#he thinks all of those guys were fucking morons. he will never claim a favorite child either.

[atopvisenyashill]

any thoughts about how could it be the dynamic between viserys-naerys- daeron ii in fire & blood 2?

okay so straight up the dynamic i’m MOST interested in learning about in f&b2 is the viserys-naerys-daeron ii dynamic. first of all, those first two are just UNGODLY DISTURBINGLY YOUNG when they have children. viserys has naerys, his YOUNGEST child when he is sixteen. naerys has daeron when she is fifteen. viserys is a grandfather before he is 32 years old. it is truly babies raising babies out here!! i mean fuck, daeron has baelor under significantly less traumatic circumstances but he’s still only 17 by the time he starts having kids! that’s all just wildly interesting and disturbing to me. like, that alone, how close in age they all are because they all married & started having kids at crazy young ages, explains so much about why this period has always felt particularly deranged to me (“this period” being post dance where we get this incredible string of deranged freaks from aegon iii to aegon iv that ebbs into this vaguely “we’re having a targ renaissance yay” era that erupts into civil war anyways! i LOVE this conceptually i’m so ready to be annoyed when f&b2 comes out and i’ve hyped this all up for some more dumb sex stories from another court fool ajsjs).

but then secondly, okay, when you look at the timeline- daeron is born in 153 and the birth nearly kills naerys 15/16 year old naerys. aegon iii is still king for four more years. that last year, aegon iv spends his time (and the next two years after that) shacked up with megette. then aegon spends a few years shacked up/probably raping casella vaith the hostage, before running off to war. then he spends more time raping naerys, wherein she has a miscarriage, and aegon is sent away so he doesn’t rape her to death. daeron marries myriah, has a child with her. but before that child is two, in quick succession, his father comes back home & immediately starts raping his mother again, his mother nearly dies having twins & now he has a sister younger than his son, and daena unveils her new bastard who everyone thinks is aegon’s, and baelor is so distraught by all this he fasts himself to death. viserys is king, and likely dead before daeron’s second son is born and before daeron turns twenty. suddenly the person responsible for making sure aegon doesn’t rape naerys to death are daeron & aemon, who have NO authority over aegon. this man has the audacity to stay alive for twelve more years.

that shit is insane. daeron’s father is only around when he’s raping his mom. the closest things daeron has to a father figure are his uncle who wants to fuck his mom, his grandfather who is probably busy constantly (and also only in his thirties 😭), and his batshit insane cousin baelor. his childhood is marked by almost constant instability until it stabilizes for the worse when his cousins all get locked in the maidenvault, then gets thrown into upheaval once again as baelor & viserys die and now his dad who is only around when he’s raping his mom is suddenly back in town and has total control.

and naerys. she’s like if aemma lived long enough to parent her kids, but worse bc you could argue there was fondness of a sort between aemma & viserys. aegon and naerys hate each other. she is constantly pregnant and on death’s door from the age of fifteen (three years older than her father!) until the day she dies, in her early 40s. it sounds like worse than hell to me. it is a lifetime where the only source of comfort you have is the son you birthed at fifteen, because maybe your life is a nightmare but if you raise him to be marginally less evil, he won’t destroy the innocent little girl you know is going to be sent to court to be his wife. everyone else is actively holding you hostage and applauding you for taking the abuse so well. your whole life is screaming for help and all you get is tears telling you you’re so dutiful and brave.

and viserys just. watches it all happen. of course he does! his kids are simply ungrateful! he had to get married at twelve and his wife wasn’t born in westeros so they had nothing in common and at least they have a living father, they have no idea how lucky they are. why should daeron and naerys blame him when he gave them everything because he had nothing? it’s a shame it wasn’t naerys that offed this man. i do think she was his favorite kid tho and i bet he’s not subtle about it at all.

[neonponders]

I FINALLY uploaded again to my first Harringrove fic ever, so here’s an easy way to read ch. 1 since a lot of people here don’t know me from Dracula Has a Mullet haha

Read on ao3 here ~

💋 💋 💋 💋 💋 💋

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.

[alexlabhont]

I didn’t mean to fall in love with you

Chapter five

Book: Queen B - Choices (Universe)

Pairing:  Poppy Min-Sinclair x Trans!Male MC (Beck Hughes)

Genre: Canon re-write (Because I can)

Rating: Ehm... 13 years < , I mean, is not that hard, but just to be sure.

I´ll be posting this one over here because Tumblr, for some reason, thinks my secondary blog is a bot...

This is me trying to write by and for the Trans community, specially FTM community, meaning, trans guys, but I actually took the liberty to use They/them pronouns for everyone out there who´s interested (Also, the name Beck was the most neutral one I could find, trying to use the cannon Bea Hughes)

Now, about the PAIRING... I will be using choices style, kinda, because I want to give you choice at some point. If you have any comment, PLEASE BE RESPECTFULL and patient with me. This is also my first english fanfic and english is not my mother language, so... i’m sorry fo the grammar errors

CHAPTERS 

The beginning

Chapter one 

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

ONE-SHOTS 

Just a dance (Zoey x MC)

—————————————————————— 

“No.”

“What?”

“I'm not doing it.” Poppy laughed, trying to hide her anger towards them.

“Farmsville, come on…”

“I said no.”

The strawberry blonde closed her fist so hard she could almost feel the earpiece cracking.

“Honestly… This seems a little extreme. And I will never support any kind of hurtful pantomime.” Those icy eyes pierced right through her, a strength and courage radiating from them so powerful that Poppy would´ve been turned on if she wasn’t very pissed.

“Am I missing something? I thought you hated Chloe as much as we do.” Oh, right. There was Bradley. She almost forgot about him.

“As we do?” The irony in Beck’s voice was so palpable that she could see it slapping Bradley right in the face. “Has Chloe ever done anything to you that I´m not aware of, Hollywood?” Beck smiled tired, as to making fun of themselves. “Zoey was right; I shouldn't have come… “The simply mention of that girl´s name set on fire her blood to an unexpected level.

“That bitch…”

As Beck tried to walk away, Poppy intervened, full of rage.

“I didn’t think of you as one of those who´s afraid to actually do something!

And that´s where Beck stopped, as if something made click inside them. They turned around and for the first time in her life, someone’s look made her feel naked, completely exposed. The more Beck analyzed her, looking for something they only knew, the more vulnerable she felt. That moment lasted just a couple of seconds, no-one around them notice it but both of them.

“You’re right.” They finally said, reaching out for the earpiece which Poppy gave them doubting, giving out the other one to Bradley. For some strange reason she didn’t want them to participate anymore, but now they were necessary, it was too late. The operation had already begun, so she didn’t have other choice but linked her arm with theirs, walking into the dance floor.

“I´m counting on you tonight, Farmsville. Don’t disappoint me.” Once on the dancefloor, Poppy gave Beck a light shove and took a deep breath, trying desperately to erase any residue of the feeling they made her have. “You take the left side of the club. I´ll take the right. And remember, don’t let Chloe out of your sight.”  That was the last thing she told them before parting ways.

~~X~~

The thing is…

She hasn’t seen Chloe in all the fucking night.

What were the odds? Surely the stupid blonde should be in Beck's side, the very thought of it tasting bittersweet… deep down, she knew the real reason to involved Beck.

They were a good person.

The heaviness in her chest was there since the moment she found out Chloe was taking the hook. At first she was thrilled, smash enemies, that was her favorite thing, having plans, blackmailing, humiliating… that was kinda her thing, and she loved it at some point… but Chloe…

Gosh, she hated her. But the memories of them playing, laughing, crying, growing together… a big part of her really wanted to make her pay for her betrayal.

But the other one, the little, small other one… the other one begged to have her best friend back.

Maybe that’s why she didn’t stop Beck when she saw them warning Chloe, telling her she should not trust any word coming out Bradley’s mouth. Maybe that’s why that previous moment with Beck was so intimate yet personal… Yes, definitely they were more observant than she gave them credit for.

After making sure Chloe was far away and all the attention was on Bradley, Poppy walked towards Beck, her bitch mask on as always. She would rather be caught dead before admitting she needed their help to protect her from herself.

“It’s go time. Let’s make this bitch bleed.”

Her words claimed, but her actions were something else. Feeling stupid, like a child, Poppy wrapped Beck's arms around her, searching for comfort, but giving them her back. She could feel their chest behind her, their heat warming her body and their breath close to her hair. Without realizing, her fingers caressed their forearms tenderly, her eyes never looked away from the stage, where Chloe was dazzle by Bradley.

This was it. Her plan was marching flawlessly, even though the first words spoken by Bradley were… well, definitely he did not know how to improvise.

“You’re up, Farmsville. Feed him his first line.” Poppy felt Beck taking a deep breath and hugged her tightly but gentle. Their mouth hided behind her ear, and suddenly, she forgot about the purpose of all the things she was doing.

Because for one moment, Poppy felt as a regular girl, hearing sweet nothings from her significant other.

“She’s got an amazing sense of style… Seriously, she dresses like a runway model. Whatever she walks into a room, everyone turns their head.”

Her heart was beating fast, a strange warm in her chest was growing, and their lips moving closer made her snuggle even more against them, being reciprocate immediately by Beck, holding her still.

“Whenever I’m around this girl, I feel like the king of the world. Not only is she so hot, she’s also compassionate… She shines this amazing light on everyone and everything around her. People who are lucky enough to be her friend can always count on her support.”

Poppy felt the playfully smile on Beck’s mouth, that idiot, even in times like this still managed to crack some joke around.

“You’re a moron.” She whispered.

“Think you could do it better? Be my guest.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“This might sound like a stupid question, but… do you know who I'm talking about, Chloe?”

And, as simple and quick as that, it all went down to reality. Beck broke the hug apart, walking away to the bar so quickly it actually made Poppy shivering from the sudden cold, feeling unprotected, like something was missing… someone was missing.

“Of course I do” she heard Chloe said. A weird mix between excitement and fear taking over her, while looking perfectly neutral from outside. “It’s Poppy, isn’t it? You’re talking about Poppy Min-Sinclair.”

Poppy's honey eyes went straight to Beck, who was pretending to do a toast, alone, in her behalf. She didn’t even pay attention to what was on stage. Beck admitted to her having sabotage her revenge.

And she couldn’t be more relieved about it.

She also reached for the bar, standing up next to them, neither of them looking at each other.

“Poppy, you have to understa…”

“I can’t say I'm not disappointed, but at least we got Chloe to look a little stupid up there.” Poppy interrupted them. Beck looked surprised for a second, nailing their gaze into their drink after that. “… By the way, the lines you fed Bradley were pure, vicious gold.”

“I got inspired, that’s all.” They murmured, almost ashamed.

Poppy didn’t had time to respond, because The T notification buzzed in her phone: Beck was now top nine, and, of course, herself was back on top one.

“Oh, it worked all right. I’m right back on top, where I belong.”

She couldn’t help but smile to them, a real, happy smile. She got her crown back, and the damages weren’t so bad after all. And it was thanks to Beck, they were a completely live saver. No wonder why Zoey was so eager to protect them…

Speaking of her… if she was as serious as she claims to be towards Beck, and since The T spies were already here… maybe it was time to make a really good move to prove her who's better. And she knew exactly how.

“You did your part. Now, let’s dance.”

Decided, Poppy grabbed their hand, trying to lead them out on the dance floor, but she didn’t get much. Beck was rock still, looking uncomfortable… Like with all of those girls.

“No, I… I don’t dance, Pops.” Are they really rejecting her? To her? No, she was not another stupid whatever girl, she was, again, the Queen. Nobody says no to her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course you do!” she said. “I’ve seen you dancing around with Wade. Don’t you try to deny it.”

“That’s different.” They defended themselves, making Poppy raise an eyebrow, challenged, before changing it to a flirty grin.

“Well… maybe I want to be different to you, too.” There it was, that precious lamb’s look she wanted so badly to see. “Just this one, tushi-face…”

Beck started walking almost right away. There it was, their soft spot for her Beck didn’t wanted to acknowledge, but it was already within them.

Not letting go their hand for a second, Poppy and Beck reached the dance floor right away to start to move to the beat in time, Beck trying… really trying to do the same.

Seriously, this dude was bad at this.

Was Zoey the answer?

No, they’re nervous, she could feel the tension in all their body. But why?

“What are you so nervous about?” She asked, feeling a little insulted.

“Paranoia.” They said.

“To what?” Beck only managed to shrug, something in their eyes was off, remembering something from… the past? Beck was afraid? Hell, what did Farmsville do to them? Poppy threw up her arms around their neck, leaning closer, trying to make him forget. “Don’t repeat this to anyone, Tushi-face, but… I needed you tonight.”

“Sounds to me like… You want me, too.” They joked, Poppy could feel the tension disappearing, nothing really to do with the conversation, but with the small petting she was doing to the hair close to Beck’s nape. “Be honest. Was this whole plan an elaborate ruse to get me on the dance floor?” Poppy smirked.

“Don’t be ridiculous, this was all about sabotaging Chloe.” She said, laughing. “Of having wanted it from the start I’d already have you.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because I want you now, and I’m having you.” Beck expression was a poem, the surprise written all over them for a moment, processing the information.

“What are you saying, Poppy?”

“I’m a woman used to get only the best, Hughes. And once I put my eyes onto something… or someone I want, I’ll do anything to make them mine…” The sexual tension was in the air so thick it made everyone around just disappear, the sparks between they both, the way they looked at each other… full of hunger, of need… She wanted Beck, and they wanted Poppy just the same. She could feel it so clear in the way they were touching her back, delicate, yet strong, longing, like begging to the devil to stop, but not wanting to. Please, just end my misery… those eyes claimed, but their body, moving along with hers was screaming to continue, and Poppy got drunk on it, needing more… a lot more.

“Baby, you got lucky cause you're rocking with the best… And I'm greedy… so greedy” She sang whispering, stroking her nose against theirs, playfully, softly, their lips oh so close to hers she could somehow feel them tremble, the sensations intoxicating them both so badly. “I ain't talking money, I'm just physically obsessed… And I'm greedy…”

“Poppy…” They moaned and the strawberry girl couldn’t take it anymore, desperately claiming Beck’s lips with her own.

Her heart exploded.

Beck’s mouth was warm, soft, addictive. As the kiss continued, the need became more and more insufferable, she wanted all and everything. She wanted to feel these heady fireworks on each part of her skin, that tongue taking care of the flames in her body, their hot lips heating her as fire, their breath became poison and the cure at the same time, she stuck her body even closer, trying to feel theirs desperately… Never, anyone, had made her feel so much with just a kiss…

A kiss that suddenly went to a rude ending.

Beck broke apart the touch so promptly that it actually hurt inside her.

“No, I… I just can’t. I gotta go.” Beck was trembling, that was the last thing she managed to understand before being completely alone.

-----

Next

[pondermoniums]

It’s been a while! Missing vampire Billy? Here’s the synopsis for any new readers, and chapter 1 is below the cut!

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. But there were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately.

Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire? Especially when it's Billy Hargrove.

(tw for sfx blood bite in the mood banner below the cut)

The discovery that Billy Hargrove is a vampire came at a weird time in a weird way. It’s just not everyday that you walk in on someone fingering Alexandra O’Neil with their teeth—fangs—in her tit.

There were stranger things in Hawkins, unfortunately. Unfortunately? How fortunate is a vampire?

“For fuck’s sake. Really?”

Billy has the grace to extract his freaking teeth with a semblance of being surprised. “I didn’t know you had that kind of mouth, Harrington.”

Steve waves a scolding finger at him with all the gusto of a drunk, and he has the solo cup to justify it. “Put those away! She was homecoming queen last year. Jesus, have some class.”

“You serious?”

Steve downed the last of his beer and Jäger with a grimace, his voice going raspy. “Look, I’m not one to judge a lady’s standards, but really, Alex…Alex?”

The lady in question was so blissed out she looked like one of those unnaturally stupid women in every Dracula movie. Billy actually moved aside as Steve pulled her away from the wall—away from Billy—to try and talk to her. Righting her dress with quick yanks, he covered her gorgeous, if small, breasts and gave her a shake. “Alex! Hey!”

He could hear—could feel it, more like—Billy moving behind him in the dark room. Steve had come up here hoping to claim the guest room before someone used it to hookup from the party downstairs. It wouldn’t be the first time he woke up from a mid-party nap to someone being blown, but sometimes it’s the price one pays for free liquor and an ounce of decent sleep.

“What’s wrong with her standards? Huh, King Steve?”

The voice is right behind him, so close that the damn vampire has to rear backwards when Steve whirls around. “What kind of vamp name is Billy? Wait, that’s short for something—”

“If you call me by anything else, I’ll hang you from the ceiling by your teeth.”

“You’re not charming like vampires,” Steve practically complained. “Gotta work on that. Everyone gossips here. Folks will know you’re toothy like…” He fumbled a clumsy but sharp snap of his fingers.

Billy made a derisive sound before his voice crooned, “Seems like I’m flying just fine under the vampire radar, then.”

He was heaving Alex back up from where she had slumped against the dresser when Steve released her. Steve raked a hand through his hair, thinking. It was a slog through the alcohol, but he surmised that he could not take her away from this guy. Case being: Steve was far too drunk to logically drive, and to where? It was her house.

“You. You gotta go.”

Billy huffed one of his low, mirthless laughs. Instead of setting Alex nicely on the bed, he just kind of dumped her there. She let out a sort of dumb-giddy moan as she face planted a pillow and he faced Steve. “Excuse me?”

“You’re, like, biting people at a party!” Steve realized somewhere between his tone and his slight—or perhaps exaggerated, it was hard to tell at this point—sway, that Billy was far more sober than he felt.

Not the time to play hero but whatever.

Billy slowly stepped toward him. “There’s plenty worse at this shit house than me, Harrington. Worst weed I’ve ever had. And that shit whiskey’s been so watered down, it’s nothing but wheat water.”

“Hey!” Steve was poking two fingers at him before he meant to. “They just renovated the place and I got well paid for the tiling and paint!”

“So you’re the reason everyone’s been tripping over the same spot in the kitchen?” Billy huffed.

“And the whiskey’s not so bad if you chase it with grape juice. It’s like toast and jam water. Whatever, no one’s here for your holier-than-thou, California bullshit!”

Billy was caught by surprise that time. His whole expression lifted, brows and eyes widening as he repeated, “Holier. Than. Thou. That’s the kind of shit you pick up from books. I didn’t know the king could read.”

“Fuck off,” Steve grimaced, really just wanting to get Alex tucked into bed and maybe join her. “You’ve been riding me ever since you got here.”

“I definitely have not been doing that,” Billy retorted and then smiled. “What, you offering?”

“Was she?” Steve cornered, drawing himself up to his full height. Admittedly, not much taller than Billy, but small victories lead to great heights or something.

Billy wiped his mouth and Steve’s eyes plummeted to those lips. “Yeah, she was. She pulled me upstairs, or is that so hard to believe, blue balls?”

“It kind of is, yeah,” Steve said with his hands on his hips. “Alex has asthma. Like, inhaler tucked in her bra at prom in case the slow dance was too much. She’d never get with a chain smoker like you.”

“She would if her high school sweetheart cheated on her with the first college bitch he found.” One of Billy’s eyebrows perked up with his shrug. “I’m a favorite for ladies looking for a rebound.”

Steve grimaced. “Derek cheated? How do you know that?”

“That’s between her and me,” Billy said, stepping forward again. “But I hear you’ve been due for a rebound for a while, Harrington.”

He didn’t want to talk about Nancy. It wasn’t even Nancy, really, but he didn’t want to talk about anything regarding his sex life or lack thereof. Steve diverted, “I want you to leave. Go find someone else to—whatever the hell this is.”

“Well. You’re right here.”

“Not me, dumbass. I told you to leave the house.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Billy smiled. “What? You’ll let me beat the shit out of you again? We had an audience last time too.”

“I wouldn’t be too cocky about last time,” Steve groaned, beginning to take a step back. “The way I hear it, Jonathan had to mop you off the floor after—”

Billy wasn’t listening. His eyes were on Steve’s neck and the only gut wrenching, instinctive thought Steve had was weapon. It came in the form of a glass lamp, which he wrenched out of the wall to break over Billy’s head.

The hard thud of thick glass hitting before the shatter and glass raining over the floor had Steve gaping at him. Billy stood very still. Way too still. Steve wondered if he had knocked him out, but his legs hadn’t unbuckled yet.

