, moving towards the staircase at speed. James hasn’t said a word yet, feet still submerged in water he is beginning to shiver. His head is screaming at him to move, that Sirius needs him. But Regulus is sure to follow, and James can’t have that either. Bellatrix seems to feel the same. She steps in front of him, catching him by the waist and attempting to drag him back, but Regulus is stronger. He swings her around, slamming her against a wall and making her shriek with anger. 

“Get back here!” She spits. “You con’t pretend to care about him now! He wouldn’t do the same for you. Get back upstairs! Your mother is waiting for you!” 

But Regulus ignores her, heading resolutely towards the stairs. She makes another lunge at him but he swats her easily away. 

“Get the fuck out of my way. James, get back up here. I know the way, let me go.” 

“You little shit!” Bellatrix screams, grabbing Regulus by the leg and swinging herself round so she is once again in front of him, blocking his way. She is clearly weaker in a fight, but she’s smart. She whips frantically around until her hands find the gate to the stairwell. She drags it across the entrance, effectively blocking Regulus’s way through, trapping James on the other side. 

This doesn’t deter Regulus, who keeps coming at her, trying to pull the door open again, almost succeeding. James sees the problem, the key is in the lock on the other side, through the grating too far for Bellatric to reach. 

James meets Bellatrix’s eye, as he runs back up the stairs.

“No.” She says, gripping the gate harder, trying to reach her hand round to grab the key, anticipating James fighting her. Regulus comes up behind her and yanks on her hair, snapping her head backwards until her grip loosens and she falls to the floor with another scream just as James finds the key in the lock and turns it, locking himself on the other side. 

Regulus reaches the gate then and gives it a tug his eyes straying down to the lock, to James’s hand still on the key. 

“James,” He says, disbelief colouring his tone. “James let me through. You don’t know the way, James come on you have minutes down there! Let me do it.” He’s rattling the gate harder now, trying to pull it from its hinges, but it doesn’t budge.

“I’m sorry Reg, I can’t let you. I’ll go get him, I’ll meet you upstairs yeah?” He tries to hold his voice steady, not quite believing it himself. “Get on a boat if you can though, don’t wait for me.”

“James.’ Regulus repeats, angry now. “Stop wasting time this is ridiculous.” But James is backing away down the stairs. He feels the water reach his feet, higher than before, but still doesn’t turn. He lets his eyes scan over Regulus’s face one last time. Taking him in, as if he has all the time in the world. He can’t shake the feeling that this might be the last time he gets to see Regulus and he doesn’t want to waste it. Even angry and confused, tears in his eyes and red-faced, he is beautiful. James wonders what he did to deserve him. And he wants to keep him, so so desperately. But if losing him is what it takes to keep him safe, to keep him alive, then that’s what he’ll do. 

“I’m sorry Reg, I am.”

“James. No. No don’t you fucking dare. Please, just let me… you won’t find it. Please.” He’s stopped shaking the gate and is now reaching his arms through, trying to get a hold of James. And it would be so easy for James to reach out and touch him, to take hold of his hand just one last time. But he doesn’t think he’d ever move, he would give Regulus everything he asked for, even if it means putting him in danger. So he resists. Sirius needs him. He’s wasted too much time already. Instead, he holds his gaze, ignoring everything else around them.

“I love you,” he says, trying to convey just how much he means it.

Regulus snatches his hands back then, shaking his head, eyes hard. “No you don’t. No you fucking don’t James! Don’t you fucking say that to me now. James! James please!” He kicks desperately at the door but it doesn’t give, and James doesn’t stick around any longer. He spares himself one more quick glance before wading down deeper into the water, trying to ignore Regulus’s increasingly panicked screams and Bellaltrix’s manic laughter as he disappears from view. 

[theminecraftbee]

Scar's busy trying to make their rock look prettier. Cleo leans against it. It's cold against their back; good. They still feel the heat of burning mansions and anger and TNT and burning pyres. They don't have long now until they're yellow. Both they and Scar know exactly what they'll do then.

They and Scar do, at least.

Bdubs is loudly muttering indistinct things to himself while repeatedly shoving a hoe into an enchantment table. Cleo watches for a bit.

"Scar and I have some people to get revenge on tomorrow," Cleo says.

Bdubs nods. "Oh yes. Those nasty Bad Boys, they won't know what's coming to them! Just as soon as I finish dealing with this stupid hoe."

Scar snickers from the corner. "But Bdubs, I thought that was -"

"HEY!" Bdubs says. "WATCH IT!"

"Yeah Bdubs, I thought you were good with your hoes," Cleo says, because they've never been one to let a joke like that just go by.

"I'll have you know that I'm excellent at handling hoes. The best at it. The best at hoes," Bdubs says. Scar laughs so loud he nearly chokes.

"Wow, didn't need to know you thought that," Cleo says.

"I'm - no you idiots!" Bdubs says. "You're putting things in my mouth!"

"Like the hoes?" Scar says.

"Screw you guys," Bdubs says, huffing and returning to the steady chime of the enchantment table and grind of the grindstone. Cleo tries to catch her breath again through the laughter to remember her original point.

Wiping at her eyes, she leans back. "To be honest though, I have no idea what your plans are. You sort of just... vanished today?"

"Yeah. We lost you," Scar says. "Not very responsible parenting. Or older sibling-ing."

"Who said you were older?" grumps Bdubs.

"Well you see, the older sibling is normally taller, and -"

"Boys," Cleo says. They both stop.

"Sorry mom," Scar says, sounding not even remotely sorry.

"I regret you two," Cleo says.

"Awww. But you love us," Bdubs says.

"Absolutely not," Cleo says. "Besides, you're dodging my question. Where were you?"

"Well, I can't just tell you that," Bdubs says. "Then people will know!"

Cleo and Scar are both quiet for a long moment.

"That's sort of the point? It'll just be us," Scar says. "Us, your partners in crime, knowing where you were. That's all we're asking."

Bdubs harumphs. "And I said I'm not telling. They'll know if I tell you. The people who are watching. And they don't get to know, you hear me? Nope, I'm a man of mystery. I'm here to keep them guessing, I am!"

Cleo and Scar glance at each other. Scar is grimacing. Ah. He knows what Bdubs is talking about, doesn't he. Cleo's not sure they do. They almost do, but clearly not in the same way Scar does.

Still, they know enough.

Cleo huffs overdramatically. "Fine then. Keep your secrets. See if I tell you mine."

"You can't have secrets! You're our mom!" Scar says.

"You have a bizarre idea of how this works," Cleo says.

"Aha!" Bdubs says. "A - no I read it wrong. Gosh darn it."

He puts the hoe in the grindstone again, washing off whatever he'd enchanted it with. Cleo leans back against the wall to cool the burns they still feel. They prepare for the next morning.

[andmaybegayer]

Project “Let’s watch every single Fast & Furious movie”

The series is still finding its feet and not entirely sure what it wants to be. It has however decided that this one should contain a truly incredible amount of homoerotic subtext.

2 Fast 2 Furious (2003)

We check back in with Brian, who is street racing for a living in Miami now that he is no longer a cop. Ludacris, is here, for some reason. The FBI show up and put our boy over a barrel until he helps them investigate another crime ring, with his car.

The cinematography and general visual language is much more mature, they've figured out how to shoot cars driving and in particular races in a way that better conveys relative position, advantage, and speed. No more undercranked footage, much more medium to wide shots of cars weaving past each other, as well as some complicated composited motion shots.

If you look for this movie on Tumblr you mostly find gifs of Devon Aoki in her girlboss pink Honda S2000. And yeah, I get it, this look kicks ass. The leather skirt and thigh highs with garters or whatever that is really screams 2003.

Right, the plot. Even more so than last time, the core plot is extremely mid. Brian is over a barrel, and needs to help the FBI investigate a drug lord, in exchange for them forgetting about him. He doesn't trust a cop to partner with him so he gets them to offer a deal to his old boyfriend Roman, with whom he had a falling out many years ago. The two of them go undercover smuggling money for the drug lord and eventually work through their differences and get the guy. Big whoop.

Far more interesting is how the interpersonal relationship of Brian and Roman is handled. These two feel like a couple who dated all through high school and broke up over a nasty disagreement when they were 19 and never really got over each other. The first time they meet they physically throw down and it looks like this.

Just straight guy things. I made a crack about 2 bi 2 curious in the last post and I was like "someone has to have made this joke before" and a) not really it looks like only a couple tweets but b) it led me to this short video essay on a bisexual reading of 2 Fast 2 Furious. I don't agree with all its finer points and I think the author completely misread some sections of the movie but you'll find far more agreement than disagreement from me with this one.

Carrying on, there's a lot of the awkward "I want to trust you, and I know I should be able to trust you, but I don't trust you" between these two. It's great, if you want to watch two very pretty guys go insane over each other for an hour and a half, this is a movie for you. I'm going to reiterate a lot of what's said in this video because it's all very obvious.

Before we continue, I need to note that what you don't see, oddly, is really any kind of coherent heterosexual romantic subplot. Like, there's one there, they do parts of it, but it's almost homeopathic. It's purely there to check the box. Monica is an undercover cop who's been with the drug lord for like a year and, in theory, Brian is attracted to her. There's discussion of this, he checks her out, they make bedroom eyes at each other, the drug lord gets jealous, it's a whole thing, but mostly you see that Roman is worried that Brian is going to do something stupid because he's attracted to her.

In the above video the author misinterprets one scene as Brian sleeping with Monica but they do not actually fuck! She shows up in the early morning to tell Brian that he's going to be betrayed but they do not, in fact, fuck! This is important to me because man, there's so little of that subplot going on. This subplot barely develops at all, they don't talk to each other much, and when they do it's only the barest flirting.

At one point Brian does a driving stunt to impress Monica and when he's done, Roman pulls up and goes "oh, he did that stunt? He learned that one from me." which. Come on there's no way to read that that doesn't at least suggest that maybe Roman did it to hit on Brian when they were younger.

Speaking of car stunts, those are used to convey character a lot better in this movie. Dishonorable side characters drive in annoying ways in races to make themselves hard to pass, Brian and Roman do a whole elaborate game of one-upsmanship during their driving audition for the drug lord, and a doubles drag race with high stakes serves as a major bonding moment where they learn to trust each other. There's much, much less plot and character going on explicitly but I think the photography and the storytelling are working together more closely in this movie.

