#i need to watch it over and over until i figure out how it bypassed my snob tendencies so effectively
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hey-scully-itsme · 9 days ago
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still thinking about the count of monte cristo movie. some of it felt half-baked on a technical level (score choices, some weird edits, etc) BUT also it hasn't left my head since i watched it and i WILL be seeing it again on wednesday. enraptured by the count's sad brown eyes and long eyelashes. and his dumbass leather coat.
it's a situation where i wish the movie had more of the book but i also wish the book had a little more of the movie in it.
#i think the problem with any modern adaptation of the book is that you can't keep the original ending because uh. gross. unfortunately.#but also how the hell do you replace that#and then how do you replace it while also streamlining enough that it's not a 12-hour epic a la lord of the rings#(which is what it deserves! in my opinion! not a miniseries. a trilogy like lord of the rings)#i also want to say that the movie gets distracted by its younger characters when the real interesting person there is the count. but uh.#so does the book#however the book had more to say with its younger characters – the movie does not#i think the best temporary solution is to always double feature count of monte cristo with The Diving Bell and the Butterfly#i think that's the perfect fix for sure. no noirtier? watch a movie that references him several times! that's the solution!#sorry im just a sap who loves maxemillian and valentine#also like. the movie didn't completely lose the 'filial piety' thing but it didn't have enough of it tragically#it's very muddied and thus looses a lot of the central points of the book#if you lose the 'filial piety' thing you also lose most of the very christian take on why what the count is doing is bad#we're god's children so we have to trust him and wait and hope (i think? i frankly hadn't considered it much until now)#all that to say i'd normally strongly condemn it as an adaptation#but i adored it anyway. literally i had so much fun#i need to watch it over and over until i figure out how it bypassed my snob tendencies so effectively#maybe it was including both of the best scenes with the count and mercedes?#PLUS the bit where he beats the shit out of some guys with his walking stick that was hot#idk this needs further research#chatterbox tag
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some-bunniii · 1 year ago
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My Charming Red Savior [1]
・❥ You’re harassed by a man following you down the street. Luckily, a rather smiley demon swoops in and claims to be your husband.
| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |
x: no use of y/n. i said this was going to be short and I lied, it’s about 6k words.
warnings: mild swearing
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Warning! Battery at 1%! Device will power down in 3..
You stared down at the phone in your hands as the message lit up on the screen. Eyes widening, you quickly tapped the screen, trying to bypass the pop-up and get another glimpse at the digital map you were using. 
2…
“Hold on now! Just let me see where I'm going, please!” You begged the small device, your grip tightening around it as you tried to figure out what direction you needed to go. 
1..
You peered around the small pop-up. Okay.. Pete Ave was that way, which meant you needed to take a right after the stoplight and go-
Device powering down! Have a nice day :) 
“Damnit!” You growled as the screen flashed once, and then faded to black. You squeezed your eyes shut, face lifted to the sky as you took a deep breath to center yourself.
“Move it, won’t ya?” A demon woman chastised as she hurried around you. Lowering your head, you realized you were standing in the middle of the sidewalk, your spot interrupting the flow of pedestrian traffic. Quickly, you backpedaled until your back hit a brick wall of a building. 
It was getting late in Pentagram City, and that meant you needed to hurry to get to your friend's place before the worst inhabitants of Hell came crawling out. 
She had just gotten married and moved into a rather quaint little home, and you were very happy for her. You had not seen it yet, just in pictures she had shown you on her phone and the one time you drove past it.
“Oh, pleaseeee won’t you come over tonight? I can’t wait to show you all the renovations we’ve done! It looks so much better since we bought it.” She had begged over the phone that afternoon. 
You had stood there, your nails clicking against the countertop in your kitchen as you thought. You had nothing important going on, just some light cleaning and shopping. What was the harm in going over there and visiting? 
“Okay, sure. Yeah, I can come over.” You finally spoke.
“Ahh! I’m so excited, we’ll have a big dinner and everything. I can even rent a movie for us to watch, what are you into again? Those sappy romance flicks?”
“Whatever you want to watch, it’s your milestone we’re celebrating. I’m not the one picking.” 
“Geez, you know how hard it is for me to decide things like that! But, i’ll do it. Oh! Before I forget, could you stop by the store on your way and get some Cajun seasoning? It’s for the meal!” 
“Of course. I’ll see you soon.” You had told her, before hanging up. Eyes moving to the clock, you realized you two hours before needing to arrive. Which meant you had to get moving on those dishes and errands. 
It didn’t take long before you were out the door. Wearing a nice outfit and new shoes, you strolled down the street. The digital map on your phone guiding you across the city as you moved.
Being so close to the city center, you didn’t have a personal vehicle. Instead, you took public transport all the way past the Entertainment District, your eyes gazing up at the rather tall VoxTek building as the bus sped by. 
You didn’t know much about the Vees, other than they were very powerful Overlords with a lot of influence in the media industry. In fact, you didn’t know much about Overlords at all. Were they nasty demons? They must be, if they bartered in souls.
But there had to be better ones, right? You knew of the cannibal, Rosie, and despite her, well.. dietary choices, she seemed to be a rather motherly and courteous demon. In such a way that the residents of Cannibal Town held very high regards for her, which proved her ability to lead in a just manner. She couldn’t be the only one with a more ethical moral code.
Your mind lingered on that train of thought, before you were pulled back into reality by the bus driver’s call for your stop. Quickly, you had hurried out of the vehicle, before continuing your directed path forward.
You arrived at the large storefront, a cozy cottage-like building that whispered of deliciousness as the scents of spices and other meal-making goods wafted through the open door. 
Taking a step inside, you quickly darted through the aisles, searching for the Cajun seasoning. What was your friend making tonight? You weren’t too familiar with these kinds of ingredients. Hopefully, it was going to be tasty.
When you found it, you turned it in your hands, inspecting the product. Yep, you’ve never seen this before in your life. 
After paying for the item, you quickly departed. Your next destination set on your phone.. but not for long.
Just a few more blocks, and you’d have been welcomed by the two love-birds with open arms. A nice, hot meal and a good movie to finish the night. 
Except, how were you supposed to get there now?!
Your phone was useless, and the digital displays around you showed nothing but advertisements and the latest news. 
Frantically, you looked around for any familiar landmarks, hoping to rely on your memory to guide you. But the streets of Pentagram City, with their twisting alleys and repetitive buildings, all looked eerily similar in the dimming red light of dusk.
Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you tried to recall the route from memory. Pete Avenue, right after the stoplight, then… was it a left or a right at the next intersection? You berated yourself for not doing a better job at memorizing the way before you left.
Turning, you raised a fist at the VoxTek HQ building, cursing them for your suffering. Stupid technology and their shitty battery life.
Slowly, you started walking again. Past the neon signs beckoning you to take a glance at what they had to offer, past the girls on the corner who were calling out to you to come have a ‘good time’.
Sometimes, you wished you had someone else to lend a hand at times like these. But, your heart and your home were unimaginably lonely when it came to a romantic partner. It was something that others around you couldn’t stop pestering you about.
“You really need to get out more,” another friend of yours had said one day, while you two dined at a cafe, “there’s this new dating app, called ‘Ozzie’s Love Link’. Everybody is buzzing about it. You should totally give it a whirl!” 
You had rolled your eyes at her suggestion, a dating app? Those things were practically a fraud. The demons on there either wanted sex, or their idea of a relationship was twisted and foul. You even had heard stories of people playing into sick traps of the perfect first meet, only to be murdered and left in an alley to rot.
“I want something real, not some.. temporary escape. Have you ever met anyone that’s actually found ‘The One’ through one of those things? And, who knows, maybe the demon of my dreams will just walk right into me one day.” 
She had laughed at your words, holding a hand to her mouth to contain her giggles.
“Oh, you. You’re still hanging on to those silly stories of a Prince Charming, hm? C’mon now, this is the real world. Nobody is going to swoop in and save you, and then fall hopelessly in love with you. That's a fairy tale. You need to put in the effort.”
You shrugged. Maybe, she was right. Maybe, those stories you had digested were just fairy tales, meant to enrapture you with promises of the perfect life. You were in Hell, after all.
‘She just doesn’t understand,’ you reminded yourself, ‘all her relationships have been toxic. She doesn’t know any better.’
You weren’t going to let her judgments get to you, you could live your life however you wanted, with whatever dreams you chose.
As you walked down the bustling streets, you couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. It was as if unseen eyes followed your every move, sending shivers down your spine. 
‘Stop freaking out,’ you told yourself, ‘it’s just your imagination, there’s people all around you. They have their own lives, they’re not watching you.’
Nearing the curb to an intersection, you glanced up at the street sign. Pete Avenue, finally. Now, think. Left? 
Looking left, you peer down the rows of strip clubs and bars. The crowds only got bigger from there, and there seemed to be no residential streets. You turned your head to the right, and it began to branch out into more domesticated buildings and neighborhoods. The farther your gaze traveled, the quieter the sidewalks became.
So, right it is. 
You turned the corner of the block and kept moving, your pace quickening as you checked a large digital clock on the side of a building. It was getting closer to the time you had promised to be there.
But, now where were you supposed to go? You turned your head, until your gaze landed on a small imp standing near an alley, a cigarette between his lips. 
Walking forward, you raised your hand up in greeting. “Excuse me, do you know where Magdalene Drive is, by any chance? I’ve just gotten a little turned around and would greatly appreciate some guidance.” 
The imp regarded you for a moment, his eyes squinted in thought. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, and exhaled a large breath. A plume of gray smoke vented from his lips, and he coughed harshly.
“Yeah, I do. You see that big statue over there?” He pointed to your left, the cigarette hanging between his fingers.
Turning your head, you leaned slightly backwards. Off in the distance, a large marble statue depicting an unknown owl demon practically glowed against the darker backdrop. It seemed to hold resemblance to an Ars Goetia family member, but you couldn’t put a finger on who. 
“Right when you pass it, take a left. Go two blocks straight, then take another left. One more block, and another right, and you’re on Magdalene Drive.” 
Jeez, that was a lot of directions thrown at you in one sitting. Not wanting to pester the man any further, you waved a thanks and walked away.
How far have you come, exactly? You turned your head behind you, looking down the sidewalk of where you had just come from. Something flickered in your peripheral vision, a dark figure skirting from your gaze. Was someone watching you? 
You shook your head. No, it’s just your imagination. Keep moving.
Slowly, you turned back and started walking. The sidewalks were practically empty now, the glow from the street lamps above you illuminating your path as you strolled up the large statue. 
Twisting your head to get a better look at it, your gaze skimmed across the royal figure. The owl-demon was staring up at the sky, one arm raised with what seemed to be a ball of energy in his grasp. Swirls of gold marble laced the pearly white sphere. He was holding up, like it was an offering to Heaven. 
Maybe, you’d come back later and take a look at the plaque below the statue. There had to be some significance, although you didn’t see yourself as a master of the fine-arts to te-
Crunch
What was that? That sounded like someone crushing a twig beneath their feet. You twisted to face behind you, and saw nothing once more. 
‘Alright, this is getting a little freaky.’
You weren’t going to stop now though, you didn’t want any potential onlookers seeing you stalking the perimeter like a weirdo simply because your paranoia was having you hallucinate things.
Keeping your pace, you took a sharp left on the corner and continued down. How many blocks did that guy say? Two, if you could recall correctly.
That’s how many blocks you traveled, before stopping in your tracks. Which way did he say to go? Right? Left? 
You rubbed your face with a hand, why did you suck so badly with directions?! If only you had charged your phone before you left, you wouldn’t be in this predicament. 
Turning your head, you tried to figure out which way could be the correct one. There was nothing, though. It didn’t remind you of anything you’d seen when you had driven past her house. 
“Hey, you lost?” A gravelly voice came from behind you. Eyes widened, you spun on your heel to face the stranger. He was tall, much taller than you. He sported scars running across his face, one eye half-lidded permanently from some kind of nasty wound. 
He sported a dark leather jacket, with a thin sweater underneath. His hoodie was up, masking most of his features like a shadow. His skin was a dark red, and his eyes were a pale yellow. He seemed to be a Succubus demon, being too large for an imp.
There was no kindness in his tone or in his smile. Your brain screamed danger, you needed to get away from him. Quickly, you shook your head, trying to give him a well-meaning smile. 
“No, i’m not! I’m just uhh- waiting for someone, they’ll be here soon anyway.” 
“People that aren’t lost usually don’t ask strangers on the street for directions,” he chuckled darkly, “why don’t you tell me where you’re trying to go? I can give you a lift.” 
As he closed in, you could smell the bitter taste of alcohol on his breath. You had to steel yourself not to recoil at his looming figure. Widening your smile, you attempted to not display any fear as he got closer.
“No, thank you. I would hate to bother you, my.. partner should be here soon, so you can continue on with your day!” 
“Don’t you know this place ain’t safe for sweet dolls like you to be roaming alone? C’mon, let me take you to where i’m parked, i’m sure you’ll enjoy my company.”
You quickly stepped backwards, trying to widen the distance from this creep. It wasn’t until your back hit the wall of an abandoned storefront, did you realize you were trapped. 
“I said no. I’m not some damsel in distress. Now, if you can excuse me, I need to keep going before it gets too late.” 
You turned away from him, trying to break any kind of contact with the demon. Maybe if you kept your cool, he’d abandon his little mission.
That was until you felt his hand snake around your wrist, his grip tightening and pulling you to face him. In your state of shock, you dropped the bag containing the Cajun seasoning. You tried to tug your wrist free, but his yellow nails were practically digging into your skin, preventing your escape.
“What’s the rush, Doll? Scared i’m gonna bite or something? Don’t worry, I ain’t gonna harm you. I just want to show you a good time.”
Your eyes narrowed, gaze heated at the stranger. You frowned, glimpsing at his hand on your wrist in disgust.
“What are you doing? I don’t want anything to do with you, now let go of m-!” 
“There you are, my dear!” A masculine voice exclaimed next to you. You felt the creep’s grip on your wrist loosen suddenly. His hand yanked away by another, and your gaze traced the light touch of unknown dark-red fingers gently taking your hand instead.
You snapped your head to the unfamiliar voice, taking in the sight of a second demon standing right besides you, a large grin on his face. He was tall, and he stood a little bit higher than the creep in front of you. His hair was styled in a cropped, angled bob, with an odd pinkish-red shade. Two small antlers protruded from the top of his head, and were those.. ears next to them too?
He was dressed rather formally, with a red pin-stripe coat adorned with a large black bow-tie. Over his right eye, you took note of the small oval-shaped monocle. He held a cane, with an odd looking end. The small oval in the center of it reminded you of an eye. He looked very dapper, like he was from a much older era. 
His gaze was soft, as he looked at you. It wasn’t until his eyes snapped to the stranger in front did they take on a cold, dark glare. That smile never faltered, though. 