Then Billy lifted dark eyes beneath his mess of a fringe, pupils blown wide. Steve continued to stare at him with the mechanical parts of the lamp still in his hand. “Holy shit, you didn’t even flinch! You’re supposed to dodge when furniture’s coming at you—”

Billy gripped the wrist holding the parts and wrenched him so far that Steve couldn’t react to Billy’s other hand on his pants. Heaving him up by his belt, he slammed Steve onto the table from which the lamp had originated. Music thrummed around them, the very beams in the walls vibrating. Steve defied the laws of his denim pants by folding his leg against his side to kick Billy in the gut. Ragged sounds from both of them went unheard by the party below. Steve slid like a heavy tablecloth to the floor with Billy likewise winded and crouched in front of him.

“Why…” Steve tried, rubbing his chest and hoping his talking lasted long enough for him to decide whether running or trying to pin Billy down was the best decision. “…can’t you just…not do this? Whatever alpha bullshit game you think life is.”

“Some of us don’t want to go through life with your dashing prince crap,” Billy spat.

“You think I’m dashing? I couldn’t tell, I passed out the last time you punched me in the face.”

Billy laughed. “Yeah. You’re just as soft as I remember.”

He was moving again and Steve felt a wild, foolish—downright stupid—thrill to try something else. “You need to leave, man. Really. I know a party of blackout graduates might seem like easy pickings, but Hawkins is different.”

“You don’t know shit about different,” Billy growled. “You’ve never seen grass outside this bum fuck of a town.”

“I’ve been to Disney World. And New York City. There’s gotta be some hospital nurse you can swoon into letting you raid their blood bank?”

He couldn’t tell if Billy was getting angrier or not. The man was always angry, seemed like. “I’m not drinking from a freezer. Now shut the hell up. You’ll enjoy this like your homecoming queen.”

A last ditch effort, diving in the direction of the door, but it wasn’t the first time Billy had been on top of him with murder in his eyes. Steve’s hands fumbled at Billy’s face, but then his wrists were pinned above his head and a panicked whine escaped as Billy’s hot, humid breath found him.

Steve went slack. They always do. Billy had figured out that something in his teeth or saliva sedated those he bit, and more. A whole lot more. It made a good flirt into a hell of a time. Alexandra of the Hawkins Homecoming Court had already come on his finger when Steve, of all people, waltzed right in.

It made hunting annoying. It made hunting fun. He had to be picky; didn’t want anyone he couldn’t look at for longer than three minutes moaning all over him while he tried to feed. His looks did most of the work. The right dash of charm here, a nice compliment there, and then his fangs did the rest.

Steve was hard under him. Billy felt the distinct push of his jeans against his own ass while he slid his fingers under Steve’s nape. Lifting his neck, he made sure the moron’s windpipe stayed open, as well as lifted his meal closer to his mouth—

A strange sound came from Steve. Billy’s eyes flicked to his face, but when that labored breathing sound happened again, he sat up and stared. Steve was crying.

This had never happened before. Those doe eyes that all the girls had ranted about when he first drove into Hawkins were red and squinted as moisture slid over his temples. Billy even checked to make sure he wasn’t sitting too heavily on his dick or something, but the gears of his brain slid into place.

Steve usually wore sunglasses at parties. Billy couldn’t help but huff a laugh. “Are you a drunk crier, Harrington? Hey, I’m talking to you.”

He gripped Steve’s jaw, but his whole head lolled, those eyes barely finding him through the daze. “I just wanna sleep,” he said quietly. Fresh tears raced into his hair as he passed out.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: The Rogues Gallery of the Powerpuff Girls

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

There are few rogues galleries I hold in higher esteem than that of the Powerpuff Girls. Aside from Spider-Man, Batman, and Danny Phantom, there are few heroes who can claim to have a more colorful and creative set of foes than the crimefighting superheroines of the city of Townsville. Previously I’ve talked about their archenemy, the wonderfully devilish Mojo Jojo, but they have a lot of other great villains worth talking about… so, why not just talk about all of them at once?

This one’s gonna be a little different, and will be divided into two sections: MAJOR ANTAGONISTS and MINOR ANTAGONISTS. Major antagonists will be villains that the girls fought most frequently, while minor antagonists will be notable one shot villains and lesser foes.

MAJOR ANTAGONISTS

These are the foes that the girls face most frequently in the series, and the ones that will likely come to mind when you think of the show’s rogues gallery. Aside from Mojo Jojo, and according to TVTropes, the major antagonists from the series are Him, Fuzzy Lumpkins, the Gangreen Gang, Princess Morbucks, the Amoeba Boys, Sedusa, and the Rowdyruff Boys.

Motivation/Goals: The major antagonists all tend to vary in what exactly they want to do, but they all have one thing in common: their motivations are broad enough that they can fit into a wide variety of plots. Him is the best example, because his goal tends to be a vague mix of “take over the city/world” and “be an absolute dick,” which leads to all sorts of battles such as the bad future where he rules the Earth or the episode where he sends the girls out on a series of ridiculous riddles as part of a bet with Professor Utonium to see if he has to pay his full tab at Him’s pancake restaurant. Considering Him is supposed to be a stand in for Satan himself and is the ultimate evil of the show (even if his power level doesn’t always reflect that), it makes sense he’d constantly be doing crazy, tricky schemes like this.

Of course, not all of these villains are massive threats like Him; others are simply nuisances, like the Gangreen Gang, who just love going out and committing crimes for the fun of it in between their leader Ace moonlighting as a member of the Gorillaz. While they are still dangerous, they tend to be motivated to do things just because they find it amusing, like when they snuck into the mayor’s office and crank called the girls into repeatedly harassing the other villains. Then there’s Princess, who is basically just a snotty superpowered bully who decided to turn to a life of crime because the girls wouldn’t let her become a Powerpuff Girl. She’s motivated entirely out of jealousy and spite, but she never really rises to the level of a truly world-threatening threat, though she did almost screw up Christmas one time to the point Santa decided to slap her on the permanent Naughty List. The final major antagonist who falls into this category is Sedusa, who true to her name, seduces men. That’s… about it. She also has prehensile hair.

The Rowdyruff Boys are kind of a mix of being super serious dangers and just being jerks, as they were created by Mojo to be the opposite of the girls and so have all of their powers but none of their good qualities aside from maybe their love for each other (which they rarely show, but it’s there). They’re mostly just jerks and love to cause chaos, but sicne they have all the same sort of abilities as Blossom, Bubbles, and Buttercup, they’re a lot more dangerous than the typical foe would be, and that’s not even counting the fact that their two “dads” are Him and Mojo, which means they have the cream of the crop when it comes to bad role models.

The last type of major villain is perhaps the funniest, because these are the villains who are just so bad at being evil that it’s comical. Fuzzy is a lighter example, as he’s not exactly bad at being evil; he’s just more not evil to begin with unless provoked or manipulated by other villains. He’s entirely content to just sit about at his shack, strumming his banjo, but if you piss him off he’s gonna grab his gun or a big old rock and cause some mayhem. The crown emperors of being failure villains, however, are the Amoeba Boys. These guys are the most utterly inept dumbasses you will ever see, a group so utterly bad at being bad that no one in the show is able to take them seriously. Since they are amoebas, albeit rather large ones, they don’t have the mental capacity to do much more than the most petty of crimes such as – GASP! - standing on grass when there’s a sign that says not to! Or even… LITTERING! Those fiends!

Performance: Tom Kane portrays Him, and alternately is able to make him hilarious and terrifying. It’s pretty amusing to think that the guy who played Professor Utonium and Mr. Herriman is capable of playing such a messed-up villain (ok, maybe not so much for the latter, Mr. Herriman was wack).

Fuzzy is portrayed by everyone’s favorite Trump supporting Pooh bear, Jim Cummings, and that good ol’ ragin’ Cajun accent he’d use in The Princess and the Frog and Zombie Island fits this southern hick quite well.

Ace, Big Billy, and Grubber of the Gangreen Gang are voiced by series MVP Jeff Bennet, who manages to make all three characters very distinct and unqiue in their voices, capturing the lovable oafishness of Billy and the smug leadership of Ace very well, and obviously whatever it is Grubber is doing. Lil’ Arturo and Snake are Tom Kenny, though the former was in his first appearance voiced by Carlos Alazraqui, which means twice now Tom Kenny has usurped Alazraqui in a voice role (the other time being the title character of the Spyro the Dragon franchise). Tom Kenny, being Tom Kenny, does a great job.

Princess and Sedusa are both voiced by Jennifer Hale, but I’m gonna be honest, neither of them are my favorite roles. Princess just has a really shrill and unpleasant voice - which is the point, mind you, I just don’t love it. Meanwhile, Sedusa is just forgettable.

The Amoeba Boys are Chuck McCann, and he gives all of them the exact sort of goofy, cartoonish Chicago gangster accent you could hope for, though each boy has a distinct voice. The other boy group, the Rowdyruffs, are voiced by Rob Paulsen for Brick and Boomer (the man behind the legend that is Carl Wheezer) and Butch is Roger L. Jackson (Mojo Jojo himself). As can be expected, the RRBs have very distinct voices, though I can’t say they’re quite as memorable as the characters they’re directly copying. 

Best Episode: So yeah, this time instead of individuals scenes, I’m highlighting the very best episodes of the various foes of the Girls. First, let’s get the obvious one out of the way: if we’re talking altogether for Him, Fuzzy, and Princess, their appearance alongside Mojo in “Meet the Beat Alls” is just utterly hilarious, ESPECIALLY Fuzzy’s rock, their breakup bickering, and just how they decide to come together and cause chaos. As far as villain teamups go, you can’t get better than one that is nothing but a constant string of Beatles references (though they lose some points for not drawing attention to the fact that Him is based on the Blue Meanie from Yellow Submarine).

Individually, for Him, it really depends on what you’re looking for, since he’s a very versatile villain. If you want him at his best and most serious, “Speed Demon” is the way to go, as it shows a bad future where he has completely won, which goes a long way towards establishing him as the single most dangerous enemy of the girls. But if you want funny Him, well, “Him Diddle Riddle” is an absolute riot which leads to one of the most shockingly ridiculous punchlines in the show. It’s a real treat.

For Fuzzy, I’d say his main series debut “Fuzzy Logic” is a great solo showing, firmly establishing the character and how he has changed from the initial pilot. Fuzzy is an amusing character to be sure, but I feel his best showings are in ensemble pieces, which is why I say his debut is his best work.

For the Gangreen Gang, the obvious answer is, of course, “Telephonies,” because this is them at their most hilariously petty. They just sneak into the mayor’s office and crank call the other villains, and in the end, the day is saved! ...By Mojo, Fuzzy, and Him. Even the narrator is baffled at this one, but you’ll probably be laughing too hard to care about that.

Princess gets one of the best Christmas specials ever with “’Twas the Fight Before Christmas,” where she scams Santa into giving her superpowers while every other kid in the world gets coal. Of course, the Girls don’t take this lying down, and Princess gets the most awesome comeuppance ever, courtesy of Santa: she gets her name carved into the Permanent Naughty Plaque which has such notable figures as Adolph Shicklgruber, who you may know better as fucking Hitler. That’s right, Santa came right out and said Princess Morbucks is as naughty as Hitler is.

The Amoeba Boys have their main series debut, “Geshundfight,” which does a firm job of establishing these guys as such utterly incompetent morons that you can’t help but love them. It also establishes that these guys could only ever be a threat by complete accident. It’s good to see the boys got better after the girls threw them into the sun in the “Whoopass Stew” pilot!

Sedusa has “Something’s a Ms.” While Sedusa herself tends to be a rather dull antagonist, this episode rules and is her best appearance for one reason and one reason alone: we get to see Ms. Bellum kick ass. Hell yeah!

“Custody Battle” is the best appearance of the Boys because, let’s face it, having Mojo and Him argue over who has the right to be called their dad (Mojo Created them, Him resurrected them) is absolutely hilarious, and a great use of the characters.

Final Thoughts & Score: Alright, let’s go one by one here:

Him

Him is easily the best of the bunch and, aside from Mojo, is the definitive Powerpuff villain. I think part of it is, much like Mojo, Him is capable of being a hilarious jerk or a genuinely intimidating threat in equal measure. You get showings where all he does is try and make the Professor pay a full tab on his breakfast or give everyone tooth decay or even just hang out in his house and do some aerobics, and then you have episodes where he decimates the earth in the future or torments the girls in their dreams. He kind of really fits a lot of the old folkloric tales of the devil, where he could be anything from a prankster to outright malicious, for all it’s worth, and being based on the Blue Meanie certainly doesn’t hurt either. He’s just a very fun character who fits into so many different situations, and so he easily gets a 10/10.

Fuzzy Lumpkins

Fuzzy is an odd one, because as I mentioned earlier, he’s not really a true villain in the sense that he goes out and commits crimes for the sake of it like the others. He’s more of a chaotic neutral force than anything, who goes on angry rampages or gets swayed over to the dark side whenever the mood suits him. It’s kind of interesting how he was a smarter and calmer character in the pilot, where he invented a gun that could turn things into meat… but in the show proper, he’s just a dumb, irritable hick. While he’s certainly not the best member of the rogues gallery, there’s something charming about Fuzzy, and I definitely love his design and voice; I think he gets a 7/10.

The Gangreen Gang

These guys are some of the more enjoyable antagonists in the rogues gallery despite typically not being a huge threat. I think, really, that’s what makes them so fun; they’re a lot more low-key and just in general more prone to just being dicks than doing anything on the level of Him or Mojo. They’re the fun kind of villains where you don’t ever really need to take them seriously, to the point you can fully accept their leader Ace joining the Gorillaz, which is a thing that actually happened in real life and it’s amazing. I think that alone is enough to edge these guys into a 9/10.

Princess Morbucks

So out of all the major antagonists, I think Princess is probably my least favorite, mostly because she’s just a snotty, entitled, rich little brat. That being said, I’m not overly opposed to her, nor do I hate her; I really can’t hate a character that Santa Claus deemed is the moral equivalent of Hitler. I can’t stress enough how much I love Santa came right out and said “Rich lives don’t matter” and just slapped this little girl with the most grievous punishment you could give. Overall, Princess functions as a casual reminder rich people suck, and I’m okay with that, even if she’s not particularly high on my favorites. 7/10 is a solid score for her, I feel.

The Amoeba Boys

Idiot villains wish they could be these guys. Literally, as far as idiotic harmless villains go, these lads are the absolute cream of the crop. The fact these are giant amoebas wearing fedoras and talking like stereotypical gangsters and yet are so incompetent they don’t even know how voodoo dolls work and think that littering and standing on grass is the greatest crime of all is just… amazing. These guys are perfect. And yet they are so incompetent and harmless that it’s almost unfair to call them villains, despite how desperately they want to be villains. The fact everyone in the show treats them as a mild annoyance at best really goes a long way to making these guys endearing. They’re certainly not the best foes in the rogues gallery, but I think an 8/10 is a good score for these single-celled suckers.

Sedusa

I’m frankly not sure why she’s considered a “main antagonist” on TVTropes; when I think of PPG villains, she really doesn’t come to mind. Frankly, if she is a “main” antagonist, she’s one of the most boring and forgettable ones there is. Sure, she has a couple of decent episodes, and of course the one where Ms. Bellum gets her time to shine is a classic, but overall Sedusa is just a mediocre villain who doesn’t do enough to stand out among the crowd. I’d say she’s a 4/10. I think if they had gone with the concept from her third appearance where she had all those cool Egyptian powers from the start she would have been a far more engaging and fun antagonist. But hey, she gave Ms. Bellum her time to shine, so I can’t really say she’s all too abysmal.

The Rowdyruff Boys

So… these guys. I’m not particularly sure what to really say about these guys. They’re some of the most popular antagonists the PPG have, and they have great interactions with Him and Mojo. But they’ve never quite struck me as being as amazing as others have hyped them up to be. Maybe I just don’t quite vibe with their concept. All that being said, though, they’re not bad antagonists in the slightest, I just kind of find them uninspired as a concept. It won’t keep me from giving them an 8/10, so don’t worry about that, I just don’t find the idea of evil versions of the PPG to be particularly interesting.

And now we go on to the lesser rogues, the one-shot or minor antagonists! They don’t have the major presence the villains above do, but remember, you don’t have to be a major reoccurring villain just to make an impact; sometimes you just gotta be good at what you do.

Also, this is by no means an exhaustive list; I’ve left off some minor antagonists and probably forgot some, and then there’s some that just don’t have enough info to talk about. Like, I would love to tell you all the wonders of Salami Swami, but there’s just not enough… oh well… let’s talk about these guys. And they aren’t going to have a best episode listed, because… well, they’re minor one-shot characters. By default their best appearance is their only appearance.

Motivation/Goals: Unlike with the major villains, there’s a lot more variety in the one-shot characters, with their goals ranging from simple robbery to revenge to chaos for the sake of it. And yes, sure, their major villains do that stuff too, but they tend to have a solid theme, whereas these folk tend to have one gimmick that they run with for a whole episode before vanishing, never to be seen again. For instance, Femme Fatale is a raging radical feminist; Abracadaver is a lich who seeks revenge for his violent, untimely death; the Gnome is a cult leader who commits mass genocide of other villains so that he can create a utopian society; and Mr. Mime is a mime.

What I think separates them from the major foes is that they have a singular gimmick and they need to really excel at it, because if they screw it up, they’re gonna go down in infamy. Femme Fatale is not a villain who is recalled fondly, for instance, because her gimmick was horribly botched. Meanwhile, characters like the Boogie Man or the Gnome are looked at more fondly because of their silly and cool gimmicks that make them stand out (being a disco-themed monster under the bed and being a gnome with a beautiful singing voice that sounds like a certain lead singer of Tenacious D, respectively).

Performance: Let’s go one by one on these:

The Gnome is voiced by none other than Jess Harnell, who you may know as Wakko Warner or the current (as of 2020) voice of numerous Crash Bandicoot characters, including everyone’s favorite Wumpa-loving title character. They couldn’t afford the real Jack Black, but I think that Harnell does a very impressive vocal imitation of JB, to the point where you’d be forgiven for assuming that it was JB in the first place. The fantastic singing voice is no shock if you’ve ever watched Animaniacs, but boy is it good to hear.

Jeff Bennet may be the MVP of the lesser rogues, as he voices Major Man, Dick Hardly, and Harold Smith. This is quite a variety of characters each with different personalities and goals, so it’s pretty great he was able to give them all the exact sort of vocal characterization they needed to be distinct. On the subject of the Smiths, though,

Femme Fatale is Grey DeLisle doing a very generic voice. Like, it sounds like a less cheerful Daphne or a less evil Azula. I think she may have just been talking in her normal voice for this one? It just doesn’t really have anything to it to make it stand out among her more notable roles.

Boogie Man is voice acting god Kevin Michael Richardson, who has voiced numerous characters I really should do a Psycho Analysis on such as Chairman Drek and Gantu. There’s really nothing else to say here, really; Richardson gives exactly the sort of glorious performance you’d expect for a funky blaxploitation pastiche boogeyman. Talk about black excellence!

Lenny is Tom Kenny. Tom Kenny really does a good job with weird geeks like this, and so what else can I say but he did a good job with this creepy neckbeard. Abracadaver is played by legendary voice actor Frank Welker, who is in literally everything, but who you mostly know as Fred from Scooby-Doo. Much like with Kenny, he kills it in the role.

Finally, our last speaking villain is Roach Coach, and he’s most notable because he is voiced by Roger L. Jackson, who would graduate from this starter one-shot to become none other than Mojo Jojo. I don’t find Roach Coach quite as memorable a performance, but Jackson certainly doesn’t half-ass it.

Final Thoughts & Score:

The Gnome

I think the Gnome is one of the single most fascinating one-shot villains in the series, and not just because “See Me, Feel Me, Gnomey” is a gloriously cheesy rock opera where he gets to be the villain. His philosophies are incredibly intriguing and are sort of the focus of the episode, and his effectiveness is frankly unmatched as a villain; he succeeds in killing every villain in the series for a time. And while he is a bit hypocritical in that he too wanted to rule over Townsville and transforms it into a cult, he does ultimately realize that he was in the wrong and not only graciously accepts his defeat, but allows himself to die to return the world to its natural order, stating:

“"As I descend to the earth and I view the universe above me, I realize that life evolves, revolves, and dissolves completely around the opposites. Therefore, I conclude that I cannot exist in my...utopian...mind."

That’s a low 9/10 if I ever saw one. They didn’t need to go and make this Jack Black gnome in a rock opera such a fascinating character, but there we have it.