The movie seems to care less about the cars themselves though. The Lancer and Eclipse they drive for much of the movie are not particularly attractive nor particularly powerful cars, and the Challenger and Camaro they pick up later are more plot device than eye candy, unless you're really into American Muscle I guess. The initial race includes Suki's S2000 and Brian's Skyline that both very quickly end up sidelined, you don't see much of them again. There is much less time spent in garages and at races here, which is part of why the core plot feels like a lot of other action movies where the protagonist is a criminal helping the cops. I wonder if some of this is down to appealing to a wider audience who may just not give a shit about the finer distinctions between the Honda Civic EF and EX hatch.

There's a beautiful sunset scene where Brian and Roman just talk it out for a few minutes and settle their differences, come to terms, and finally trust each other again. I know I'm pretty much only talking about this one relationship but it's pretty much the only part of the movie with any depth, and the other parts only gain value in their proximity to it.

The final sequence is a huge endurance run across Florida that is a lot of fun to watch and includes a very funny scene where they scramble like, a hundred cars as a distraction to throw the police off. If you watch you can see that they really just grabbed whatever cars they could find to pad out the shot, there's like three or four PT Cruisers hidden in here.

The final run is mostly a show of the reformed trust between these two, it's great, it's a decent culmination of what's been building up through the whole show, they get their freedom, together, and resolve to move on together.

The whole movie really hangs on this relationship, it elevates it from a solid 5/10 "absolutely mid action movie" to a 7/10 "compelling characters you will think about later" type deal.

[observers-journal]

Do you think that the whole controversy with Tenoch has caused ER to either be more popular among social media and the public or just less as if people are turning away from her? Especially since the 'so-called' evidence that she posted was used against her to call her out on her lies as well as her crimes and history. Also, I wonder if politicians who have tried to be associated with her, such as that one deputy who schemed with her to try to pass the stealthing law by dragging Tenoch, are avoiding and turning away from her due to probably realizing how toxic and criminal she really is. Because it's amazing how they are all silent instead of supporting her, even with the access to the media power that they have that they could use to promote her such as they did with her case as there is not much news going on except for what she posts on Twitter, even with her acid case. I could be wrong, but it seems to me that no one prominent is really on her side publicly, except her lawyer and followers, which makes her really all alone. She probably does these horrible things as a way to feel good about herself and have some self-importance, which would have been sad, if it wasn't for the fact that she tramples and hurts others with her family to do so. If there is one important thing that I have learned in my two and a half decades of life on Earth that is very true, it's that the bill always comes due, and I feel that her bill for all that she has done might be on its way.

Thank you for the submission, anon! You pose a very interesting theory, which I agree can be true.

I'm gonna be a bit more cautious here about my answer, mostly because everything is so chaotic, nuanced and layered it's hard to tease out a specific reason for this. Whatever I say is purely my opinion, so please take it with a pinch of salt.

She could be the case of "bad publicity is still publicity". If she truly is trying for a political career, this might bring her some exposure. Politics is usually dirty and messy, and any kind of exposure helps. I have a feeling she's not very big on her own, but tries to show herself by using the few contacts she has gained, and the nexus she has from her own family. She cares a lot about her carefully constructed image, coz that's what she has going for her. That public sympathy and an activist image.

On the other hand, an equally valid argument is the one you raise. And that I suspect too: this is gonna come back to bite her. Everyone acts to preserve their self-interests, and so we have seen people distancing themselves from her. The amount of stuff she and her family has going on is a biggg problem for her. It's not like other politicians are not toxic or criminal, they just hide it better.

She definitely created a big ruckus and then nothing came of it. So to some extent, I think her temporary social media popularity is down. Will it continue to be that way? I can't say. Does it reflect the ground reality? I don't know.

I don't want to pass any personal comments on her as a person, and keep myself limited to her case with Tenoch. I feel bad for her acid attack, but what she did to him was nasty. Terrible.

Here's what I suspect. All of our conclusions are based on publicly available info. Behind the scenes? She could have quieted down and shifted her focus elsewhere (other cases that are more important). She might have found solace in the fact that she was able to successfully deliver a blow to Tenoch's career. She might be covering up her criminal traces. She might be working on her network politically. Or she might be quietly planning another attack on Tenoch (I actually doubt that).

But boy do I hope he sues the hell out of her.

Sorry for such a long post! I had thoughts. I hope you keep the world bright through your goodness and optimism! 🫶

[kachimera]

celia, arikado, leon, sara for the bingo 👁️👁️

Celia

Oh what a mess of a woman. I know it's more of a writing flaw but i adore how she switches between being a threatening villain to the most incompetent moron ever (seriously girl you fake murder Dracula's reimcarnation's crush and you expect him to not instantly murder you? Fr?). Plus depending on the source she either is legit indoctrinated in her cult's beliefs which gives her a sad facet or she has the more selfish purpose of preserving her own dark magic (and what do i say? I can make both work. I think). Plus the way it can be implied that she might have contact n even collaboration w Arikado makes it better (sorry for the ppl reading this but yes it works i swear im not insane). Go silly gal go! Play Machiavellian schemes with the literal son of the dark lord and underestimate your enemy!

Arikado

Oh boi and talking abt Arikado; the common idea of a grown up n stable Alucard finding stability after "ending" the cycle is fine and all, but the implication from his AoS n DoS behaviour that he is in a terrible mental state and unable to let go of the cycle? Beautiful. Amazing. Need me more of that. He's this beautiful mini reflection of the revenge cycle, and after living through it, with the goal of murdering his own father, for so long, and having it as his sole purpose, it has devoured him n broken him. And he now wants to take control of it with his own hands, is showing both the worst behaviour of both his father AND the Belmonts (haha SotN parallels w Richter) and might end up making matters worse :) (I blame you for indoctrinating me into the neg character arc Alu, thank u) Anyways someone force this poor moron to take vacations before he loses it

Leon

THE HIM. MY BABY BOI. I love his honor n morals and how he chooses them in the face of great suffering. His bravery and impulsiveness. How he's sassy can fall into black n white thinking. How loyal he is to those close to him and how much he cares. The balance between his own feeling n his morals. The parallels w Mathias n Sara n Rinaldo. And just hmmmgjsgkwkgd my poor boi

I can't decide if i want him to recover from the LoI events or if I want him to be consumed by his traumas and thirst for revenge but in any case he goes into the blender *puts him into a sock w stones and smacks him against the walls multiple times*

Also, salt warning here but i feel like fandom either exaggerates his neg traits and acts like Mathias descent into madness ("hello church can i abandon our very important military campaign to be at home w my best friend. He needs cuddles n emotional support that will surely fix him. No it's not gay dont worry. Thanks :)"), Sara getting sealed into the VK (which she insisted on and convinced him despite his initial refusal) n the Belmont clan's burden (he did got them into monster hunting w the whip but there's no way he knew how bad things were gonna get) were all 100% his very well informed fault; Or makes him into an idiot sunshine boi who doesn't knows what death is (he's an undefeated warrior with a who knows how large body count) can't think or lead (he maintained the company undefeated during Mathias' illness) and a perfect innocent n easy to manipulate uke for his sexy older seme (I'm not saying they canonically fucked you can perfectly interpret their relationship as 100% platonic or having something but deciding to respect their girls or etc etc. But if they did the nasty then he had to rail Mathias at least a couple of times). I admit im veeery biased and picky regarding this balance but still. He has facets i say

Sara

Yes my anger girl. Let her commit crimes. I wanna write a post abt her but to resume i love her as a symbol of destroyed innocence (ha). A sweet gal who did helped everyone and was good n nice and disliked violence only to have her life ruined in so many ways that her inner frustration blooms into a divine wrath n bloodthirst. Like i said before I adore her relationship w Leon and how they made eachother better n then worse :). Plus, the manual describes her as strong hearted! She obviously loved Leon n was happy to see him! sacrificed her life in order to not turn into a vampire and instead stop Walter from harming more innocents! She has agency and her choice was crucial not only for Mathias convoluted plan but for the whole cycle. (Ppl stop forcing the "boring 100% sweet harmless never angry gal who always got dragged around by men as an object" archetype on her challenge. Yes i used to be like that but i got gud. If i can recover so others can)

And then she had to see how Mathias betrayed her n Leon and then tried to take him, and dealt w the mess that post-canon Leon was, both together but separated, furious and crushed on the other's behalf, until his death :). AND then she had to wait hundreds of years to avenge him only to have to kill the same bastard over and over and over again. Mix in vampire corruption and you have a caring but toxic Belmont Matriarch/Whip stuck in the cycle. So yea let her have negative emotions and commit crimes (Sorry John).

[endless-ineffabilities]

Reader better be making aemond pay in the next part of maroon. Like I need to see him jealous bc she's with jace and he doesn't know their relationship is purely platonic or even jace sets her up with another guy. Either way I need to see reader living her absolute best life bc aemond hurt her and she's not doing that again (even tho she will eventually bc it's aemond come on) but aemond being sad and moody and trying to win her back

"bc it's Aemond come on" hahahaha SAME

He can commit crimes and have nasty anger issues, but he's still our precious boy 😂

Love how you guys just want her to live her best life (she will). Whether or not she'll have another love interest is hard to say, since she was quite invested in Aemond for a while that if she just jumps on ahead to another one, then it might be very telling that it's not genuine/only in retaliation?

But hey... Aemond doesn't need to know that. Let him grovel 😏

[writer59january13]

The emotional, mental and spiritual fallout courtesy Colt Gray

Apalachee High School,

located in Winder, Georgia

witnessed an active shooter, whereby the alleged lone gunman (actually just a teenager of fourteen years) killed four people and injured nine more the latter hospitalized with injuries after a shooting Wednesday (June 4th, 2024) morning.

His (the lad who pulled the trigger on the firearm – an AR platform-style gun) father and mother must be held culpable,

and similar to the slain victims surviving kith and kin probably experience immense grief (at least I would hope). Yours truly (me), a married sexagenarian and proud papa, whose two grown daughters;

a twenty five old, lives in Bend, Oregon and eldest - almost twenty six months her kid sister's senior resides within bucolic Ithaca, New York, whereby he himself dwells at Highland Manor Apartments smack dab within the heart of

Perkiomen Valley, Pennsylvania nestled here within suburban southeastern Montgomery County

deeply affected by the tragedy

(as well as most previous occurring violent, nasty, and brutish bloody crimes.

The Second Amendment of the United States Constitution protects the right of Americans to keep and bear arms. The original text of the Second Amendment is:

“A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed”. The Second Amendment was ratified on December 15, 1791. Its origins can be traced back to ancient Roman and Florentine times, and to the late 16th century in England when Queen Elizabeth I required all classes of people to take part in a national militia. I (a slight baby boomer at approximately seventy inches tall from stem to stern

targeted as "scapegoat" during boyhood),

no longer a ticking time bomb harboring

rage against the machine,

would never buy nor use a weapon intended to fire rapidly loosing countless bullets, nevertheless writer of these words empathizes, sympathizes and telepathizes third-person singular simple present indicative forms of empathize, sympathize, and telepathize respectively

with the predictable cited suspect, who frequently trends toward being a quiet natured, nerdy lad at the receiving end of verbal and physical harassment.