Who was this guy? Why was he touching you? You felt the need to tear your hand from his grip as well.
Except, when he turned back to you, his eyes sent you a hidden message. Something like, ‘Go along with it, if you want to get rid of him.’
Seeing as you were stuck between two strange demons, with no idea what this new guy had in store for you, maybe it was a good idea to follow his silent command. Your hand went limp in his grip, and the deer demon raised it to his chest, patting it lovingly.
“Goodness, I leave for ten minutes to go pick up your favorite herbal tea and poof, gone! You are a slippery one, my sweet.” Static dripped from his voice, seemingly connected to the cane at his side. Was it some kind of microphone?
“Who are you?” The stalker questioned, backing up a step as he regarded the new face.
The red demon laughed, an audible ‘ha ha’, as if the creep just told a rather good joke. He extended his free hand in greeting, and the succubus only eyed the gesture with suspicion.
“The name is Alastor! Pleasure to be meeting you, sir, quite a pleasure. It’s rare for people these days to not recognize my face, although i’m sure it’ll become familiar soon enough.” 
That ‘soon enough’ sounded quite ominous to you. And, was he some kind of celebrity or something? You didn’t remember him from anywhere. 
“Well, do you mind? Me and the lady were in the middle of a conversation.” The succubus retorted, a slight growl in his tone. 
“The better question is, do you mind, my good sir! Here I am, searching for my dear wife, only to see you bothering her on the corner!” 
Wait a second, did this guy just call you his wife? You stood there, shocked, as you listened to the two bicker. Never would you think you’d hear that uttered from a man. 
“Not only that, but touching her without her consent? My word, what degenerate behavior!” The demon, Alastor, continued. He shook his head in disapproval, an audible tsk-tsk coming from his lips.
“There was no harm in it, we were only having some fun. Ain’t that right, Doll?” The stalker turned to you, fire in his gaze as if daring you to speak.
You shook your head, your gaze snapping to Alastor. He watched you for a moment, before turning his attention back to the succubus.
“It seems your mother neglected to instill in you even a modicum of respect. If my wife weren’t here to witness, I'd be more than obligated to educate you on proper decorum.”
Something flickered in the creep’s eyes, and for a moment he looked almost afraid. After a moment, He sneered, eyeing you up and down. "I don't see a ring on her finger."
Alastor smirked, and gently lifted your hand forward for the demon to get a look at. His grin was that of triumph, as though he was showcasing a prized possession. 
Your eyes widened at the sight, a gasp almost escaping your lips. On your finger, was a small gold ring. It was snuggled nicely around your digit, a perfect fit. 
The Succubus leaned in, and so did you. Where the hell did that come from? That was not there a few minutes ago! 
On closer inspection, you noticed something about the small band. Engraved in a tiny rose-gold font, was a single letter.
A.
"There, now do you see?" Alastor's grin widened, his demeanor playful yet menacing. His eyes narrowed, as he waited for the demon's response. You felt the air crackle with some kind of energy, it was dark and cold. The hair on the back of your neck began to stand on its end, like static. Which one of the demons was doing that?
The stalker’s expression shifted from arrogance to confusion, then to frustration. He furrowed his brow, studying the ring intently as if searching for some kind of flaw.
Was he going to try and argue? The proof was there, albeit fabricated. Alastor dropped your hand, and instead snaked his arm around yours, locking you in place. 
There was no argument didn’t, instead, the succubus took another step back. The demon straightened himself and shrugged, like the scene before him was not a bother, like his filthy plan wasn’t thwarted by the appearance of the powerful deer man. 
“Whatever, I ain’t got time for this anyway. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Lovebirds.”
As the man turned away, Alastor’s grin widened as he nodded his head. “Farewell, and may your endeavors be as futile as your manners!”
He turned to you, that dark look gone from his eyes as he gently tugged at your arm, still laced with his. “Now, my dear, shall we continue on our evening stroll?” 
You nodded slowly, and together, the two of you turned away from the creep and began to walk. You had only made it a few steps before you heard the soft knocking of Alastor’s staff hitting the cement walkway. What was he doing?
Behind you, a strangled cry filled the silence, before a loud thump hit your ears. You jolted at the sound, did something just happen? It sounded like someone got hurt! 
Right as you were about to turn your head to look at where the noises had emanated from, Alastor’s head snapped to you and you felt another gentle tug on your arm to turn your attention back to him.
You looked up at him, a smile forming on your lips as your nerves settled. “Thank you, for saving me, kind sir. I could have been a goner.” 
“It was no trouble at all my dear, and please, call me Alastor. I was simply in the neighborhood and couldn’t just stand by and let that rapscallion manhandle you like that! Now, where are we off to, if I might ask?” 
“Oh, well, Magdalene Drive! It’s a house right at the end of a street, my friend's place actually. She’s expecting me for dinner, that’s why I have this bag of…”
You became suddenly aware of the empty feeling in your hand. Did you forget to pick up the seasoning after you dropped it?! You groaned internally, your head hung in defeat. After all that, you didn’t have the one item you had taken this route to get. 
Alastor raised an eyebrow at your reaction, and you quickly explained, “I needed to get Cajun seasoning for the meal they are making, but I dropped it when that.. man was harassing me! I’m terribly sorry, I have to go back and get it.” 
Alastor only smiled, as usual, and shook his head. He waved his hand in a sweeping motion, brushing off your attempt to turn around.
“Nonsense! We don’t need to bother that poor soul any longer. Here, let me give you one from my personal collection!” 
He lifted his free hand, and snapped his fingers. In a flicker of green light, a small spice jar landed in his palm. Your eyes widened, an amused smile gracing your lips as you watched the little trick. That was pretty cool. Was that the same kind of magic he used to secretly place the ring on your finger? 
“Here you are! The best Cajun seasoning you can find in Pentagram City, my personal favorite. I was going to use it for something special, but it seems you are in need of it more than I.”
He lifted his hand toward you, and you took it gratefully. Lifting it to your nose, you inhaled deeply. It was an odd scent, one you couldn’t quite place, but it smelled quite delicious.
“Not many dishes require such flavoring, what is the meal you are having tonight?”
You shrugged, “I'm not really sure, to be honest. She didn’t say.” 
“Hm, a pity. Have you ever tried Jambalaya? It is a rather magnificent dish, my personal favorite actually! My mother was quite the cook, indeed, and her craft would never miss when producing such delicacies.”
“No, I've never tried it before. What does it taste like?”
“It is hard to put a description on it. It’s almost like.. fireworkings popping off in your mouth! Ha ha, that is a good way to put it. You really must try it sometime.” 
You smiled at Alastor as you listened to his words. Perhaps, you would.
“What got you into this pickle, anyway? Surely you didn’t actually feel like taking a stroll so late in the evening, hm?” He questioned as the two of you continued your pace, “a pretty face like yours will cause quite the stir amongst the filthy rats that like to inhabit this place.”
“Oh, well, I was using my phone for directions. It died on the way here, unfortunately I'm not familiar with this area and couldn’t find my way forward.”
His words finally processed in your brain. Did he just call you pretty? You didn’t get to think about that for much longer as his static-laced voice filled the air once more.
“Ah, of course. This new.. modern technology is nothing short of a fraud, if I do say. What ever happened to the old fashioned paper map? If it were up to me, we wouldn’t be so reliant on such faulty equipment.”
“Is that what your staff is? It looks like a microphone.” You said, pointing to the cane in his other hand.
Alastor glanced down to his cane, and then back to you. “Aha, a clever one indeed! Yes, my dear, I use it for my radio broadcasts!”
You perked at that. Radio? You had one of your own at home. Although it was quite dusty, you did occasionally turn it on to see what latest hits were circling around in the music industry.
“You do radio? That’s actually kind of interesting! Do you have a big audience?”
“Yes, indeed! Back when I was at my highest with it, I had many listeners. Unfortunately, my absence from Pentagram City has led to other forms taking the spotlight. I plan on rectifying that once I've settled in. Perhaps, you could listen in as well to see what I have to offer?”
You nodded at that, perhaps, you would listen in. He had a nice, pleasant voice. It felt like you could sit there for hours and just listen to him speak. Even if the words that came from his mouth was nothing but gibberish, you’d still let his voice drown out your thoughts.
“What about you?” The static dripping from his voice causes you to turn your head, “what do you do for a living?” 
“Oh, well, I work at a men’s formalwear store. So, like tuxedos, dress shirts, and all that jazz. I help assist with fittings and greet guests, basically the doorgirl. Nothing too important.” 
His ears perked slightly as he listened, and he turned his head to you. “Well, isn’t that interesting! Just recently, I had an awfully rude encounter with another demon, who had torn a piece of my suit. That slippery little serpent got away before I could.. question him about his antics.” 
“That’s awful! Who was it?” 
Alastor chuckled, rolling his eyes as he recalled the event. “Oh, nobody of importance, I assure you. Just some pretentious upstart fancying himself as an Overlord, with a knack for building rather ghastly creations of destruction. Since that encounter, I've been in the market for a fresh look. If a place of formal employs such splendid characters like you, I think it would be in my best interest to take a look in your establishment for a new coat”
Your eyes widened, he wanted to buy a new suit at your work because.. you were there? How charming.
Taking another glance at him, you realized he was rather good-looking. His red hair popped out against his much paler skin, it shined against the streetlights above. It looked rather silky and smooth, like you could comb them with your fingers and not find a single knot. 
And those ears? They were pretty cute, actually. They stuck up from his head, and every so often they would twitch or shrivel in the direction of sudden noises. They seemed so soft too, would they feel as good as they looked if you were to squish them between your fingers?
He was a well-mannered gentleman, a pretty rare specimen in Hell. Not only that, but he stepped in to defend you from that creep when he could have simply walked by. He didn’t, and that made your cheeks heat up. Especially with the fact he called you his wife, instead of something simpler like ‘friend’.
What about when he called you pretty? Did he actually mean that? You never regarded yourself as such, but if Alastor thought that, maybe you cou-
“Is this the house?” Alastor’s words pulled you back into reality. You blinked, before looking up at the pale blue cottage snuggled nicely between two large Victorian homes. The talks you were having must have kept you from noticing the large distance.
“Yes! This is the place!” You exclaimed happily, finally, you were here. You turned to him, before looking down at your arm, still laced with his. Slowly, you pulled your arm free. The cold that replaced his touch was unwelcomed. Which felt odd to you, why did you want him touching you still? 
You had only just met him, but perhaps his way of speaking and heroics swooned you enough to miss the warmth of his grasp. Lifting your head to meet his gaze, you tried to see what he was thinking behind that constant smile. 
His eyes were unreadable, but the cold stare he had given the succubus, and to the other onlookers that you had occasionally passed was missing as he looked at you. There seemed to be a smile in his eyes, one that was meaningful and true.
“Well, I'm glad I could assist you in finding your way home, my dear. I quite enjoyed our chat, it is refreshing to hear from a new face once in a while. Especially one as eloquent as yours.”
You had to keep yourself from visibly blushing. He really was a gentleman in all regards. You bowed your head respectfully, before meeting his gaze again.
“The only reason why I'm here is because of you, Alastor. Thank you, and I do hope to run into you in the future. Our conversation was very interesting, I'd love to hear more of it sometime.”
He tilted his head at you, as he regarded your words. “Indeed, perhaps we will. Maybe, the next time we cross paths, I can give you a glimpse into my mothers recipe of Jambalaya. I’m sure your friend would be interested in trying something new the next time you sit down for dinner.”
You smiled at him, before waving goodbye. Turning towards the door you lightly rapped your knuckles against its wooden frame. It was then that you realized you never properly introduce yourself.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I never got to tell you, my name is-”
The words halted in your mouth, as you found the space in front of you empty. Alastor had vanished, not a single trace of his presence remained.
He was gone already? Damn, that guy moved quickly. Maybe, he was just a hallucination, a dream too good to be true. You stood there for a moment, before closing your mouth in thought.
Suddenly, the front door was flung open and a hand reached out and grasped your top. You turned your head just as you were yanked inside. Before you had time to blink, the door was slammed shut behind you. The window near it was shielded by curtains in seconds.
In front of you, your friend stood there. She was breathing heavily, a hand to her heart as if she just witnessed the scariest thing in her life. She quickly held your shoulders, scanning your body for any injuries.
“Oh my gosh! You’re lucky I pulled you in here quickly,” She exhaled a breath to calm her nerves, “You could have been that guy’s next meal!” 
“What are you talking about?” You asked, an eyebrow raised at her strange demeanor.
“Alastor! The Radio Demon! Y’know, the guy that murdered all those overlords years ago?” 
You raised an eyebrow as her words settled in your head. That demon was the Radio Demon? No way! He was such a gentleman, and rather pleasant too! 
“You’re kidding.” 
“I’m not! I don’t know what happened between the two of you, hopefully not a deal, but you need to stay away from him. He’s nothing but a bad omen!” 
You smiled, shaking your head at her antics. She was just being silly, Alastor saved you from potentially being kidnapped. You doubted he’d lay a finger on you in a harmful manner.
“Well, I brought that seasoning. Why don’t we go take a tour of the place, hm?” You said, pulling her away from the doorway and down the hall.
She nodded, her face lighting up instantly. “Yes, a great idea! I can’t wait to show you the kitchen, we replaced practically everything. The flooring is a beautiful marble tile and…“
She trailed off as her gaze shot to your hand, her eyes widening at the sight. Quickly, she grasped it, and pulled it closer to inspect it. You tensed, what was she doing?
“..what is that on your finger? I didn’t know you wore this kind of jewelry!” 
Following her gaze, you turned your hand slightly to see what she was so enthralled about, and your eyebrows raised in surprise at the sight.
Still perfectly snug on your finger, was that gold ring Alastor had magically placed on you. You assumed that it would have dissolved or vanished when he left, but that small A still glimmered in the overhead light.
“I’ll explain it over dinner.” You simply replied, pulling your hand out of her grip and beginning to walk further into the house. 
Your eyes kept landing on the golden band, though. Alastor not far from your mind as you listened to your friend fill you in on all the renovations. It was quite pretty, and it seemed to look great on you. For a moment, a rather odd thought crossed your mind, causing your cheeks to heat as you lamented over it. 
Would it be so bad if you just.. kept it on? 