Dick Hardly

Dick Hardly is one of the most “love to hate” characters in the show’s entire run, and it’s not hard to see why; he is the lowest of the low, the scummiest scum there ever was. Look at this excerpt from the PPG Wiki, which was a godsend when writing all this up:

“Despite appearing only once in the 1998 series and never in the various spin-offs or the 2016 series, Dick Hardly is among the franchise's most memorable villans [sic]. This is because he's the only member of the PPG Rogues Gallery who has absolutely no redeeming or comedic qualities. Most villains have lines they will never cross. However, Dick is ruthless enough to kill anyone in order to achieve his goals, even his own ex-friends. In fact, he actually manages to make HIM (who is nastier than Mojo Jojo) look like a saint in comparison.”

He’s a slimy, ruthless, unrepentant bastard, and the fact he’s one of the few villains to bite the big one just helps him stand out even more. Throw in his incredibly cool monstrous transformation, and despite his single episode it’s not hard to give this Dick a 9/10.

Femme Fatale

So not to be lazy, but I did kind of do a Psycho Analysis on Femme Fatale back when I did an Episodyssey on her sole appearance. And yeah, I stand by what I gave her there; she’s a 2/10. She’s just a really preachy, obnoxious, and poorly executed moralizing villain. I’m also gonna go out on a limb here and say that she probably hates trans people. I suppose that’s just a headcanon but… come on. Look at her. If this show was TV-14 and came out today, she’d be even less subtle in her contempt for trans people than every episode of South Park that featured Mrs. Garrison. Enough headcanons though; she doesn’t get the lowest marks possible because, quite simply, she has a pretty nice design and her voice acting is good enough since it is Jennifer Hale.

Mr. Mime

Oops, wrong picture.

There we go! Anyway, Mr. Mime is a really cool character with a frustrating resolution. Through no fault of his own, Rainbow the clown accidentally gets hit by a bleach truck and loses his color, becoming the evil Mr. Mime, gaining the ability to sap the color and sound from the world with a touch. He’s actually a seriously awesome concept, and the episode itself is good… and then comes the ending where, despite turning back to normal, Rainbow gets the crap kicked out of him and sent to jail, which is strangely cruel for the Girls to do. Apparently they later made amends, because Rainbow shows up at their birthday, but it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. A 7/10 is a good score for this guy.

Boogie Man

The Boogie Man is arguably the greatest villain in anything ever. He is entirely built around one of the most groan-worthy puns imaginable and plays that pun up for all its worth, being a monster under the bed who utilizes a disco theme to the point he blocks out the sun with a gigantic disco ball. The dude has funky style and if that’s not enough, he’s voiced by Kevin Michael Richardson, who gives him the exact sort of voice he needs. The dude is just like something out of the craziest blaxploitation film ever, and he certainly brings the funk to the point where even though he only got one appearance in the series, I wouldn’t hate to bump this guy to an 8/10. What else is there to say but “Blame it on the boogie!”

The Smiths

These guys are just a very funny concept. I kind of like villains who do stuff for the pettiest, mundane reasons, and these guys take it all to the logical extreme. The patriarch of the family decides to dress up in a tacky supervillain outfit to get “revenge” on Professor Utonium because… he envies his perfect life. The rest of his family turn to villainy to avenge him, and are just as pathetic and ineffectual as he is. It’s so funny in a sad kind of way. I think a 6/10 is what they deserve, because while they aren’t particularly effective or groundbreaking, they’re at least good for a chuckle or two. Ultimately though they are a less impressive version of the Nelsons from Minions.

Major Man

Major Man is very interesting because he is very clearly an homage to Johnny Bravo; they’ve got the same hair, the same muscular body type (though Major Man is certainly beefier), the same voice actor! And yet, they couldn’t be any more different. Johnny, as much of a dense womanizer as he is, does have a hidden heart of gold beneath it all and usually means well; meanwhile, Major Man is a self-serving jerk who wants to play superhero. You know, he kind of reminds me of Homelander from The Boys in some ways. Anyway, I think a 6/10 is fair enough for him; he’d get higher if he wasn’t such an interesting concept for a major villain relegated only to a one-shot appearance. He’d have been a better entry in the rogues gallery than freaking Sedusa, for instance.

Abracadaver

So I wanna know how exactly this one got by the censors. This guy is unrelentingly dark, from his origin (he died onstage in front of a crowd which included children) to his absolutely ghastly appearance in which it is very much clear he is decaying and rotten. I honestly kind of love him, despite the fact he only ever appeared once, mostly because I can totally understand why they never used him again. This dude might actually be too scary. I’m giving him a solid 8/10, because I just love how unrelentingly dark he is. It’s definitely a low 8 since he never appeared after his initial appearance (for good reason!), but damn if he isn’t effective and memorable.

Lenny Baxter

Lenny is actually kind of impressive. On the surface, he’s just a gross, exaggerated take on Comic Book Guy from The Simpsons and loony dudebro manchild fans, which is all well and good, he’s pretty effective at being a “take that” and has stood the test of time pretty well/. But, I think what truly makes him memorable is the fact that he actually did manage to capture the Girls and would have won if not for the meddling townsfolk. Then of course there’s the Professor’s wonderfully tranquil takedown of Lenny’s ideology:

"Let me tell you something, Lenny. You may have all of the toys, all of the merchandise, all of the so-called “collector’s value.” But one thing you don’t have, Lenny, is true fandom. For a true fan wouldn't want to selfishly keep the girls to himself. A true fan would want them to be free."

I think that for a disposable one-shot villain, Lenny is surprisingly relevant even today. I think he deserves a 7/10, though obviously he’s not a very high one because ultimately he is just still a normal (albeit very greasy) guy.

Roach Coach

Look, not all villains are created equal. This guy? He’s not too impressive. Sure, he predicted the ending to Team America, and sure, he made a Papa Roach reference, but frankly I don’t think that’s enough to really elevate him into being an impressive one-shot villain. I’d say he’s a 4/10. He’s not lower because he is the starter villain, and his voice actor would go on to bring us the much better and more memorable Mojo Jojo. We all have to start somewhere, right?

The Robbing Leech

This guy is probably one of the freakiest one-shot villains in the series. Unlike Abracadaver, there’s literally nothing explained about this guy. There’s no origin, no explanation, he doesn’t even talk, and hell, the guy might not even be human at all! We the audience are never clued in, and the guy is never seen again, so we’re only left to ponder what exactly this guy is up to. I don’t think he’s quite as disturbing as Abracadaver, but he’s certainly got something going for him in terms of mystery; a 5/10 is fair enough. It would have been neat if they explained something, but I guess he’ll just have to be one of those riddles for the ages. We will never truly know how and why this man was capable of giving people the succ.

And just when you thought it would end...

Salami Swami

Ok, did you honestly think I was going to miss the opportunity to talk about this guy? His name is SALAMI SWAMI. And look at him! He controls MEAT! He only ever appeared once in the episode “Slave the Day,” where his mighty meat powers are no match for the appetites of the reformed Big Billy (formerly of the Gangreen Gang). But like… LOOK AT HIM. The idea and concept and literally everything about him is just so patently absurd and creative that I’m legitimately angry I didn’t come up with it first. He never spoke a single word, but he still managed to find a way into my heart and mind. Can I legitimately rate this guy who had a single joke appearance in the show? Damn right I can! 6/10, baby! If he appeared more or defined his personality a bit better I’d rank him higher but, come on. SALAMI SWAMI. Sometimes all you need to be great is a really incredible, stupid gimmick. And Salami Swami has that in droves; hopefully we can meat him again someday, and he can reignite his beef with the girls while remaining inextricably linked with sausage. 

Ok, I’m done. Goodnight everybody!

[all1e23]

Swallow [Pt.1]

Chapter: Still Yours

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Summary: You come back home after being gone for five years, and everything is just as you left it. 

Warnings: Nothing but angst for this chapter but series: Possessive, jealousy, heavy angst, violence. More to be added.

A/N:   This is sort of a continuation of my one-shot ‘Home.’ It’s really more of an expansion on that idea I guess. Same warnings as before. Some possessive behavior from Bucky. He’s still extra soft. Send me love??? 

***My fics are not to be saved or posted on any other sites without my written permission. Reblogs are my jam though! Thanks!***

February 14th, 2008

James Buchanan Barnes was going to be the death of you.

The way he looked at you. That little smirk. Those pretty blue eyes watching your every move. It made your insides quiver and your heart flip in ways you didn’t know existed outside of terribly written romance novels. You only wished he didn’t do it in the middle of class so you could concentrate on something besides those butterflies in your stomach.

“It’s not just penguins you know. Did you all know that a swallow, once they have found their perfect match, they mate for life and if something ever happens, if they get separated from each other or one of them is injured, they will never mate with another.” The sound of the bell cut Ms. Hill short, and she frowned. “Ah, crap. Well, we can pick this up in our next class. Enjoy the rest of your Valentine's and don’t forget your essays are due in a week!”

Everyone picked up their bags and scurried out of the classroom, you included.

“Sweetheart, wait up!” Bucky shouted, hot on your heels. You tried to bite back the smile on your face and seem annoyed with his persistence. He has been flirting with you and asking you out for nearly a year now, but you’ve watched as he’s dated girl after girl and it never gets passed one date. You weren’t interested in being just another one night to anyone, but especially not to Bucky. The way you felt about him was bigger than one night, and you didn’t think you could survive being cast aside once he got bored.

Besides, if you got involved with him, it wasn’t just him was it? It was everything that came with being him and that included his father’s club.

It didn’t take much for Bucky to catch up to you. He gently grasped your elbow and crowded into your space until your back was flush against the outside wall of the gym. “You know I was thinking while Ms. Hill was talkin’.” He dipped his head down whispering, “You’re my swallow. The second I laid eyes on you. I knew you were it for me and I’d never find another.”

You swore your heart was going to burst right out of your chest and into his hands. Why did he have to say sweet things like that when they were just a line. It wasn’t fair how weak he made you with so little effort on his part. You sagged against him letting him support your weight, but your face remained blank.

“You do realize that every guy in our class is using that same line right now.” You managed to squeak out.

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m the only one that means it.”

“Come on.” He whispered as he ran his nose along yours, grinning when he heard your breath catch in your throat. “Go on a date with me. Please? I don’t wanna spend forever alone, baby.” You knew you were going to regret this, but there was something about him… and you couldn’t shake it.

For whatever reason, you couldn’t say no.

“Okay,” you breathed against his lips. “One date.”

He pulled back before your lips could touch. Your first kiss wasn’t going to be against some smelly ass gym if Bucky had any say in it. “I’ll pick you tonight at seven. I’d wear jeans if I were you.” He gives your hip a gentle squeeze. “We’re going on a ride, baby girl.”

Your eyes widen. “But – but! I’ve never been on the back of a motorcycle!”

He smirked. “Good. I like being your first, pretty girl.”

You were such a goner.

--------

For the longest time, this blacktop that raced under you felt like if heaven was anywhere, it was right here with him. Golden rays warming your cheeks, your chest pressed against his harsh leather, the brisk wind making your toes curl. With every turn, your heart would beat a little faster as your arms tightened around his waist as if he was the anchor that kept you safe and grounded. The squeal that would leave your lips every time he sped up, the deep chuckle and gentle kiss to your wrist that followed every single time.

His heartbeat was tethered to yours, and you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

That very same blacktop that held some of your favorite memories was holding every ounce of your pain and heartbreak, bringing it out from the dark place you had it buried. Every inch closer to home brought out another piece of heartache you thought was tucked safely away where it was unable to cause any more damage.  

It seemed he could still hurt you even when he was no longer holding you.

You had hoped the sight of your old home would bring you some kind of happiness, but it only felt like another dagger twisting deeper and deeper into your chest. Part of you hoped that all those sweet memories would override the bad, but deep down you knew those good memories never stood a chance. The only thing that brought a smile to your face was the dork standing out front, waving like a complete moron for all your neighbors to see.

Clint jumped off the porch and ran right towards you scooping you up the second you were within arm’s reach. He spun you around a few times before letting you land not so gracefully back on your feet. “Shit I missed you, bug. Been way too fucking long.” “I talk to you every day Clint.” You replied as you walked back to unlock the back of your jeep, slipping your phone in the back pocket of your jeans as your eyes scan the street for any sign of that black and chrome motorcycle. God must be on your side because there was just some old black SUV parked across the street.

No bikers around. Besides Clint.

Clint rolled his eyes as he followed you around to the back of your jeep. “Not the same as you being here and actually getting to see you.” You shook your head and kissed his cheek before grabbing some boxes. It was only a matter of time before he was brought up. You just wanted to get your things inside, shower and maybe finish off the bottle of wine you stuffed in your suitcase before Clint uttered his name.

Silent bouts of tension filled the air and that was when you knew you weren’t going to even make it through the front door.

“He know you’re back?” Clint questioned as he pulled the two large boxes you were attempting to carry all on your own -- you weren’t on your own anymore, Clint wished you would realize that.

You cleared your throat and reached for some of the smaller boxes and the old wooden box that was wrapped securely in a blanket, refusing to look up and meet Clint’s eyes as you headed for the house. Clint wasn’t going to let it drop that easy though. You knew where all of this was going, and you didn’t want to think about it all just yet. The last thing you wanted to do is think about the man that broke your heart.

After all, he was the whole reason you left town and left your entire life behind.  

“Ah, shit. Y/n…” You could hear the disappointment in his voice, and that unexpectedly stung. Clint shook his head. “You know it’s only a matter of time before he finds out. If he doesn’t already know.”  

Your disappointment faded and it was quickly replaced a deep ache that nothing could cure. You know, you’ve tried everything to wash his mark off you. There was nothing that could take his claim off your heart.No one except you needed to know that. You looked up at Clint and shrugged as carefree as you could manage with a poised heart infecting every inch of you. Clint didn’t need to know how deeply you still burned for him.

“Why does he need to know, hm?” You dropped the boxes on your old bed and began to unpack, intent on ignoring where this conversation was headed.

“Because you’re his and you know it,” Clint said matter-of-factly. “You’ve been his since we were kids. That doesn’t change because you left town.”

“That was a long time ago.” You whispered. “James Barnes doesn’t have a claim on me anymore.”

The feel of his name rolling off your tongue felt… strange and just as painful as you thought it would. You’ve spent the last five years avoiding anything that had to do with that man as if just the sound of his name on your lips would burn you. The thought of saying it again made your heart race in the most devastatingly beautiful way, and you hated the hold he still had on you.

You were still the fool in love with the past.

Clint’s eyes dropped to your wrist, and you quickly tugged the sleeve of your sweater down before he could get a good look. You knew what he was looking for and frankly, it was none of his damn business. The only people it concerned were you and Bucky. You doubted he would even care what was written on your wrist. He certainly didn’t care what was written within your heart.

“You ever going to tell me why you left?” Clint prodded gently.

“Nope.” You turned around and continued unpacking, avoiding looking him in the eye as much as you could. Clint sighed as he gently kicked the larger boxes towards the closet.

“You’re not supposed to keep secrets and lie to your brother.” He scolded making you snort.

“Adoptive brother.” You corrected. “I don’t think that counts. It’s not even legal Clint. You just took me in, refused to let me leave and tell everyone I’m your sister.”

“Okay, first off.” He pointed a finger at you. “That’s rude and second, it absolutely counts.” A small laugh slipped out, but he could tell you were still all up in your head about something, and it had to do with being here -- with being home. You nearly didn’t come back. If Clint hadn’t begged you, you weren’t sure you would have had the courage.  Clint had a feeling it had more to do with who home was to you.

“Hey. Just stop all this.” He insisted. “You can unpack later.”

He grabbed photo albums and shoes in your arms and dropped them back on the bed. “I know It had to be bad for things to go down the way they did. You know Buck didn’t talk to anyone for months? Months, Y/n. Steve had to drag him out of his room and force him to put something besides liquor in him. Couldn’t get him to go on runs. Nothing. He still won’t talk about you to anyone, and no one talks about you around the club.  He turned over his patch to Steve the morning you left.”

You blinked and shook your head in disbelief. There was no way he did that. No way he gave that up because of you.

“W-what?”

Clint nodded, “Yeah, he stepped down and reluctantly took the VP patch.” He kissed your forehead and fidgeted with his hearing aids as he backed out of your room, attempting to give you a moment to yourself. “I’ll bring in the rest of your boxes. Think about what you want for dinner but either way, I’m ordering pizza.”

“Pizza is fine and take out your aids. I know they are bugging you, brother.”  You called after him. He grinned and pumped his fist in the air like the dweeb that he was.

You sighed and dropped down to your bed eyes landing on the wooden box peeking out from the blanket you had used to try and hide it from Clint and maybe from yourself. “Stop judging me. You’re just a dumb box.” You picked up the judgmental box that was still wrapped in your old blanket and shoved it into the back of the closet setting your box of shoes on top of it.

Some things you still weren’t ready to face.

--------

Damn did Bucky hate listening to the radio when he worked in the garage. It was like that fuckin’ song came on repeat just to torment him every single time. Five years after it all went down, and he still had to listen to it? The damn song is nearly fifteen years old. Shouldn’t there be a limit on how long a song was allowed to be played on the air? This had to be well past the limit.  

“It’s been a while since I could say I wasn’t addicted.” Peter sang loudly into the mop handle as he swept around the garage. Bucky looked up over Steve’s bike and narrowed his eyes as the prospect continued on. “It’s been a while since I’ve gone and fucked things up like I always do." Bucky groaned, and Peter only got louder,  "but all that shit seems to disappear when I’m with you-- Ow. Shit!” He looked down at the screwdriver laying on the floor and then back at Bucky who smiled.

“You could have taken my eye out!” He squealed as he rubbed the side of his head where the screwdriver had struck him.

Bucky grinned at the kid, “Was aiming for your voice box, but eye would have worked fine.”

“That’s… rude. I don’t sing that bad.”

“It’s not you. It’s the song, Peter.” Steve deep voice rumbled through the garage and his hand slammed down on the top of the radio, silencing the dreaded song. “No music while Buck is working in the garage. Especially not that song. Go find something to clean over there by Sam, kid.” He shoved Peter towards the other end of the garage as he made his way towards Bucky.

“Hey, punk. You come to check on your girl?” Bucky asked with a smug grin, hiding his thanks behind it.

Steve smirked and sat down on the stool next to Bucky and held out one of the two beers in his hand, “Yeah, you fuckin’ jerk.” He nodded towards the bike in front of Bucky. “How she doin’?”

Bucky reached out and took the bottle setting it on the floor next to him. “She’ll be fine. Gettin’ her cleaned up now and a fresh coat of paint as soon as that is done, she’ll be road ready. Maybe don’t lay her down next ride though? Stop being a reckless idiot before Peggy beats your ass.”

“Like I had much choice.” Steve snorted. “Red Skulls are getting out of hand, and I don’t like how much time they are spending in our territory. They need to be dealt with, and I won’t have them this close to the girls. I don’t like it.”  

Bucky gave a slight shrug as he spun the wrench around his fingers. There was only so much they could do right now. Sherriff was breathing down their necks. They had runs to make that needed to go unnoticed and starting a war with another club wasn’t the best idea if they wanted to stay under the radar, but Steve was right. If they were willing to lay Steve down in the middle of the day the girls most likely weren’t safe. At least one of the girls were out of danger.

“How you wanna handle it?”

“Not sure yet.” Steve sighed. He was dreading what he had to tell Bucky next. There was no way of knowing how he was going to handle it. “We’ve got a bigger problem right now.”

Bucky sat up straighter and crossed his arms over his chest, an amused grin lighting up his face. “Well, color me interested, Stevie. What’s so important?”

“Y/n is back.”

The grin slowly fell, and his arms dropped to his side. Of all the things he thought Steve was going to say, that was not on the list. In fact, it was nowhere near the list.

Peter leaned over to Sam and whispered, “Who is Y/n? Why does Mr. Bucky look like he’s going to throw up?”

Sam sighed and shook his head, eyes stuck on Bucky. “Stop calling him Mr. Bucky. It’s weird. It’s just Bucky and don’t worry about her. She’s… She’s Bucky’s, old lady.”

Peter frowned, clearly confused. He was so little when Y/n left and didn’t spend much time around the club. No one has ever mentioned her before, and he has never seen Bucky with a woman or even talk about one. Now he has an old lady? “I thought he was single. He never talks about her.”

“Go get the bar set up for tonight before Bucky kills you.” Sam grabbed his shoulders and walked him towards the clubhouse. “I don’t want to find another recruit to replace you because you can’t keep your mouth shut about Y/n. If you want to see tomorrow, you won’t bring her up to Buck.”