Still back in the day mean kids indiscriminately name called me attendant with closed fists mere inches from my face - both boys and girls made a point to assail introspective severely shy Matthew Scott Harris

pleading with cruel, fiendish, imps - of the pervert please don't hurt me and repeated the following saying: sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me (or so the playground adage wants us to believe). Words do hurt and the shame

those words can instill in us

have a way of instigating and perpetuating inferiority complex

in our minds and our bodies.

Easy access to high powered military grade sophisticated woud find blunderbuss quaint.

More often than not such brutal and nasty (short lived) nefarious schemes directed at humble lettered people (like those comprising my home town of Lake Woebegone) minding their own p's and q's, when out of the blue a sudden bitta bing bitta bang rings the terrorist catcall followed by red tide and river of blood. Thus occurs yet another staccato sinister sonic soundcloud boom across the pearl gray slate of some formerly anonymous place-name. which blitzkrieg of shells shattering (at shutterfly speed) the democratic rubric of society with senseless slaughter, whereat somber silence echoes the wails of agony.

This epidemic re: murderous love affair with gruesome morbid fixation allowing, enable and providing the terrifying trappings for angry person to maniacally gun down (in slo mo) a milling crowdsource (perhaps pathetic plan premeditated) employing coterie of odious loading incendiary fiery clips.

Suicide bombardier seeks to slake thirst to take aim with deadly precision, and spray with pump posse city, a congregated engaged group of people), with egregious fulfillment to mow down slew unsuspecting victims, which bring revulsion to this American citizen.

Death be not proud, nor ought airtime allocated to these heinous cavalier avengers. Foe tee eight hour special proffers especial easy access to sophisticated high caliber compact offspring of rapaciously lethal gimcrackery cutlasses. Sorrow soulful songs sung by the likes of death cab for cutie in tandem with foo fighting beastie boys pay homilies and homage to grateful dead. Fetishistic martyrs wannabe set sights of sister and brothers of their same simian species.

Once target(s) locked and stocked per skull and cross bones, the ammunition barrels at greased lightning speed dead set upon unaware persons. the final minutes/seconds of various lives instantaneously cut short, when instagram cross hairs seal the fate upon avast group of happy go lucky men and women. Instantaneous re: within the blink and/or flickr of and eye, the gallivanting live capital one progressive pinterest-ting human hulu hooping unwittingly accompany the grim reaper as riders to final resting place. Ribald exhortations and allegiance gifted from he/she who ushered in bereavement, where grief experiences a field day, whence pandora gorges philabundance like, as incalculable forsaken emptiness doles bleakness upon a grim outlook brought about per spilt blood, sweat and tears tallying the cost.

Mortal kombat rues unfathomable payless priceline, which induces adrenaline to course thru the melee, where survivors sprint non selfie ish lee to a safer outlook, where moments before the collective asylum seekers indulged in a joyus fancy feast per vanity fair, whence diehard fanatic (attired inconspicuously like some dishabille schlepper of an outlier) pulled the trigger releasing high powered voluminous ammunition loaded murderous mass homicidal instrument.

Netzero escape for those unfairly killed in ceaseless undeclared warfare, whereby killer (ofttimes a pissant punk) cooly unleashes fearsome fusillade from out the barrel per his/her lethal methodological munitions.

[the-firebird69]

It says it all the time it's absolutely beautiful but massively deadly and you have to be careful because certain animals get real strong on it and maybe insects but they said they die after a bit not too long and fish too too they die and at the end of the Saco there's a huge pile of bones and they float down the river and all types of Bones and human stuff he and really he became very strong and I don't want to say that's ridiculous but it is it's like lifting up an ambulance that's emptied and none of you can do anything like that so stop bothering him but okay. His own granddaddy start questioning who he was said when I was in the womb all sorts of stuff must have happened I heard about it he says oh great you read the halt well then all stunting my growth so it seems to be taking care of and it says okay and a check that it was and said we don't want him attracting everybody it's going on anyways but it seems to be this Tommy F guy he won't let our friend move and it would help us

Mac

I can't believe it I'm getting the same stuff now I'm getting convicted and stuff from crimes I'll set up for to do tell me if it's riding on the whole thing and still going through with it and it's probably some kind of massive joke to our friend here. It looks at him and he's doing his a****** routine and he's marking our friend and it stops it says there's practically no reaction and that's not what it was I said someone's mocking you you're this guy and you're that guy and they're saying what you were doing and having you do it and he flips out Saturday in the show and went on for 20 minutes I can't stand this anymore we're not that bright and that's what we do Saturday he says people are spewing it everywhere they feel comfortable because they think Tommy f is the answer it's not really true there's a snake that's well over 130 miles long with a humongous head and really it's skinny you can tell it's really huge cuz the skull of the snake is bigger than the rest of it and we're going to go look at it cuz so let's check it and we're going to go check it pretty soon but that's a lot of them that's a lot of venom he says it's just an enormous amount it goes the whole river and it's just like that lake that they went to in New Hampshire this is you know where that is too it's not the boy scout place but it's nearby that's another one too it's clear as a bell in the water you can't figure out why I was still reason and he's asking about Crystal lake and that's kind of a clear lake too couldn't tell by looking at it it really is you can see the bottom and you can see Jason down there no but you can see the gator and I pushed him in and having a fight

Trump

You dick you dick I'm going to kill you you bastard people grossed out and angry about it and then you want to see that nobody wants to see you do that it is not right you're really everything you can't have an election like this with kids who are offered up to a gator I mean what the f*** are you with a massive monster it's all over man you got to go down

Jason

We have to stop what's going on and we can't that's disgusting I see what you're saying these are your people kind of and they're want to run for president again and nobody's stepping up the plates and just tell him no and we get that the GOP should stand up and say get out we don't support you and you're not going to be on the ticket and I'm saying Asus Max is having sex stupid and it really is true we should get them off the ticket and he can run as an independent or whatever it's an embarrassment that's disgusting and the results is much worse it's it's heinous people keep going there you keep telling them not to this weird things that look like venom that's what they are they're part and and part blob and part cracken. It's going down that they're horrifying these people were making fun of our horrifying people much worse than you and your s*** is a joke to him it's dangerous and he's mad but they're nasty and horrifying people what they're doing isn't having you with creatures to shut you down you see it in the movie venom he disappears sometimes it's inside shows up and says it's mostly outside because he's big what part of it can go inside and control you you can see him doing it and his face changes it's actually inside and he's going inside his body to his cortex I've got to tell you something there's something wrong here and you two keep bothering him and make it worse and he's young he says I don't know and I'm learning it and it seems like someone's plan like you idiots in their satanism I'm going to get on this it's probably what it is

Mac

[xansmenagerie]

Sibling Rivalries

Mel again, part of the playbook change backstories. This one is "special item - skeleton key" - it's also how she really first came across magic and how nasty it can be...

"Wait, did you really just say that last bit?" Muse asked suspiciously, "Because it sounded quite a lot like 'Hi guys, I just took out a contract on your behalf to steal something from my mother.'"

"Is there a problem with that, Muse?" Crystal was very genteelly cleaning her fingernails with a very small - and from Muse's personal experience extremely sharp - pearl-handled knife, but after all these years Muse was used to this sort of posturing from her girlfriend.

"Let's see, what possibly could be the issue with stealing from Madame Adora Hackett, wife of crime boss Gerald Hackett, the woman who literally wrote the book on some of our techniques and about whom there are cautionary tales about what happens to people who get on her bad side that the writers of the Saw franchise would consider 'a bit extreme'? Fidget, Oyster, Lanky Dave, am I missing something here?" Muse didn't often raise her voice if she could help it, but by the end it was an effort of will not to shout.

"She's not wrong, Crystal," Fidget spoke up; he promptly cringed back under the older woman's death glare. Muse caught Oyster stopping himself moving protectively in his direction and bit back a smile.

Crystal turned the glare on Muse. "Does it matter? It's a done deal, anyway, it would do our reputation no good to back out now - and think of the reputation we will gain when we pull it off."

"As if we'd be stupid enough to tell anyone it was us," Lanky Dave muttered, moving sideways as he spoke to hide behind Oyster.

Muse sighed. "Just…tell me Courage didn't put you up to this?"

Crystal glanced away.

"Oh, Crystal…" Muse couldn't help the frustration creeping into her voice. "Look, I know you're upset that your father's handing the business over to him despite you being older, but this is too much."

"This. Isn't. About. That." Crystal spat out each word in a rare public display of temper, the knife suddenly still in a way that suggested it could move very quickly indeed at short notice.

Muse held her ground. "Crystal, please…how would we even do this, anyway? If we try to ghost in, your mother certainly has plans in place for that, and there isn't a big enough distraction in the world to catch her off her guard."

The sudden triumphant smile from Crystal gave Muse instant forebodings. "Oh, there is. You're going to need to get your best suit cleaned, darling, as I think it's time you finally met my parents in a more intimate setting."

Muse was consumed by immediate deer-in-the-headlights panic.

Crystal leaned over and patted her hand, secure in her victory. "Don't worry, it's just a nice family dinner already arranged, Courage will be there too. All you have to do is be your best charming self, maybe do a bit of inside prep work, and let the boys take care of the rest."

The dinner was almost exactly as painful as Muse expected it was going to be. She was pleasantly surprised and relieved at the lack of personal questions - her family and so on - until she realised that the Hacketts had simply assumed that anything said on the matter would be a lie and simply weren't bothering to ask. Of course, they knew that Muse had started her association with Crystal as her chauffeur, so perhaps they had also decided that it would be embarrassing to bring up that their daughter was dating a menial. It was probably for the best; she was already working under an assumed name, so adding an assumed family on top of that would only complicate matters.

It was the first time Muse had met Courage, Crystal's younger brother, in any capacity, and the little blonde bit he had on his arm was either a stunning actress or genuinely the only innocent at the table. Rosa, introduced as a 'budding model', was, as far as Muse could tell, actually quite a nice person; for all that she had manners closer to that of the Hacketts than Muse could manage, she was also saying thank you to the serving staff, and made interested contributions to all of the conversation. Under other circumstances Muse probably would have enjoyed getting to know her better - just as a friend.