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
woah, first fic of Alastor! I thought he’d be the perfect guy for this scenario. i wrote the reader as sort of a hopeless romantic bc it’s the complete opposite of al and i thought it was funny
EDIT: Part 2 is coming!!
lmk what you think! :)
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gasmeros · 6 months ago
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Regarding the ask game what’s the S1 solstice to boat au about???
hi foamyyyy! i talked about it a bit in this post
it's basically a winter solstice au where. it's like. im ficjign struggling how do i explain this quickly. fucjing. fuck it, my snippet is half the fic notes, i dont have much of any proper writing to share for this one anyway
content warnings include mindless rambling, zhao, and threats of violence/execution
s1 winter solstice episode au, very much adjacent to that tumblr post (linked) about zuko getting locked up with sokka and katara and them figuring out about Zuko's fucked up family life.
similar but we bypass the actual verbal conversation by having zhao do taunting stuff cuz he be like that. he says stuff like episode 3 about ozai not wanting zuko back, about him failing his 2ish year long search, about how when they drag him back home, there might even be a public execution for his crimes, wouldn't that be nice? nothing but the best for the prince. and maybe zhao will even get to watch. ("he wouldn't." "can you really be certain, my prince? after what he did to your face? and just for mouthing off, too. how would he punish a real crime?")
then zuko showing how desperate he is to not get dragged back to the fire nation by doing some fucked up dangerus type of fighting back. like, wiggling, screaming, biting, full on child in a grocery store who has learned how to glue themselves to the floor type of reaction to being arrested, except this child has fire and no limits. good chance for that idea where zuko superheats a metal gag and bites through it, burning himself in the process. would be neat to have zuko spit a shard of almost molten metal at zhao cuz fuck him. maybe keep the whole scene chained to the pillar instead in some other room like these fics usually go?
so water siblings realize that something is most definitely Up based on zhao's words and Zuko's reactions, and when roku starts to tear the temple apart, they hit a wall where they realize that zuko's been trapped by the lava flow like them, and while they have appa to hop onto, he doesn't have an escape. so cue these kids being Kind and promptly yanking him along cuz the alternative is zuko burning alive
so we get Bison Time, wherein zuko's still not a fan of anything that's happening, but compared to how he was acting with zhao, he's downright pleasant. which is not to say that he's actually pleasant, he is very much being an angry brat who's like one second away from trying to fight them while still on the bison. the siblings have a lot of questions, because what zhao said about banishment and two years searching and public executions was fucking wack and they need to know why he said that, why zuko fought so hard that he thought burning his mouth as bad as he did was an acceptable trade off. they know why, but they need to hear it.
zuko does not let them hear it. he yells and doesn't answer any questions and demands they put him down or else. bits about the mouth burns obviously bothering him, just cuz im me and im predictable
they end up going to drop him off at his ship cuz his crew wont attack without a command, and zuko's not so dumb to make them attack the bison he's on. they end up making him swear to not do anything until after they fly away
potential bit where they fly over to Zuko's ship, still in fire nation waters, and find its got a zhao shadow. so zuko, while not at all wanting to actually say it out loud, does not want to go back to his ship until the shadow leaves or they're out of fire nation waters, cuz he will absolutely be arrested. cue more gaang being concerned about the arresting thing, and zuko basically pulling his own teeth to ask if he can wait on the bison until it's safe.
Eventually theyre able to land on zuko's ship without risk of zuko being arrested. zuko keeps his word and doesn't let anyone attack until after they leave, and THEN. aang is a smartass and takes advantage of that by just. not flying away :) so zuko can't do anything, cuz then he'd break his word!! that's pretty fuckin dishonorable!! zuko would like to murder aang.
(really aang needs a moment to talk with the siblings because if what he gleaned from the conversation is true, he can't in good conscience just leave zuko to his fool's errand for an abusive father. they need more information, and they have to do something, cuz this is not ok. the siblings agree, though with much more caution because that's been forced into them by growing up in a war)
cue s1 gaang and zuko tea party
and so the whole fuckin fic takes place on zuko's ship cuz aang is be a pedantic little snot and zuko's autism sense of honor wont let him break a promise
i have maybe 300 words of actual writing for this, and im not sure how i feel about those words. this is like one of the first fics i tried to write for atla, which, like most of my atla fics, has dug itself a very comfy hole to sleep in. i'd love to get anywhere with it, if only i had the motivation
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misty-moth · 1 year ago
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I finished writing this the day I made this blog, but just uh… let it sit in my docs. But I shall now set it free (๑˘ᵕ˘) ‘tis but a silly little Clavis story, but it made me happy.
Ps: figured out how tags work now, so I’ll be reposting my fics without notes… I have learned this day.
Divider: chachachannah
Clavis fluff, 1317 words
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Bright and early that morning (or as early in the morning as his grumbly older brother would allow), Clavis sat in silence while parsing through the daily paperwork for documents that Chev would need to address versus the ones he himself would be completing. He was nearly finished sorting them when he heard a knock on the door. Knowing full-well who that meek knock belonged to, Clavis opened the door himself.
“Ah, sweet Belle. Your dutiful punctuality is so refreshing, you know that?” Clavis glanced down at the newest pile of paperwork, reaching out his hand.
But Belle returned his smile while firmly brushing past him. “Don’t worry, Clavis, I remembered you saying how busy you are this week. I’ve sorted these out, and they are all meant for Prince Chevelair.”
Clavis watched with slight bewilderment as she brazenly placed the stack on the Brutal Beast’s desk before quietly exiting.
Puzzled, he glanced back at his brother. “Oh dear, it appears our sweet Belle is gunning for my job! I can check those again for—“
“Don’t bother.” Chevelair had already begun the top document of the newest pile after a quick scan.
Clavis blinked before shrugging, plopping back down into his seat.
They returned to their usual silence until Clavis heard a snort. He looked over at Chev who was reading what appeared to be a hand-written letter. Chevalier’s expression was ever-so-subtly humored, and Clavis strained to see that the envelope had been addressed under Belle’s name.
“Aha! I was curious why the little rabbit was acting so coy. Something amusing?” Clavis began to stand before Chev firmly replied.
“You needn't worry about it. Continue your work.”
Clavis’ grin slipped. He was stuck in a strange sitting/standing position, pondering his next move. Chev still held the note, which appeared to only be one page. He must have already finished reading it, right? With a final “hmph” and that same aggravating smirk, he placed it beside his right elbow and continued his paperwork.
Clavis pried his eyes away, activating his peripheral into overdrive as he attempted to study the envelope from across the room. Surely he could somehow read the contents through that paper sheathe with enough mental fortitude.
An agonizing half hour went by with zero luck on the x-ray vision, when suddenly— the envelope! It moved! Clavis nearly jumped as Chev retrieved the letter and unceremoniously placed it in his desk drawer. Clavis watched in horror as Chev retrieved a small key, sealing away the secret treasure.
Chev stood, shifting the rest of the documents into a neat pile before heading toward the exit, key in hand.
“Ah— Chev!” But Clavis’ call went unanswered. The door clicked closed, and he practically launched himself over to his brother’s desk.
Clavis unleashed his most dramatic sigh as he analyzed the small lock placed there. His extracurricular activities gave him all of the talents needed to bypass this lock’s “security”, no issues there. But it meant going all the way back to his room and shuffling through his “hobby bag”, which he had neglected to reorganize properly after his last stunt. He was grateful, at least, that his brother probably wouldn’t return in the next hour...
Clavis set out, gliding quickly through the halls, before entering his own room. He did his best to remain calm and steady, lest he jostle his goody bag and make the jumbled mess even worse. He finally held the properly sized picklock above him triumphantly. Resealing his personal quarters, he did his best to look calm and collected on his way back to the office as there were now a few people roaming the halls. Turning the last corner, he spotted his loyal sidekick Cyran speaking with Chev’s poor lackey Cyril.
“Ah, I love a sweet reunion between friends! What brought on this little meeting?” Clavis joined them, now just outside of the office. Cyran and Cyril opened the door, allowing Clavis to enter first before filing in.
“Cyril was telling me that Prince Chevalier needed him to bring him some of today’s documents.” Cyran stood to the side of the room as Cyril began shuffling through the day’s paperwork, pulling a few pieces out.
But then…no… Clavis flinched as Cyril pulled out the key. He watched the note being lifted before being placed atop the pile. Clavis began to speak, but Cyril promptly apologized while stating that Prince Chevalier had requested his haste. With a small bow, Cyril exited without re-locking the drawer.
It was official: Clavis was shook. He caught his bearings, hand on the door handle in a flash, but Cyran cleared his throat. “Prince Clavis, I was actually here to report on the latest training.”
Clavis grimaced at the door before plastering his smile back on for his knight’s sake. “Please then… report.”
Cyran began at an unbearably slow pace and, noting that this news wasn’t nearly as interesting as the letter that was rapidly escaping him, Clavis was nearly trembling as he restrained himself. Cyran unceremoniously finished reporting, face looking displeased but not surprised.
“Very good, Cyran, you are doing simply splendid work as always. I would hug you for your continued loyalty, but I am running late today.” Clavis waved one hand, the other ripping the door away.
Bursting into the hallway, Clavis glanced both ways. There was not a single Cyril in sight, and he groaned. Come to think of it… where did Chev even go?? He didn’t have anything on his schedule! Clavis had been too preoccupied to remember that babying Chev was a part of his job and he put that schedule together himself!
Not wasting a moment longer, he headed off in the direction with the highest likelihood of holding his brother. He checked every hiding place that he could think of, even conducting a brief scan of the gardens before doubling back to check the other way. As he turned the corner once more, he was stunned into a halt.
“You!” Clavis shot a finger at Chev, who was leaning nonchalantly against the office door.
“Don’t point, it’s rude.” Chevalier glowered as Clavis practically stomped over. Clavis glanced at the pile of paperwork in Chev’s hands, seemingly untouched from their earlier retrieval, including the prized letter on top.
Clavis swiped said letter, and was mildly surprised that he wasn’t met with any response from his frustratingly fast brother. Clavis defensively hopped back whilst whipping the note out from the envelope.
———
Dear Prince Clavis,
Now that you are reading this, I’m curious to know just how much time was spent getting to this point? When you told me you were “simply too busy” to remove god-knows how many traps from the garden yesterday, I was quite concerned that your time-management skills weren't as remarkable as I originally assumed.
However, knowing you, I am certain you managed to allocate plenty of time into retrieving this. I am both appreciative and impressed! In the future, I hope you can put this new found “free time” toward the requested removal of your patented Lelouchian traps and ensuring the safety of your brothers.
Warm regards,
The Garden’s Victims
——
As if to add insult to injury, the letter was marked with the official seals of the princes Yves, Licht, and even Luke.
Mouth agape, Clavis slowly turned his eyes to Chev. “Et tu, Brutal Beast?”
Chev’s smirk returned as he sauntered back into the office. “It seemed the simpleton needed me for a good cause.” The door closed behind him with a click.
Clavis was left by his lonesome, gobsmacked. He took a moment before a roar of giddy laughter erupted from him.
“Hahaha, this is love… love I tell you!” Clavis respected a good show of mischief, and this little lady read him like an open book.
Clavis beamed before taking a final lap down the hallway, this time in search of a lovely, victorious little rabbit.
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khthonyk · 5 months ago
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was convinced to expand this a little (tw:abuse, nsfw, assault)
Caro nervously stared up at the time table. The train had already been delayed fifteen minutes and he was beginning to worry. He only had an hour to get home before Tomas got off work. If he didn’t make it—
Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t help to think about it now. Looking up again, he began debating if it would be quicker to just run (it wouldn’t, but he was beginning to grow desperate). Still, the time of arrival didn’t budge.
Chewing his lip, he fidgeted with a loose string on his coat. He continued trying to brainstorm ways home, but having only his keys and his metrocard with him, he was fucked.
Fuck. He really needed to scrounge up some money for a prepaid phone. At least if he had a second phone he could have a chance of figuring out another way home. He almost wished he had brought his phone. But Tomas tracked every step he took through the damned thing. He watched everything he did, everything he looked at. So Caro would slip away, take the train across the city to visit the library any time he needed to use a computer for something he didn’t want the Alpha to see. He was always so careful to be back before Tomas would come home from work. He didn’t know how he had lost track of the time so badly. That combined with the train being delayed had him mentally calculating how much time he had before he was really, truly, royally fucked.
Tomas had explicitly told him he was not to leave the apartment, but he had to slip away. He had created a second email, one the Alpha didn’t know about. He had been using it to keep in contact with Chrysanthos, since Tomas had begun keeping an eye on the communications between the two omegas.
Caro released a silent sigh of relief as the train finally, fucking finally, pulled up. He would be cutting it close, but if he ran the seventeen blocks to the apartment he would just be able to slip in before the Alpha.
The omega made sure to position himself right by the doors to ensure he was able to get off as quickly as possible. It felt like the ride took ages. But finally the train rolled to a stop at his station. He elbowed his way up the subway stairs, earning himself some dirty looks in the process, but it would be worth it.
Unfortunately, crowds were beginning to form along the sidewalks as people began to leave work and head home for the day. It slowed his progress as he had to dodge oncoming traffic, and running seventeen blocks had sounded much easier in his head than in practice, but the sleek grey building eventually came into sight.
Bypassing the lobby, Caro entered through the carpark, best not to be spotted by the doorman or front desk. 
He got lucky, the elevator rose past the lobby without stopping, taking him straight to his floor.
Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Caro pulled his keys from his pocket and let himself into the apartment. His relief immediately turned to horror as he found Tomas waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.
The Alpha’s eyes were cold as he closed the distance between them. Roughly grabbing the brunet by the arm, he pulled him into the apartment, slamming the front door. 
“And just where the fuck have you been? I specifically told you not to leave the apartment, did I not?”
“Tomas, I– I just went out for some air.” Caro held up his hands, placating.
Tomas’ grip on his arm tightened and he pulled the boy in until they were face to face. “Do you think I’m stupid, Caro?” His voice was dangerously calm.
“Of course not. Why would you even think that?”
The man immediately produced the omega’s abandoned phone from his pocket. “I wonder why you would leave this behind. You’re practically glued to it whenever I see you.”
The brunet looked fearfully between the phone and the Alpha. “I–I just went around the block—”
Anger turned to outright fury. “I’ve been waiting for you for over two hours. Would you like to try that again?”
Caro opened and closed his mouth, there was nothing he could say. No lie or excuse he could weave would get him out of this. Dejectedly, he looked to the floor, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”
The man laughed bitterly. “I bet you are. Go wait in the bedroom while I decide how to best address this little ‘misstep’ of yours.”
He knew better than to argue. When the Alpha released his grip, he made a beeline for the bedroom, hoping Tomas would let him off easier if he obeyed.
Shutting the bedroom door, he removed his coat and shoes before sitting down on the bed. The waiting, in his opinion, was worse than whatever punishment the man could come up with. 
After an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Coming into the bedroom, Tomas shut the door firmly behind him. It seemed he had calmed a bit in the time away (to the omega’s relief).
Folding his arms behind his back, the Alpha watched him intently. “Tell me, Caro, why are we here?”
“Do you mean in general or—” A raised eyebrow was all it took for the brunet to clamp his mouth shut. 
“I’m only going to ask one more time. Why are we here?”
Caro fisted his hands in his lap, studying them as though a better answer was hiding somewhere in the skin. “Because I left the house when you told me not to.”