Bucky cleared his throat and looked down at the wrench in his grease-stained hands. “Where did you spot her?” He whispered, trying to keep his voice clear of emotion. It would have worked if he was talking to anyone else. Steve knew him too well to be that easily fooled.

Steve watched him carefully, deciding how he wanted to answer. He wasn’t sure what was going on in his head, but he knew when it came to Y/n Bucky didn’t always think things through. That’s how several men ended up in the ICU for getting a little too handsy. Either he jumped on his bike drove over to Clint’s threw her over the back and dragged her ass back to the clubhouse, or he enlisted whiskey to help wash away any memory of her, and he locked himself away from everyone. Steve didn’t have any other options though, he knew Bucky would tear up the town looking for her if he refused to tell him.

“She was at home. With Clint. Her jeep was fully loaded, and he was helping her carry stuff inside.”

His heart flipped, and he swore it dropped into his stomach. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but he couldn’t help the part of him that was already begging to have her back by his side, “She’s home for good then?” He asked, hopefulness creeping up in his voice even though he tried to suppress it.

“Maybe,” Steve shrugged. “I didn’t stop in. She’s at least home for a long visit with the amount of stuff I saw Clint unloading from her jeep.”

A long visit. Bucky had a feeling that wasn’t it. Not with the way they left things. She wouldn’t have come back if she didn’t intend on making it a forever move. Then again, she didn’t let him know she was coming home. That’s alright. He can work with tats as long as she was back. He won her heart before he can do it again.

“You gonna go see her?”

Bucky ducked his head, letting his hair cover his face and hide the small smile pulling at his lips. He’s been waiting for this day for five years. It was only a matter of time before she came back home. Before she came back to him.

“Nah.” He breathed. “When she’s ready she’ll find me.”

They always find their way back to each other.

It just takes her a bit longer to find her way back.

Masterlist // Next

[hellyeahheroes]

Here are some things that Tom King have said in an interview:

As I’ve said many times before, I don’t pick the characters for my story; I give my plot to the editors and then the editors pick the characters for me. So I told them in the beginning, “this is what it’s going to be — it’s going to be about one hero who’s made a mistake and it’s going to be about the two heroes that get framed for that mistake.” And they said, “okay, it’s Booster, Harley, and Wally, those are the three characters.”

Well, that explains A LOT of why this book makes no goddamn sense whatsoever as we have seen with the goddamn confessions. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if some of them were written in the script as “and here is a panel of some other asshole talking, pick up whoever you want”

Wally hasn’t had a successful solo comic since, when? 2003? What I’m saying is, the idea behind this is to elevate that character. Everyone is now talking about Wally. Everyone wants to see where Wally goes next. Everyone wants Wally to get the attention that that character deserves. He’s my favorite Flash. He’s my entry into DC comics — The Flash #53 by Messner-Loebs and Larocque was my first DC comic. I love that character. I have a page above my desk of Wally from that Flash run and I think this, at the end of the day, will shine a spotlight on my character and put him at the center of the DC universe, in a place he hasn’t been for 15 years.

Oh, NOW I’m mad.

First of all, how the fuck is making a character a murderer and pissing off his fans supposed to elevate him? People are talking because you fucked up! This isn’t even about Wally here. This is about how in general damaging this attitude is (and how often it goes and does damage to teen heroes) This is the exact same kind of “logic” that was behind Avengers Arena and Avengers Undercover, behind Ultimatum and Identity Crisis and Civil War, behind Avengers Disassembled and Countdown to Final Crisis. “No such thing as bad publicity, doesn’t matter if we fuck up the character as long as people talk”! And not a single time it manages to work to actually make anyone keep that spotlight and supposed “fame”. Most of the time, in fact, the 5 minutes in the spotlight just lead to making things harder for the character to get a footing in the future because most of the people remember them for that controversial shit you made them do and a big number of their fans either don’t trust the company after that shit or outright walked away from comics in disgust at what you did! Dan DiDio likes to talk about how there too much apathy from comics fans and publishers need to try harder to keep people invested. Well, let me tell you something. It is this kind of crap that makes people apathetic in the first place! Why bother actually caring about your favorite characters if you know sooner or later someone is gonna deliberately ruin them to get some angry money?!

And second thing...I can somewhat get it that there is this assinine idea your book is only good if it is a big seller. It is assinine and easily proven wrong. But I can understand this logic that there is no reason to invest in a character if their title gets canceled after 12 issues tops. I do not respect it and I find it moronic but I can see why someone would make this argument.

But to use this to talk shit about a character who held a book for almost 250 issues? Just because he wasn’t in top 10 sales-wise doesn’t mean he wasn’t popular or successful. This is exactly what Big 2 loves to do. Screw a character over, claim they don’t sell, fuck them up to make them sell, never give them actual promotion and when they inevitably fail again, claim they don’t sell all while pushing on people folks from Silver Age. They do that for teen heroes, for diverse characters and turns out even for a guy who lasted longer than most. Maybe the companies should start giving people what they want instead of thinking they know better and trying to bring back “good old days”.

- Admin

[xo-dailypier-blog]

this is not a recap;

     hey cumguzzlers,

It has come to my attention that Lady X took it upon herself to rate the nether regions of the men of Santa Monica. Unfortunately her assessment was BIASED and hardly based on facts. So as a JOURNALIST, I have taken it upon myself to get to the TRUTH. Today will be a Top 9 list of the men in this town, and their BEDROOM PERFORMANCES.

I’m not revealing actual sizes, because I firmly believe that it’s all about the motion of the ocean. And if you think I’m giving a run down on every SCRUB in this town, you’re out of your mind! I WISH I could have made this a Top 10 but most of the guys on Lady X’s assessment, have already been exposed in the fuck hut tapes during Summer Crush, and honestly? Don’t even make the cut for the top 5. Like, we KNOW the #DemonDick is low-key worth the hype (BUT YOU SHOULD STAY AWAY FROM IT BECAUSE HELLO? IT RUINED TWO RELATIONSHIPS IN LIKE THE SPAN OF A DAY! AND IM SURE THE BUCK DOESNT STOP THERE!), and we GET IT, Adam has a massive ROD, and I’m sure (Power Top) Asher, his brother, isn’t that far off. Vic IS well endowed AND can make things EROTIC. And we all know about Jack, who is also well endowed but has, like, erectile dysfunction or whatever. Oh, and don’t forget Daddy Sorrentino is obvs a beast in the sheets, but I’ve been telling you guys that since, like, ever. And I’m honestly on a Jamie/Cunty Sabbatical atm, they’re going through a difficult time after Cunty cheated, so who really needs their dick-info broadcasted on top of all that, ya know? (Cunty deff comes in at an alleged 9 inches, which is bigger than Jamie, BUT he (Cunty) never uses his junk on Jamie because, like Asher, Jamie is a Power Top. (but you didn’t hear this from me). Look, if any guy is left off the list that you have interest in, like, just ask Phobe. I’m sure she’ll know.

But before we get started, Congratulations are in order! You guys voted on Hottie of the Moment, and we have a winner!

It’s none other than Miss Fraudi Zirconium herself (@heidistarks​) The queen of bargains has stormed onto the scene in her Wild Fable Couture and has CAPTIVATED the hearts of all Santa Monicans. In honor of her win, I am giving everyone a $25 gift card to Claire’s! If you go to their website and use offer code SharkThot, you too, can get the Heidi Look. When asked about her recent accomplishment she had this to say:

"It's about fucking time." - Fraudi Zirconium Stark, 2019

Congratulations, again Fraudi! You go girl, work that Forever 21 tracksuit, bitch!

NINE - ALEC CLARKE @alecxclarke​

One of the wangs in question that Lady X TOUCHED ON was Alec Clarke. She mentioned that Alec was more than likely LACKING in the his SOUTHERN MEAT DEPARTMENT. So obvs i had a BONE to pick with this assessment because Alec’s fan base is GETTING UP there with Jamie Carter’s so we have to know what he got in them jeans. Sadly ... while his junk is fine. His way around the bedroom is is abysmal, I honestly thought it was a PHALL-ACY but one girl who is one of his past flings, wrote to me after seeing Lady X’s post. She has asked to remain anonymous...

Hey DP (and Lady X),

I saw your post about Alec and you’re wrong about his size. He’s actually pretty girthy and lengthy or whatever. But he is honestly one of my worst encounters. We met on a dating app, that shall remain nameless. So fast forward to sexy time, and once we started making out it was a tragedy! No tongue, no passion. It was like kissing a mcfucking corpse! His lips were like, so dry, but, whatever, that’s not the problem. Once I started giving him a blow jay he just randomly burst into tears, and said he couldn’t do it anymore, and asked if I wanted to play fucking Yahtzee. I left and bought Listerine. I think you should look into if he is like this with all the girls, instead of his size. Bc that’s the real tea. Anyways, Love the Blog! Kisses!

Its always such a disappointment when this happens. OBVIOUSLY our HoneyBun Alec has some issues to work on. I know he has a Crazy life but I didn’t think things were this HARD for him.

Overall Rating: N/A

Favorite Position: Again, N/A. I could hardly find girls who’ve had sex with him ................. INCHresting. (Ok, that was the last one).

Downside: I mean, Hello? He breaks out in tears mid-coitus! He IS the downside!

Alec! Write into us with your side of the story! I prom (half a promise) that I won’t believe the rumors. Love ya, Honey Bun!

EIGHT - SKYLER DAVIS @skylerxdavis​

No idea where Lady X got the idea that he had the biggest LOVE MISSLE in town, but it is absolutely FALSE. And in fact, what I’ve heard about his performance in the bedzzzZzZzZzzzzzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzZzZzzzz ZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Overall Rating: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Favorite Position: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Downside: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZzzzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

Alleged Body Count: zzZzZzZzZzZzZzzzzZzzzzZz

SEVEN - NOAH SINCLAIR @nhsinclair​

So next on the list is Noah Sinclair. This one will be brief, because it really threw me for a loop. So I’m sorry to report, that Noah has a Chode. I know. I’m actually crying while typing this but this is only the word on the street, so take it with a grain of salt.

“Darla” (fake name) wrote in to my blog to refute Lady X’s claims. She writes:

I’ve had half way sex with Noah one time and when he dropped his pants I literally laughed. Not to body shame or whatever, but I, like, couldn’t have sex with him because the condom didn’t fit. Sorry, didn’t have a Trojan Jr readily available? He’s good with his hands though.

So Noah has made the list in a sad and unfortunate entry. So ladies if you want Noah to DIP his NUGGET in YOUR sauce, you better make your move!

Maybe this is why he got that divorce. Ugh, poor Natasha. Let’s hope this is all a rumor, I would hate for it to be true.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️ (The hand thing is kind of important).

Favorite Position: Noah’s Nugget Number (No clue what this means, ask Diana or Natasha).

Downside: There is no downside if you, like myself, are privy to a good Nugget or two. #RanchPlease

MOVING ON!

SIX - LOGAN LANCASTER @loganlancaster​

Our next entry is none other than Long Dick Logan Lancaster. According to Lady X, Logan is average. Well I’m here to let you know that, thankfully, LDL lives up to his name (no nuggets here!). But you guys would have to get with him to truly find out how #blessed he is.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Alligator Fuckhouse, according to sources. (DON’T Google it, live in ignorance).

Downside: The only reason, ya boi has gotten 4 stars instead of 5 is because of the rumors surrounding his hygiene. As we know, there’s been a debate on the internet about washing your legs. And Logan, an able bodied man, doesn’t do that. Nor does he take showers the way that he should. Many girls who’ve been with him have complained of smelling the stinch of onions and mildew while ENGAGING with him. Others have complained of a SALTY taste while going down on him. Most of the girls he’s BANGED have all been in the junkyard of his Auto Shop or whatever so maybe it’s a fetish for them? That’s no excuse for bringing that nasty ass behavior to every other girl in Santa Monica.

Thankfully a bunch of you have been sending body wash to his shop, so maybe we can LanCAST the mustiness away (If this is true).

Logan, please write in, I need to know the truth. But other than that, the dick is BOMB! But make sure you don’t over-do it on B.J. part though, sodium intake is v important and you wouldn’t want to get hypertension suckling on his salty ass COCK.

FIVE - EMRE YOGIOH @emre--yavuz

Ok, so next on the list is Emre Yugoslavia (or whatever his name is). Ok so ... buckle in ladies.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Lion King (I’m serious, don’t Google these things).

Downside: Ok, so Emre is supposedly into bondage. Which totally makes sense since he’s like, repressed from childhood. The whole missing sister thing really took a toll on his psych, since he’s parents totes forgot about him. Now he YEARNS for control. So the word is that he’s basically Christian Grey but not a literal abuser. He’s into bondage, slapping, SPITTING, choking, flogging, and whips and chains EXCITE HIM. An S&M Daddy! Now the only reason this is in the Downside section is because it’s not everyone’s cup of tea. Some girls find it disturbing, and others are totes into it. I’m the latter! Sign me the FUCK up! Choke me with those strong REPRESSED hands.

I noticed he and Olivia have been friendly recently, let’s hope she knows that she’ll be walking side to side after a night with him (no, but like, because of the flogging, not the dick). Once he’s done with those spread sheets at his hoity-toity big boy job, spread sheets take on a whole new meaning once the dawn comes. You go Emre Yahooligan! #callme

FOUR - DEVIN FLORES @devinxflores

First of all, I just want to give a big thanks to all of you for letting me call him Devin TORRES for the past few MONTHS like a complete MORON! I really appreciate you guys letting me disgrace the future KING of Santa Monica in such a terrible way! No really, you guys are the best. I love my fans <3.

Anyways, it’s well known that Devin and his Alaskan Bull Worm have burrowed through the city. Both the men and women alike have survived the DF experience, with ZERO complaints .... well, except for one ...

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: The Charizard (ONCE again, don’t Google. Just know that it involves fire ... And we aint talking about lighting no candles (which he allegedly seems to enjoy, how romantic!)).

Downside: As we have witnessed, Devin is a complete and total klutz! He is always getting himself into a bullshit that is literally all his fault. Didn’t he glue something to his head a few weeks ago -- actually, you know what? That’s not important. What I was getting at is, the main complaint about DaddyDevinFLORES is that during SACX the klutz JUMPS OUT. He has been rumored to have smacked his head on the headboard whilst switching positions (causing him to go UNCONSCIOUS for SEVERAL HOURS, which completely RUINS the mood). One of his Encounters even claimed that during a Romantic Toast of Wine, he clinked the glass so hard it broke and and SHARDS of GLASS went into his hands, causing him to bleed INSTANTLY. What the fuck, Devin?

How could someone who can handle balls so well out on the soccer court, not be able to handle them in the bedroom without accidentally falling out of a window in the process?

Ladies and Gents, much like Emre, Devin will have you walking Side to Side, but if it happens you might be suffering from brain damage after falling in the shower whilst trying to have sex with him. Please seek professional help immediately.

THREE - BERNBERN<3 @carverberncrd

Coming in at Number 3 is none other than Heidi’s personal play thing! We’ve seen his bulge through his Under Armour spanks, so Of Course I had to do a little research to find out the Lipton on HIS heat-seeker. I’ve reached out to his past flings and came to a general consensus.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

The women I interviewed all confirmed he is an excellent LAY, so once again, I was right. BernBern<3 outsold your favs.

Favorite Position: Doggystyle (obvi)

Downside: He’s a Taurus so while he will indeed fuck you into a state of paralysis, it’s only to reach his Hedonistic Quota for the evening. He probs won’t even remember your name once he’s done, let alone learn it in the first place. So don’t get attached<3.

His star sign also explains his relationship with Fraudi. Not only are they both so annoyingly stubborn, but Two tops can rarely make it in a relationship. Just ask Ash — never mind. (Omg, btw Idk WHY everyone keeps asking. YES, the rumors are true! BernBern<3 gets pegged, but only by Heidi, it’s actually a testament to his masculinity and how he’s reached the apex of it at this point. But this is all old tea. So I guess Julian isn’t the only #DemonDick in the Stark Fam, Surprise?). Anyways, I ship them, but they get on my fucking nerves! They can’t even admit their undying love for each other, which is so obvious. But this isn’t about #Berni (working ship name), BernBern<3 has a massive COCK (and heart) and it has landed itself on the Top of the list.

TWO - SINRIQUE @itsenriqueaguilar

This one came as a surprise to me because I have no idea who this is. But yalls asses do! So here we have Enrique Aguilar, coming in at number 2 because of the OUTPOUR of receipts on the TALLY WACK ATTACK that he PACKS.

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: You know, there wasn’t a general consensus, he’s a man FULL of surprises.

Downside: No, you don’t understand, there is literally no downside. Look, here is a letter from one of the women he’s slept with. For reasons, you will understand REAL soon, this person has been kept anonymous.

Dear DP,

It’s been approximately 1 year, two months, 9 days, 5 hours, and 46 seconds since I Locked Eyes with Enrique from across a crowded room. That night would go to be on of the most invigorating, tantalizing, and romantic experiences of my life. But when I woke up the following morning HE was gone. I long for the day I see him again. My heart Aches at the thought of him with another women. Giving her the same love that HE gave to ME. I need you to understand that I was a grade A student at my university (4.0). I had an paid internship at an elite institution that OWULD HAVE LED ME INTO A PROMISING CAREER! BUT AFTER THAT NIGHT I BECAME RAVENOUS. I NEEDED MORE. AND IT CONSUMED ME! EVENTUALLY I LOST MY INTERN BECAUSE I STOPPED SHOWING UP! I FLUNKED OUT OF SCHOOL BECAUSE I DIDN’T CARE ANYMORE. I SEARCHED YOU ON ALL SOCIAL MEDIA BUT I COULDN’T FIND YOU! ENRIQUE I NEED YOU BACK IN MY LIFE! JUST FOR ONE MORE NIGHT! PEASE I KNOW YOU’RE OUT THERE! CALL ME AT [redacted]

Obviously Ivy, sent this in ... kidding (But honestly though? They did used to date, which ... yikes ... Good to know Daddy Rique has no standards, maybe we all have a chance. #shade #clapback #scalpt)

Anyways, I’ll have to keep an eye on this one, he seems to have a good head on his shoulders ... AND good head on his shoulders OKURRRRRR!!!

ONE - SEBASTIAN DELGADO @bashdelgado

That nerd that sat in the back of the classroom brainstorm his next nerdy ass invention with high-watered khakis, and orthopedic shoes in like, the ninth grade (because he was focused on Arch Support???????). That’s him, Sebastian Delgado. And Baby Daddy Bash has DITCHED the NERD LOOK and is now ready to SNATCH YOUR CAT BACK.

I’m sure everyone is just surprised as I am. But hey, they don’t call him “Bash” for nothing (except for the fact that it’s a shortened version of his name). He’s totes Bashing Puss with his MONSTROUS MEAT TRUNCHEON (and Buss?? Sebastian contact me about your sexuality).  

Overall Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Favorite Position: Missionary, he’s a man of passion and likes to stare DEEP into your eyes. #swoon #romantic #westan

Downside: Well if you HATE Love and AFFECTION, this one is not the one for you. Not only does he have a GINORMOUS, UN-NUGGETED MEAT SEPTOR/LAP ROCKET/VAGINA MINER, which, by the way, last a LONG time, He is EXCELLENT BOYFRIEND Material! He’s caring, patient, kind, resourceful, loyal, and he is well on his way to becoming a multi-millionaire -- which is NOT the reason he is number one! Money is not the goal here ladies (and guys? Seriously Sebastian, I need to know what’s up).  

Sebastian is the complete package and he has ALL of the other guys in this town QUAKING!

So Stan A True Man. Stan .... Sebastian.

And that, my friends, ends the TRUE tea on the wangs in this town. This was fun while it lasted, but I have some COCKtails that need my attention (ok, maybe THAT was the last one).

xo, DP

[fallen029]

Miraxus vampire au chapter 3? >~>

Part I

Part II

“What are you doing?”

“Ain’t it obvious, boss?”

“I’m not your boss, you fuckin’ turncoat.”

“Ooh, cut me deep there, boss.”

Bickslow and Laxus both stood there, together, in the sunny rays of the bright late summer morning, the latter glaring as the former beamed down at him from one of the many, mature trees that existed on the property.

“I’m experimenting,” the acrobat offered eventually.

“With what?”