As it was, while Muse was doing her best, having to concentrate on both being witty and charming and on which cutlery to use when was draining, especially given she was clearly on an uphill struggle for acceptance with Crystal's father. Crystal's mother was more considerate, specifically drawing Muse into the conversation, and that was possibly more worrying - Muse wasn't sure how much she was keeping her feelings off her face and didn't dare any of them slipping out in the circumstances.

It was almost something of a relief when during the third course one of the security staff walked over to Gerald Hackett's chair and said something quietly in his ear. Crystal's father, in turn, leaned over to Adora and murmured in her ear; Crystal's mother frowned the smallest of frowns, her mouth a moue of disapproval.

"Courage, Charity," she said in no-nonsense tones as she stood up, "Perhaps you might like to show Rosa and Persefoni the long gallery as a break between courses? I'm afraid Mummy's got some unexpected business to attend to."

Muse was admittedly impressed at how swiftly Courage stood up and did her best to emulate him, pulling Crystal's seat out for her a scant beat after he pulled out Rosa's. She offered her arm to Crystal as formally as possible, earning her an amused look from her girlfriend and an approving one from Adora.

The two women graciously allowed Courage to lead the way with Rosa, although as soon as they were out of the dining room Muse and Crystal started whispering sweet nothings to each other. They waited until they were at the gallery itself to drop back a little and gain a little privacy, using a nook by an urn to justify slightly more heated behaviour.

Muse kept her tone light and teasing as she murmured in Crystal's ear, "So much for 'the boys will be fine' - tell me there's an extraction plan?"

"There is…they shouldn't have needed it, but they should make it out in one piece," Crystal hummed back, her smile almost reaching her eyes.

Muse relaxed a touch out of relief but noticed the almost concealed discomfort. She took the opportunity to nibble on Charity's ear, barely noting the sound of a deliberate scoff - did people really do that in real life? - from further down the gallery. "What aren't you telling me, darling?"

Crystal pulled Muse towards her, foreheads touching. Her lips barely moving. "If they were caught this early there may be…complications. And they certainly won't have achieved the objective."

"Oh, for goodness…" Muse couldn't help the quiet harumph. "And tonight was meant to be my night off as well."

Crystal's eyes shone like her nickname. "What do you need, lover?"

"As much of a distraction as you think you can make for Fidget and Oyster, please, that should give me room to work too." Muse wrinkled her nose fondly. "Yes, I am giving you permission to seduce Rosa loudly if that's what it comes to, although don't get too carried away and don't break her."

"You really are the best girlfriend," Crystal declared, allowing her voice to rise just a little and catch Courage's attention. Muse couldn't help but look smug. Crystal dropped her voice again, "You know where you're going? And you still have that locket I gave you?"

"Yes, and yes although I'd be happier if I knew why you were insisting on it so hard," Muse replied, watching Courage and Rosa covertly through the side of her eyes.

"Just humour me, okay?" Crystal batted her eyelashes.

"Don't I always?" Muse skipped back just fast enough to avoid a pinch for being cheeky, then moved aside to let Crystal get to work. She leaned back against the wall, listening with eyes closed as Crystal's heels thudded away down the carpet with the staccato of incipient mischief, plotting her route in her head and smiling fondly to herself.

Once Crystal was out of earshot Muse moved, slowly and casually. Her first touch point was a bathroom on the floor above - just about close enough to plausibly be somewhere to 'powder her nose' - and from there she could work her way up to Adora's private study. There were going to be locks to work through but, perhaps not so surprisingly, no cameras; the Hacketts weren't inclined to do anything that might be used as evidence against themselves at a later date, after all.

She walked as a slightly lost tourist might, examining paintings and statues as she went and mumbling directions as though trying to remember them, all the while devoutly hoping that Fidget and Oyster were making a clean getaway wherever in the building they were.

The bathroom door ahead of her opened; Courage stepped out. "You're taking your sweet time about this," he said with cool amusement, "From everything Charity's said about you I was expecting you to have purloined all the silverware and be halfway home by now."

Muse remembered belatedly that Courage had been the one who pushed Crystal into this stupid dare of a contract. "Personally," she replied, watching his face carefully, "I was just here to meet my future in-laws and enjoy my dinner."

Courage scowled. "You can't really think that you'd be allowed to have anything more than a fling with my sister, can you?" He stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm, hard enough to bruise. "A nameless no-account whose only redeeming feature is that she can keep Charity quiet for five minutes, which is more than anyone else can manage-"

Although he hadn't realised it, Courage had made two fatal errors. The first was that he'd insulted Crystal; the second that he'd let Muse get into kicking distance.

Strictly speaking, beating people up was Oyster's job, but that didn't mean Muse couldn't handle herself in a fight if she really had to. She did hope that Rosa had other options for the evening as from the noise Courage made and the truly satisfying way he'd folded over and curled up on the carpet he probably wasn't going to be providing her with much entertainment for at least a couple of days. For good measure she broke his nose as well, purely to prove a point, although she did regret it a little when he turned out to be a bleeder.

"Drat. You know, I liked the pattern on this one," she said as she pulled the pocket square out of the top of her jacket. She very deliberately wiped her knuckles on one edge of it then refolded and replaced it in its pocket, the blood hidden at the bottom. "Charity will appreciate the souvenir though. Good evening, Courage." She stepped over him and carried on up the corridor, outwardly confident even if inside she was already calculating the manoeuvres she and Crystal would need to make to prevent retaliation.

Muse picked up the pace; from this point on there was no way she could claim innocence for being in the wrong place, especially once she used one of the servants' stairs hidden behind a decorative panel. Plus, with the best will in the world, while she had every confidence that Crystal could provide a distraction there would still be a time limit before her parents realised it was staged; best to get the theft over and done with quickly and get back to safety before that could happen.

The study was exactly where she expected it to be from Crystal's directions, built into what had been a turret before extensions and renovations surrounded it on all sides. No windows, thick external brickwork a shell around the room; it didn't make it impenetrable by any means, but it certainly made it much harder to use any entrance other than the heavily locked door.

'Thank goodness for underwires,' Muse thought, quickly unbuttoning her jacket and shirt to get to her bra; she'd anticipated the pat-down on arrival at the house, and while she wasn't meant to be getting involved she did always feel underdressed without at least one pick these days, so while it was a terrible novel cliché she'd had made certain adjustments to her underwear to accommodate an emergency set. The smaller, more flexible picks were harder to use, inclined to bend where she really needed them to be stiff, but it couldn't have taken her much longer than normal before the lock clicked open. She ghosted inside and pulled the door to behind her, relying on the torch on her phone for light.

True to the turret it had been the study was close to circular, with shelves and cupboards and a desk built to fit it exactly. Even the carpet featured circles, rings within rings with patterns between them. The target was an otherwise innocuous cupboard built into the desk itself; rather than a key lock, it required a sequence of various concealed buttons to be pressed in the correct order and rhythm, including one that was coated in a contact poison and another that would trigger a needle into an unsuspecting forearm if held too long.

Muse sighed. It was going to be incredibly obvious that this was an inside job, given the intricacies of the mechanism, and also Fidget was going to be extremely envious as this sort of nonsense was what he lived for. She carefully tucked Crystal's locket into her bra to keep it out the way and got to work.

The last button pressed, Muse held her breath - and gently released it a moment later as she heard the catch release and saw the cupboard door swing ajar. The next breath caught in her throat as something moved through the gap, one moment smoke and the next solid, a tentacle reaching out for her. She stumbled backwards with a yelp, knocking over her phone; with most of the light gone, now she could see the patterns on the carpet glowing faintly purple. That was more than enough; Muse rolled to her feet and lunged for the door, only to find to her horror that she bounced off an invisible wall that followed the line of the patterns.

Something cold and clinging closed around her ankle, knocking her over and pulling her back towards the desk. She reached and tried to pull the creature off her but her hands went straight through its substance. Resisting had been a bad move; more smokey tentacles poured out of a space nowhere near large enough for them and started wrapping around her, the coldness spreading up her legs and latching onto one of her hands when she didn't move it out the way fast enough.

Muse wasn't screaming, but only because not making a noise while working was so ingrained by now.

It was getting harder to struggle, both from the tentacles holding her in place and the cold seeping into her muscles, and while she really didn't want to know what would happen if they reached her face there wasn't much she could do but watch in panic while trying to grab her phone. There was just enough light for her to see one of the tentacles reach the locket, pause, then continue working up towards her throat.

Muse whimpered, the sound forced out of her by pure fear. The cold was getting into her ribcage now, the tentacles starting to constrict her breathing. Her questing fingers caught the edge of her phone but she couldn't get a grip on it.

Another tentacle brushed against her jacket pocket. Abruptly all of them stopped moving; a heartbeat later and they dissolved into smoke again, whipping back into the cupboard and out of sight.

Muse lay on the carpet panting, still caught in deer-in-the-headlights panic, until her inner voice broke through loudly enough to point out that whatever had just happened was almost certainly going to have attracted some sort of attention and she had a job to do. Slowly, making sure of every muscle before moving it, she pulled herself up onto hands and knees, rescued her phone, and reluctantly crawled over to the cupboard. She steeled herself and opened the door fully.

There was a distinct lack of tentacle creatures made of smoke inside, although there was a worrying little wooden carving with a suggestion of tentacle that Muse resolved to avoid touching in the slightest.

More importantly, there were the labelled boxes. One for Courage and one for Crystal. Muse carefully opened the one for Courage; inside, in little padded wells, was a complete set of baby teeth, and tucked into a clip in the lid was what had to be a first lock of baby hair.

Mel slipped a condom packet out of her jacket inner pocket, extracted the condom and parcelled the canines in it. She'd chosen her hairstyle well tonight; it was pretty easy to hide such a small container in the bun. After a moment's thought she picked out a second condom packet and repeated the process with Crystal's baby teeth, adding one of her own hairs to show which was which.

There was another box, unlabelled; Muse couldn't help herself. Inside there was a key of sorts wrapped in a silk handkerchief - it had no teeth, only a bare shaft, and she desperately hoped it was made of ivory. Out of sheer relieved pettiness she snitched it and the handkerchief as well, although lacking any better hiding places that had to go down the side of her boot.

Muse tidied up as best as she could and closed the cupboard again. The markings on the carpet faded out as the lock clicked; she got slowly to her feet and approached the door, this time meeting no resistance. After listening for anyone outside Muse slipped out of the horrible, horrible study, closing and locking the door behind her. She put the picks away properly and buttoned up her shirt and jacket again with trembling hands; she knew that she was going to look mussed at best and a fright at worst, but in the circumstances she just wanted to get out of the house no matter what.