“And how many times have you done that, I wonder.” Closing the distance between them, he stopped within arm’s reach of the boy. Hooking a finger beneath the omega’s chin, he lifted until the brunet could meet his gaze. “How many times have you snuck out without my permission?” He sneered when the other didn’t answer. “Do not make me ask you again. How many times, Caro?”
“J–just this once, I promise.” The force of the blow that caught him across the cheek knocked him back on the bed. He didn’t put together what had happened until the heat bloomed across the right side of his face, he dazedly pushed himself back up, staring up at Tomas.
“I am only giving you one chance to comply, do you understand me, Caro? One chance. Make me hurt you and I promise you will not enjoy the consequences.” He pointed to the floor beside the bed. “Kneel. Hands behind your back.”
The omega's head still spun a bit as he clumsily dropped off the bed and onto his knees, folding his hands behind his back.
Tomas’ face minutely softened, and he reached out to fondly stroke the brunet’s hair. “Little Caro, such a naughty boy.” He clicked his tongue, sympathetically cooing as he ran his fingers down the boy’s bruising cheek. “Why do you make me hurt you? You know I hate having to mark up your pretty face.”
Caro struggled not to flinch as the Alpha fawned over him. He was still trying to anticipate what the man had in store, when he finally stepped away, crossing to the closet. Reaching up to the top shelf, Tomas pulled down a small box, before turning to him again. “I ordered this after the last time you tried to sneak out. Well, after the last time I knew you tried to sneak out.” He amended, placing the box on the bed. “I was hoping I wouldn’t need to use it. Hoping after being punished last time you would have learned better.” Opening the box he lifted a thin collar from inside. “You are mine; whether you like it or not, I will know where you are at all times. You wanna lie to me about your whereabouts, you go right on ahead. You can lie to me, but this cannot.”
Caro was on his feet the second he laid eyes on the collar, backing away, hands up to keep distance between them. “No, Tomas, please no!”
The Alpha didn’t let him step any further. Lunging forward, he grabbed the brunet by the wrist and threw him roughly to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. He didn’t have time to even attempt to stand back up, a knee pressing firmly into his back and keeping him pinned.
Seizing a fistful of dark hair, Tomas violently jerked the omega’s head back, hissing. “Why must you always insist on making things worse for yourself?” Locking the collar around the boy’s neck, he sat back, keeping the omega pinned beneath him. 
“We could’ve had a nice night. You could have enjoyed this, but you decided you wanted to fight.” Shifting his weight, the Alpha set a hand between his shoulders, holding him in place as he stripped the off the omega’s pants. “Never say I don’t give you what you ask for.”
“No, Tomas! Please! No! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll be good for you! So good for you, please!” Caro futilely dug his fingers into the carpet as he pled, trying to escape the bruising grip on his hip as the Alpha ignored his cries and pressed himself in with a low groan.
Taking his time, he peeled the brunet’s hands away from the carpet, pinning them against the small of his back. Rolling his hips, he leaned over the boy’s back, his breath ghosting over his ear as he spoke. “I should’ve left you and your whore friend to rot in that cell longer like the jailbait you are. Maybe then you would’ve learned some manners. You should thank me for keeping you off the streets.” He hissed. “No one would ever want you. You’re too much trouble. Your Uncle should have done the world a favor and chained you to the bed. It’s all you’re good for. Just a broken, damaged toy that belongs with the trash.” 
Caro buried his face in the carpet, shoulders shaking as he quietly cried.
“Maybe I’ll call that little whore up next. Tell him you’re hurt. He’d come running so quick. Bet he’d make some pretty noises.”
“No!” The brunet shook his head, weakly trying to pull away.
“No?” Tomas hummed. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because—“
“Because?”
The omega’s voice shook when he spoke again. “You don’t want him.”
“Beg me not to call him.”
“Please—,” he sniffled. “Please, Tommy, don’t call him. I’m sorry— sorry I’m bad. But you don’t want him. You’re better than him— you deserve better than him.”
The Alpha laughed derisively. “And you think you’re better than him?”
“No. I’m— I’m bad. I don’t deserve you. Teach me to be better, please.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you’re the only one who would ever put up with me.”
Releasing his grip on the omega’s hip, he thread his fingers in the boy’s hair, pushing his face down into the carpet as he chased his climax. “No one will ever want you.”
“I know.”
“I’m the only one who could ever love you. You’re filthy. Damaged.”
“Tomas, please—“
“Say it—“ he snapped. “Say it or I will show all your little whore friends how ugly and dirty you are.”
“I’m damaged.” Shutting his eyes tight, Caro weakly complied. “No one could ever love me. I don’t deserve you and your kindness. I’m dirty and bad.”
“Filthy whore.” Cumming inside him, the Alpha pulled out before his knot could tie them together. 
Standing, he composed himself before looking down to the boy beneath him disdainfully. “Go clean yourself up, you’re getting blood on the carpet.”
Caro slowly stood, afraid that the man was planning on hurting him further. Some of the tension ebbed from his shoulders when the Alpha turned his back on him to straighten the rumpled bedspread. He didn’t get more than a couple steps before the man’s voice caught his attention.
“Are you forgetting something?”
His heart stopped in his chest, but he looked back. 
Tomas’ expression had softened and he beckoned the omega over. Stepping into the Alpha’s arms, he let himself be pulled against the man’s chest. “You know I hate punishing you, darling. But I can’t let you get away with misbehaving.”
Caro anxiously twisted his fingers in the other’s shirt. “I know.” 
The man pressed a kiss to the crown of his head. “I love you, little Caro. You know that, don’t you?”
Burying his face in his shoulder the brunet nodded, muttering, “I love you too.”
Tomas held him for a moment longer before stepping back. He exaggeratedly frowned, pressing his thumb just on the edge of too rough into the boy’s split lip. “Poor baby, go get cleaned up then come to bed, okay?”
“Okay.” 
The smile the man gave him hurt more than the punishment. He pushed it down, keeping his eyes on the ground, before turning and stepping away to disappear into the en suite, suddenly feeling much smaller than he was.
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valleyfthdolls · 2 years ago
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@stone-97 yippee thank you
I'm separating these into two: non-theory based and theory based.
Non-theory based:
Cassie is short for Cassidy. I don't think she's Golden Freddy, obviously, but there isn't a doubt in my mind that Cassidy is her full name.
Her last name is Rita, which is Latvian and means dawn.
She's from a rich family, but she doesn't like her parents much, and feels like her whole life is just painfully boring because nothing ever happens to her unless she seeks it out.
She's absolutely fearless and always up to do something stupid and insanely risky. It's what draws her to Gregory, who always has things happening to him.
She considers herself Gregory's shield, the person to call on when he needs protection, and she takes that seriously.
She bought the walkie-talkies they share, and he laughed at her a bit for them because of course they were Roxanne Wolf themed.
She covers and decorates all her stuff with stickers, charms, beads, etc. Sometimes she puts stickers over her nails instead of painting them.
She was the girl whose birthday party was just before the events of Security Breach. She invited Gregory along, which was how he got into the building.
Theory based:
Her parents keep constant watch over her. It's hard for her to get away from them unless she can bypass all of their attempts to watch her.
Quite frankly, her parents don't know what to do with her. Things were fine until recently, and they've done all they can by watching over her and sending her to therapy, but nothing they do seems to be enough. Anything more they could do never works anyway- all attempts to install trackers on her devices lead to the trackers being corrupted, and no one can figure out how or why. It happens before even Cassie knows they're there.
Cassie is upset that people don't trust her anymore, but she wonders if she's even allowed to be so upset about it when it's her fault. Even if she's not "allowed," it hurts knowing that people used to trust and love her, and now no one even wants her to be alone out of fear she'll hurt someone.
She's afraid of what Gregory will think of her if he finds out what she's done. Knowing how much Gregory investigates, she's sure he'll find out eventually, but she wants to delay that as long as possible to stay his friend.
This also benefits Glitchtrap, who needs Cassie to stay close to him so they can get him where they want him.
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afreakingdork · 2 years ago
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Sandwich Spot - A Weak Spot One-Shot
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Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Villain Donatello, Fear, Intimidation, Original Male Character, Friendship, Minor Injuries, Harassment
Synopsis:  An elderly sandwich shop owner feeds a mutant one night not realizing the bond he's inadvertently formed until it's time to retire.
Huge shout-out to @some-guy-named-dominyk for jokingly fleshing this out with me!
This work is optional. If you are sensitive to threats and harassment, feel free to skip ahead to chapter 6!
Also available on Ao3
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Chester hummed as he turned the sign on the door. The motion was an easy one that came with years of practice. As soon as the letters that spelled out ‘closed’ turned inward, his hand traced downward to the lock. Smiling to his elderly reflection, he then turned to shuffle around the counter. Some would shy away from their age, but Chester found each wrinkle to be a notch in what he’d survived. With the grill pre-heated, he moved to prep until the first customer came in. Opening before dawn had been a point of contention with Henry, but Chester found the solemn quiet before the sun rose to be the perfect slice of time before customers hobbled in. He found it difficult to express how he enjoyed their sleep addled faces. There was an honesty there that wasn’t present at other hours. There was also nothing like the feeling of wiping your brow after a long drone of knife work and pretty pans of sliced ingredients ready for assembling all before the metaphorical rooster crowed.
As he slid a box of lettuce across his prep table from where the delivery guy had generously placed it to mind his back, there was a huge crash outside. It wasn’t quite startling, but it did bring his eye up. With the shop’s inner lights glowing brightly, the outside appeared pitch black. Setting down his knife on the cutting board, he moved toward the register. Though he’d been robbed a few times over the years, he refused to let it shake him. His existence was a protest, anything beyond that was easily weathered. More often than not, these would be assailants were kids that simply needed an ear and a full stomach to be talked down. It was part of the reason why he’d settled into this little corner shop after retiring out of his other career; that and it reminded him of his grandfather’s deli.
As if right on time, the bell sounded. Chester craned his neck and saw a hunched form flip the sign back to closed. The figure then turned to scurry further inward only to find that the shop was little more than a single room with no proper seating. Seemingly cornered, the person turned and Chester’s mouth dropped at the sight: a green skinned mutant wearing what appeared to be a matte black trash bag and purple bandana that was utterly drenched in blood. There was no apparent source other than the fact that half his face was clear from the tacky liquid while the other was soaked through to the point where his eye had sealed shut under the sludge.
Sound refused to come out of Chester’s mouth as he moved on instinct. His eyes left the figure as he bypassed napkins entirely to grab a few clean cotton towels. He ran one of which under the sink and then brought them to the counter. There he found the mutant now seemingly composed from where he had just been in a frightened flurry. The mutant’s posture was perfect and he dropped his gaze to the cloths for only a moment.
“This is a restaurant?”
Chester jarred and his hand fell from where he was still offering the towels. “Yes…?”
“I presume since you are open now that you serve breakfast?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“What if I don’t want breakfast?”
“Son…”
The mutant hissed at the word.
Chester blinked as he watched the corner of the mutant’s lip come up to show his disdain through clenched teeth. Having a good gauge for that kind of thing, Chester pinged the boy as being in his late 20s. This seemed like a point of contention and the mutant clearly had no interest in addressing his wounds so Chester set the towels down.
“I haven’t properly done prep yet, but if you don’t mind waiting I could make you something?”
Though his back remained rigid, the mutant’s eyes searched Chester’s face intently.
Chester gave a little understanding smile and took to folding up the dry towels while the boy made up his mind.
“Do you offer your full menu at all hours?”
“I can assure you this isn’t a chain. We open at 4am, close at 2pm, and serve food. It’s as simple as that!” Chester put on a smile that the neighborhood found him famous for. He then finished folding and brought an eye up to find the boy scanning the menu overhead.
“I’ll have the hard salami.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. We’re out of that.” Chester sucked his bottom lip in and turned to keep from laughing.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw the boy bristle. He then huffed with enough annoyance that it brought both his eyes open.
“You just said-”
“I’m gonna make you something special.” Chester turned away from the register, left the wet towel behind, and heard the padding of the boy’s feet as he moved to close the distance.
“You have no idea what my palate is like!”
“I don’t!” Chester’s voice hit a clear amused high note.
“Then…” There was another sound that Chester identified as the mutant putting his hands on the counter. “What is this!?”
“Well…” Chester drew out the word as he opened up the door to an oven. The faint smell of freshly baked bread flooded the shop. Using one of the dry towels, he then pulled out a rack and set it on an awaiting bench. “I just get a feeling is all.”
Chester heard a snort so loud it overtook the sound of him closing the oven. “’Trash for mutant scum?’”
That wasn’t right.
He slung the towel over his shoulder and turned his clear gaze right at the boy. “Not in this establishment. Never.”  
The mutant took the comment casually and his face expression didn’t change.
Chester didn’t expect it to. Instead, he made a show of getting a fresh loaf and cutting into it. “I’m actually going to make us both my favorite. I have pretty good taste if I do say so myself, but if you still don’t like it after you try it, then I’ll make you whatever you want.”
The mutant folded his arms onto the counter and set his bloodied chin atop them. He watched studiously as Chester went through the sandwich making process. The elderly man cut, assembled, and dressed two meals before wrapping them in a learned tug of parchment paper. He then crossed back over to the register and pushed one completed sandwich to the boy before taking his own.
Chester took his time unwrapping what he had just swathed. He meticulously folded down the parchment until it created its own little placemat just as he grandfather had shown him as a boy. Then he turned the halved sandwich twice before achieving the perfect angle to pick it up. Grabbing the meal to take a bite, he caught the mutant on the tail end of mirroring his methodology. It warmed his old heart. He watched as the mutant gave him one last wary eye before chomping down. The boy chewed in slow motion, taking in every bit of the flavor before scarfing it down in a frenzy. Chester smiled behind his bread at the youthful appetite. The two ate in silence and Chester even pushed his other sandwich half to the mutant who consumed it without a second thought.
When the boy was done, he gingerly took a napkin from its offered basket and dabbed his mouth.
Chester tilted his head with a chuckle. “You missed a crumb.”
The mutant’s face scrunched up and he reached for another napkin.
“Allow me.” Chester made a show of going for the wet towel and the mutant’s hand slowed in its extension. The tridactyl appendage then rerouted, but Chester was closer. He snatched up the rag and shoved it into the bloody side of the boy’s face. He then was able to give it a few good scrubs before the boy swatted him away and spat like an angry cat.
The belly-busting bout of laughter it pulled from Chester rang cheerily through the shop. When the man finally came down from the giggles, he found the mutant stewing in the spot. The blood from around his eye was smeared, but it had been cleaned partially away.
“Better?” Chester hummed and offered the rag again.
The mutant denied it with a fold of his arms and a turn of his head.
“At least I’ll know you ate well.” Chester nodded and moved to clean the counter off.
“How much do I owe you?”
“Don’t be silly.” Chester paused from grabbing the trash to wave the statement off.
The boy continued to stare when the door opened.