“I tumble out of the tree, see? Like this? And do a little flip and- Oh, man! Boss! That fuckin’ hurt!”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Bickslow, who’d fallen rather harshly down onto the unforgiving ground, gasped breath back into his body. It was only after this he was able to get out, “A lot of things. Boss.”

“She’s not gonna wanna fuck ya, you know.”

“I think I’m concussed.”

“You can jump and flip off the tallest buildings around,” the golden haired man went on, “and it won’t matter. She sees you as a puppet, man.”

“Boss, I think my brain is bleedin’.”

“She ain’t into you. You need to just get over it and stop trying to kill yourself on her behalf.”

“Is my leg supposed to bend this way?

“Ignore me if you want, moron, but I’m telling you the truth.” He frowned down at the other man, lording over him as he stood by. “Lisanna isn’t interested in you. And if you are her, then you’re fucked in the head; she’s demented. They’re all demented. This whole situation is demented, Bickslow.”

“Why are there so many stars out during the middle of the day?”

“Alright, man, I warned you,” Laxus grumbled as he turned then, to walk away. “Fucking idiot.”

Sitting up then, Bickslow only rubbed tenderly at his head as he watched the older guy’s retreat. To his back, he called after him, “Oi, boss, tell me somethin’, huh? I’m fucked in the head, fine, sure, for wanting that. But what does it make you? When you feel the same way about the Mistress?”

But Laxus only walked on, back to the other side of the yard, to get back to tending to the flowerbeds.

.

It was unnerving at times, to think about. His current predicament. Laxus found it best not to think about it, honestly, which sounded hard, but it was actually far from it. While it felt as if thought had to go behind engagement, he found most of his actions slowly became more of an autopilot than they were active thought.

He couldn’t consider why he was trapping live animals and leaving them for his girlfriend’s siblings to devour (or whatever the fuck they did to them; he didn’t think about that either). And did he have a girlfriend? Did he? In more than just simple label only? Why worry about that? Why think about it? Why even consider it? None of this matter. It wasn’t worth it to ponder what it was that the Mistress did when she left, once a month, to tend to things that were none of their concerns. It wasn’t his job to worry about anything other than tending to the grounds and fixing up the house. He wasn’t meant to know about Elfman’s accident or attend to Lisanna’s very clear instabilities.

Nope.

The perpetual hell that they were all toiling in together had nightmarishly grim implications, but if you just focused on the immediate, such as his daily grind of work and nightly, well, different kind of grind, then it got a bit easier.

Maybe.

“I dunno why I’m even talkin’ to ya, man. I know you’re not in there. Not really.” Laxus sighed as he sat on the porch steps beside Freed, the other man looking on with a void look out at the setting sun. “I guess I’m just…lonely. Kind of. A house full of people- Well, whatever the fuck you all are. And I’m all alone. Feels like the group home all over again.”

Laxus slung back some of the beer can in his hand with a frown as Freed blinked some, when a fly lazily landed on his cheek. Reaching over, Laxus shooed it off, but this only depressed him further.

“I always thought I’d live somewhere nice. A big house. A woman. A real woman. A woman that was down for whatever I was. Ride or die shit. You know? And I’d have a family. A real family. Not like Gramps and all those kids I left, back home. No. They all cared for one another, but not me. No one cared about me. I thought… I thought that I found it. Somewhat. With you and Ever and… But now that’s done. It’s over.” Laxus took another chug, but it burned on the way down and he wished it was something stronger. “You guys are gone. You and Ever. And Bickslow…that snake, I should have never let him in. Fuck. Fuck! See that, Freed? I can yell into the abyss and get nothing, but silence back. Why do I keep coming back here? Huh? Why?”

He turned to look at him then, the green haired man did, just to tell him quite plainly, “I must prepare for the Mistress’ arrival. Excuse me.”

“Yeah, man,” Laxus sighed into his beer. “Whatever.”

.

“Bickslow’s into your sister.”

“Who?”

“The jester.”

“Oh, yes, him.” She hardly seemed concerned, at the moment, merely lying there beside him, stroking absently at his abdomen while staring at the clock across the room. “I do not fid him funny. Not particularly. But Lisanna insists-”

“He’s going to kill himself, trying to impress her. He thinks if he jumps off a high enough thing, it’ll make her want to fuck him.”

“You’re vulgar,” she remarked, regardless of the fact that, the night before, he’d watched her feed on a young woman quite violently in the sanctity of their hotel room. “My dragon.”

“Why do you call me that?”

“Hmm?”

He sat up, much to her displeasure, but not his own, as it finally gave the woman a good excuse to do something other than be draped over his chest. Shoving out of bed, she went to claim a glass of wine which he watched with something close to interest, givne her state of undress.

“Why,” he continued on, watching her pour one for herself and only herself, over at her dresser, “do you call me a dragon?”

He liked her ass, a lot, but didn’t mind it much when she turned to face him as he only allowed his eyes to drift back up to hers.

“It is what you remind me.”

“A dragon?” When she nodded, he insisted, “But how?”

“The Golden Dragon. Do you not know the tale?” At the shake of his head, she sighed some, bringing the cup up to her lips. “Perhaps the tale is lost to time. It was a favorite, of my brother, when we were young. My father would tell it- So many decades, centuries have gone by, and yet I can still hear it, in my head, the way he would tell the tale…”

Laxus said nothing now, as she came back to him in bed, cup in hand. But she didn’t lay beside him once more, rather, sitting on the end of the bed, shaking her head some as she took another sip of her wine before continuing.

“Dragons,” she began softly as his gaze stayed trained to the back of her head, “are mysterious creatures, no? No one knows from whence they came or how they wind up back there. They live in mountains and caves, secluded and alone. For hundreds upon hundreds of years, perhaps, even. All alone. When are they born? How do they reproduce? No one is aware. How could they be? Dragons exist because they wish to.

“It is much the same for the Golden Dragon. All alone, he lived, for so long time forgot, atop a mountain. Perhaps it would have always stayed this way, had the man not ventured to the top of the mountain one day, on chance. For on good reason, truly. Maybe adventure. Maybe treasure. But something called him, all the way from the base of the mountain, to climb to the precipice, to the barely visible cave, hidden among the clouds. A dangerous journey, but it would not be in vain. There awaited him no treasure and the adventure was far more harrowing than expected, but inside that cave laid the most magnificent beast he’d ever laid his eyes on. Golden scales for as long as the eye could see, shining, shimmering, truly, by the light of his torch, blinding and dazzling, all belonging merely to a long tail. Following it, he would be lead to where the dragon slumbered growing larger the further down the cave he walked. A foolish man he was, of course, for many reasons up to this point, but there he stood, in the midst of a slumbering dragon.

“A wise man would have run. Turned around and never came back. Never looked back. But we have already established, yes, this is far from a wise man. He thought, for his troubles, perhaps he could take just one, single  large scale that littered the body of the dragon. There was one, in particular, that looked loose, almost, and if he could just rip it from the flesh of the dragon and run, from the cave, why, the dragon would not even have time to turn around! And then he could carry that shard of gold into town, or perhaps a bigger one, and sell it for a high price. A victory after such a harrowing journey.

“Well, when he stepped forwards, to rip the scale from the beast, he found it was just out of his reach, high up on the back of the dragon. So he clambered up the sleeping dragon with little abandon, hoping to rip the scale from the dragon. But this, of course, woke the dragon. Startled, he called out in the man’s own native tongue, questioning just who had entered the cave with him. Dumbstruck, the foolish man answered honestly. All it would take, in such a precarious state, was for the dragon to perhaps roll this way or that, in the cave, and he could squish the man against a wall, killing him. But he did not do this. Instead, he questioned the man on his intentions, the lonely dragon did, and the man told him, simply, he’d gotten a strange desire he could not explain, to venture into the cave. As if something was calling for him.

“’It was I,’ the dragon insisted, excited, even, perhaps. ‘I have waited a century, it feels like, hoping for assistance. I have wedged myself in this cave and am unable to free myself. The only sustenance I have is the unfortunate livestock who ventures into this cave, from the opposite entrance. You must help me. It was why you were sent, surely.’

The man considered this before questioning the dragon, to be certain he could not move. He could not. In the slightest. As he awaited some sort of plan from the man, as to how he could free himself from his predicament, he felt a searing pain as a scale was ripped right from his body before a blade was plunged, over and over again, into his now exposed flesh. With his job done, the foolish man took his prize of the dragon’s scale and started back down the mountain while the dragon found his end.”

For a long few moments, they both sat there. Then, softly, Laxus whispered, “What the fuck does that have to do with me?”

“No one can help you with your life’s questions, Laxus.” She stood again, to refill her glass. “It is plain as day, what you wish for. All your hopes and your dreams; you carry them in your eyes. No one is coming to save you. You will always be this alone. We all will.”

“Maybe,” he whispered then, “I’m the man. You think of that?”

“Think of what?”

“I’m the foolish man who found himself stuck up in a damn cave with a dragon, but oh, I’ll get it when it’s least expecting it. I’ll get it. I’ll end it. You think of that? Mirajane?”

“I think of all things, Laxus.” She slipped on a robe as she headed then to the door of the bedroom, to leave him. “How do you think I’ve survived this long?”

“I dunno,” he whispered after her, knowing she was off to converse with one of her siblings or Freed. “Why don’t you ask the dragon?”

But hadn’t she?

.

Laxus was kind of beat, one evening, as he stretched out on the couch in the Mistress’ room. She was off, somewhere in the house, going over something with Freed, and he was actually kind of glad for that. It had been a hard day for him, carrying supplies up to the old house on the hill as well as repairing some stuff around the property, so not only was he sore, but also chalk full of splinters.

The man just wanted to snooze his life away.

He was doing just that when the door, which Mirajane had left ajar, was nosed open a bit and through his dreams, he first heard the soft mewing of a kitten before feeling the pounce of it’s little claws on his chest.

“Hey,” he grumbled slightly, peeking an eye open at the once cute, not abominable feline. It dead eyes shone in the darkness. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”

But the cat was purring as he stroked one hand down its back and, well, it felt kind of nice, rumbling a bit against his chest, and what would it hurt? As his eyes drifted back to nothingness, he figured nothing.

When Laxus was awoke sometime later by Mirajane, the cat was gone and it was just as well. He didn’t rather like them anyways. Cats. Or animals in general. The more he was having to capture small critters for the feasts of Lisanna and Elfman, the less he was liking living things in general. Much like his current predicament, it was much easier to just separate himself entirely from the concept of life, even. Human life as well. He was becoming more and more desensitized to the slaughters that Mirajane partook in and, though at one point, he considered himself an unwilling participant, he was beginning to feel more like a disinterested accomplice.

The kittens were Bickslow and Lisanna’s domain. Laxus wanted as far from that as he could get. Still, a few night later, when one was mewling at his feet while he walked about the house one night, he did find himself leaning down to pat at his ear.

“You’re the same one,” he whispered, noting the little discoloration he had, behind his ear, “from the night before, aren’t you? You think we’re buddies now? Pals? Fuck it, I guess. Maybe we are. You’re the only one I got now. In the entire world. Don’t take it for granted, okay?”

The kitten took it very seriously, actually. He followed Laxus about, at night, and when the Mistress was out, would typically be found snoozing in the room the man kept for himself. Mirajane didn’t seem to fond of them, the cats, and barred them from her chambers for the most part.

“Vile. Disease ridden.” She would only shake her head, when she saw one about in the evening. To Laxus, she was explain, “They exist only to please my sister.”

And that they did. Bickslow as well. They both seemed rather intent on being the best surrogate cat parents the kittens could have. This was necessary given that, once the mother cat sniffed them, that first night after they were turned, she seemed to want nothing to do with them. It was just as well; she was really cramping Bickslow’s single father of five vibe.

So was Lisanna, but she was allowed to ruin whatever she wanted in the man’s eyes.

He named them, each one, Bickslow did, but Laxus couldn’t remember them. They were so dumb. But the little one that took a liking to him, he decided was deserving of his own name. A real name. A special one. To signify his importance over the others. He had humble beginnings, as Poppo or Pappa or Peppe or whatever the fuck his real name was, but he was a nice man now. Reborn as Laxus’ only true friend.

What an accomplishment.

“I’ll call ya,” he hummed one night as they sat under the cover of the porch as a storm waged just inches from them, thunder booming in the distance, “Raijin. How ya like that? Huh? Do you feel more powerful? On nights like tonight? I know I do.”

He only held the kitten against his chest though, waving a finger lazily in its face as it blinked up at him.

“It’s good, I guess,” Laxus whispered to little Raijin softly, “to know there’s at least someone in this house I can trust.”

.

“Why can’t we have mirrors?”

“Who told you that you could not have a mirror?”

“No one,” Laxus whispered one night as he laid in bed with the Mistress, her toying with his hair as he rested his head in her breasts. “I just thought-”

“I have no need for them, so I do not keep them.”

“Way to be humble.”

“What?” Her toying stopped. “I no longer have a reflection. What use would a mirror be?”

“Oh, I thought you meant…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing, I was just-”

“There are many rules,” she sighed softly then, “to this curse. Most are unpleasant.”

“Like you drown, right? If you go down to the river?”

“What?”

“Running water?”

“I cannot drown.”

“Have you ever tried? I’m pretty sure you drown. Or at least Bickslow said-”

“Bickslow.” She practically spat his name. “I am not fond of him.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed.”

“I thought he would provide entertainment for my sister,” she said with a bit of a huff, “but he is turning out to be more of a nuisance for me. I am beginning to wonder if I should start taking longer, further trips once more. I was fearful of the villagers, leaving them here alone with my siblings, but the seem to have settled out now that you are around. Freed is here, to keep peace, anyhow. Yes. Away from this place more. I enjoy the idea.”

His silence was noted though and, as her fingers ran once more through his hair, the woman merely remarked, “You could come along if you wished. Barring extenuating circumstances, of course.”

“Of course,” he whispered into her flesh as he shut his eyes tightly. “Are you gonna leave soon? To talk to your siblings? Or Freed?”

“I do have other things,” she reminded softly, “to deal with. I do not exist merely to sleep with you, dragon.”

“Is that my only purpose to you?”

“You also get supplies and care for the lawn.”

He frowned up at her, but in the moonlight, he caught it. Something of a grin tugging at her pale lips. Maybe. Or he might just be drunk.

Laxus felt like everyone in the house was constantly in some state close to that.

“Bickslow,” he told the woman softly then, “doesn’t mean any harm. Honest.”

“Perhaps not.” the crown of his golden head got a kiss before she began to detangle her limbs from his. “But the foolish rarely do.”

.

He felt eyes on him before he even opened his own. As he blinked away the sleep, he was dismayed to find them to belong to the lesser of the two Strauss sisters. Laxus sat up some, in bed, planning on telling her flat out to get out because he wasn’t interested. Mirajane was gone, once more, alone, to deal with ‘business’ as she called it. Whatever. He just knew he was not about to deal with her creepy sister trying to force herself on him again.

“I’m not here for you,” she retorted before the words even left her mouth. Standing there in the dark doorway of his bedroom, she raised a single pale finger, aimed at the snoozing ball of fur rested on the man’s chest. “I want Puppu.”

Puppu. Of course.

“Why?”

“They need to eat.”

Oh. Yeah. Gross.

Rising, Laxus gently lifted the immortal kitten into his arms at the same time, to bring it over to the woman. She eyed him suspiciously and they hadn’t spoken, not really, since the whole…incident, but no one had spoken to him either, not really, about his newfound friendship with the little beast.

As he handed him over, Lisanna only tried to force his gaze and, not getting it, settled for words instead.

“I’ll bring him back,” she offered weakly, a tone of voice he was rare to hear from the perpetual rebellious young adult. “Afterwards. I’ll even clean the blood up from his fur, if you want.”

He finally looked at her then, giving her what she wanted, but Lisanna just smiled into his eyes.

“We all deserve friends,” she reminded him with a nod of her head. “Laxus. Even complete assholes like you.”

And as he went to fall into bed without his only one once more, the man could only nod.

Yeah.

They did. .

[forsakenoathkeeper]

Diabolik Idols

Mun!Sora: This is exactly what it sounds like, except like hardly any of these are actual idols by definition but I don’t give a fuck.

♥ Shuu Sakamaki

Shuu has been raised for the theater, ever since he was old enough to pick up an instrument and almost every waking moment of his life. His mother ensured it. He’s arguably the most famous violinist this side of the world, with a talent for piano and chello, as well; but, his secret is that he has no care for any of it - the fame, the glamour, the money. He didn’t choose this life. It was forced upon him. His passion for music may be strong, but he could care less of the opinions of the masses.

IF YOU PICK HIM: Shuu definitely does not think you’re worth his time. In fact, he thinks you’re a talentless loser; however, just like everything else, your apprenticeship is forced upon him. He doesn’t want to admit it, but, with time, your presence rekindles the passion he possesses for music. You, unlike the others, feel the emotions he puts into his music. Of course, he doesn’t intend to admit this to you. Maybe, you’ll uncover the dark secrets of his melancholy.

♥ Reiji Sakamaki

All Reiji ever wanted was to play music for a crowd, and to hear their cheers of joy and thundering applause. But, his mother never allowed him a chance to shine. Rather, he was forced to be Shuu’s manager, to guide him along, ensure he made it to performances on time, and that all his shows were completely booked. He’s good at it, good enough to make everyone believe he wants nothing more. After more than a decade of keeping his passion a secret, he’s become sorrowfully accustomed to living in the shadows of his brother.

IF YOU PICK HIM: When you pick Reiji, you expect a very simple apprenticeship; he’s going to teach you how to be a manager. He’s a very diligent teacher, albeit a rude one. He teaches you the basics, of course; but, he also teaches you things you never considered - knowledge that will guarantee your success. Then, one night, you accidentally stumble upon him playing a hand crafted chello. His performance is breathtaking, unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. Maybe, you, and only you, can help him step into the spotlight for the first time.

♥ Ayato Sakamaki

If you asked Ayato Sakamaki why he decided to give up basketball to pursue an idol career... Well, frankly, he just felt like it. He’s got the looks, the voice, and the dedication... not to mention quite the god complex. Girls can’t help but throw themselves at his feet; yet, none of it is good enough for him. He has money, fame, and all he could ever want, right at his fingertips. There’s something missing, but he has no idea what it is.

IF YOU PICK HIM: Ayato is certain that what he’s missing is an award, something to bring him to the next level; so, why not the King of Idol’s award? Of course, that means he needs a queen. Well, you’ll just have to do, even though you’re a flat chested moron. Every waking moment is spent preparing for the contest. The two of you need to be in flawless harmony, even if he finds your singing quite detestable... or, so he claims. As the days go on and the competition grows closer, you can’t help but wonder if his insistence is still only for the contest.

♥ Kanato Sakamaki

The world doesn’t know Kanato Sakamaki. They know Kana, leader of the lolita fashion world, gothic pop icon... and a girl. Kanato is the spitting image of his mother, except for the fact that he’s a boy. His mother was a legendary fashion icon for the majority of her life, but never had a daughter to follow in her footsteps. Kanato, however, eager to please her, was willing to live a double life, only allowed to be himself when the curtains closed.

IF YOU PICK HIM: When you pick Kana, you’re definitely not expecting her secret... until you accidentally expose it to the world. Kanato absolutely loaths you, and even contemplates hiring a hitman. Unfortunately, his mother disapproves of this idea. Your temporary partnership was supposed to sky rocket his fame, not completely annihilate it... that is, until Kanato realizes that your mistake has freed him from the constricting shackles of a fake existance. Together, you help him realize he can still be Kana... but he can also be himself.

♥ Laito Sakamaki

A well known pianist, who specializes in slow, romantic songs, and also sings whilst he plays, Laito’s music is a favorite in five star restaurants and elegant clubs. His performances are known to be breathtaking, accompanied with fresh roses and dancers. As he might say, “I may not be an actor; but, I am one for... dramatics.” His infamous reputation is that he never goes home alone: a playboy, by day and by night, who’s captured many’a’hearts. Even those who don’t know his name know his work or have heard his voice.

IF YOU PICK HIM: Laito doesn’t take apprentices. He doesn’t have time to teach someone the ways of the piano. But, as a fellow pianist and singer, Laito sees you more as competition, or a means to an end. That alone is the reason he agrees to do some duets with you. But, he finds himself unable to refuse you time and time again. There’s a loneliness to him, ever present in his eyes, that you simply can’t look past. Beyond the glamour, his frequent attempts to woo you, and playful flirting, you see something more... so much more.