She distracted herself as she made her way back to the dining room by working out her cover story, one where she could turn her fear into a credible impression of anger. Muse entered to the sound of a fine old argument going on; Rosa looked about as mussed as Muse did, only a lot more embarrassed. Crystal was also mussed and not in the least bit embarrassed about the situation, a fact she was explaining loudly and at length to her father. Happily Courage hadn't made it back downstairs just yet…

"Charity, you would not believe what your brother just tried-" Muse said loudly and aggrievedly as she walked through the door, cutting off in apparent surprise at there being more of an audience than intended. She darkened her expression as she took in the now cringing Rosa and the smug Crystal.

"I see." She kept her voice flatly neutral as best as she could, but it was still enough to get a raised eyebrow from Crystal.

Deliberately not looking at Crystal, Muse walked up to Gerald and Adora. "Sir, ma'am, I do apologise," she said in her politest tones, "I've come down with a headache and feel it might be best for me to go home."

Crystal's parents glanced at each other; Adora nodded. "You are, of course, welcome to stay in a guest room overnight, but…yes, going home might be for the best."

"Thank you." Muse forced a smile and gave a small bow before walking out of the room, heading for the front door. A few minutes later she heard the staccato of Crystal's heels behind her; without saying a word to her girlfriend Muse simply led the way back to the car, politely opening and closing the door for Crystal. She drove them out of the gates and into the night, still silent, her knuckles a livid scar across the arc of the steering wheel.

Crystal showed remarkable restraint and waited until they were well away from the house before cracking into an excited smile. "Well? Did you get them?"

"Charity." Muse was impressed at herself for just how much she wasn't shouting right at that moment. "What in the name of all of God's little creatures was in that cupboard?"

Crystal sat back, stung by both Muse's tone and the use of her given name. "Baby teeth, Mama is rather sentimental that way. But you knew that, that was the whole target of the job."

Muse abruptly pulled the car over and up onto the pavement, ignoring the double yellow lines, and concentrated on her breathing. "That wasn't what I meant, Charity. I meant the thing, with the smoke and the tentacles, that thing in the cupboard."

Crystal looked genuinely surprised. "You…you weren't supposed to see that," she said, sounding a little bit worried, "You were wearing the locket I gave you, weren't you?"

Muse cracked. "Yes, I was wearing the bloody locket! It didn't give a flying fig about the bloody locket!" she spat out, all of the terror of the evening sharpening her tone to a knife edge. "That could have killed me, Charity, and I don't even know what it bloody was!"

A small, vicious part of her was pleased to see Crystal flinch back for at least a moment at the unexpected onslaught, but the older woman rallied, "It's a guardian, that's all I know - Mama paid someone to bind it there. But it's not supposed to attack anyone marked as family!"

"Marked with what, expensive jewellery?" Muse was still riding the wave of adrenaline, aware that she was going to pay for her behaviour later but right now unable and unwilling to care.

"No!" Crystal sounded upset. "There's some of my hair in there, Fidget and Oyster had the same - it should have been enough! It must have been, or you wouldn't be here now! The only reason it wouldn't work would be if I'd been cut out of the ward!"

"Let me get this straight," Muse snarled, "You're telling me that you sent the three of us into a potentially lethal situation with no information, no warnings, and a plan that 'should have worked' that you hadn't bloody tried out?!"

Crystal pouted sulkily. "You're making it sound far worse than it is, especially as you've clearly come out fine so my plan must have worked. From what Mama said the only things more powerful than hair are blood and bone, and you definitely didn't have either of those from me."

Muse looked at her in stony silence for a moment before flourishing the pocket square at her. "I never thought I was going to be quite so happy I punched your brother, but between him being the reason for the contract in the first place and it being the reason I didn't die…"

Crystal grabbed the square out of her hand and held it up to the light coming through the windscreen. "Oh my goodness, is that…?" She chuckled. "He is going to be livid."

Muse wasn't willing to let up on Crystal just yet, although tiredness was already starting to win over anger. "It's a good thing I got those teeth then, as I'm sure you can use them for…I don't know, blackmail or insurance or something." She sighed. "Right now though I just want to go home, check the boys made it back safe, shower and sleep, and tomorrow you can explain to me in small words about wards and guardians and everything in case it comes up again. Right?"

"Oh, alright," Crystal said, still smiling at the pocket square in a faintly disconcerting manner, "Let's go home."

It wasn't until much later, lying wrapped up in each other in the dark, that Crystal said sleepily, "I am glad you're okay, Muse. I wouldn't have sent you in if I'd thought you were going to get seriously hurt, I promise - I love you too much for that."

Muse's heart, her eternal weakness, still skipped a beat at the declaration as the last of the anger ran out of her. "I love you too, Crystal," she whispered back, knowing her girlfriend was almost certainly already asleep.

[fanfic-lover-girl]

Part 2 of Taking Gryffindors and Their Stans to Court

I'm not going to point out stan defenses here. I can't be bothered. Like before, the links to the crime definitions are hyperlinked.

Crime: Wildlife Crime

Wildlife crime is any activity that goes against legislation protecting the UK's wild animals and plants. It can cause pain and suffering to animals, push species closer to extinction, and can be linked to other serious crimes like firearms offences and organised crime.

Guilty parties:

Hagrid

NORBERT THE NORWEGIAN RIDGEBACK, Book 1 (illegal breeding)

“But it’s against our laws,” said Ron. “Dragon breeding was outlawed by the Warlocks’ Convention of 1709, everyone knows that. It’s hard to stop Muggles from noticing us if we’re keeping dragons in the back garden — anyway, you can’t tame dragons, it’s dangerous. You should see the burns Charlie’s got off wild ones in Romania.”

THE FIREBOLT, Book 3 (animal cruelty)

“Yeah, they’re great!” said Ron, crossing his fingers under the table. “Er — how are the flobberworms?” “Dead,” said Hagrid gloomily. “Too much lettuce.”

THE MIDNIGHT DUEL, Book 1 (animal cruelty)

They were looking straight into the eyes of a monstrous dog, a dog that filled the whole space between ceiling and floor.

ARAGOG, Book 2 (invasive species!!!)

“I!” said Aragog, clicking angrily. “I was not born in the castle. I come from a distant land. A traveler gave me to Hagrid when I was an egg. Hagrid was only a boy, but he cared for me, hidden in a cupboard in the castle, feeding me on scraps from the table. Hagrid is my good friend, and a good man. When I was discovered, and blamed for the death of a girl, he protected me. I have lived here in the forest ever since, where Hagrid still visits me. He even found me a wife, Mosag, and you see how our family has grown, all through Hagrid’s goodness. . . .”

I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid. I hate Hagrid.

Hagrid is unintentionally is one of JKR's WORST characters. Wish the spiders ate him in Deathly Hallows. This moron deserves it!

Crime: Fraudulent Misrepresentation of contract (SNAPE’S WORST MEMORY, book 5)

A misrepresentation is a statement in a contract that

provides misleading information which

influences one party

to enter into a contract

that they would not otherwise have agreed to

as a result of which they suffer loss.

Guilty parties: Hermione Granger

“That was a really horrible trick of Hermione Granger’s,” said Cho fiercely. “She should have told us she’d jinxed that list —” “I think it was a brilliant idea,” said Harry coldly. Cho flushed and her eyes grew brighter.

It would have made sense if the jinx was a preventative measure. However, it was simply there for revenge. Plus, it is totally criminal to have people sign something without informing them of their liabilities. Wouldn't the threat of being jinxed scare people into compliance??

Why do so many awful things happen in the SWM chapter?!

Note: Hermione and Harry belong together! Nasty protag leads should stick with each other. Leave Ron free to be with another girl. Plus, I like the idea of Harry utterly dominating Hermione and making her cower in their relationship. Pro Harmione!!! Draco could only dream of putting Hermione in her place like Harry does lol! I don't think this bitch deserves to be treated like a queen in Romione or in simpy Dramione.

Crime: Attempted False imprisonment

False imprisonment is a common law offence involving the unlawful and intentional or reckless detention of the victim. An act of false imprisonment may amount in itself to an assault. 

Guilty parties: Fred & George Weasley (THE LEAKY CAULDRON, book 3)

He disappeared and George heaved a sigh. “We tried to shut him in a pyramid,” he told Harry. “But Mum spotted us.”

Ha. Ha.

Percy deserved better younger siblings - siblings who actually gave a damn about him. He was such a good, loving big brother...

Taking Gryffindors and Their Stans to Court

So I thought it would be fun to compile a list of crimes committed by various Gryffindor characters, especially the ones I have seen stans blatantly glorify or condone. This is also fueled by the narrative ignoring how horrific these actions are as well. For each, I will provide the definition of the crime as listed in British law (hyperlink provided in the crime category), cite the guilty parties and cite some of the flimsy defences provided by stans. The characters include, but are not limited to:

Hermione Granger

Weasley twins

Marauders (especially James Potter and Sirius Black)

Rubeus Hagrid

Professor McGonagall

This post will be a work in progress so I will add as I go along. Please feel free to add as well. Also, I am not a legal expert so do not expect these categories to be 100% accurate despite my doing my best. Here I go!

Crime: Sexual Harassment

The Equality Act 2010 says someone sexually harasses another person if they:

Engage in unwanted conduct of a sexual nature and

The conduct has the purpose or effect of either violating the other person’s dignity or creating an intimidating, hostile, degrading, humiliating or offensive environment for them.

Guilty parties: James Potter and other marauders as accomplices (Snape's Worst Memory, Book 5)

But too late; Snape had directed his wand straight at James; there was a flash of light and a gash appeared on the side of James’s face, spattering his robes with blood. James whirled about: a second flash of light later, Snape was hanging upside-down in the air, his robes falling over his head to reveal skinny, pallid legs and a pair of greying underpants. Many people in the small crowd cheered; Sirius, James and Wormtail roared with laughter.

There was another flash of light, and Snape was once again hanging upside-down in the air. ‘Who wants to see me take off Snivelly’s pants?’

Said by Marauder/James stans:

Snape was a future DE so he deserved it; ie. future criminals/bullies deserve to be bullied before they commit said crime. Someone had to bully Snape.

What James did was not sexual harassment

Snape is a guy so he can't be sexually harassed

I hate Snape so I love seeing him hurt and in pain (perfectly valid reason, we can hate who we want. still listing it though)

Boys will be boys. The marauders are just teenage boys joking around.

In that period, what James did was not illegal

Snape called Lily a mudblood so he deserved it

Snape attacked James so he deserved it

Crime: Kidnapping

The legal definition of kidnapping is to take someone unwillingly and then keep them illegally imprisoned without their valid consent. The latter is normally done with motive, such as financial gain in the form of a ransom.