“Ah, just a moment-” Chester called out and, in a blink, watched as the boy simply vanished. Staring wide, he leaned over the counter and searched frantically. The suited man that had just entered watched curiously as Chester shuffled around the counter and out onto the shop floor. “I…”
“Are you alright?” The businessman asked.
“Um… yes. Please excuse the mess…” Chester drifted off in a spin as he realized there wasn’t a trace of blood to be found. In fact, beside the parchment still on the counter, there wasn’t a single sign that the mutant had been there at all. “I… I apologize, did you happen to see…?” Chester looked the businessman and the confusion he saw there told him all he needed to know. With a furrowed brow, he returned to his post and collected the trash only to reveal a hundred dollar bill under the boy’s folded parchment. He startled at it and tucked it away before mumbling off a few more apologies and taking the new customer’s order.
-
Chester had been prepared to write the exchange off as a New York oddity when exactly one week later the boy showed up at lunch time. This time he was pristinely pressed in a tailored black outfit and coat. Amongst the rush, Chester could only spare him a double take as the boy asked for his usual. It gave the elderly man a small pause to smile at the youth before he rang him up for an approximate sandwich. He watched in dismay as another hundred dollar bill was placed on the counter along with a wave of a hand noting that change should be kept. Chester tried to protest, but the arch of a brow argued otherwise. Grumbling to himself, the older man accepted only to shout for his assistant to double said order in some kind of recompense. The mutant waited with the others who warily gave him a large breadth. It brought out Chester’s voice as he called for orderly lines when waiting as a sly statement to stop the discrimination. Though he hadn’t looked back, Chester could feel an odd satisfaction waft off the mutant.
He wasn’t sure if it was that act or the meal itself that started the long standing tradition, but for the next week and every one after, the mutant would come. He would order the same sandwich, at the same time, without fail. It made Chester’s heart swell and the only reason he never had the sandwich readily prepared was that he wanted it to be as fresh as possible. He wished for only two things: that the boy would stop overpaying and that he would come even 15 minutes earlier than his chosen time. If the latter were the case than at least Chester could afford some small talk with his best customer. The mutant was staunch and couldn’t be swayed in the little time they had during their exchanges, so Chester resigned himself, albeit with minor annoyance. He set up the excess money in a little charity fund and donated it to the first reputable mutant fund he could find.
For years this routine went on. The only interruptions were from Chester announcing closings for either vacations or family gatherings. The mutant took the notes with a nod of his head and his parting words would announce his arrival on whatever date would fall next in the cycle. It was in this way that time marched on until a worsening back and roughhousing grandchildren began to wear on Chester’s body. He adored the clientele he’d fostered, but this had always been a post-retirement foray. It started with an expiration date and with that nearing, Chester made the appropriate preparations.
That is, all but one.
He knew the neighborhood would try to throw him some kind of party and Chester detested the thought. In his mind it was better to write a tear filled goodbye and wander off into the night as a fond memory. In time with his expiring lease and securing final sales on his equipment for that next Monday, Chester continued to work with his customers none the wiser.
Wednesday
It was with five days left that the mutant showed up for his weekly sandwich. As soon as Chester saw him in line, it brought forth a memory of the scared, bloodied boy that skittered in that fateful morning. The elderly man felt his eyes getting misty as the mutant approached. Chester had always given the boy forewarnings and because of this, something felt very wrong as he imagined him walking up to find that note on the door.
“I’ll have my usual.”
“That’ll be $5.79.” Chester played the same lines they said in a tongue and cheek fashion. The hundred dollar bill appeared on the counter. Chester took it with the same sigh and shake of his head as he opened the register to produce a point of sale. “Oh, and one more thing…”
The break in the script caught the mutant’s attention. “Yes?”
“This…” Chester had to swallowing the growing lump in his throat. “It’s been a pleasure to feed you all these years, my boy. I… I just wanted to let you know that I’ll be closing this Sunday and that I wish you all the best.”
The mutant stared at him with the same even expression.
Chester used a shaky hand to retrieve a receipt and stab it onto a pin with many others. “Next-!”
“No.” The mutant announced, slamming a hand down on the counter.
“N-no?” Chester startled along with a few other customers in proximity.
“You’re just going to close?” The mutant leaned forward, his hand sliding across the counter with the motion. “Just like that?”
“Well, yes. If you could keep it down-”
“What is it?”
“What is… what?”
“Is it business? Has it been slow? I can supplement that.”
“Business… wha-? No…!”
“Threats?” The mutant dropped his tenor and removed the black mask around his mouth with one hand. “Consider whoever is squeezing you squashed.”
Chester did not like the amount of satisfaction dripping from the wicked smile that appeared on the mutant’s face so he gave an awkward laugh. “Nothing like that!”
“Then what!?”
“I’m old!” Chester huffed. “I’m tired… I’d like to see my family more.”
The mutant frowned.
“I truly apologize. You’re the only customer I’ve told… planned to tell! Well… Really I wasn’t going to tell anyone. I don’t want any how-to-do… Wait, is that right?” Chester brought a hand up to his chin to consider it but dismissed the appendage in a wave when it got close. “I doesn’t matter. The point is: I’m closing and I’ll miss you.”
“Then don’t close.”
Chester watched the unmoving mutant until his own gaze hardened. “I’ve made up my mind.”
The two stared at each other for a long moment before the mutant broke away to join the pick-up queue. Chester swore he heard something about how they would see, but he ignored it as the next guest stepped up.
Thursday
It was the mid morning lull between commuters and the lunch rush where Chester double checked his inventory. He was on a pretty good train to finish out his stock pretty evenly with the close and had already coordinated sending his final stock to a food pantry when the door to his shop opened.
“Just a minute!” He called out and did the last few tallies on his clip board. He went to wash his hands and approached the counter drying them on a towel hooked into his belt when he saw a familiar mutant standing at the register.
“You-”
“Taper your hours.”
Chester folded his arms. He expected a celebration from his customers. He had not accounted for a fight. Though, watching the mutant now, he long knew the boy had a penchant for staunchly doing things his own way.
“I’m letting my lease lapse.”
The mutant’s shoulders rose with irritation. “Re-sign.”
“I believe it’s been filled.”
“Check again in half an hour. I guarantee it will be vacant.”
Chester wasn’t sure what that meant.
“My boy, I can’t maintain the space!”
The mutant leaned forward in a manner that accentuated his height. “Then hire someone. I’ve seen the books. You make more than enough.”
“You’ve seen-?”
“You already have a hand for the lunch crowd. Keep them on for the entire day if you’re concerned with a trustworthy hire.”
“That’s-”
“Or hire your family. You mentioned wanting to spend more time with them for whatever reason that may be.”
“Boy-”
“Donatello.”
Chester blinked. That was the first time he had gotten the mutant’s name. “Donatello, it’s a lost cause. I already sold everything.” Chester took a step back and extended his arms to gesture all around him. “What’s done is done. I can apologize again, make you your favorite, but this shop will close Sunday.”
“I-” Donatello opened his mouth and then snapped it shut.                                                            
Chester watched as the boy’s brow came down as he thought hard.
“I only eat my sandwich on Wednesdays.” Donatello noted and gave Chester a curt nod.
“Something else then…? Let’s not leave it like this…” Chester reached out a hand and Donatello recoiled away as if it were toxic. Chester brought it in slowly and Donatello inched towards the door. “Please…?”
With one last searing glare, Donatello stormed out of the shop.
Friday
Chester had barely been able to focus on work with his cell phone ringing off the metaphorical hook. He wasn’t exactly sure what was happening. First it had been his sister who had strangely asked if he planned to push back closing. He corrected her and had only been off the phone a few minutes when his daughter-in-law called. Her conversation had been much lengthier and consisted of almost quoted factoids about long term business success. He had tried to interrupt many times, but she kept plowing through her explanations as if she were possessed. He almost didn’t want to leave the call when she’d finished her speech. She insisted she was fine now which only worried him further because that meant she hadn’t before. Regardless, the conversation had come to a close and Chester desperately tried to man the counter.
That was, until his mother called. He hadn’t spoken to her since her birthday as she lived in a home upstate. It was her wishes when she had little mind left, but seeing as how she didn’t these days, her call came especially alarming. He tried to ask her what nurse had put her on when she said she began thanking him for his visit.
His blood ran cold.
He insisted he hadn’t seen her and she gave a little laugh. It rang with how feeble she was. She switched topics and started going on about her father’s sandwiches. He sagged at the register and motioned his lunch employee to take over. He listened to her reminisce somewhere between lucidity and fairytale as she recounted baking bread. It tugged at his heart strings so intensely that after the call, Chester took to the back alley and shed a few lonesome tears.
When he’d put himself back together and reclaimed his post, he saw the bobbing shape of his son-in-law outside. He straightened as he saw the man dip down and just knew what must be in tow. As soon as the door opened he heard her voice.
“Gam’pa!”  
Chester stepped back from the register just as the little girl rounded the counter with reckless abandon. She collided with his leg and he smoothed her hair out instantly where it was already getting messed.
“Hey, pop!”
“W-what brings you two by?” Chester dipped down and hoisted his granddaughter onto his hip, much to his back’s protest. “Don’t you have work?”
“Strangest thing…”
Chester could feel the cold sweat on the back of his neck.
“Our office was… booked for a private event?”
Chester’s granddaughter pulled from her grip on his shoulder to reach for the buttons on the cash register.
“You… you work at a car dealership…” Chester balked, turning his body so she couldn’t reach the machine.
“Yeah… To say it was a new one was an understatement!”
“Oh…” Chester hiccupped and used the motion to set his granddaughter on the counter.
“I saw the guy talking to my boss and then he came up to me.”
“You saw him?!” Chester leaned forward with a little too excitement. He found the other two parties staring at him so he shrank down to hand his granddaughter a straw. The little girl delighted over the object. “I-it’s just… What kind of man would do something like that?”
His son-in-law squinted and craned an elbow to the counter to toy with the straw wrapper. “He was totally covered up, but real tall. He asked me if I knew any places that catered so I guess he’s got big bucks? Some people like a showroom with cars I guess.”
Hundred dollar bills came to mind.
“Did you recommend him any place in particular?” Chester gave an odd smile.
His son-in-law gave a knowing laugh. “I’d have recommended your place if I knew you’d still be open!”
“He… he didn’t ask?”
The man bobbed his head curiously. “Do you know the guy?”
“No!” Chester jolted and watched again as the two eyes tracked him. With jittery hands he took the straw his granddaughter was nibbling on and wove it into the shape of an animal. She squealed at the sight of it.
“Is something going on, pop?”
“Did you come straight here?”
The son-in-law’s arm faltered and he used the falling motion to straighten his back. “Oh… the, uh, guy said something about using the time to see family so when I picked up Jade from daycare I asked who she wanted to see most and she-”
Hearing her name, the granddaughter animated  out of her game of pretend. “Pop-pop!”
“That’s… me…” Chester mumbled, taking her outstretched hands and giving them a shake.
“What’s going on?”
“N-nothing.” Chester refused to look at his son-in-law until the heated gaze finally pushed his eye. “Nothing, I’m sure of. It’s all just an odd coincidence.”
“How so?”
Chester went on to explain the other calls, but not Donatello. Just because the mutant had showed up two days in a row upset about the closure didn’t mean he would resort to something like this.
Saturday
“Are you still closing?”
Chester sighed at Donatello’s form from across the counter. The boy had come during the mid morning lull again.
“Yes, my boy. I have not changed my mind nor will I.”
Donatello clicked his tongue. “I’d rather hoped to avoid this.”
“Avoid what?” Chester leaned his weight against the register. He didn’t need to strengthen his resolve as it was rock solid, so all it left was a tedious waiting out process.
“I’ll buy it all.”
Chester straightened.
“The whole thing. I’ll buy this whole damn building.” Donatello slammed a pointed finger into the center of the counter. “I’ll kick every single tenant out. I’ll buy the whole block if I have to. Just come to work. One day a week.” Donatello leaned in.
Chester’s heart sank at the look there. It was somehow both devoid of emotion and yet oozing pure malice.
“Even if it’s for one single hour.”
The way Donatello’s head lolled to one side hinted at unspeakable terrors.
“I’ll triple… No.”
Chester shuddered as he thought he saw drool in the corner of the boy’s mouth.
“I’ll quadruple your pathetic retirement fund.”
The counter creaked under only the strength of that single digit.
“Just say you’ll do it.”
Every cell in Chester’s body screamed at him to take even the smallest step back; anything to put an iota of space between him and what was rapidly devolving into a mere creature of nightmares. He had no idea where all this was coming from. That first night he had seen an odd sight in regards to the mutant, but this was something else entirely. He couldn’t image this was the same boy he had known for all these years.
No.
He wasn’t sure he knew this man at all.
“I won’t.”
It sounded like something cracked as Donatello’s head rolled all the way forward; it was a manner that Chester imagined only an insect could. Donatello’s back seemed to ripple as he retracted from the counter. From where his finger had been, there was a fissure that splinted across the counter.
“You won’t.”
There was something unhinged about the way he repeated the sentiment.
“No, I won’t.”
A rippling bark of laughter so synthetic burst from Donatello that the man clutched at his stomach as the cackles split his cheeks.
“Can’t…”
His back rippled again, but this time it looked as if huge worms were crawling underneath it.
“Or won’t…?”
Chester’s urge to step back was bypassed as one heel hooked his other ankle. The shop traveled around him at blurry speeds. He heard the smack of his body against the pavement and then the quiet of cold. When he rose up, his lunch employee was shouting in his ear.
He stared at her.
Rather, he could see her shouting, but the words weren’t reaching his ears.
Fear shot through him.
He shoved against protesting limbs.
It seemed like too many people were behind the counter.
Chester scrambled to his feet and looked out at the shop floor.
Several customer hovered nearby in abject horror.
All their lips moved.
He put a hand down on the counter to steady himself.
Where one of his senses was down, others were still there.
He lowered his gaze and traced the crack in the counter with his fingertips.
Sunday
Against all his loved one’s and doctor’s recommendations, Chester had gone to work. It wasn’t as if he were hospitalized, but at his advanced age the doctor had pressed him to just leave that final day to his employee.
He couldn’t.
This place had been such a joy to him.
He wasn’t going to let his health take that from him.
That or anything else.
Thankfully his hearing had returned and he only had a minor concussion to show for it. Those his head had hit the floor, he thankfully hadn’t even needed stitches. It made laying in bed a bit uncomfortable and his back was worse for wear, but none of that would keep him from his customer’s smiling faces.
They were none of the wiser to the closing though he had received a few bouquets and homemade meals for his health. They were meant to be left with the shop staff so he was scolded a few times for having been there when he should be resting. He took the praise in stride and only scarcely watched the clock as the midday lull passed.