♥ Subaru Sakamaki

If you called him an idol, he would scoff at you in disgust. That annoying blonde dude in the pink is an idol. Subaru plays guitar and sings rock and metal, and is the founder and core of White Rose. He doesn’t dance or throw flowers to the crowd. All of his songs are of his own making, originals birthed from his experiences, his suffering, his passions. They’re hardcore, angsty, and occasionally emotional and heartfelt. Yet, Subaru is cold, distant, and definitely not the kind to associate with his fans, or other musicians. He has the reputation for being an unobtainable bad boy.

IF YOU PICK HIM: He definitely does not want to do a duet with you; his manager can kiss his ass. But, if he doesn’t, he’ll lose his record deal. Fuck. Subaru agrees... quite unwillingly, and somehow manages to drag himself to practice. He doesn’t care for the way you sing, or so he says. Your guitar skills are mediocre at best, or so he says. You obviously don’t understand the meaning behind his lyrics... Or, maybe you do, and he just hasn’t noticed yet.

♥ Ruki Mukami

There is no jazz club this side of the world that doesn’t play Ruki’s music on a regular basis. He’s almost a legend, able to capture smooth blues and even the rolling, almost rock’n’roll aspects of jazz. He’s also a favorite in casinos. However, Ruki rarely performs live. He’s a busy man with a reputation to uphold. But, spending little time in the spotlight has greatly diminished his fame. He’s ready to make a comeback... a proper one.

IF YOU PICK HIM: You’re a means to an end, something Ruki makes very clear when he agrees to partner up with you. You’re a very talented jazz singer, though you’re nowhere near Ruki’s level. He likes that, actually; it means you won’t outshine him. But, somewhere along then way, Ruki finds himself not caring when you do outshine him. He flinches away when you accidentally touch him, and loath you calling him anything other than Mr. Mukami. But, you can’t help but wonder what he’s hiding behind those mahogany eyes.

♥ Kou Mukami

He’s been famous his entire life, beginning as a child actor in plays and dabbling in small television roles. Now, he’s an idol, in every sense of the word: music, dancing, fashion, you name it. He’s also self-proclaimed best friend to the lead singer and guitarist of White Rose, though the silver-haired boy denies it. Kou is well adjusted to this life: fame, fortune, money, and literally crawling with women. However, deep down, it doesn’t matter to him, at all. It’s a means to an end, and something to keep himself entertained.

IF YOU PICK HIM: To the outside world, Kou is flirtatious and sweet, generous, even. When you choose him, you’re partnered up for a modeling campaign that’ll involve ads, live dance routines, and even a fabricated romance. “Love sells, kitten,” as he put it. Kou is demanding, with high expectations. He expects you to always look your best, especially if you want to be famous by the end of it. But, at some point, the attention he gives you, the fake dates, and the extravagant romantic gestures, doesn’t seem to be just for the camera anymore.

♥ Yuma Mukami

Since when does one of the world’s best mixed martial arts champions become a musician on the side? Well, it all started when he agreed to sing at one of Ruki’s jazz clubs. The rest is history. Yuma doesn’t consider himself famous; but, he’s a favorite at local clubs and elite bars. He doesn’t really care for it, though. It’s simply something more carefree to do between championships and training. Besides, it’s an easy way to meet ladies who don’t expect him to stick around.

IF YOU PICK HIM: You expected to be Ruki’s associate; yet, somehow, you ended up as Yuma’s... slave. Well, that’s an exaggeration, honestly. But, you expected to get a chance to perform, to play, to sing, not be stuck scheduling and assisting this guy. You stick around, however, hoping the opportunity will come around. Yuma sees your longing for the stage, but expects you to prove your worth it before he’ll give it to you.

♥ Azusa Mukami

Azusa started small, playing his ukulele and ocarina at dive bars and the corners of popular tourist attractions. He got the opportunity to play on the radio and was picked up by a talent agency. One year later, Azusa is making record deals and modeling for boho clothing lines. He’s known for being humble, always wearing T-shirts that show off scars from the days when he was homeless, a past that he keeps well hidden, from everyone, including his agent.

IF YOU PICK HIM: It was actually Azusa’s vocal coach that put him up to this. A duet that would finally get him on the top charts and introduce you into the spotlight... if only it were that simple. He’s never written a duet before, and your presence only seems to make it worse. You’re just likely everybody else - you couldn’t possibly understand his music... It’s not just about the duet anymore, but proving to Azusa that you’re not like everyone else.

[strangcrdoctor]

∞Okay last one for the night because I am really tired and very ready for bed but I’ve gotta get in my Avengers commentary because I have to start off tomorrow on a clean slate and ready to go. Thus, here we are.

1. In lieu of only post Infinity War MCU canon, Loki’s rhetoric at the very beginning of The Avengers sounds a fucking lot like Maw’s. In the initial scenes when he’s fresh off the Tesseract Express his words and way of speaking sound nothing like his own. Even comparing his speeches at the outset of the movie versus the one he makes in Stuttgart, the tones and focuses of them are very different. (IE the first speech focuses on the “powers at be” versus the Stuttgart speech focusing on Loki’s personal opinions of humanity which are more and more developed throughout the film.) But it struck me that these first scenes are precisely on-cue for someone tortured and brainwashed by, say, The Black Order. 2. Given I literally just watched the first Captain America yesterday, I find Cap’s “old fashioned” comment about the stars and stripes on his uniform to be both sad and interesting. Especially given the context that comparatively Cap hasn’t been “up” for very long, one particular comment made to him by Schmidt literally moments before he went into the ice stands out. Schmidt says that through the Tesseract he glimpsed the future, and that there were no flags. In the America and world Steve wakes up to, compared to the world of the 1940s that claim of Schmidt’s could very suddenly appear to be true, which would be understandably uncomfortable for someone like Steve who is usually determined and quick on his feet but at such a staggering disadvantage because of the gap between his mindset and that of his contemporaries which are more varied than he necessarily knows how to quantify right at the outset. Watching his progress throughout the MCU in light of that is interesting, but that one moment of introspection about the utility of the “stars and stripes” is a uniquely postmodern comment coming from a pre-modern/modern man. 3. Okay so this intrigues me now that we have the Guardians and pretty much the entire universe in play in the MCU, but what “greater worlds,” exactly, was the Tesseract supposed to unveil? True the Tesseract is the space stone and verifiably can open portals to everywhere and anywhere in the universe, but Loki specifically makes the claim that the Tesseract can open up access to “greater worlds,” and I’m honestly still not entirely sure what precise reference this was supposed to be making. Because Thanos barely might have arguably needed the Tesseract to get to the planet the Soul Stone was on, but even so that’s a connection that still somehow feels like a stretch. So my question is, what if they meaning the Black Order or Thanos or possibly even Loki needed the Tesseract to get at something else? Somewhere else? Then again, this particular slip might just be Whedon’s doing and not necessarily be reflective of the culmination of the MCU up to this point so IDK. 4. I’m not going to lie, I’ve found it fascinating from day one that The Avengers very openly plays with godhood, to the point that I’m genuinely not sure if they’re reifying it in the MCU or tinkering with it. I mean obviously in the later movies this theme is less stressed because the tinkering patently takes precedence, but it’s still cool to me that there are both scripted and visual imagery that tie in multicultural interpretations of godhood. Fury mentions the burial rites of the Pharaohs within the first ten minutes of the film, Loki commits a human sacrifice on a Babylonian bull altar straight from Gilgamesh era in Stuttgart, Cap makes a comment about how his singular god does and does not dress after Natasha herself labels Thor and Loki as gods, and Fury unashamedly labels Thor as a god when they release the Tesseract to his custody. And while a bit ham-fisted, the correlation between theism and the bleeding-edge demand to acknowledge the reality of the universe is still pretty neat guys. 5. The old man in Stuttgart because no FUCK. If any of y’all think that my Germanist ass won’t get misty-eyed and choked-up during this scene, you’re wrong. 6. Okay so I’ll premise this by saying that I haven’t cross-checked the official script because frankly... yeah frankly I don’t want to be wrong and I really can’t hear anything but what I believe to be my interpretation of the line even though I know what the other fan alternatives have been. But when Thor and Loki are arguing on the mountaintop, when Loki says that he, “Was and should be ---,” my hearing of it instead of having been “Was and should be king,” is “Was and should be killed.” And while I’ll bow to whatever official record claims otherwise, I like my hearing better so there. (Also... there’s zero hint of Hiddleston’s palate producing a “g” sound in that sentence but I’ll put my inner linguist away and leave it at that.) 7. In light of that scene, though, when Loki and Thor are arguing is one of the first moments when Loki actually sounds like himself after the Stuttgart scene? Prior to that point the only times we see Loki is when he’s marshaling his human troops and getting policed by those lording over him. In all of those initial scenes Loki feels... very un-Loki to me. Not because Loki isn’t a bastard (hint: he is), but because his motivations and justifications are vague and not seemingly personally motivated, which is what Loki is to a fault. Post-Stuttgart, however, and the personal element seems to return for him because of some reason or another. (IE I have theories but you can read your own into it.) 8. Let it never be said that Thor is a dull bulb. Yeah it’s still sort of unclear how Thor got to Earth (though nothing is unclear about why Thor is pissed), but Thor does walk in with more than enough information to be frankly a little surprising. Bless Heimdall and all that, but seriously the fact that Thor knows about the Chitauri but doesn’t know other things casts an interesting focus on what he was told by Odin and Heimdall before going. Most importantly, though, even from conversing with Loki for a few minutes, Thor is attentive enough to pick up on some of what Loki isn’t saying. Such as, just who showed Loki how to use the Tesseract and all the things Loki claims to be motivated by. Equally interestingly, Loki specifically refuses to answer that question. 9. I feel bad for Fury for sleeping in a den of vipers for so long - though I do like the build-up from the first Avengers into the following issues with HYDRA corruption - but in ways more important to the immediate issue in the first Avengers, Fury might be a shady bitch but he is not an idiot. Because while everyone else was having pissing contests and not trusting one another, Fury was not trusting the person that deserved to be trusted the least, which isn’t just good leadership, but is good spycraft. 10. As established later in the MCU, it’s exceedingly clever that even in the first Avengers there are scenes when even without a “wielder” present, the Mind Stone - as-yet unidentified as such in the MCU - can be seen manipulating those in its vicinity such as in the lab where the biggest catfight in the history of the MCU breaks out. I mean. Until CA:CW... 11. Steve Rogers, poor cinnamon roll, unexpectedly served at dinner instead of breakfast, who cracks jokes about technology he really isn’t that bad at as “seeming to run on some kind of electricity.” Bless. Though really that internal console, while doing complicated shit, is definitely not any more or less visually complicated than the interior of a radio relay which Steve definitely dealt with in his day but kudos for the humor bb, A+. 12. Still one of the strongest and most harrowing lines ever said in the MCU in my opinion: “We are NOT soldiers.” Know why? Because they aren’t. Hell, the only ones among them that are soldiers - and some by slim and emergency-driven margins - are Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, and Sam. The rest of them are brilliant, gifted, and tortured civilians trying to do the right thing. And to Tony Stark above all else, that means something. That means that they didn’t get training to deal with this shit. They didn’t choose for this to be their lives, necessarily. And above all, they don’t deserve to die. And even though Tony knows Coulson is a SHIELD agent, Tony still considers him a person before a disposable “soldier.” 13. Mother-fucking Marvel give me an entire series devoted to my Hawk Guy I need him. You have so much to work with and yet you’re so good at squandering him. I hate it. 14. In light of how bad NYC got fucked up, it’s honestly no wonder Jessica Jones has a drinking problem because I would too even without the personal loss, experimentation, and emotional maladjustment. 15. IN WHAT FUCKING POST-9/11 WORLD DO BUSINESS BUILDINGS NOT HAVE VERY STRICT EVACUATION PLANS. SERIOUSLY. I am a little mad that there are morons ogling out of office building windows when frankly that shit wouldn’t fly. Even on fucking 9/11 that shit didn’t fly and if you think NYC is less paranoid because 9/11 was a decade prior to this movie coming out, you’re wrong. Everyone remembers, and city evacuation ordinances will sure as hell never forget either. Come on Marvel. 16. As a point of interest my grandmother - who also went to see The Avengers with me when it was in theaters but not at the midnight showing like my mom - was 84 at the time and still sat through the whole thing with a bucket full of popcorn to herself, and her favorite moment to this day is when the Hulk tosses Loki around like a rag doll. She’s 90 now, and the Hulk is still her favorite character. 17. Mother-Fuckin Nick Fury will cock-block your nuclear strike with a bazooka because he thinks you’re that dumb. Do not test Nick Fury’s willingness to be Extra (TM) . You will lose. 18. Real talk, though, I’m really curious about whether the Chitauri actually are a hive mind race or, is it their technology that runs of a hive mind link? Because the armor at least on the giant toothy space whale monstrosities does not look organic - it looks implanted. The Chitauri foot soldiers also seem to have a unique biologically based interface with their weapons, armor, and technology in general, which begs the question of whether their biometric matrix is just somehow more inclined toward shared-existence technologies, or whether they self-engineered themselves into a corner by relying on said technologies too much. Seriously guys I have questions and why won’t Marvel give me answers. 19. As a final send-off, this is the first time Tony has ever driven an Acura in the MCU and I refuse to believe it’s not because of the Avengers “A” aesthetic. Tony is canonically an Audi man. Fight me on this.

Okay I’m seriously done for now it’s 1 AM and I need to sleep I have 4 more movies to get through tomorrow. I’ll be up and around and at my shit again in the morn.∞

[frazzledsoul]

Okay, I was putting together a post in response to unpopular Gilmore Girls opinions, but it went buh bye. I kind of want to get this off of my chest, so I proceed anyway.

The period of time in Gilmore Girls history that I have the most trouble with aside from season 6 is the love triangle shenanigans in late season 2/season 3. During this time, I feel that the show is still the show I knew and loved. No one has been twisted into the shape of a monster only Guillermo Del Toro could love, seeking to wreak havoc on anyone who comes near.

However, the cheating that Lorelai and Rory engage in (or enable) isn’t something that sits well with me, and for the most part I hate that the show not only refuses to criticize them on it, but actually pinpoints an innocent third party as the villain for merely standing in the way.

I don’t think Rory’s part in this is really that bad. She’s a teenage girl. She still cares for her sweet, stable boyfriend, the guy everyone wants her to date, and yer she’s attracted to the town’s outcast/bad boy who she has more in common with. So she kisses him. Not the end of the world. However, she then not only refuses to break up with her boyfriend and doesn’t contact Jess for the rest of the boyfriend and then comes back to town INCENSED that Jess has moved on. However, Jess does call her on this right away, and I’m glad for it. It doesn’t stop Rory from being cruel to Jess’s girlfriend, and we’re meant to believe that because Shane is a shallow, flighty party girl who is standing in the way, this behavior is justified.

It isn’t. Shane wasn’t the bad guy. Rory was. If Rory wanted to change things, she should have gotten off of her ass and made a decision.

The situation with Christopher and Sherry is worse in every way, and Lorelai isn’t called on her behavior until years later. Christopher and Lorelai show absolutely no guilt or regret for their actions, and we’re meant to think Sherry is the villain for getting in the way.

This isn’t right. It’s really fucked up.

Lorelai was initially kind to Christopher’s girlfriend. She let her visit her home and let her be involved with her daughter. In theory, she supported their relationship. However, the minute Christopher claims that he’s on “a break” because he and Sherry are having problems, Lorelai forgets about all real world considerations and the fact that Christopher is still in a relationship and sleeps with him right away. She then gets all giddy and giggly about it with Sookie (look, I don’t care if he was your boyfriend first or not, Lorelai; it’s messed up to be that happy about sleeping with someone else’s boyfriend. And Sookie shouldn’t have let that slide, either. I wouldn’t if it was my friend) before going up and talking about it with Christopher. He agrees to leave his girlfriend.

Lorelai then takes this person who still has a girlfriend that is not her as a date to Sookie’s wedding. She tells her parents and Rory about their impending relationship, as well as making a spectacle of them both to the entire town (Even if this weren’t wrong, it’s still deeply moronic). She tracks down Christopher shortly before the wedding, who says that he has to go back to Sherry. Lorelai tells him that she understands if he’s got to do what he’s got to do, indicating that she knows that he could always change his mind. Christopher somehow discovers the concept of human decency that he has remained unaware of for the last 24 hours (not to mention most of his life) and tells Lorelai that he’s going back because of Sherry’s pregnancy.

I haven’t meant to harp on this because I’ve already given Lorelai plenty of shit for cheating on Luke. I know that she did suffer. She got her hopes up and she got burned. But that’s why you don’t sleep with other people’s boyfriends. You don’t become entangled with people who have other commitments because they might always choose to honor those commitments instead.

Christopher is treated as a villain not for cheating and helping cause this situation in the first place, but for choosing his pregnant girlfriend over Lorelai and Rory. Both Emily and Rory have epic temper tantrums to this effect. No one at any point suggests that maybe if Christopher and Lorelai had avoided entangling themselves when they shouldn’t have, they could have avoided this situation.

Sherry invites Lorelai to her baby shower, either because she’s clueless or because she wants to mark her territory. Lorelai inappropriately accepts, and learns that Christopher and Sherry were never really on a “break (huge shocker there) and that he is seemingly content in his new life. She proceeds to respond by attempting to destroy Sherry’s bathroom before Rory talks her out of it.

All along, the show repeatedly attempts to convince us that Sherry is the bad guy.

I’m sorry, but bullshit. Sherry is absolutely 100% the victim here. She got cheated on by someone who lied about the fact that he was still in a relationship, and now she’s having that guy’s baby while the person who slept with her boyfriend destroys her property at her baby shower. And we’re supposed to be on Lorelai’s side in this? 

I stopped watching the show a few weeks after that (I tuned back in during the blissfully Christopher-free season 4). I’m aware that Lorelai didn’t seek out Christopher or plot to hook up with him, and maybe she officially believed that crap about being on “a break”, but I think she just didn’t care. I hate this this is never acknowledged for how wrong it was until years later, when Lorelai is chastising Rory for sleeping with Dean. And even then it’s swept under the rug and never brought up again.

I’ve since watched season 3, and I like Lorelai (and Rory! well, sometimes) when they’re not in this situation, and I like the show when it isn’t feeding me this bullshit about the third party who is actually more sympathetic than anybody else. I’d like to think that after Lorelai reunited with Luke she was able to reflect on this situation and see it for how wrong it was, and how it set up a certain pattern that she was to repeat four years later. (I don’t think Rory ever learned anything from this, since she was engaging in even worse behavior during AYITL). 

Does ASP have a disconnect when it comes to the concept of infidelity? Does she frequently excuse her characters for it, no matter how often it wrecks their lives? I think she does. I also think she handles Christopher with kid gloves when it comes to his romantic behavior (admit that sleeping with her favorite was the wrong thing to do??!!!??? NEVER!) But I absolutely count this as the worst example of it before season 6, and for that reason I’m glad that she didn’t get to write the aftermath of Partings. What we got there was far from perfect, but at least everyone took responsibility for their actions

[tessatechaitea]

Cerebus #14 (1980)

This is what happens to Cerebus because he still hasn't taken my advice to stab everybody he meets before they become a huge annoyance.

I'm not suggesting everybody stab everybody they meet so that they'll never have to deal with any non-stabbing drama because then everybody I meet would be trying to stab me. That sounds like a bad social contract. A good social contract is to not talk to anybody at all in public unless they work in the service industry and also maybe don't make such aggressive eye contact with people on the street? I'm just trying to get from Point A to Point B with as little human contact as possible. I wouldn't mind interacting with people except for one huge problem: most people are way more terrible than they realize. And the more enthusiastic and social a person is, the more likely that they're the real life version of Red Sophia or Elrod. On a similar note, I really love this thing where we're all wearing masks. Now if we can just develop a virus that spreads through eye contact so we're all forced to constantly wear dark glasses, I'll be pretty fucking happy about the state of the world. I mean I'd be happy with the state of the world in regards to what I have to deal with when I go outside (which is people trying to talk to me and looking into my eyes). I don't mean I'd be overall happy with the state of the world which is fucking terrible because a bunch of assholes think teenagers telling them they can't say retard on the Internet is worse than Donald Trump and the GOP's self-serving style of governing where they think taxes shouldn't be used to make the country better but should just go back into the pockets of corporations and Wall Street pricks and other politicians and the already extremely wealthy. Also, a lot of centrist Democrats think the same way. They're only more acceptable because they mostly aren't racist, sexist homophobes. Now that all the snowflakes have stopped reading and went to hug their guns in consolation of my mean Internet words, I can get to the review. In "A Note from the Publisher," Deni claims this is the funniest issue of Cerebus to date. Since it's Cerebus' first visit to Palnu, I'm not even questioning her claim. It's almost certainly true. Dave Sim's Swords of Cerebus essay is a textual stroking of Prince Valiant creator Hal Foster's dick. Sim's mostly talking about Foster's art style but he obviously decided to mimic some of Foster's story telling style as well. See, Prince Valiant was a continuous story that ran (or has run? Is it still going by his son or grandson or something?) for decades, a story which chronicled the life of Prince Valiant and, eventually, his children. Cerebus is a comic book that didn't run for as long but whose continuing story was easier to follow and had a drunk aardvark as the main character. So there are some similarities there, right? This was also the first issue of Cerebus after going to a monthly schedule. Dave Sim would now have to do 300 issues instead of the 150-something he had been planning. Ha ha! Sucker.