Guilty parties: Hermione Granger (The Beginning, Book 4)

‘Oh, not electronic bugs,’ said Hermione. ‘No, you see … Rita Skeeter’ – Hermione’s voice trembled with quiet triumph – ‘is an unregistered Animagus. She can turn –’ Hermione pulled a small sealed glass jar out of her bag. ‘– into a beetle.’

Said by Hermione stans:

Rita deserved it for being a sleazy journalist and saying mean things about her and her friends

Rita deserved it by committing a crime first as an illegal animagus. So she has no leverage against Hermione.

Crime: Child Cruelty (Or Child Endangerment/Abuse)

The offence in section 1 of the 1933 Act is committed where a person over the age of 16, who has responsibility for a child under that age, wilfully assaults, illtreats, neglects, abandons, or exposes that child in a manner likely to cause ‘unnecessary suffering or injury to health including any mental derangement’.

Guilty parties: Prof Minerva McGonagall (Snape’s Grudge, Book 3)

Professor McGonagall was so furious with him she had banned him from all future Hogsmeade visits, given him a detention and forbidden anyone to give him the password into the Tower. Poor Neville was forced to wait outside the common room every night for somebody to let him in . . .

Context: An alleged mass murderer (Sirius Black) was on the loose 🫠

Said by McGonagall stans:

She's just strict

Crime: Assault

An assault is any act (and not mere omission to act) by which a person intentionally or recklessly causes another to suffer or apprehend immediate unlawful violence.

Guilty parties:

Rubeus Hagrid (The Keeper of the Keys, Book 1)

He brought the umbrella swishing down through the air to point at Dudley — there was a flash of violet light, a sound like a firecracker, a sharp squeal and next second, Dudley was dancing on the spot with his hands clasped over his fat bottom, howling in pain. When he turned his back on them, Harry saw a curly pig’s tail poking through a hole in his trousers. ... ‘Oh, well — I was at Hogwarts meself but I — er — got expelled, ter tell yeh the truth. In me third year. They snapped me wand in half an’ everything.’

Fred & George Weasley (Back to the Burrow, Book 4 & Snape's Worst Memory, Grawp;Book 5) - two for the price of one lol

Dudley was no longer standing behind his parents. He was kneeling beside the coffee table, and he was gagging and spluttering on a foot-long, purple, slimy thing that was protruding from his mouth. One bewildered second later, Harry realised that the foot-long thing was Dudley’s tongue — and that a brightly coloured toffee-wrapper lay on the floor before him.

‘Yeah, Montague tried to do us during break,’ said George. ‘What do you mean, “tried”?’ said Ron quickly. ‘He never managed to get all the words out,’ said Fred, ‘due to the fact that we forced him head-first into that Vanishing Cabinet on the first floor.’ ‘Not until Montague reappears, and that could take weeks, I dunno where we sent him,’ said Fred coolly. ‘Anyway … we’ve decided we don’t care about getting into trouble any more.’

To cap matters, Montague had still not recovered from his sojourn in the toilet; he remained confused and disorientated and his parents were to be observed one Tuesday morning striding up the front drive, looking extremely angry.

Hermione Granger (Felix Felicis, Book 6)

‘Oppugno!’ came a shriek from the doorway. Harry spun round to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: the little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets towards Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach.

Said by Hagrid stans:

Like with Minerva, I don't see Hagrid stans or regular fans bringing this up. But crimes against the Dursleys are usually justified by the fandom due to their being abusive to Harry.

Said by Weasley twins stans:

The Dursleys were abusive to Harry so Dudley deserved it.

Dudley brought it on himself by eating it. The twins did not force him to eat it.

It was just a joke - harmless fun (for both crimes)

They did not know what the cabinet would do

They did not intend to almost kill Montague

Montague deserved it because HE WAS TAKING HOUSE POINTS (***INSERT RAGE!!!!***)

The twins are just mischievous. They are so funny!

Said by Hermione/Romione stans:

It was just a mistake

Hermione has anger issues. She's just a teenage girl.

Hermione was distraught. She didn't mean it.

Ron deserved it for hurting queen Hermione.

Ron doesn't care so why do you?

Romione is the best HP ship ever. All ships have rough patches.

No matter what Hermione does, I will always ship her with Ron. The other options are not good for her.

I will pause here because I can feel my blood pressure rising. I don't really have beef with anyone, I just don't like seeing these takes on my dash or these responses on my anti blog posts. I have no control over people's opinions and I doubt more than a handful of people care about mine.

Will continue next time on Taking Gryffindors and Their Stans to Court!

PS. All attempts to deflect by pointing the finger at other characters like Draco Malfoy, DEs, Severus Snape etc will be ignored. This is about JKR's darlings who apparently can do no wrong and the stans who shamelessly justify violence.

[har-rison-s]

freaks

eddie munson x afab!reader

a/n: so hi. I hope you guys liked my previous eddie piece. I’ve had a fun and rough couple days and actually the whole week or the last fucking few months lol :D I’m finally back to writing a lot and having time to myself too actually. I love writing and eddie’s a very interesting character to write, also hard because he’s so charismatic and explosive and theatrical. I love him can you tell? also me and him are kinda similar :’) and our mbtis are compatible.... anyways. your good will be updated, too.... this one-shot is I guess pretty much a self insert. I’ve felt really insecure again the past few days and I don’t really have anyone who understands my struggles and insecurities so as always in those cases I’ve decided to write it all out. in combination with a little dream scenario of mine + breaking the cheerleader / freak stereotype that is frequent in eddie x reader fics. not that I’m complaining or like hating on them !! I love that dynamic a lot. just wanted to experiment with this kind of dynamic, and I hope I make it work. i also wrote from my heart because in school i was always bullied and called names just like eddie was, i was always the freak, and so that cafeteria scene was very comforting to me, and representative of me & others like me. so i'm incorporating that into here, too. I have two-three more eddie one-shot ideas. let me know if you want to be tagged when I post them. love you all. happy reading <3

disclaimer: this is set in like ’85, making eddie 19-20, the reader 18-19 and the kids in their respective younger years, 13-15, though they make close to zero appearance here.

masterlist

stranger things masterlist

word count: 3.4k

tags: bullying, nm else

gif credit goes to owner!

being different in a small town society such as Hawkins isn’t easy. you get all types of nasty treatment from people around you, from the general public and even, occasionally, newspapers and reality shows on tv. hard for anyone to deal with that kind of treatment.

however, when you’re a girl, it is much, much worse to be different. not liking the music all the other girls like is crime number one. dressing differently and wearing different make-up is crime number two. having different views and behaving differently and, quite frankly, more naturally than all the other girls, is crime number three. and it’s the most serious one.

it’s not like you ever wanted to be different. there’s plenty of those people at school and in society, but you’ve never been one of them. you just are different, always have been and actually always will be different, too. you guess you’re just wired differently, not like everyone else. something in you is by default different, and you won’t change that. it’s not like you could change that, even, and you have tried. looking at your peers, you’re sure you don’t want to change that. being different has its pros and cons, as does everything else.

even before your friends had decided to ditch you because you were just too bizarre for them, they didn’t understand you like you needed them to, or thought they would. in your friend group, you didn’t get everything completely off the bat, you didn’t catch on, and were only included in hang-outs and parties because you just always had been, as if it was an unspoken rule that they couldn’t break. until a point, of course.

you were never the prettiest among your friends, that was a fact to you. most days it hurt, and still does. because you still haven’t been asked out by anyone in your life ever. no one’s ever had a crush on you, not even an embarrassing crush from someone you totally didn’t like. no boy has shown even a slight bit of interest in you ever, and it’s not like you need male validation to survive. you make it out like it doesn’t affect you, like it’s nothing important.

but when your friends started talking about their first kiss, which you haven’t ever had, either; and when they started talking about going on dates, getting boyfriends and having sex; and when your parents had started to ask you about boys, especially your mom, telling you she’s sort of already waiting on you to bring a boy home to introduce to her; every girl in this society should have had at least one boyfriend by now, that includes you.

when all of that comes to the front of your mind, and you’re reminded of the topic more than daily, you can’t ignore the hurt, the absence, the loneliness that comes with it. you’ve never felt a guy’s hands on you, not in any way or with any random reason, not even a hug or a stupid handshake. no guy has ever asked you for a dance, has never approached you for anything else. you’ve never had a first kiss or a first time, and honestly the thought of having them now scares you much less than the thought of never having them, as opposed to how it used to scare you before.

you like to put on a face that says you don’t care that you haven’t been with anyone. people at school have deemed you both sides of the spectrum—a prude and a slut. oh, we can’t forget the mean bitch title. calling you a prude you understand, but a bitch? you’re mean to people who deserve it, and have a defensive nature over-all. a slut?! now that has absolutely no back-up.

boys have always leaned more towards making fun of you than being genuine to you, friendly to you. and you act like it’s all fine, which it isn’t, but no one wants to see you cry every day and wear a sad face either. so you put up your best mask.

max mayfield, though a few years younger than you, and still not in high school, had been the only girl you could name that felt most similar to you. she also always stood up for herself, spoke bluntly and gave people her piece of mind. the only difference between you two being that she has a boyfriend. even she! you sometimes think. here she is, about to enter high school, a boyfriend by her side, and you’re on your last year of high school without a boyfriend, without any experience in that field. if you compare it, people, and a hidden part of you, would call that very depressing.

but it’s not really your fault, is it? even though you often tell yourself the opposite. you dress in clothes that are comfortable, that feel like you. same goes for the make-up you use, and same for the music you blast in your ears with your walkman. you’re being yourself, and you’ve become angry that people, mostly your friends and guys at school, can’t see and appreciate that. it’s not like they’re embracing themselves, unless they really are shallow-minded sheep who like to put down others for fun.

most people in hawkins aren’t so different. the ones who are stand out like a sore thumb. a group of those thumbs is called the hellfire club. group of boys who play d&d, whose leader is a notorious metal head and trouble-maker. not that he can help it. as much as your being different by default from everyone else, eddie munson was born with something wicked in his blood, in his dna, that he can’t shake, no matter how he’d try.

during lunch, you always sit in the corner, or somewhere near the back of the cafeteria. mostly because you don’t belong to a group that you could sit with. and also because your ears don’t find the sound of people chewing very pleasing. you can’t help but overhear the cheer team’s—half of your former friends’—conversations. or the jocks’. or the party people. that all usually makes you pull out your walkman and blast distracting and drowning-out music into your ears, just like you’re doing now.

but when you see a certain someone prancing about his club’s table, or even walking around the cafeteria and even stepping on stools and tables, your attention’s been swerved into a better lane. but now, when you suddenly feel that certain someone’s voice above and then next to your ear, as well as his body plopping theatrically down next to yours, your attention’s been utterly stolen away, even from your music.

with confused eyes and drawn eyebrows, you pull your headphones down so they’re hanging around your hair-covered neck, and turn your head to look at the leader of the hellfire club. a wide, mischievous grin is etched into his face, his eyes looking into yours, shining. and the next second he’s whisking your headphones up and away from you and putting them on his own ears. “wha—” you can’t even think of the question to ask him as you watch him position the phones over his ears, not bothering his perfectly messy hair, of course, and diving into your selection of music for the day. soon he begins even bopping his head to it, but the moment is gone as soon as it came.

eddie munson takes the headphones off his head and hands them back to you. as you place your hand on the device, you warily look at him. “that’s a great song right there,” he says to you, his deep voice nearly shaking your headphones and nearly touching hands with its thunder, how much deeper it is than you’ve heard, “though i do enjoy the more lively stuff osborn has to offer. much more metal.” he nods to his own statement as he still looks at you. probably awaiting a reaction. yet you have none, at least not yet, for this approach has completely bedazzled you. scratch that eddie’s been deemed the school and town freak—you don’t care about it, in fact, it makes you like him even more—he has sat down next to you and started a conversation about music, your most passionate hobby. “well, hey, i thought the school meanie would have at least one or two mean words for me.” eddie admits with a chuckle. you appreciate that he didn’t use the more vulgar terminology on you, and a smile sneaks into your features as you take your headphones fully back. you press pause on your walkman and begin wrapping the wire around the set of headphones.