Before he knew it, closing time approached. As the final minutes waned, his employee packed up the rest of the stock for the food pantry and he waved her off as she drove the rented truck away to deliver it. With a slow shuffle, Chester crossed the threshold over to the door for what he knew to be the last time. He reached out and turned the sign on the door. The letters spelled out ‘open’ turned inward and his hand traced downward to the lock. It was in the afternoon sun’s cast that he saw a shadow darken  the handle. Retracting out of surprise, Chester fumbled as Donatello opened the door.
“I’d rather you not fall again.”
Chester’s mouth opened and closed several times but nothing came out.
Donatello gave him a look before closing the door behind him.
“Why…?”
“Why what?”
“Why won’t you let me retire in peace?”
“Do you think I’m here to kill you?”
Chester flicked his gaze down in thought for a moment. “I suppose not.”
Donatello gave a hum of approval. “I took to you for many reasons, that being one of them.”
“That?”
Donatello gave him another look and went to inspect the crack on the counter. The mutant sneered at it as if it were distasteful before leaning his body in front of it as if to hide the evidence. “Sell me the recipe.”
Even through his fear, Chester gave that weighty sigh. “There’s no recipe, you know that.”
“I’ve tried to recreate it.” Donatello folded his arms in irritation with one of his hands going to pick the fabric of his other sleeve. “It must be the bread or the ingredients. I’ve tapped all your suppliers to recreate exactly what I’ve seen you do 197 times, but not a single one was right.”
“You stay up all night doing that?” Chester adjusted himself near the door.
Donatello didn’t even flinch.
It wasn’t like Chester meant to flee, but the fact the mutant seemed to think it’d be in vain if he has was chilling.
“It’s been an ongoing process.”
“Oh?” Chester finally latched the lock and moved to complete the rest of his closing checklist.
As he rounded the counter, Donatello followed him and then resumed the same position again to block the crack.
“I…”
Chester put up the few clean dishes.
“I didn’t run.”
Chester made a noise of interest, but refused to look back.
“When you fell.” Donatello clarified.
Chester moved to Donatello’s side only to count the till.
The mutant didn’t move.
“I ran out and alerted the closest person likely to call 911. Then I remotely hacked your phone to text your lunch employee to come in early. I watched from the nearby rooftop and then shadowed the ambulance to the hospital.”
All of those things made some sense, but they also didn’t in so many ways.
“I didn’t-”
Chester brought his head up and, without looking, put a hand to Donatello’s shoulder. “I know, my boy.”
Tense muscles seized there, but no further movement occurred.
Donatello stayed rigid throughout the rest of close. He only moved to follow Chester out the back after he retrieved his lunchbox and made a show of turning off the lights. Making sure the back door locked, Chester rounded the building and struggled to pull the shutters down. It was only then that Donatello truly animated and took over the task. Chester handed him the key and Donatello locked the shutters in kind. Chester made a motion for Donatello to hold out his hands and the mutant followed suit. He had the man hold his lunch box as he procured a laminated note. He then took his time taping it securely to the shutter for all to see the closure would be permanent.
Instead of taking the lunchbox back from Donatello, Chester simply zipped it up and pushed the object into the man’s chest.
“I hope I’ve finally made myself clear and you realize you can’t always get what you want.”
Donatello kept his gaze stiffly down to the bag.
“Especially with those means.”
With no response, Chester took a tentative step back.
Seeing the mutant would make no move, Chester’s shoulders relaxed.
“I’m sure you’ve guessed what’s in there. Consider it my parting gift. Stay away from me and my family.”
Donatello gave a curt nod and Chester turned to leave.
He made it down an entire block before he turned a corner and hailed the nearest taxi. It wasn’t a luxury he typically indulged in to get home, but he’d make an exception. He asked the driver to take an odd route and the driver agreed if only for the larger toll. Reaching his little rowhouse, Chester stepped inside and took his time removing his shoes. The scent of stew wafted around and he checked the peep hole one last time before allowing himself to indulge in it.
He rounded through his living room to the kitchen where his husband stood over the stove in a kitschy apron.
“Hello, dear!” The other man called out, not taking his eyes off the pot he was stirring. “How is the second time retiree doing this fine afternoon?”
Chester smiled. “Harry, now that it’s over and you won’t worry, have I got a story to tell you…”
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iamafanofcartoons · 2 years ago
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i'll be real. you blazed a post onto my dash. i'm gonna block you. rules are rules. figured i'd help you out before i do.
you really want to know why the youtube algorithm is bad? positive feedback loops. not positive as in good, but positive as in they grow larger over time.
youtube's recommendation algorithm is partially based off of what it learns from users. it takes in all kinds of data on what users watch--the uploader, the title, the tags, the thumbnail, the description, anything it can glean from the audio and visuals, whatever. you name it, google's probably holding it. they dont have yottabytes upon yottabytes of data for nothing.
importantly, though, is that they also keep track of what the user watches Next. see, google (as with most social media that uses an ad revenue model) will run studies, where they try out different experimental algorithms created from viewership data on different users and see what is more likely to get users to click through. how they create these experiments is pretty complicated, and i'll save you the technogore. think of it as making tons of algorithms that each think different combinations of aforementioned viewership data at different amounts are the reason why that viewer made their choice, then projecting that onto all users to inform future suggestions. trust me, that's the easy way to think about it.
what makes it a positive feedback loop? well, recall that i said the algorithms are created on viewership data. the successful one(s) is/are then used to inform future recommendations. that data is then used to further experimentally tweak the algorithm. the choices user make influence the algorithm. what influences the choices users make? the algorithm. as time moves on, the algorithm becomes more and more biased until youtube decides to make more dramatic changes to influence things in a different direction (remember the change to favor runtime? then to favor watch-through?)
here's where i get all communist, and why i felt compelled to write all this. youtube isn't fixing shit about this system. why would they? people are clicking through recommendations at insane rates! they're watching more videos! and sure, a general societal right-wing bias might have positive feedback looped into turning the website into a facism pipeline, but google is making so much fucking money from gathering an insane amount of information from users that can be used in ad targeting the whole time. even if youtube itself struggles with profitability, even if people like. kind of say stuff about the problem but never really do anything about it at a large scale, even if people are being redpilled, why should google care when they make more money than anyone could even comprehend? until capitalism is overthrown, there will be a shit algorithm.
blocking channels is a start, but there will always be more shitty things to block (just like how there's always blazed posts for me to block the OPs of). apps that bypass youtube accounts and privacy loss (youtube vanced and newpipe) are privacy tools first, kind of hit or miss when it comes to the algorithm. never looked into the source code of them, but, if you ask me, it's either some amalgamation of everyone's recommendations who use those apps, a "default" algorithm, or one that's kind of tailored to you as youtube slowly worms its way into identifying you by your device and ip address.
point is, dont hold your breath waiting. keep looking for tools, keep spreading the word, keep finding ways to support content you like so the artist isnt reliant on ad revenue. dont keep throwing your money at tumblr, though, they really dont need it. they really never needed it. buy yourself a nice fuckin sandwich. everybody deserves a nice sandwich.
god, i'm going to look dumb if my ask gets deleted when i block you in five seconds. you have a good night.
Soo...yeah....this was based on this post
Basically I'm sick and tired of people like Manga_Kamen, Vexed Viewer, WatermelonCube, and other people raging about how they hate something that others like, and how people are supposed to hate what they hate.
I just wanted to give people the opportunity to remove those hate videos from their search results, so that they can at least find what they're looking for, using Youtube search.
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halfwayanywhere · 2 years ago
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Hayduke Day 18: I wake up to around 3 in / 8 cm of fresh snow. The other good news? Despite the low overnight temperatures, the snowpack didn't manage to freeze enough to support my weight. The day begins the same way yesterday ended, postholing in the snow. Fortunately, my legs don't start furiously bleeding as they did yesterday since I've learned from my mistakes and now have my wind pants equipped. Unfortunately, I'm sinking deeper into the snow today than I did yesterday. I'm hiking this morning with @artemis_hikes and @involuted who make the situation worse as I watch them manage to stay on top of the snow for much longer periods than I do. Leah and I posthole behind them with nearly every step. It's not until after (dropping down to) Penellen Pass that the snow finally begins to lighten up. Bypassing the high route over the summit of Mount Ellen seems to have been the correct decision. This conclusion is reinforced when an unexpectedly violent thunderstorm suddenly erupts from seemingly nowhere. Despite having made it off the snowpack at higher elevations, the ground is once again coated in white. Eventually, the storm clears almost as suddenly as it began and I take a break for lunch before continuing down a jeep road to Tarantula Mesa. I drop down from the mesa and hike around it before taking the Below Tarantula Alternate and climbing back up up out of the canyon. At camp I discover that my stove appears to be broken which means I need to figure out how to eat my cooked food for this section. I try a quick cold soak of my mac and cheese and it proves awful. I bury it after a few tormented bites. Tomorrow I'll be entering Capitol Reef National Park. Maybe I can stop some cars and get some food? Day: Copper Ridge Road to above Poison Spring Canyon Distance: 24.88 mi / 40.03 km Elevation gain: 2,421 ft / 738 m #hayduketrail #utahbackpacking
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inksandpensblog · 2 years ago
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We completely misinterpreted the hug scene
I was going to make this into a nice, well-composed essay, with each section talking about a different aspect of the episode's construction or execution, and about narrative theming and character arcs, and about why so many people thought this scene was enough to ruin the episode for them. I was going to do that, but then it took me eleven hours to try and narrow down what the actual problem with the scene was, when taken into context with the entire rest of the episode and episode 29; and then another three hours to realize what the actual intent of the scene had probably been and why nobody, including myself, seemed to have picked up on it (except for Lui and @k1ttyadventurer apparently-). So instead of the nice essay, you're getting a conceptual overview of my entire thought process, from beginning to end, as I tried to figure out the deeper reasons behind why everyone hated this scene so much, and then why we all had it wrong. You're welcome.
For the sake of internal consistency, I'm invoking author's bypass and using the names my server-mates and I have picked up for these characters. King shall henceforth be known as Mango, his child as Apricot, Purple's dadfigure as Cobalt, and Purple's momfigure as Orchid.
--
What started me on this path, was this thought: We didn't like Mango's reconciliation with Purple, but aside from pacing issues, Mango's arc (thematic, character, narrative, etc.) is pretty solid. So if the problem isn't with Mango's side, it must be with Purple's.
So, what was wrong about the way Purple's arc was written? Was it just that reconciliation scene in episode 30, or was it something from back in episode 29 that didn't show its full implications until now?
But, again, Purple's arc in episode 29 alone is pretty solid. So, the problem was just the reconciliation scene. And, again, for Mango's arc the scene works, it's only for Purple's that it doesn't.
So, what's wrong with it? Does this scene contradict episode 29 in some way? That's how a lot of us felt, at first, I think. Purple learned last episode that he didn't need acceptance from Cobalt, and he follows through on that in this episode, choosing to do what HE thinks is right and not what he thinks will earn him approval, and his reward is...symbolic acceptance from Cobalt? It didn't make sense, and sat wrongly with many of us.
--
But I still couldn't pin down why this didn't work, so I circled back. Maybe it was the relationship dynamics? Was that why many of us didn't like the idea of Mango being Apricot's father instead of their older brother, at first?
--
But then I noticed something amazing: if you watch the episode while viewing Apricot as Mango's sibling, and then watch it while viewing Apricot as Mango's child...nothing about Mango's arc actually changes, on a thematic level. It all still works, no matter which interpretation you go with.
Why, then, is the distinction given so much emphasis? Why is it important that we know that Apricot is canonically Mango's child, if it doesn't change anything about Mango's story either way?
Because what it DOES change, is the implied dynamic between Mango and Purple, and the number of inverse parallels in their stories.
--
I also think that at this juncture it's important to note that Mango seeing Apricot in Purple is something nobody seems to have had a problem with, even people who didn't like the episode. It's literally just Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango that people had issues with. Purple's side of the story, again, is the one that seems to be flawed in either its construction or its execution.
--
Now, while the status of who Apricot is, to Mango, doesn't influence Mango's story much, something about Apricot that does hold heavy sway over Mango's story is Mango seeing Apricot in Purple. And, since this seems to be paralleled by Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango,  we'd naturally expect this element to have an equally weighty effect on Purple's story. But what does Purple seeing Cobalt in Mango actually DO, for Purple's story?
--
@kikoqueenofrats and @luizastarry mentioned how after seeing Mango's backstory, seeing him be likened to Cobalt felt wrong. Specifically, that if Mango was meant to become a new parental figure for Purple, then having him become the new Cobalt, instead of, say, the new Orchid, felt really wrong, given how poorly Cobalt treated Purple (and, in my opinion, given how well Mango appears to have treated Apricot, whom he had recently likened to Purple earlier in the scene).
This is when Lui first brought up the idea that maybe the hug scene wasn't supposed to be a comparison after all, but was actually supposed to show how Mango and Cobalt were different. @iluvylalevu brought up pacing issues again, as a possible reason why the idea wasn't communicated clearly enough to the audience. Then they both discussed how some different body language from Purple in reaction to Cobalt's approach would've gotten this story point if it was indeed the intended point of the scene across to the audience a lot better; made the irreconcilable differences between Cobalt as Purple knew him and Mango as whoever he became over the course of this episode a lot clearer. 
I missed what Lui had already figured out, though, because my eyes caught on the body-language conversation, and it made me remember something: Cobalt, again and again, no matter what, forcing Purple to get up again when he fell.
--
So, I muted the video, and watched the hug scene again, and observed Purple's body language. He doesn't look like he's expecting he'll need to fight, but...in my opinion, it doesn't look like he's expecting a hug, either.
--
...maybe what he was seeing, during that moment in episode 30, hadn't been Cobalt turned around and returning to accept him, like he'd learned to stop yearning for in episode 29. (And really, would it be in-character for Purple to imagine his dad doing that? I think he knew his father better than that.) Maybe he’d seen Cobalt coming to admonish him, again. He had just defied Mango, after all, and then failed to stop him. And Green and the others weren’t here, to accept him regardless of his failure. And Orchid wasn’t here to catch him, all that was left were petals. And when it wasn’t Orchid standing over him to shelter him, it was always Cobalt, looming. But he knows it’ll be worse, if he stays on the ground. So he gets up.
And then the hug closes in, and Cobalt is gone, and it’s Mango.
--
The episode isn’t trying to compare Mango to Cobalt, like some questionable construction and execution choices for the scene led audiences the web over to believe. Instead, it’s contrasting them. Mango isn’t “the better Cobalt,” he isn’t “who Cobalt should’ve been.” He isn’t “the Cobalt Purple needs,” because episode 29 established that what Purple NEEDS is to get out from under the shadow of Cobalt’s expectations. Mango isn’t Cobalt. Mango is Mango. And Mango accepts Purple, not because of anything Purple did, and not even because he saw Apricot in Purple; the only time Mango saw Purple as Apricot was in the wall drawing, never when they were looking directly at each other, never the same way that Purple mistook Mango for Cobalt. Mango accepts Purple, because he’s Purple. Just like Green said his friends would.