This would have been a most opportune time for Cerebus to start his stabbing people upon meeting them practice.

I knew at some point I was going to have to admit this so I might as well begin with it: I don't think I've ever sat through an entire Marx Brothers movie. It's possible I have but I just don't really remember because it happened so long ago. But I need to also reveal this: I loved Groucho Marx as a kid. I've revealed before that I had a grandfather fetish as a child. I loved hanging out with old men and I loved watching old men on television. Going in Style was one of my favorite movies and I simply adored Art Carney. I also loved The Shining because it was about a young kid who got to hang out with one of my other favorite older guys, Scatman Crothers. Groucho Marx in You Bet Your Life fit into the old guy category. I don't think he was as old as the oldest men I loved but, as a young kid, he certainly seemed ancient. I think the duck that dropped down when somebody said the secret word helped a lot. But I would watch reruns of You Bet Your Life whenever I found them on television because it was like hanging out with an old man, my favorite pastime from around four to ten or so. As for Groucho's movies? I've definitely watched parts of some of them as I stumbled on them on television and realized he was in it. But I've never made the effort to start one from the beginning and watch it all the way through. I should probably rectify that. Cerebus has wound up in Palnu thanks to a short diversion in a comic strip that appeared in The Comic Buyers Guide. He wound up marooned on an island with Lord Julius' son, Lord Silverspoon. Upon being rescued, Lord Julius decided to reward Cerebus for saving his son. I don't have the issue of Swords of Cerebus with that story so I can't comment on how annoying Lord Silverspoon almost certainly was. Cerebus' reward is to be put in charge of Lord Julius' security forces and granted the title of "Kitchen Staff Supervisor." It doesn't make any sense because Lord Julius invented bureaucracy. He realized the only thing that can really keep a leader safe is to make sure that nobody else knows what the fuck is going on.

Oh, see? I suppose I could have just read a few more panels and realized Lord Julius explains it himself.

As Kitchen Staff Supervisor, Cerebus' job is to keep assassins from assassinating Lord Julius. Aside from that, he was pretty much free to do whatever he wanted. Unless he only thought he was free to do whatever he wanted and whatever he wanted was whatever Lord Julius was manipulating him into wanting. Lord Julius is a master of getting people to accidentally do the thing they didn't think they would ever do that Lord Julius also didn't want them to do but actually secretly did want them to do. Basically anybody who has recently spoken with Lord Julius is actively doing Lord Julius' bidding, whether they know it or not. For some reason, Cerebus decides to take on the role of Kitchen Staff Supervisor even though it's the most boring thing he's ever done in his life. At least it's entertaining for the reader because nearly every line out of Lord Julius' mouth is a solid gag. And since I haven't really seen any of Groucho's movies, I can't say how many of the gags were stolen outright! I have to assume it's all new material and only Groucho Marx parody. Some people, in an attempt to never be fooled by anybody, never believe anything at all. I am not one of those people. I believe everything I hear until somebody slaps me and yells, "How can you believe that obviously falsified tripe, you fucking moron?!" Assassins try to poison Lord Julius and Cerebus tracks them down to an underground group trying to free the city from the clutches of Lord Julius. When the assassin, Cerebus, and Lord Julius wind up in the same place, Cerebus outs himself as a spineless centrist.

The Centrist loves to believe that not taking sides is the only logical conclusion to any matter that doesn't seem to immediately affect their lives.

Some people are probably wondering how that previous caption is a negative criticism. "Um, yeah. Seems about right. If it doesn't affect me, why should I offer up an opinion!" And yet when a situation exists where one side is full of abusive and manipulative people controlling the reins of power and the economic purse strings of the country and the other side is being bullied, cheated, and abused by that side, not taking a side is siding with the powerful and the abusive. Even if your life hasn't been affected. Of course, Cerebus doesn't need to take a side here. I mean, he does take a side: he sides with the people who have all the money. But he doesn't really care is the point. You'll see he retains this philosophy of rich people winning every argument later when he's Pope and gives out his wisdom that "God loves rich people which is why they're rich and hates poor people which is why they're poor." Pretty much the philosophy of evangelicals in the U.S. Cerebus survives the battle with the assassin and then gives Lord Julius some free advice about running the country. So Cerebus kind of does agree with the assassin but also the assassin wasn't paying him anything so he deserved to be thrown five stories to his death. Lord Julius says, "You can rest assured that I'll give the matter all the attention I feel it deserves." Is there a better way to tell somebody to shove it than that? It's so elegant! In Aardvark Comments, Dave Sim answers a letter on how to go about self-publishing. And so his role as Independent Comic Book Publishing Mentor begins! In his list of things you'll need to get together to successfully publish your own comic book, he kindly leaves out "talent." Obviously Dave understood how to go about getting something published but he also put in the hard work and had the talent to produce a comic book that began well above mediocre or average. I can't imagine a lot of self-published books began at this high of a plateau. And even if they were eventually capable of Cerebus quality, how long are readers going to give them to get there? Probably not even two issues, would be my guess.

The Single Page had a comic called "Sex Education" by April. I thought the first two panels were cute.

Cerebus #14 Rating: A+. As with Elrod and Red Sophia and The Cockroach, Lord Julius' first appearance is a banger. Dave Sim never once falters with Lord Julius' repartee. Solid gags throughout. Sim really is a master of dialogue and, to think, it only gets better.

[dachi-chan25]

Game of Thrones Season 7 Episode 5 Recap Pt. 3

WARNINGS: SPOILERS; not a D@€n€r¥$ fan; Jonsa shipper.

————

8.- Back in Winterfell Lord Royce and Lord Glover are the North’s Mean Girls, talking shit about Jon to his back and regreating not naming Sansa QitN when they had the chance (OK as a Sansa fan I saw lot of my fellow fans were pissed that she got no credit whatsoever for retaking WF and that she should have been queen, I agreed that she deserved to get recognized but didn’t feel she wanted to be queen, but nevertheless it was good to see she has won her people’s respect after all she went through) Sansa thanks them but defends Jon’s claim in a very polite way. Arya watched all the scene, and she walks with Sansa to her chambers (Jon won that argument, good to know) that are her parents’s chambers while Sansa is like I warned Jon the North wouldn’t wait on him like Ghost (my shipper heart is pleased that they disscused this sort of things), Arya is clearly not happy about how Sansa managed things and Sansa being the observant girl she is immediately picks up on it and prompts Arya to speak her mind about what’s bothering her, because that’s what she did with Jon: she talked things through even if they didn’t agree on everything they were never afraid to speak clearly about it they loved and appreciated the other so much mere disagreements would never come between them. Arya is very different though and she is very harsh and unfair to Sansa,I understand her personality is different from Jon and Sansa, she is a more action type of person, she has taken revenge and now she is at home she can’t bear the thought of this people disrespecting her beloved big bro and her sister, the one she had a lot of friction with, just standing there and listening without screaming or hitting them, but Sansa is right she can’t do those things without repercussions, Arya is like there won’t be repercussions if you kill them (tell that to Robb) and Sansa (bless her soul) tries to explain the situation they are in, and how much Jon and the North need this people and that is much better working together than killing everyone (gosh now I really want Sansa to meet D) she gives Arya a reality check on how WF wasn’t just handed to them. Honestly Sansa Queen of everything 2kforever. Arya retorts in a very childlish way about how Sansa just wants to make sure people will accept her in case Jon dies, and Sansa is horrified that her sister would say such a thing (also I think she is horrified by the thought of Jon dying) and Arya keeps taunting her. No fuck I’m out of here, never wanted this Starkbowl stuff, didn’t wanted it with Jon don’t want it with Arya, why do the writers make her Sound like every Sansa hater ever???? Sansa does not deserve this (Dickon come back pls and sweep my baby off her feet in those amazing arms of yours) I understand Arya hasn’t still procesed Sansa’s changes and she loves Jon and hates to see people trash talking him but no sorry, Ned already had told her she and her sister needed each other even if they were so different, and Arya said she didn’t hated Sansa Back then, I just hope this nonsense is over quickly because I Love the Stark Sisters too much.

9.- So the magnificent plan of Tyrion starts with convincing Jaime to tell Cersei to grant the Suicide Squad an audience so they can show her the WW, and they will need to go to KL, Davos smuggles them and then goes off to find my boy Gendry.

My boy is Back on the blacksmith business, and Davos makes a joke about rowing (he is the daddiest dad of the 7 realms) and he is trying to explain their super amazing mission but Gendry is like dude idc I just wanna go away from this shit hole and fight some Lannisters on the way with my magical Baratheon Hammer like the one my daddy had.

#AtrueBaratheon.

Tyrion apparently convinced/payed to Bronn so he would take Jaime to creepy dragon basement, Jaime is clearly conflicted at seeing Tyrion, but still he listens.

Back on the boat some gold capes found their boat, Davos is a Master of manipulation and manages to fool them ‘til Tyrion shows up, fear not cuz Gendry puts that Hammer to use (he is epic guys) and Davos is practically signing those adoption papers.

10.- Jaime goes to Cersei’s chambers, she was talking with Qyburn and sasses the heck out of Jaime when he asks what was Qyburn doing there, anyway Jaime tells Cersei about his talk with Tyrion and the WW, Cersei is very dismissive (must be real easy when she hasn’t seen the Dragons or the WWs) but she thinks she can use this in her favor, also she is preggo (oh god why do I feel this is emotional manipulation or she is reaching menopausia?) they kiss and god Jaime stop.

11.- Our boat buddies are back on DS (traveling doesn’t make any sense what is time? What is distance? Who knows? No really jokes aside I understand they have to advance this plot fast as possible cuz they have only 2 episodes left this season) and Davos warns Gendry not to mention his dad or real name to King Jon, and that’s the first thing Gendry does!!! LMAO, this friendship is epic already (RobertxNed2.0) and Jon smiles for the first time in the south (dude he was almost dead all his time in DS but his bastard buddy shows up and he immediately jokes and laughs) this is my favorite bromance, and Davos is worried for this unruly sons of his (so he is Jon Arryn 2.0 right???)

So the very next day? Week? Who knows? They depart, Jorah gets a sad goodbye with D, and Jon a very awkward one, for real D is tryin to flirt and Jon says 'good fortune in the wars to come’?? Wasn’t it the same thing “The Sword of Morning” told Ned before they fought to death??? I mean one can clearly see Jon can’t wait to get the fuck out of Dragonstone, D makes goggly eyes at the boat (Jon) while Jorah turns back makes puppy eyes at D, and Jon is pushing harder to go as soon as possible.

11.- Back on the Citadel, Gilly is reading (I miss Shireen so much, she would have been so proud) some stuff of a Maester obssessed with registers, and discovers a prince Ragger (Imma call him that forever, thanx Gilly) got an annulment and married someone else in Dorne. We all, know this is about fuckboi Ragger Tupperwere and his rightful wife Elia Martell princes of DORNE, so you tell me this fucker not only humilliated her publicy on Harrenhall’s tourney but also re-married in her homeland?? And made her children bastards???? Seriously most of you don’t know how hard it is as a PoC and specially a WoC and watch this stupid bullshit where a woman of color’s suffering and humilliation just serves to further a white character’s (Jon Snow) storyline, while Raggers gets this beautiful memory lane stories about him singing the Poor, and people justifying his selfish bullshit with OMG he didn’t Love Elia he did it for true wuv!!! Miss me that bullshit who said Elia loved the bitch??? Yet still beared with dignity all the awful stuff he did, not only that but her and her children died (awful, awful deaths, not in a battlefield glorified as a song ones) scorned and set aside by Rhaegar while he was protecting new wifey and his new white super speshul babe.

I am beyond angry at this.

Anyway, Sam doesn’t care (nobody does really, they don’t even say her FUCKING name) cuz the maesters just won’t listen, so he steals some books and fucks out of the Citadel with his family.

12.- Yeah so in WF Arya is the worst spy ever following LF around, and he is purposefully as shady as he can be, Maester Wolkan gives him a copy of a letter and LF very loudly thanks him in Sansa’s name, he get’s the letter inside his chambers and goes away, Arya enters his chamber and finds the letter you know that one Sansa was manipulated into writing to protect her dad and the rest of her family, and Arya buys it. Honestly I am too empty now to care, Arya got played by a obvious stupid scheme but I can’t find the enrgy to care about all this drama.

13.- On Eastwatch, Jon and co. Talk with Tormund, who talks about the Dragon Queen and the one who fucks her brother (tha made me laugh a lot cuz Jon’s uncomfortable expression and Gendry’s smile) and he is frustrated cuz why didn’t they brought Brienne??? Jon’s smile is amazing and I am glad he is among people he is comfortable with. The moronic plan is laid, and Tormund is like well we are not the only ones who wants to go beyond the wall Tormund takes them to the cell, the Bannerless Brotherhood is there, and everyone hates each other suddenly, but the Hound hates everyone and makes them shut up, Jon frees them and they go to their stupid ass mission.

———– *sigh* Yeah so this is all, next week (May the gods help me) I’ll try to stop being so repulsed so I can Watch the next episode.

[geek-patient-zero]

Part 1, Chapter 6

Or: Phantomas of Notre Dame

Blood War: Masquerade of the Red Death Trilogy Volume 1

Paris—March 12, 1994

The official smile of Paris is the sneer. The rich sneer at the middle class. The middle class sneer at the poor. And they all sneer at the hordes of tourists who flood their city each year.

I’ve actually remembered these lines since I first read them as a kid. I don’t know why, beyond it being Baby’s First French Stereotype Joke, but I did. I forgot what book they were from though, so when I reread Blood War and found them again, it was a nice surprise.

Their mockery, according to the guidebooks, is part of the charm of Paris. The city, with it’s great restaurants, fabulous museums, superb monuments, and long history, breeds contempt for the lesser achievements surrounding it. The average Parisian citizen considers himself far superior to anyone from outside the city.

It’s only Paris being singled out here, but still, I want to apologize to any French readers. It isn’t going to get much better for you guys in this book. But hey, at least your capital city isn’t a gang warzone.

That attitude explains, at least in theory, the joy the natives get from telling tales of the Phantom of the Paris Opera.

Not only are Parisians assholes, but they bug you into reading their Phantom of the Opera fanfics.

There’s some cliffnotes about the story (written by Gaston Leroux, demented genius living under the Paris Opera, hideously scarred, etc.), then we learn the titular Phantom is the French equivalent of Australia’s drop bears: a made up monster they tell gullible American tourists about to fuck with them.

Parisians loved to elaborate on the fantasy for gullible tourists, saying how, though he had reportedly been destroyed, the body of Eric, the Phantom, had never been found. And that every year, a few unwary tourists to the Opera House disappeared without a trace.

It was typical malicious Parisian humor. Often, the story was accompanied with a breathless attempt to sell bootleg souvenirs such as an authentic map of the catacombs or a page from the score of the Phantom’s infamous lost opera.

Or those little Mickey Mouse paper dolls that supposedly dance to music but are just attached to a motor by an invisible string. My ma fell for that one.

I don’t know if Parisians in real life actually do this, but it wouldn’t surprise me. I hear the Louvre used to give The Da Vinci Code themed tours. This sounds more fun than that, and less soul-crushing.

I admit that I’ve never read The Phantom of the Opera. I saw the play on an elementary school field trip to Broadway, but I barely remember it. I know the book begins with an intro where Leroux claims it’s a true story, but I figured it’s a true story the way The Texas Chainsaw Massacre is a true story. I looked it up anyway, just so I don’t look like an uncultured moron if I dismissed it and was wrong. Turns out, the story was inspired by a real incident at the Paris Opera where a chandelier counterweight (not the chandelier itself) fell down and killed someone. There was a crackpot theory at the time that the accident was actually an assassination attempt. That’s something I didn’t know. Guess I owe Weinberg one for getting me to learn something.

Back to the story. Parisians like to use the Phantom to fuck with tourists, but there are other stories they don’t tell them. Stories that poor shopkeepers tell each other behind closed doors like the superstitious European peasant stereotypes they pretend they aren’t. Stories that were handed down from generation to generation about unexplained disappearances plaguing the Île de la Cité (aka the place where the Notre Dame cathedral is).

Common to every narrative was the same name. A title that when said aloud could cause the most elegant Parisian to blanch in terror.

What, Quasimodo’s some kind of French cryptid too? I know the original book character wasn’t as nice as the Disney version, and he’d be an obvious candidate for a Nosferatu (or a Ravnos if you wanna be a dick) but he was hardly-

Phantomas.

Oh. Alright, yeah, different literary character, but I can go along with it.

Officially, the French Sûreté (cops, pigs, po-po, babylon) dismiss such rumors as the insane ramblings of demented poets living on the West Bank. No mention is made of a file, five inches thick, hidden deep in the files of police headquarters. Contained in it are hundreds of reports, dating back a hundred and fifty years to the time of Chief Inspector Vidocq, detailing the circumstances surrounding hundreds of disappearances in the vicinity of the famous cathedral of Notre Dame.

I bet at least one report blames Quasimodo.

One actual report is a six page article, never made public, by a historical commission about the hundreds of myths and legends surrounding the church, all connected by a ghostly figure seen in the Cathedral at night. I’ll give you one guess at what it actually is.

Though he is called by a dozen different names in the tales, he is always described as incredibly ugly. And a drinker of human blood.

Yep. A goddamn mage.

In turn-of-the-century France, the vampire’s name had gained such notoriety that a series of mystery thrillers featuring an arch-fiend called Fantomas became best-sellers. None of the stories explained the origin of the mastermind. Or why he preyed on the citizens of Paris. They were works of fiction, not fact.

In case old French pulp isn’t your thing, Fantomas, spelled with an F, was a character created in 1911 by Marcel Allain and Pierre Souvestre. He’s a master criminal like Arsène Lupin, except instead of a gentleman thief he was a sadistic murderer and Grade-A pure evil bastard. There’s nothing supernatural about Fantomas. He’s just a regular human who’s really good at murder, framing innocent people for said murder, and getting away with it. Apparently, thanks to the 1960′s film trilogy, he’s usually remembered in French pop culture wearing a blue mask that covers his entire head.

You can see how that guy would inspire a Nosferatu character. Also Destro from G.I. Joe.

But as just explained, in this setting it’s the other way around. And despite being portrayed as what the French call “a homicidal piece of shit”, the “real-life” Phantomas is a big fan of the stories.

The subject of these various novels, reports, and studies found them all vastly amusing. He had enjoyed the Fantomas novels immensely and had even sent the author several anonymous letters suggesting future ideas for plots. To his intense disappointment, none of his ideas had ever been used. Once or twice he had mentally debated visiting the novelist to plead his case. But Phantomas suspected his physical appearance might do his cause more harm than good.

That... is goddamn fucking adorable. He’s just been introduced and I already hope he survives the trilogy and discovers online fanfiction.

The vampire readily acknowledged his ugliness. Standing exactly five feet tall, with skin wrinkled as a prune, eyes like raisins, and a nose the size and shape of a sweet potato, he had caused more than one drunken Parisian to swear off red wine forever. A gaping mouthful of yellow teeth and bulging red eyes propelled his face out of the realm of the bizarre into the domain of the grotesque.

Eh. Someone in this fandom would still bang him.

Wait, eyes that were both “like raisins” and “bulging”? How does that work?

Phantomas is the Nosferatu on the cover of the second book of this trilogy, if you want a visual reference.

See, he’s even still got some hair. He’s not that bad looking.

Phantomas might enjoy the fiction he inspired about a murderer, but he’s not happy about being blamed for real murders of innocent people, regarding it as “cheap slander”. The centuries of recorded disappearances were the results of more natural and obvious crimes.