“it’s not you who deserves those words,” you finally tell him your honest opinion, and that makes eddie raise his eyebrows in slight surprise. that’s not what girls in this school usually have to say about him. he swings the leg of his that was hanging over the stool over to the other one, so he could sit even closer to you. you don’t know why he’d want to, you frankly have no clue, but you don’t pull away, or push him away, “and i’m not a bitch, really, i just tell people my honest, open thoughts. they’re just not what they want to hear,” you shoot eddie a side glance. he has now taken fascination in your bag that you’d carefully laid down on the table in front of you. all your pins, all your embroidery pieces, all the patches you have. you truly are almost what he expected, “which includes that... black sabbath isn’t metal.” you shake your head. eddie rests his hand across his chest, right where his heart is, and makes a shocked face. you chuckle. “it’s dirty, heavy rock, really.” you shrug.

“how... dare you,” eddie says theatrically, “besmirch ozzy osborn’s name and level of metalness!” he shakes his head and plays a victim of hard disappointment with gestures and facial expressions. it makes you smile. you don’t know what it is—eddie or someone disagreeing with you—but you let it make you smile. “maybe you are a meanie after all.”

you shrug. “i’ll leave that for you to decide yourself,” you tell him and try to carry on with actually eating your lunch, “you on a diet, munson?”

“huh?” the man blinks, really truly caught off guard by the question, not realising what it implies.

“are you on a diet and have deemed me as a distracting spectacle?” you ask him a more in-depth question. yet he’s still blind as to what it could mean. “why are you here?” you offer a straight-forward question, and turn your head to face him completely. eddie gives you a half-grin now.

“what, you scared to be seen with the school freak?” he asks. and even though he meant the question with humour, even teasing, there’s a hint of insecurity in his voice and eyes when he speaks his deemed title. freak. you can immediately tell he doesn’t like that title as much as he promises that he does, as much as he’s embraced it.

“please, munson,” you say with your mouth half-full, “if anyone’s here a freak, it’s me. ever met another girl in this school who listens to metal? dresses like me? has dyed black hair?” you gesture at yourself to make a point. eddie snorts a chuckle. he likes your attire.

“thought black sabbath wasn’t metal.” he says in a quieter voice, a playful, but sincere smile on his lips. it’s also a shy one, which is a rare occurrence on him. his smiles are always big, loud, wide. eddie appreciates that you don’t say the word freak the way he does. to him you sound proud, or at least acknowledging of that title and maybe also the status it provides. you give him a deadpan stare.

“come on,” you say, “if i listened to only one band, i’d go insane. don’t tell me you’re a fake metal fan and don’t know metallica.”

“know them? my fingers have bled for them,” eddie argues, “i swear to you,” he crosses his heart with his hand and nearly bows in front of you, “i know all their best songs perfectly on guitar.” eddie makes a theatrical gesture of his hand, a sort-of bow in front of you.

“is that so?” you challenge him, and turn your body more towards him, bending your black-skirt clad knee up to your chest, tucking your chin over it as you look at the very friendly and understanding man in front of you. you know he’s older than you, you know this is his second year that he’s been pushed back. but that doesn’t really matter now. he’s very much like you. that trumps all. “why don’t you prove it and play them to me sometime?” you’re surprised at how bold you’re being right now with him. is this you asking him out on a date? you’re asking eddie munson on a date. are you?you hope you are, and you hope he gets the message.

a soft, even shy smile appears on eddie’s lips, and he utters a quiet chuckle. you think you even see his cheeks heat up with a slight blush. wow, this man is easy. easier than you expected. “that’s what i came over to ask you,” he says and looks up into your eyes with his big doe ones. they resemble a dog’s eyes, though because of eddie’s nature, you’d write him off more as a cat.

“me?” you play along with his usual theatrics, raising your eyebrows and making gestures with your hands that imitate his previous ones. it makes him smile, you can see that. “you sure you haven’t mistaken me for someone else? i’m the prude bitch of the school, remember?” you remind him. eddie has a chuckle.

“well, as you stated before,” he starts to say, and you can see that he actually is flustered. for whatever reason. couldn’t be you, right? “you’re the only girl in this forsaken school who listens to metal, so,” eddie continues, “who else would be interested in a documentary film about the rise of heavy rock and metal music in the US of A?” he grins as he spreads two pastel blue coloured tickets on the stool between you both. only now you notice he’s been sitting with his legs sprawled over the stool again for a while now.

your eyes light up, slowly looking from the tickets to eddie, and your eyebrows raise. you’re glad that part of your face is hidden by being tucked behind your knee, because eddie would have a field day at seeing how you’re blushing right now. though you’re pretty sure he knows that you are, anyway. he’s the kind of person who gets under people’s skin—positively and negatively—and loves to tease them. you, included. though he hasn’t really done that yet. “you wanna go see it? with me?” he’s got you so good that any façade of yours would have fallen, if you would have had one. you can’t hide your pleasant and big surprise at his offer. he came over to you exactly, precisely, only you and no one else. does he like you?

eddie nods his head at your question, lips tight in a closed smile. another rare expression on him. everything about him is loud, and yet with you, now, at this table, he’s gone quiet. that is really unusual.

“won’t you be bored? you must be a walking metal and rock encyclopedia,” you make a point in your ramble out of nervousness. surely he’s not asking you on a date. is he? what if he’s playing a prank on you? what if he’ll be a no-show? is he really asking you to go see a movie about a shared interest with you? is this real? all these questions and doubts have you feeling very nervous, “you know everything already, you’ll just be... mouthing along to each word the narrator says.”

eddie laughs at your speculations about him and his music knowledge—which are flattering, of course—and his beautiful smile catches your eye. it’s almost like the smile doesn’t belong to someone with eddie’s façade. freak. metal-head. nerd. mean and scary and defensive. his smile (and his whole demeanour around you now) is the complete opposite of all that. but, you guess, appearances and reputations, are quite deceiving. “believe it or not, i haven’t seen it yet. thank you for the compliment, but uh,” he shakes his head and moves his stare from the tickets to you, he keeps switching back and forth between those two, “one man can’t know everything.”

“but he tries to,” you say with a fond smile, that same blush still tinting your cheeks. eddie nods, and his eyes solemnly stay on yours. his smile fades a little, and his face almost becomes... more serious? if you dare say.

“so, whadda ya say,” eddie says and raises the tickets up again to highlight his offer, “7pm tomorrow, you, me and a metal documentary against the world?” he offers again in a creative way, and his lips spread into a grin.

you’re about to grin just as wide, let him see the blush he’s been making you have after all in all its glory, and tell eddie munson yes, yes, absolutely, yes, when a nasty remark from someone distracts you. “well, if it isn’t the prude with the freak?” jason carver, the so-deemed king of hawkins high, captain of the basketball team, says with a big ugly grin on his face as he comes over to your table. the two people at the far end of the table sit still in their places, only it seems they’ve just now noticed eddie has come over and sat here with you. you ignore the looks of them and momentarily glance at eddie before strongly moving your eyes over to jason. “you were such a nice girl, y/n, why would a freak like him be in your taste.” jason says now, giving eddie that nasty look-over as he mentions him.

you sigh and try not to think about how that comment makes eddie feel. or rather, you think about that rather than how it makes you feel. “what, are you mad that i never had a crush on perfect little jason?” you tease, enjoying doing it with a mocking expression on your face, and see how visibly the boy’s face falls. you grin wide, the grin growing close to eddie’s visually. sort of resembles a little devil, as well. you’ve always loved to grin like that when teasing people. you grab your things and take the two tickets eddie’s offered in your hands, too, and get up from your seat.

you ignore the looks from half the cafeteria now, nearly all eyes on you and eddie. he cluelessly looks up at you, a silent hope to not leave him alone here in his eyes. “come on, we have class,” you say to him just in time as the bell rings, alerting everyone for that very same thing. eddie grins wide, matching your grin, and gets up as well, with you, “try adjusting that stick up your ass, carver. or ask one of your buddies to do it for you, yeah?” you offer to jason as parting words, a grin on your lips all the same as you look at him over your shoulder before walking to the exit with eddie.

eddie munson gives jason the regular bird-flipping attitude as he walks off to class with you, and he does so happily. he adores the look on jason’s face after your assassination on him, and eddie can’t help but gush to you about it. “that was sooooo,” he scrunches up his nose at you cutely, and you giggle. your faces as close as they’ve ever been, “fucking badass.” you giggle again, this time the giggles turning into solid laughter. i adore you, eddie nearly says, but stops on the first word because you speak up.

“to answer your question—yes,” you tell him sweetly, “i’ll love for you to take me to see that movie.” you say, raising the tickets in question upwards. eddie’s face completely changes – it rises like the sun, you could say. wide smile, wide eyes, a happy expression over-all. god, this boy is golden. “only condition - you’ll show me all your guitar tricks after.”

eddie blushes and makes a cute smile. “you got yourself a deal, sweetheart.”

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[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would happen if you were sent back and ended up in the orphanage with Tom Riddle—and say you also had magic?

Oh boy.