Which is much less of a rancid vibe than what we’d all thought we were seeing, when all of us most of us first saw the episode.
--
I'd like to thank my server-mates for letting me figure this out, and for asking me to make sure it's shared.
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arc-misadventures · 2 years ago
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Rebirth au: why is Jaune’s dad being an a**hole and not want to train him? And how does Jaune bypass this obstacle? Also curious whether Jeanne sticks to her promise and backs him up in order to change their parents’ mind. Even if not, I’d imagine he has enough knowledge to train himself or find someone who gives a damn about him and is willing to train him.
He gave the typical Dad excuse of: “Because I said so.”
Why are all of you so upset?!
United We Stand Together~!
Acheius: Hey, Jaune, want to play catch son?
Jaune: No.
Acheius: What? Why not, it will be fun!
Jaune: Bevause I said so; end of discussion.
Acheius: What?
~~~
Acheius: Hey, Jeanne since you want to go to, Beacon how about I start giving you some lessons?
Jeanne: Mmmm… No, no thank you.
Acheius: But, how are you going to become a, Huntress if you don’t train?
Jeanne: I have some ideas on how.
Acheius: But…
Jeanne: Sorry, Dad, I’ve got stuff to do.
Acheius: But, Jeje…
Jeanne: End of discussion.
Acheius: …
~~~
Acheius: Hey, Jaune, how goes the homework.
Jaune: It’s going okay.
Acheius: Do you want some help with it?
Jaune: Uhh… Yeah, yeah I would.
Acheius: Great! Then…
Jaune: Can you ask, Saphire to help me out? She’s really good with this stuff.
Acheius: Oh, I was wondering if I could help you instead…
Jaune: No thanks.
Acheius: But…!
Jaune: End of discussion, Dad.
Acheius: …
~~~
Acheius: Hey, Jeanne, want to watch a movie with me?
Jeanne: Mmm… No thanks.
Acheius: But, it’s your favourite, ‘The Princess Knight.’
Jeanne: I don’t want to watch a movie right now.
Acheius: But…
Jeanne: Dad, I don’t want to watch a movie: End of discussion.
Acheius: Why do you two keep saying that?
~~~
Jaune: Why did I even like this movie…?
Jeanne: The explosions, and cheesy one liners?
Jaune: I’d buy that…
Acheius: Hey, you two; I want you two to do the dishes, okay?
Jeanne: No.
Jaune: Don’t wanna.
Acheius: Hey, I’m not asking, I’m telling you to.
Jaune: Still don’t wanna.
Jeanne: End of discussion, Dad.
Acheius: Okay! What’s up with you two…?!
Juniper: Jaune, Jeanne; can you two do the dishes please?
Jeanne: Okay, Mom!
Jaune: This movie’s pretty lame anyway.
Acheius: Lame? And, why are you listening to your Mother, and not me?
Juniper: Because they like me more than you.
Acheius: Since when?!
Juniper: A couple of weeks ago.
Acheius: And, why do they like you more?
Juniper: Figure that out yourself.
Acheius: …
Acheius: Oh no…
Acheius: She’s angry with me too…
~~~
Jeanne: Oh crap?! Ooph!!
Jaune: Jeanne you’re over exerting yourself again.
Jeanne: I know, I know… Haa… I just…
Jaune: The muscle memory is too strong?
Jeanne: Yeah! That’s it, I’m not thinking, just reacting to your attacks. Haa… We’ve been at this for two years now and, I still haven’t ‘fixed’ this…
Jaune: Maybe that’s something you can’t fix; It’s like a well worn glove that you’re used to wearing, it’s just that you’re not big enough to wear it properly.
Jeanne: So I won’t be able to fight like I used too until puberty?!
Jaune: Yeah, pretty much.
Jeanne: NahhhHHH! I didn’t start puberty until I was thirteen! And, my boobs got really big when I hit sixteen! I better get my aura unlocked when I’m twelve because my back won’t be able to tale it!
Jaune: …
Jaune: Okay… Want to go back to training?
Jeanne: …
Jeanne: Curse the future, and my gigantic boobs…
Jaune: Can you stop?!
Jeanne: Okay, okay… Ready?
Jaune: Ready.
Acheius: What are you two doing?!
Jaune: Training to become, Hunters.
Acheius: Both of you?
Jeanne: Does it not look like we’re training together…?
Acheius: But, how are you two training; There’s no one to teach you?
Jaune: Internet.
Acheius: The internet?
Jeanne: You can find a lot of things on the internet.
Acheius: Okay…? But, who said you could train?
Jeanne: Do we need a permission slip, or something?
Acheius: Your fine, Jeje. I’m asking you, Jaune. Who said you could train to be a Huntsman?
Jaune: No one did. And, before you give me some sort of remark of, ‘Because I said so.’ You said you wouldn’t train me. Not that I couldn’t get training.
Acheius: Grrr…! Stop training with your sister! You are not going to become a Huntsman, Jaune!
Jaune: Why?
Acheius: Because I said so!
Jaune: No.
Acheius: No?
Jaune: No, I won’t stop training just because you said so. You’re more than happy to train, Jeanne, but you refuse to train me; Why?
Acheius: I don’t want you to become a Huntsman that’s it…
Jaune: Because…?
Acheius: I just don’t think that you’re capable of becoming a, Huntsman that’s why.
Jaune: I’m not capable? Huw… Please give him your sword, Jeanne.
Jeanne: Damn, I was hoping I wouldn’t lose that bet.
Jaune: Catch.
Acheius: W-What?
Jaune: Pick it up.
Acheius: Why…?
Jaune: You don’t think I can become a, Huntsman. I think I can. So, pick up that sword, and prove me wrong…
Jeanne: Damn… Is this how you made a harem…? By being so intense it’s hot!!!
Jaune: Shut up, Jeanne.
Acheius: Why… Why are you doing this, Jaune! Why do you want to become a Huntsman?!
Jaune: …
Jaune: I want to be the hero; I want to save the day, save the girl from the creatures of the darkness. Be the knight in shining armour in the stories, Mom told us when she tucked us in at night. I want to be the hero, simple as that.
Acheius: What?! Do you have any idea that…?!
Jaune: That the story of happily ever after isn’t true? That the hero is betrayed by the people they chose to protect? That sometimes the hero loses? That the story of a hero is a lie? I know that dad. But, I don’t need to be the worlds hero, or something as spectacular as that; I just need to be one person’s hero. That’s enough for me.
Jeanne: Caring, courageous, and selfless too… Gods if you weren’t my brother…
Jaune: Shut. Up. Jeanne…
Jeanne: Right, sorry…
Acheius: No! I won’t it! I won’t allow you to become a, Huntsman!
Jaune: Then you better cripple me because no matter what you say nothing is going to stop me!
Acheius: If that’s what it takes, so be it…
Juniper: ENOUGH! Enough! Enough…
Jaune: Mom?
Acheius: Juniper?
Juniper: Acheuis… He’s an, Arc… Just telling him you won’t allow him to train, just because you said so, won’t stop him from training. Just because my dad said no, didn’t stop you from marrying me now did it.
Acheius: This is not the same! Becoming a, Huntsmen is…
Juniper: We are both, Hunter’s, Achi. We both come from a legacy of hunters, a legacy that our children wish to carry on. So if you don’t want, Jaune to become a, Huntsman. You have to tell him the true reason you don’t want him to train. You have to tell them about him.
Acheius: But…! They’re just kids!
Juniper: And, they deserve to know. They’re old enough to know, and understand why you don’t want, Jaune, just, Jaune not, Jeanne to become a Huntsman. Because if you don’t you’re going to push, Jaune away even further than you already have.
Acheius: …
Acheius: Haa… Jeanne, Jaune, get your siblings; We’ll talk more when we’re all in the living room…
Jeanne: Okay…
Acheius: Come on, Juniper… Let’s get ready…
Juniper: It will be better when we tell them, dear, it will.
Jeanne: …
Jaune: …
Jeanne: What the hell was that about?
Jaune: I don’t know, but whatever it was, wasn’t good… Come on, lets get the others; we have a history lesson to attend to.
Jeanne: Alright then…
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thehollowprince · 2 years ago
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I don't mean to dogpile here, but like most men, I am very opinionated, so just bear with me for a minute.
It wouldn't matter in the slightest if Scott had been given more screen time. Hell, he was the main character of the show and had the majority of the screentime anyway and still people set to work criticizing every little thing he did, whether canon or perceived. Fandom does not like complicated or complex characters.
I'm going to say that again.
Fandom does not like complicated or complex characters.
Not in the slightest.
Fandom wants the barest bones of a character and story so that they can then connect the dots and draw over it and color it in however they wish. Scott being more than just a two-dimensional cutout was the problem, because it didn't give fandom the wiggle room they wanted, which is why so many in fandom reduced him down to some basic characteristics that were exaggerated by certain fans based in skewed viewings of what happened on screen.
Take Stiles and Sterek as an example.
No hate to Stiles, but he didn't really start to get flushed out as a character until later in the first season and then more so in subsequent seasons, and same with his frenemyship with Derek, and yet fandom had already built up an elaborate and convoluted storyline about their shared tragic pasts and how their undying romance saved them. This wasn't really based on anything in the show (with the exception of the Hale Fire and Stiles' mom), but fandom ran with it anyway. Why? Because they could.
Stiles was a pretty basic character when he was first introduced. He was an updated version of Xander Harris. He was the sarcastic and awkward best friend to the story's protagonist, and that was all fandom needed. He was a stick figure on a blank piece of paper, giving the fandom all the space they wanted to make him into whatever they wanted him to be.
Meanwhile, Scott has a lot happen to him in the first episode, from us seeing how seriously he takes lacrosse to his best friend's antics to his asthma to the Bite itself and all the subsequent drama that came with it. He's like the final draft of a comic page while Stiles was the concept art.
And it's not just Teen Wolf.
Recently, there was another teenage werewolf show by Jeff Davis called Wolf Pack.
Do you know who fandom's favorite character was from that first season out of the four teen werewolves we had? Harlan, the gay white dude whose only attributes were that he was gay and a werewolf. They completely bypassed the character of Everett, a character that opens the show talking to his therapist about his mental health and immediately fixated on the gay fuckboy who goes to a rave or party every episode until the second half of the season, where everything starts to come to a head.
And, of course, the fact that Everett happens to be black obviously had a huge role to play here because racism is a deeply rooted issue within fandom spaces, but it's also the complexity of the characters.
Fandom doesn't like complicated. They'd rather everything be wrapped up in the first episode so that the rest of the show can be dedicated to their shipping fantasies, which is an entirely different conversation.
The point being here is that Scott did have the screentime and the story to make people love him. It's just that most decided right off the bat decided they didn't care. Seriously, go back and watch the show, even just the first season, because Scott was involved with every plot line, and his romance with Allison wasn't even the crux of the story.
I have this heavy belief that if they just gave scott more meaningful screen time. Just more stuff outside his romance life tambien, more people would like him.
I watched this show the other day. I didnt like these two characters that much but they kept giving more attention to them, so much, that if they were to die, I would be so mad about it. (But that show also focused mostly on trauma's effects and backstory, which was not a priority for anyone in teen wolf, except a little for Stiles and Derek. Not for Mason, Scott, Melissa, etc.)
I do not believe Scott fans are making up stuff about his character. He had so much complex stuff that should have been explored. Im talking about the tiny hints and little flashbacks we got so little of but its definitely there. I do believe this group always pays attention to more of the details. Even the obscure ones I havent caught yet, and I love them for their love for him (Scott). So much. Because he IS the main character.
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strawberry-possum · 4 years ago
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Good god my sister burst into my room crying bc she broke a controller and now I have to calm her down, figure out how to fix it, and get her in bed and I'm too tired for this
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rocorambles · 3 years ago
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Patient 1: Addiction
Pairing: Toji x Reader
Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Predator and Prey themes, Cum play, Knife play, Non-Con, Degradation
Link to: Prologue
Patient Name: Fushiguro Toji
Diagnosis: Adrenaline Addiction
Your brow furrows as you stare down at your first patient’s files. An addiction isn’t uncommon, but to adrenaline? You suppose it’s possible to become addicted to just about anything. Yet there are a million questions buzzing on the tip of your tongue as you turn to Uraume who just shrugs and says you’re better off hearing it straight from Toji’s own mouth.
Everything about this psychiatric facility is strange and you curiously stare at the elevator buttons as both of you descend, noting how each button has a name of a patient next to it with the final button having no label.
“Each patient has their own floor. They’ve been here for so long that we thought it would be more humane to give them ample room to live in instead of the standard patient rooms you typically see in other facilities. After all, we’re not here to treat them like caged animals, right?”
The humanitarian in you can’t defy that logic, but you can’t help but wonder if it’s safe for them to not be bound during your session, only to cringe at your own thoughts. They’re just ill patients, humans just like you, not prisoners. With that newfound determination you stride out of the elevator only to freeze when you hear the outer elevator cage slam close on your heels.
You turn, hoping to see Uraume right behind you, but your heart sinks when you see them safely on the other side of the metal fence, an eerie grin on their face as the actual elevator doors slide shut, leaving you with some parting words.
“I’ll see you when you’re done seeing all your patients today.”
Not even seconds pass before you’re scrambling to look for a button or anything to help pry open the elevator doors, fear overwhelming you as Uraume’s ominous farewell haunts you. But there’s no escape and you turn around to take in your surroundings, trembling and on the verge of tears.
Expansive is an understatement and you nervously walk around the dimly lit area, quickly losing track of all the rooms, corridors, and dead ends you bypass and amble through despite doing your best to keep track of everything. It almost feels like it’s meant to be a maze or obstacle course of sorts…
“Well, well, well. Look at the new little mouse I’ve found.”
Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest only to still in shock when you see a familiar face grinning at you, immediately connecting it to the manilla folder tightly clenched in your hands.
“Fushiguro Toji?”
“And you must be the new shrink. Follow me, doc. I’m sure you have a lot of questions. They always do.”
You don’t want to think about what’s happened to your predecessors, this “they” Toji’s referring to. You don’t want to follow this stranger. You don’t want to be trapped in this unknown environment with a highly dangerous patient and no means of escape. But what choice do you have? And with limbs weighted with despair, you trail after the dark haired man.
You’re surprised when Toji leads you into a room not far off from the police interrogation rooms you’ve seen in movies. A single table with a chair on either side are the only furniture in the room and you quietly take a seat across from where Toji has casually slumped himself down. But you note how his large stature easily overwhelms the small space, making the substantial table between you seem meaningless.
There’s silence as you fidget and fumble with Toji’s file, trying to find any professionalism and composure you have left as said patient continues leering at you, an amused smirk ever present on his face. It feels silly to treat this like any other examination, but it seems like the only thing you can do, what Toji himself is expecting of you.
“What is...what is adrenaline addiction, in your own words?”