While he occasionally satisfied his thirst on some poor unfortunate, Phantomas rarely killed innocents if it could be avoided. A quiet, gentle soul, all he wanted was to be left alone in his underground lair, pursuing his research.

Over the years a host of villains had used his presence on the Île de la Cité as an alibi for their murders. Their victims ended, not in his hideaway, but dumped in the Seine. Most had escaped the guillotine. However, Phantomas was less forgiving. And his justice was as sharp and final as any blade.

So other than a few accidents, the only people Phantomas “disappeared” were the criminals responsible for the rest of them.

Phantomas isn’t thinking about that dark business right now. He’s feeling great because he’s on his way to a party. The Prince of Paris, one Francois Villon, holds court once a month, and today’s such a day. Villon’s both a Toreador elder and French, so obviously he holds court in the Louvre.

Dozens of Kindred, along with several hundred of the Prince’s favorite ghouls and kine, attended the festivities. This evening the Prince entertained an important Tremere wizard visiting from Vienna. Phantomas loved such events. Though never invited, he never missed one.

There goes my heart, breaking for poor old Phantomas again...

But this time the snub isn’t a case of a Toreador being a snob to a Nosferatu. Villon just doesn’t know Phantomas exists.

The Prince was under the mistaken impression that he was the oldest, most powerful vampire in the City of Lights. He was neither. Phantomas had come to the Île de la Cité with the invading legions of Julius Caesar in 53 B.C.

I should apologize to the French again. Turns out Phantomas isn’t one of you guys. He’s a nice Italian man.

From here we’re launched into Phantomas’ pre-Phantomas backstory. In life he was Varro Dominus (Strong Ruler or Master), a young noble and soldier who worked under Caesar himself, and was in charge of recording his military campaigns. Ceasar’s legions arrived in the Île de la Cité, then called Lutetia, using it as a stepping stone across the Seine. Unfortunately for Varro, living among the easily conquered native tribesmen, pretending to be a forest god, was a fifth-generation Nosferatu named Urgahalt. The invading legions fascinated Urgahalt, what with their military strength, impressive latin names, and neat centurion helmets, and he Embraced Varro so he could introduce him into Roman society.

There’s an obvious flaw in this plan, since it’s difficult for a guy to introduce you to his culture when you’ve just made him an outcast from that culture, turning him into a shriveled prune monster with a sweet potato nose. And Varro knew it too. The Romans, or at least Varro, knew more about Kindred (or lemures, as they called vampires) than Urgahalt realized, including how to kill them. Pissed that bumping into this guy cost him his life and career, Varro staked him in the heart and turned him into a bonfire.

Convincing the legions to take him back would be a hard sell now, so Varro stayed behind on the island, pretty much never leaving during the millennia as modern Paris rose up around the guy.

He was as much a part of the city as the Eiffel Tower.

Which undersells Phantomas quite a bit since the Eiffel Tower’s only been around since 1889, but you get the point.

Turning into an ugly son of a bitch also turned Phantomas into the ultimate introvert, aside from those parties he likes attending. He stays hidden from everyone, including other vampires. Even other Nosferatu.

More than two hundred Kindred inhabited Paris and its suburbs. The Toreador Clan held control of the central city, but several other bloodlines roamed the streets, including rebel bands of Brujah, Gangrel, and Malkavians. Rumors spoke of a Sabbat pack anxious to spread dissension and revolt, with headquarters in the slums. At least a half-dozen Nosferatu lived in lairs beneath major museums and churches [sic] Yet even among the Kindred Phantomas was a legend, an unseen presence with no basis in reality. He was a phantom to the living and the undead.

Good call. If Parisians are like how the opening paragraphs describe them, I wouldn’t want to talk to them either.

In order to stay hidden, Phantomas lives in a huge underground lair hundreds of feet under Notre Dame, connected by a network of tunnels that stretched across Paris. He’s also a master of Obfuscate, the discipline that allows vampires, especially Nosferatu, to go around unnoticed, commonly by turning invisible. Right now, in order to get into the party, Phantomas is using the Mask of a Thousand Faces, the third-tier Obfuscate power that disguises a vampire as a random nobody human or an unimportant vampire, depending on whose looking at him. Looks like it also lets you pretend to hold an invitation and get away with it.

Shortly after midnight, he strolled past the two Assamites guarding the glass pyramid that served as entrance to the Louvre. They nodded without interest as he displayed an imaginary invitation and walked into the main hall.

That pyramid pissed a lot of older Parisians off when it was first built. Yeah, they complain about everything, but since the artsy-fartsy Toreador control the city, you’d think they would’ve prevented its construction. Unless the pyramid’s a Toreador idea, in which case no wonder everyone hated it.

(Parisians are over hating the pyramid these days, so don’t mention it unless you want them to think you’re in their city for one of those Da Vinci Code tours.)

Phantomas muttered a word of thanks to his Roman gods that Villon considered electronic monitoring devices provincial. His psychic camouflage worked flawlessly with humans and vampires. It was useless against cameras or television monitors.

The Louvre doesn’t have any security cameras? None at all?

In Phantomas’ opinion, the Prince was a pompous dandy who wouldn’t recognize true art if it hit him in the face.

Looks like Phantomas agrees with me about Toreador tastes in art.

Master of the Louvre, the finest art collection in history, Villon ignored the treasures of the past for the ephemeral pleasures of the moment.

Alright, In Villon’s defense, I think grandpa here might have some bias.

His mercurial tastes dominated the Parisian fashion scene. He surrounded himself with the most beautiful models in Paris, blood dolls who sipped on blood and dreamed of immortality. Like too many of the Kindred, Villon had never come to terms with his undeath.

I like Phantomas and all, but it’s not Villon sneaking into one of his parties, so what right does he have being judgmental?

But I think I get what Phantomas is thinking. Villon owns one of the most famous historical art museums in the world, but he only cares about celebrity shit and making beautiful but angry-looking women wear weird shit nobody else will actually wear.

The party was being held in the glass-roofed Cour Marley, but Phantomas was in no hurry to go there. Though he had visited the Louvre many times, he never skipped the opportunity to visit the galleries housing the Greek, Roman, and Egyptian antiquities. The museum housed perhaps the finest such collection in the world and, though Phantomas had the face and body of a monster, he possessed the soul of a poet.

This is the real reason he loves these parties so much, isn’t it. Grandpa just wants an excuse to visit the museum for like the billionth time.

Ten minutes he spent staring at the Venus de Milo.

Art appreciation, or the closest he gets to seeing boobs?

He walks around admiring other things, like “Winged Victory of Samothrace”, “Winged Bull”, and the statue of Queen Nefertiti.

The bust of Agrippa drew him to the Roman section. The famous general, the hero of Actium, had served Octavius, the grandnephew of his mentor, Julius Caesar. Staring at the statue made him feel old. Two thousand years separated him from his heritage.

I feel the same way whenever I meet someone born after Spongebob Squarepants first aired.

If not for a chance encounter in Gaul, his children might have fought against Mark Anthony. Or served in the Senate with Cicero.

Not if you stared at potential mothers the way you stared at the Venus de Milo and Agrippa’s bust.

He finishes his tour and finally heads to the party. If you’ve been paying attention to the plot, you know what’s about to happen.

As he drew closer to the courtyard, he frowned. There was no music. Villon’s parties always featured a loud rock band playing the latest hits. Tonight, the corridors were strangely silent.

Nirvana was supposed to play “About a Girl” but Villon kicked them out when Cobain let his turtles wander around and shit everywhere.

A tall, young man slender [sic], with blond hair and bright blue eyes, stood in front of the door leading to the Cour Marley. Dressed in a white suit with an open-necked white shirt, he nodded in greeting as Phantomas approached. It was almost as if he had been waiting for [sic] there for him.

Weinberg’s editor must’ve quit before getting to this chapter, after reading the part about Flavia’s rock hard leather-penetrating nipples. Also, ‘sup Reuben? What’ve you been doing the past two years?

Reuben doesn’t introduce himself. He just warns Phantomas not to go in. Phantomas is shocked that a human is talking to him at all. Mask of a Thousand Faces is supposed to disguise him as someone so boring not even Kindred are interested starting a conversation with him

“The Final Death waits inside,” continued the stranger, evidently not troubled by Phantomas’ concerns. “If you enter, you may never leave.”

“I am no coward,” stated the vampire simply. “After twenty centuries, I fear very little.”

Let’s see if that lasts longer than a page.

The young man smiled. “I suspected you would say that.” He stepped to the side. “Beware the Red Death, Phantomas.”

“Who are you?” asked Phantomas, startled. “How do you know my name?”

But the stranger had vanished. It was as if he had never been there.

Good old Reuben, scaring an old man, the trolling bastard.

Successfully freaked out, Phantomas opens the courtyard doors. To no one’s surprise, everyone’s dead. Even the regular non-ghoul humans.

The smell of charred and blackened human flesh assaulted his nostrils. A horrified glance around the courtyard revealed a dozen bodies of Villon’s favorites, their beautiful features burned beyond recognition. The fashion runways of Paris would be missing a number of familiar faces tomorrow. Mixed among the dead were the remains of twice as many ghouls. Nowhere was there life.

How he’s able to tell the models and ghouls apart, I don’t know.

Villon was gone. As were all other Kindred. However, dark shadows on the ground indicated to Phantomas that more than one had departed the Louvre permanently.

Can the French art and fashion worlds finally recover from the dark and untalented reign of the Toreador?

As if in answer to Phantomas’ unasked question, a gruesome figure stepped from behind the Marly Horses. Tall and lean, he wore a rotted shroud of funeral cloth held together by strips of moldering bandage [sic]. His face was

-that of a long-dead corpse, chalk-white skin, blah blah blah it’s the Red Death.

Slowly, the monster smiled.

“The meddling record keeper,” said the Red Death. He stretched out a skeletal arm. Phantomas could feel the heat thirty feet away. “Your termination will be a fitting conclusion to the celebration.”

Confronted by this horrifying fire monster who just massacred an entire party of vampires, ghouls, and humans, what does the famous Phantomas do? Something that both proves him a hypocrite and the smartest person in this goddamn book.

He hauls ass out of there.

Hundreds of years hiding beneath the streets of Paris had taught Phantomas an important lesson. When threatened, flee. Immediately. Don’t search for alternative solutions, don’t negotiate, don’t look back. Run as fast as possible until you reach safety. It was a basic survival technique that worked in the past. It served him tonight.

Phantomas ran. He burst through the doors of the Cour Marley, raced down the halls leading to the glass pyramid, and sprinted out into the night air without turning his head once to see if he was followed. Short and misshapen, he ran astonishingly fast.

Phantomas doesn’t stop running until he’s safely hundreds of feet underground in one of his tunnels. He escaped the Red Death.

He had escaped for the moment. But Phantomas felt certain he had not seen the last of the monster.

It had named him the record keeper. Somehow it knew of his great project. And the Red Death obviously disapproved.

We’ll find out more about Phantomas’ hobby the next time we catch up with him. For now, Chapter 6 ends on that mystery.

[unavenged-robin]

Badly injured Dick or nightwing with Jason getting all mushy snd emotional thinking Dick's actually dying this time (because fake deaths don't count in Jason's book). Pretty please if that's okay.

Sorry this took so long but I loved the prompt the minute I saw it! :)

Read on AO3

It’s almost morning when he walks into the cave expecting a good, big, fat fight. Screams and accusations thrown at him with deadly intentions, and then fists and kicks and bo staffs and daggers to finish the job. He’s ready to take it too, honestly. Well, not the daggers maybe. But insults and a couple of fists? Yeah, he’ll give the kids that. He knows he deserves it.

But the cave is quieter than ever, only a distant beeping of machines and the lazy flapping of wings from a couple of insomniac bats to fill the silence, and as Jason carefully ventures towards the med bay it becomes pretty evident that there are no little birds hidden in the shadows trying to kill him. How weird.

The only thing that hits him the moment he sets a foot in the infirmary, is the strong smell of blood. It’s not a strange occurrence, and it’s definitely not an unfamiliar one, but his stomach turns anyway.

He finds Dick exactly where he expected him to be, strapped to the gurney in the middle of the room, wrapped in bloodstained bandages quite literally from head to toes. Five bullets, Tim said. One grazed him just above the right ear, one in the shoulder, two - the worst ones - in his chest, and one in his left leg. A big, blue, Nightwing-shaped bull’s eye, that’s what his brother looks like. And it’s Jason fault.

“Hey”, a tired voice says, and Jason shifts his gaze to look at Tim, currently sitting crossed-legged on the floor of the room at the feet of Dick’s bed, hands tinkering with a device Jason doesn’t recognize. He takes in the dark circles under his eyes, the messy hair, the rigid posture, and his brain immediately conjures a red neon sign flashing the words not good into his mind.

“So?”, he asks anyway.

Tim bites his bottom lip and shrugs before he answers.

“We did all we could, we just have to wait for Leslie.”

His voice is flat and just above a whisper, no detectable emotion behind it. Jason knows better. He knows pain, and he knows worries, and he knows his family. But pain and worry are one thing, and anger and betrayal are another and those emotions they usually do not hide.

“Look, Tim…”, he starts, clearing his throat, but his brother immediately shushes him with one hand, gesturing towards the bed Dick’s resting in with the other.

Confused, Jason turns around, and that’s when he notices Damian curled up into the chair next to Dick’s gurney, Tim’s cape wrapped around him. Asleep.

Well, at least that explains the silence and the lack of violence, Jason reasons. Damian is in no better shape than Tim, looking tense and angry even in his sleep, and granted, being Damian, this could be just the normal way the kid naps, but Jason has his doubts about it.

As already stated, he knows his family, he knows which people are important to them. And Dick’s been at war with Bruce for the first place in every Robins’ heart for a long time now. Winning, for the most part.

He wants to say I know it’s my fault your brother’s dying, and I’m sorry, and so much more. Instead he keeps his eyes on the sleeping boy and softly asks: “Shouldn’t he be in bed? I don’t remember that chair being particularly comfortable.”

Tim raises an eyebrow at him but has the good grace not to call him on his bullshit. He’s a good person like that.

“I need to be at WE in a couple of hours”, he explains in the same low voice. “And we don’t know when Bruce and Alfred are going to be back.”

And, of course, neither of them want to leave Dick alone. Jason sighs.

“I’ll stay.”

Tim tilts his head and looks at him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You two catch a couple of hour of sleep.”

Tim wants to say something. Jason can see it in the way he bites the inside of his mouth, can feel him considering the pro and the con of the argument that will positively arise if he decides to make a comment on it.

“Just make Dick proud and get the kid to bed, Red”, Jason says, offering an easy way out for both of them.

“I can stay with you”, Tim offers back. “I don’t think I’ll sleep anyway.”

He could stay and they could talk and Tim could prove to Jason that he’s not angry, that he doesn’t blame him, that he’s welcomed and wanted and unblamed, and Jason really, really doesn’t want to hear any of that right now.

“Then just lay down on your bed and pretend to be dead. It’s a good exercise”, he snaps.

Tim considers him carefully, furrowed brow and attentive eyes. He’s weighing his options again, trying to decide whether it is worth to push or if it’s best to leave it alone. Sometimes he’s so similar to Bruce it irks Jason for no other good reason.

But unlike Bruce, Tim usually makes the good call in this kind of situations, and this time is no exception. So Jason watches him standing up with a sigh and approach the sleeping Robin, and finds himself not really that surprised to see him gently brush the kid’s hair from his forehead before settling his hand on the little shoulder to shake him.

“Damian? C’mon brat, let’s go to bed.”

Damian moans - a very childish, very sleepy and very cute moan - but gives no other indication that he’s awake or that he plans to wake up in the nearest future. Tim sighs and decides to play dirty.

“Damian? If you don’t get up I’ll carry you.”

That does the trick.

In a fast sequence the kid opens his eyes, yawns, stirs and hops off the chair while grumbling all the time. Jason waits for Damian to see him, bracing himself for the kid’s reaction - the first proper reaction of the night, he thinks, because when it comes down to fighting, Damian never disappoints.

But be it the drowsiness from the interrupted sleep, the fatigue of the long night, or the vivid concern for his favorite person’s well-being, the kid barely spares him a glance before focusing his entire attention back to Dick.

Damian moves closer to the edge of the bed, fingers outstretched towards but not quite touching his older brother’s hand, a silent confusion on whether he’s allowed or not to claim it for himself.

And yet, a hand for a hand they say, and Tim’s one is quick to find again its place on Damian’s shoulder. It lingers there for a moment, then moves to the back of the child’s head, rubbing softly the nape of his neck, and the gentleness of the gesture followed by the resounding lack of violent reactions feels like a punch right into Jason’s throat.

Tim says something, Damian answers, Jason puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket and doesn’t listen to it. He knows what it’s about, and he leaves it to Tim to convince the kid to do the smart thing. He’s ready to undergo a fight but he’s not going to provoke one. Not tonight. The voices start soft, then grow in harshness but not in volume. An entire fight made out of whispers, surely a novelty for both his younger brothers. But Tim never withdraws his hand, and Damian never steps away from the comfort it offers, so - again - Jason really knows better.

When they leave, walking side by side, Tim’s hand is back on Damian’s shoulder, and the kid is rubbing his eyes with his own.

Jason’s not used to associate his family with tenderness - or with anything that is not blood and sacrifice and a bittersweet homesickness, to be honest - but he knows he’s at fault there. There are good memories somewhere in his past, warm nights and simpler days. Years worth of brotherly resentment put aside the moment a soft touch was required, a hand always offered easily and unconditionally, no matter the past.

He takes the chair Damian’s just left and forces himself to look at Dick again. After that first and only glance at him, his eyes have been wandering on everyone and everywhere else, grateful to the distraction Tim and Damian provided. Now he has no more excuses.

Dick’s profile in the dim lights comes out more authoritative than Jason would’ve ever thought. All sharp angles and straight lines, no smile and no baby blue eyes to soften his brother’s features.

Not good, yeah. Bad. Bad enough for Bruce and Alfred to leave everything else and go fetch Leslie from the other side of the world. Bad, but hopefully just not the worst kind of bad, although it’s hard not to be fatalists when you start the day knowing that every night can be the last night. When there’ve been so many last nights already.

“I think I broke the kids, Dick”, Jason starts, leaning forward as if he were whispering a secret. “I mean, you broke the kids - or at least you being like this did - but since you are my fault I guess that for the associative property of guilt multiplication they’re my fault too. Three siblings out of four in one night must be some kind of record, don’t you think?”

Dick keeps what he thinks to himself, and Jason sinks back into his chair, nervous fingers tapping against his knees. He is suddenly very self-aware of having hands and not an idea on what to do with them.

“Look, I don’t want to be the moron who gets all monologue-y in front of a hospital bed - this is not even a hospital bed, by the way - but I…”, already am, his mind supplies. Jason shakes his head, looks up at the ceiling, rubbing his face with one hand. He feels stubbles under his fingertips and tries to remember when was the last time he took a shower. He lets his thoughts wander far away from the room for a moment or two, lulled by the soft beep of the machinery around Dick’s bed.

“It was my case”, he finally says, closing his eyes because for some reasons there are words that need to be spoken in darkness. “And I know I asked you to take a look between one thing and another, but for fuck’s sake, when did “take a look” become “get yourself trapped with a bunch of bad guys when you’re not in your costume” in your head? I mean, what the fuck Dick, you were- are supposed to be smart. You were the goddamn Batman.”

Silent consent from Dick. Maybe dismayed ascertainment that life is bullshit sometimes.

“If you die”, Jason whispers, eyes still closed. “It’s going to be my fault. They’re gonna say it isn’t, but we know better, don’t we?”, so you’re not gonna die, are you?, but that he doesn’t ask.

There’s the soft sound of a dipping mattress, and Jason freezes because he knows Dick’s not the source of it. Knows that if he opens his eyes there’s going to be a Robin sitting at the foot of the bed, and is not going to be Damian.

Bullshit. So much bullshit in his life.

“He’s not going to die”, he says, louder this time, and his voice fills the room with anger and fear. “He’s not going to die, so back the fuck off, kid.”

Just like Dick, Robin keeps his opinions on the matter to himself.

Blindly, almost unconsciously, Jason reaches out for Dick’s hand, the one Damian was too scared to take before. He holds it fiercely in his own, and the warmth reassures him more than a thousand words could have, but not as much as the eight that follow his outburst.

“Jay?”, Dick asks groggily, sounding like he’s not sure about what direction the real world is. “Who the hell are you talking with?”