Well, there's a lot to question here. Judging by the... spirit of this ask, I presume I'm... pretty much reincarnated. I'm in the orphanage, I'm much younger than I am now and a child, I'm pre-Hogwarts age, and I retain my current knowledge.

For the purpose of this ask I suppose I also retain my current mental faculties. Despite being in the body of an eight-year-old, I'm not The Carnivorous Muffin at eight.

Welp, there's a lot to consider here.

First, I probably don't realize I'm in Harry Potter for quite some time and instead assume I've been reincarnated to some parallel universe. It's the 1930's, I'm in England in the depression, WWI has occurred and the vast majority of major historical events I know about seem to have happened in the right order, and this Earth is eerily similar to the Earth I left behind.

Strange that I appear to remember everything of my past life with my adult mental abilities, but alright universe, I guess that's how we're going to play this.

What I do know is that I'm dirt poor, presumably still a woman which does not bode well for my career prospects, and if I want any prospects in life period I'm going to have to fight tooth and nail for it. It'd be great if I got adopted to help with this, and might be nice to have people in my life who love me, but there's a lot of orphans in the world and a lot of orphans who are much less weird than I am.

The orphanage is the orphanage and not great, Mrs. Cole is overworked, the orphanage is chronically understaffed, and the kids are running wild beating the shit out of each other.

Being a girl, I probably don't have to worry about getting the shit kicked out of me quite as much, but I still probably try to keep my head down and don't aggravate the particularly beefy looking orphans.

Yes, there's some very angry gremlin named Tom Riddle around who will shove you down the stairs in retribution, but that's just a weird coincidence. And then supernatural shit starts happening. Billy's rabbit hangs itself, people get injuries when Tom is nowhere near them, and I start wondering if this is really the Tom Riddle.

I'm in Wool's Orphanage, my matron is Mrs. Cole, Tom Riddle is running around lighting things on fire. It's possible, though it could all be a strange coincidence.

Now, how things go from here depends on how controlled my own magic is. Since accidental magic typically does manifest at least once or twice, it probably does manifest for me for.. something. If Tom Riddle's there to witness it then...

Well, I imagine he's very offended. Here he was, special, different, better than everyone else, and then some girl in the orphanage (who dares to get very good grades on her assignments in school) has it too.

And I just stand there, smiling, going "Tee hee".

He probably confronts me to prove that he's better at it than I am, and he probably is unless the universe hates both him and me, but having someone else with the Shining around probably prompts him to take me as his protégé (in part so he can show off and in part because he's genuinely excited to be able to share this super cool talent).

I am now apprentice to eight-year-old Tom Riddle. Whoop de doo.

Well, I don't remember this part of Harry Potter, so now I'm probably confused as to where I am again. Regardless, I try to advise Tom on how to tone it down and not, say, traumatize Amy and Dennis for life and antagonize all the other orphans forever. He probably doesn't take me seriously. What do I know, I can't even light that patch of grass on fire?

Hanging around Tom Riddle gets me a reputation to, given the difference in genders, probably a fairly nasty one at that. When Dumbledore arrives he's undoubtedly told hot gossip about how eleven-year-old Tom and I have had sex in a ritual to summon Satan. Dumbledore takes this seriously.

Dumbledore probably meets us both at the same time and it's a disaster. I tried my best to prep Tom without revealing I'm a prophet, Tom first doesn't believe there might not be others, then doesn't believe they would be antagonist/anything but amazed by how awesome he is.

Well, Dumbledore lights his wardrobe on fire while I sit there. Dying inside. Dumbledore probably also does something to me too, to teach me some kind of lesson about something.

I imagine he temporarily disfigures me/makes me appear very ugly, then sticks a mirror to the wall, that way I realize that looks aren’t everything/being a whore is wrong. Tom, still traumatized over the wardrobe, is no help and my magic’s probably not controlled enough to do a thing about it.

I spend a day looking like a pig, Tom and I are given just enough money to buy new wands and second hand/barely functioning everything else and given the world’s worst directions to Diagon Alley. Thanks, Albus.

Well, months pass, we get our wands, Tom gets excited for Hogwarts and I... start seriously considering the future. WWII is coming, the Blitz is coming, Tom and I live in east London and must be able to evacuate during the bombing of London (which went on well past the Blitz to the end of the war). I also start considering my future in the wizarding world. Do I now actually have career prospects?

Probably not because I’m muggle born and a woman. My best bet is doing very well in useful subjects and finding employment with the goblins, I can’t imagine they have the same hang ups as the wizarding world.

Tom wants to go to Slytherin, of course, I tell him this is a bad idea. “Gee Tom,” I say, “Not sure how I know this but I have this feeling that Slytherin is filled with people who loathe our very existence and will shank us. Why don’t we pick Ravenclaw or Gryffindor instead?”

No one shanks Tom Riddle! Tom says. Tom is still eleven and while he admits that sometimes I may, in retrospect, have been right about certain things that doesn’t mean he wants to go to the house known for hard work. That’s code word for everyone there being a moron and having no other redeeming features than tenacity. As for the other two, Ravenclaws sound like smug, elitist, nerds and Gryffindors like dumb jocks.

Better to be known for ambition, cunning, and actually being competent.

Well, there’s no talking him out of this one, and goddamn it we’re all each other has.

I’m the closest thing Tom Riddle has ever had to a friend in all these years and in the orphanage the only one who could hold a decent conversation with him. And while it’s not my moral obligation to keep Tom from becoming a domestic terrorist, and there’s no guarantee I even can, dumping him for one of the other houses and drifting apart won’t help.

Not to mention that, after all these years, I’m undoubtedly lonely, I’m in this foreign land, and he’s now the closest thing to a friend I have.

Looks like I’m going to Slytherin, YOOOOOLLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOO! I shout as a battle cry as tears run down my face. I may have to convince the hat to put me in Slytherin, but like all human beings I am a mixture of many qualities. I’m not cunning in the least, mind games exhaust me unutterably, but I’m full of ambition. 

This confirms every bad opinion Dumbledore had regarding me and Tom.

For the next several months, Tom probably beats the shit out of dormmates who steal his things/harass him. He beats up mine too because feminism (TM) means that he should treat all people equally when guilty of the same crime. I... am not sure I can win that fight so I just resign myself to having to adopt some of Tom’s tactics to make sure I’m not shoved in lockers, have tampons thrown at me, or pig’s blood dumped on me at the prom.

Once again, everyone thinks Tom Riddle and I are dating. I don’t even know if they’re wrong at this point.

Well, being in class with eleven year olds who seem to have had little to no prior education, Tom and I are undoubtedly blazing through class. I imagine I’m bored out of my mind (the Hogwarts curriculum sounds unbelievably boring) and Tom is... well, probably devouring the library but probably also bored. I decide to try and see if I can find some real history texts on this world (there are probably none, the wizarding world seems to only have two historians and both... have a different approach to history than current modern thought as I know it) and discover what magic even is. That shit is fascinating: wingardium leviosa is not.

Dumbledore likely gives neither me nor Tom points in class, I think the house cup is stupid, so I really don’t care. I have no interest in playing quidditch, neither does Tom, so that doesn’t happen.

The second world war starts up, Tom, me, and the muggle borns are the only ones who give a flying fuck. I work harder on figuring out how to get lodging during the Blitz/the bombing of London. Unfortunately, Mrs. Cole hates me too for being the Bride of Satan, so that’s a no go. Third year, 1939, I probably write her in earnest anyway telling her to PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, send Tom and I instructions for the summer/where the orphans are staying/how they’ve been dispersed to the countryside. As a back up plan, I try desperately to shmooze shopkeepers in Hogsmeade during every Hogsmeade weekend to get myself and Tom part time jobs and lodging over the summer. As a back up back up plan, I spend my time badgering Tom to become very good at survivalist wandless magic and if the Lord has pity on me gain some ability in it myself.

Hopefully, either Mrs. Cole or one of the Hogsmeade shop owners take pity on us. If not, then Tom and I are going extreme camping. Given Mrs. Cole (and the brain damage brought on by Dumbledore erasing memories left and right) and the likelihood of Hogsmeade shop owners just not getting it, Tom and I probably go extreme camping.

(Tom, meanwhile, asks Dippet and Dumbledore if we can stay in Hogwarts over the summer. He’s told no exceptions. London’s being bombed, you say? No exceptions. Toodles. Tom is never the same.)

Me, Tom Riddle, a tent we made ourselves, several rabbits we had to catch and skin ourselves, and the pitiful fire that we can keep going through pure will alone because if we try to use real people spells then we’ll get arrested. It has the benefit of making Tom feel very manly and impressive, catching his own food, but both of us are well aware that this sucks.

But hey, we aren’t dead.

Well, I’m sure Tom doesn’t appreciate that and this is where I imagine he seriously starts talking about violent revolution. I imagine much of my time is spent discussing the merits of not violently overthrowing our ant overlords. I imagine a thirteen-year-old Tom isn’t impressed by my pacifism, but he’s not married to Voldemort yet (probably).

Then I imagine the horcrux thing comes up and... Well, I will argue hard against it. Humans die, it is a truth of the universe, and simply something we have to accept. Horcruxes are not a measure against that, they can be destroyed, given infinite time they will be, and the sacrifice they require is too high: human life as well as the very essence of who you are.

What is a soul? I’m not sure, we never really learn in HP canon, but whatever it is, it is in some way the essence of yourself. If you take half of it and throw it somewhere else, you will cease to be you, someone or something else is walking around in your body while the other half of you exists in endless agony.

If you must chase immortality, create a philosopher’s stone (as I darkly wonder why it was that couldn’t be replicated and what Flamel had to do to make it in the first place). On second thought, maybe we should search for the Holy Grail.

Whether I can talk Tom out of this or not is... unclear. I’m going to say that I can, in part because I imagine he’ll want to show the chamber off to me, tell me when he realizes he’s Heir of Slytherin, and in doing so I can prevent the basilisk incident from occurring. Without that, there’s no dead Myrtle, which means no first victim. That summer, when he goes to the Gaunts, I’ll go with him and convince him that it’s not worth it. He can just turn around and leave these people alone, I hopefully can talk him down. Which means no second victim.

I start writing Flamel to see if Tom or I can get an apprenticeship (Dumbledore probably beats us to the chase and poisons him against us, but it’s worth a shot).

Then, should all go well, I can convince Tom to find employment with the goblins rather than shady antique dealers on the bad side of town. Hopefully, I can convince him to never become Voldemort, and instead we travel the world together looking for the origins of magic or something.

Dumbledore goes around taking people’s memories of us in preparation for when Tom becomes a dark lord and I his lady of the night darkness.

TL;DR Apparently my life would become an SI/Tom Riddle fic. So, thanks anon.