You wonder if this is what opening Pandora’s box felt like, the question barely out of your mouth before regret instantly seizes you as Toji’s grin only grows wider and sharper, a crazed look in his eyes when he replies.
“It means I like being excited a little too much, doc.”
“And what excites you?”
You don’t want to know his response, but it’s the only way forward and dread fills you as he responds.
“Oh, lots of things. The burn of my throat and rush to my head after taking a shot. Gambling and the uncertainty of whether you’ll win or lose. The look of despair on my victim’s face when I shove a knife through their beating heart. The way it feels so fucking perfect to shove my dick in any tight hole it’ll fit in. But you know what makes me the most excited, doc?”
It’s theatrical how he tapers off, green eyes piercing you as he silently orders you to acknowledge him. And all you can do is shake your head side to side, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you play right into his hands.
“What makes me the most excited is the thrill of hunting pretty prey like you.”
Instincts have you jumping out of your chair and bolting from the room. You don’t dare turn to see if Toji is chasing you down, his amused cackle at your expense trailing behind you. You’re blindly running, no sense of direction as you randomly turn left and right, your only prerogative to keep moving, hopefully farther and farther from your patient. Every corridor, every passage, every room looks the same and you struggle to breathe as quietly as you can despite the way your lungs ache.
You strain to listen, but it’s hard to focus on anything other than the drumming of your racing heart and you don’t hear the figure casually ambling towards you until you’re being roughly shoved face first into the wall you’re leaning on, a toned figure pressed against your back, caging you in.
“Now, now. You’re making this way too easy. Tired already?”
It’s a rhetorical question, one you can’t bring yourself to answer anyway, not with the way your teeth chatter and your body trembles in fear as Toji loudly inhales your scent while he buries his nose in the crook of your neck, tongue lazily licking a strike of your salty sweat.
You sob as he harshly bites down, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave you aching and hold you still as his hands wander underneath your clothes, groping and kneading your breasts and ass. You’re too scared to move, fearing the consequences of resisting, praying that maybe this is it, that you’ll be let off when he gets his fill of feeling you up. But you can’t help the way you yelp and instinctively struggle against his hold when he tires of your frozen state and decides to ruthlessly twist your nipples and shove a thick finger into your tight hole.
“There we go. Glad to know you’re still alive and kicking. I don’t enjoy fucking dead and broken toys like that pink haired bastard does.”
Pink haired bastard? Your mind briefly flashes to a hazy picture you’re sure you had seen in one of the patient files. What was his name-
You shriek as Toji shoves another finger alongside the digit already in you, sobbing as you feel him stretching your walls, relentlessly pounding his fingers in and out of you, his fingers painfully pulling at your nipples. All you hear is his grunts in your ears and you clench your eyes in disgust when you feel a long hard object grinding against you, knowing full well what it is without even looking.
He’s going to rape and kill you. This is how it all ends. And you wait for it, the searing pain of that massive shaft impaling you. But it never comes and before you know it you’re moaning as he twists and flexes until he finds that soft spongy spot inside of you, insistently rubbing and stroking it with curled fingers as he continues dry humping you from behind.
You’re so lost in the sensations that you don’t notice how your body is betraying you as it unconsciously grinds back against Toji’s hand, your ass shaking and pressing even harder against Toji’s cock. It’s funny how easily you’ve lost any common sense, but you’re not here to be a vapid bimbo toy. He’ll save that side of you for one his fellow inhabitants who’ll appreciate it more and he abruptly pulls his now soaked digits out of you, snorting at how you whine from the loss.
You look so confused, so stupid as he rapidly finishes himself off, hooking down your bottoms low enough for him to shoot his sticky seed all over the inner fabric of your panties. And he grins when you practically moan as he pulls your undergarments back into place, cruelly tugging a tad too hard and wedging his cum and the stained lace deep between your abused folds.
You’re panting, looking like a wreck as you try to ground yourself from the dizzying confusion of being pulled right from the brink of an orgasm, the emptiness of your edging making your head foggy. But then something sharp is being pressed against your vulnerable neck and it’s enough to have fear jolt you back to your senses.
“Don’t be such a boring slut. Time to run and hide again. It’s playtime, bitch. Or maybe you need me to cut you up a bit. Pain’s always a good motivator.”
He’s barely finished speaking before you’re shoving him and his knife away from you and he whistles in appreciation as he watches you race away again, taking his time to tuck himself back in his pants. You’ll need as much of a head start anyway to even try and remotely make some sense of this labyrinth he knows every corner of. Not that any advantage will actually help you much. Toji’s never had a prey he couldn’t catch.
How many times has he found you and released you after defiling you just a bit more every time? Neither of you can keep track and only when Toji has shoved his cock in all three of your holes, filling every orifice with his cum and fuckig you until you can barely walk does your session end. It’s almost comical how he has to quite literally drag you back to the elevator you had come from and he cruelly laughs at the white sticky trail you’re leaving behind you with your loose holes unable to keep in the copious fluids.
You barely register what’s happening, too exhausted, too fucked out of your mind to even be bothered by the rough friction of the ground against your body, only mildly stunned by the fact that the elevator you had frantically tried to re-enter is now innocently open. And it’s with muted despair that you realize what fate has in store for you as Toji presses the button of the next lower level.
Gojo Satoru
The neatly labeled name is all you register before the elevator doors slide open and you’re shoved out of it, blearily making out the sight of Toji tauntingly waving at you from inside the metal enclosure.
“See you at tomorrow’s session, doc.”
Your world goes dark as the elevator doors shut.
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khthonyk · 6 months ago
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Writing Prompt Day 12: “He had an hour to get home. If he didn’t make it…”
sorry guys, back on my bullshit. I had a bit more time in my break yesterday (I'm off at a work training, so my lunchbreak is an hour rather than the 30 minutes I get at work) so I was able to write a bit more. hope you enjoy
“He had an hour to get home. If he didn’t make it…”
Caro nervously stared up at the time table. The train had already been delayed fifteen minutes and he was beginning to worry. He only had an hour to get home before Tomas got off work. If he didn’t make it—
Shaking his head, he pushed the thought aside. It wouldn’t help to think about it now. Looking up again, he began debating if it would be quicker to just run (it wouldn’t, but he was beginning to grow desperate). Still, the time of arrival didn’t budge.
Chewing his lip, he fidgeted with a loose string on his coat. He continued trying to brainstorm ways home, but having only his keys and his metrocard with him, he was fucked.
Fuck. He really needed to scrounge up some money for a prepaid phone. At least if he had a second phone he could have a chance of figuring out another way home. He almost wished he had brought his phone. But Tomas tracked every step he took through the damned thing. He watched everything he did, everything he looked at. So Caro would slip away, take the train across the city to visit the library any time he needed to use a computer for something he didn’t want the Alpha to see. He was always so careful to be back before Tomas would come home from work. He didn’t know how he had lost track of the time so badly. That combined with the train being delayed had him mentally calculating how much time he had before he was really, truly, royally fucked.
Tomas had explicitly told him he was not to leave the apartment, but he had to slip away. He had created a second email, one the Alpha didn’t know about. He had been using it to keep in contact with Chrysanthos, since Tomas had begun keeping an eye on the communications between the two omegas.
Caro released a silent sigh of relief as the train finally, fucking finally, pulled up. He would be cutting it close, but if he ran the seventeen blocks to the apartment he would just be able to slip in before the Alpha.
The omega made sure to position himself right by the doors to ensure he was able to get off as quickly as possible. It felt like the ride took ages. But finally the train rolled to a stop at his station. He elbowed his way up the subway stairs, earning himself some dirty looks in the process, but it would be worth it.
Unfortunately, crowds were beginning to form along the sidewalks as people began to leave work and head home for the day. It slowed his progress as he had to dodge oncoming traffic, and running seventeen blocks had sounded much easier in his head than in practice, but the sleek grey building eventually came into sight.
Bypassing the lobby, Caro entered through the carpark, best not to be spotted by the doorman or front desk. 
He got lucky, the elevator rose past the lobby without stopping, taking him straight to his floor.
Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Caro pulled his keys from his pocket and let himself into the apartment. His relief immediately turned to horror as he found Tomas waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.
The Alpha’s eyes were cold as he closed the distance between them. Roughly grabbing the brunet by the arm, he pulled him into the apartment, slamming the front door. 
“And just where the fuck have you been? I specifically told you not to leave the apartment, did I not?”
“Tomas, I– I just went out for some air.” Caro held up his hands, placating.
Tomas’ grip on his arm tightened and he pulled the boy in until they were face to face. “Do you think I’m stupid, Caro?” His voice was dangerously calm.
“Of course not. Why would you even think that?”
The man immediately produced the omega’s abandoned phone from his pocket. “I wonder why you would leave this behind. You’re practically glued to it whenever I see you.”
The brunet looked fearfully between the phone and the Alpha. “I–I just went around the block—”
Anger turned to outright fury. “I’ve been waiting for you for over two hours. Would you like to try that again?”
Caro opened and closed his mouth, there was nothing he could say. No lie or excuse he could weave would get him out of this. Dejectedly, he looked to the floor, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry.”
The man laughed bitterly. “I bet you are. Go wait in the bedroom while I decide how to best address this little ‘misstep’ of yours.”
He knew better than to argue. When the Alpha released his grip, he made a beeline for the bedroom, hoping Tomas would let him off easier if he obeyed.
Shutting the bedroom door, he removed his coat and shoes before sitting down on the bed. The waiting, in his opinion, was worse than whatever punishment the man could come up with. 
After an eternity, he heard footsteps approaching the room. Coming into the bedroom, Tomas shut the door firmly behind him. It seemed he had calmed a bit in the time away (to the omega’s relief).
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honeytae · 3 years ago
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You make me wanna be a better man.
hi my loves!!!! as we all know, it’s tae day!!! which means…i obviously wrote a thousand words of fluffy nothingness to show my everlasting love and adoration of this man. happy birthday tae!!!! you deserve everything good and lovely the world has to offer!!!
genre: fluff!/artist!tae x reader
word count: 1.0k
p.s., if you don’t know what painting i’m talking about then click on this link!: https://www.instagram.com/p/CXsvrYzPdVM/?utm_source=ig_web_copy_link
On days like this, home felt like heaven.
Your nose was filled with the light scent of fresh paint, ears filled with one of Taehyung’s recent favorite jazz playlists, and heart filled with absolute joy at being reunited with your man.
Grinning stupidly at your boyfriends presence, you set your bag down and scurried off to find him, stumbling upon his art studio open wide with a very smiley Taehyung himself standing within the doorway.
“Hi, honey.” he crooned, large hands encompassing your wrists as he leaned forward to capture your lips, his skin soft against yours and somehow alleviating all the stress you had endured during your day.
You couldn’t see how you could ever get used to this; having this man hold you so tenderly, kiss you so softly, affections rolling off of his tongue meant for you and only you.
“How was the day?” he inquired, words mumbled quietly against your bottom lip, smiling at you as he stared back into your orbs.
His thumbs ran circles over the skin on the inside of your wrists, bypassing your bracelets to feel the warmth ignited whenever he touched you.
With a shrug, you pulled an indifferent expression, making Tae chuckle a bit as he raised his eyebrows at you. “It’s over now.” you sighed happily, meeting his lips again in a brief kiss as you wrapped your arms around his torso.
“How was yours?” you smoothed a palm down his spine, the man obviously appreciating it as he quietly exhaled, tension draining from his back muscles with each move of your hand.
“I’m trying to finish up a new piece. It’s well on its way now but- I just can’t shake the feeling that it needs something else to be finished.” he frowned, blinking a few times as you swept some of his longer hair out of his eyes.
“Hey, you’ll figure it out. I know you will. Be patient with yourself.” you assured him, lifting a hand to poke at his mouth until it twitched into a smile.
“Do you have other work to finish up tonight?” he asked, tipping his head adorably as his dark eyes glittered at you under the lights of his studio.
“No, but I can just hang out for a while. Can I sit in here with you?”
You were immediately met with a nod, his fluffy hair bouncing along with the movement making you smile.
“You sure?” you asked again, Taehyung grinning back at you as he dipped down to kiss your cheek.
“Absolutely, love.”
Caving, you nodded your head. “Okay, good. I like watching you work. I like your technique.”
Scrunching his nose up, he tipped his head slightly as he squinted at you.
“My technique?” he giggled against
your lips, volume increasing when you hummed in confirmation.
“You have good - form.” you finished after slight hesitation, Taehyung tossing his head back in laughter at your attempt to compliment him.
“Are you talking about my art now or something else?”
Exhaling a laugh, you rolled your eyes at his eyebrow wiggling, mumbling for him to shut up as he cackled at your reaction.
The truth was, you knew very little about art yourself. Dating Taehyung had been your introduction to all of this stuff, so you still didn’t have everything down yet.
But Taehyung was the most attractive while working on his art. You knew that for a fact.
“Get back to work, Vante.” you said, spinning on your heel to exit the room before you were halted by Taehyungs hold on your wrist, dark eyebrows knit together as he pouted at you.
“I’m making you something to eat first. Probably haven’t eaten today.” you assumed, pursing your lips together when you were only met with a guilty expression from the man.
“I’ll be back.”
•••••••••••••••••••••••••••
“Oh, Vante.”
Smiling, your boyfriend glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows at you in amusement as you leisurely crossed your arms behind your head.
Having made enough ramen for both him and yourself, you had put your own body into some sort of food coma in the corner of his art studio, watching him dutifully work in front of his table of emptied paint tubes with nothing but satisfaction and pride.
“Yes, love?”
He paused his paint brushes motions for a moment to show his attention to you, making you chuckle at him and his big curious eyes.
“I just love watching you work.” you shrugged, not really having much to say about such a breathtakingly beautiful vision.
Taehyungs mind was so fascinating, such a gift to the world. You loved that you couldn’t predict what he was going to do or try next; you adored him.
“I love when you watch me work.” he responded with a cute nod to himself, turning back to his red canvas with a mumbled, “having my reference in the room is always helpful.”
“If I’m a reference shouldn’t I be able to see it?” you whined, Taehyung laughing as he continued hiding the piece from you with his body.
“It’s not ready yet, honey. Give me, like, thirty more minutes. Then you can see it.”
Sighing, you relented. Picking up your empty ramen dishes, you stood with a huff, stealing Taehyung’s attention briefly as he shot you a square grin.
For the next half hour, you busied yourself with tasks outside of his studio, washing dishes and starting neglected laundry.
In fact, when Tae eventually emerged and came to grab you with one of his most shy smiles, you had nearly forgotten about the waiting period you had been forced to endure.
But your whole chest erupted with flutters as he grabbed your hand, giggling together as he pulled you into his studio, standing behind you with his arms draped around your frame as he finally displayed his piece to you.
You smiled at his typical art style, a new face with many of the same aspects of his other works yet somehow a completely different vibe than any of his other creations.
And then you saw it.
“You make me wanna be a better man.”
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