#later on you reluctantly believe him when he claims to not have murdered someone but then cartoonishly annihilate his balls just for a laff

[superherospinoff]

tim nutshotting jason in that one teen titans issue is still so fucking funny to me. both because it makes absolutely no sense for jason not to be wearing a cup and because what sort of petty ass violence...

[hellmouth-manor]

drenched in a strong rain || minami || trial 6.4 || re: owned again

Minami, unfortunately for her, doesn’t remember many things. Even if she’s accepted it, it’s embarrassing to have to carry around a notebook to record what people say to her, or what they like and don’t like. But in another way, it’s nice. Her notebook, before, had held only facts about two people, one deceased, with Minami desperately trying to cling to every fact about her.��

Now, it’s full of notes about others. For example, she’s written down that Micah likes Sanrio, and that he plays the same video game that Daishin does. She wrote down that he once got shot in the ass, just in case. She wrote down their plans to make friendship bracelets, and what beads he wanted. She has multiple pages filled.

What she didn’t have to write down— what she remembers— is Micah saying that her and Mirai’s murders had been his fault because he had been supposed to keep everyone safe. And that he should have died instead, because no one cared for him. She remembers most vividly that she’d made him cry.

She watches him cry now, black goop oozing down his cheeks, and she can’t stop remembering it. 

There was a reason she hadn’t been able to finish her thoughts earlier, aside from focusing on the fact that the assistant had sounded coerced. How could she accuse her best friend here? It would be a betrayal. She couldn’t bring herself to do it, even with all her lack of concern for how she was viewed. That’s not entirely true, now, after all— she doesn’t want to hurt Micah any more than she already has. Minami looks down at her notebook, and the name she had reluctantly circled amongst the evidence written there.

Her head pounds, as usual. She wants a cigarette. She supposes Micah’s chainsmoking makes more sense now, if he feels even worse than she does. 

With a surprisingly even voice, given her claims of being pissed at whoever was behind this, she eventually speaks up.

“…I guess I’d like to know why you agreed to work with the Game Master. The interview didn’t make it sound all that favorable.”

She hadn’t liked a lot about that interview, actually. The way the assistant was only discussed in terms of usefulness… sure, she found machines easier to understand than people. But that didn’t mean she liked when people were treated as one. 

Maybe with the answer to that question she’d be angrier. But for now, she just feels… frustrated. And sad. If Micah had been acting all those times they’d talked, she wouldn’t have been able to tell. She was horrible with people, so she could be wrong now— but she doesn’t think someone who had to do six takes of an introduction would have acted out crying when someone had said they were friends. It hurts, to know her best friend had been helping orchestrate her suffering, but… she could be hurt about it later. It was always later, with her own feelings. And that was fine. She, as ever, finds it more productive to focus on others. She glances at Mirai, worriedly, but… what she’d said earlier…

Minami is a brash and loud and rude person, but all that stems from her deep stubbornness. And that stems from her pride. Minami only believes in what she herself thinks. She stubbornly sticks to what she thinks now, looking at Micah’s tears and the worms in his hair that she recognizes. 

“Micah… I trust you, y’know. Even now. I ain’t givin’ up.”

On him, or their chances of freedom. Just because she trusts him doesn’t mean she has to believe him.

[babbushka]

Biting Dust - Ch. 5

Life ain’t too easy for a woman, ‘specially not a woman on the run like you. With a bounty on your head and gunpowder in your nose, you’ve grown adjusted to a life of solitude away from the hustle and bustle of civilization. That is, until you meet one particular man who’s got a face you’d only ever seen in your dreams – or on wanted posters. And when he offers you a proposition that sounds too good to be true, well. You don’t think your life will ever be the same again…

Outlaw!Kylo Ren x Reader

Tumblr Masterlist | Available on AO3

6k; Warnings: Attempted assault, attempted murder

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Red clouds of earth kick up behind your horse’s hooves as they gallop far past the town line, hootin’ and hollerin’ all the while. The wind whips your hair around, your bonnet flung right off your head, held onto your person only by the wide ribbon that’s kept it tied ‘round your throat. Adrenaline pumps through your body, makes your vision spotty, makes your heart beat fast fast fast, ridin’ like lightning away from Ragrock.

Kylo’s right beside you, makin’ just as much damn noise as you, his crooked teeth gleamin’ gold in the blazin’ Arizona sun. You ain’t never see him grin this big, as he shouts and jeers too, challengin’ the canyons and the desert, darin’ them to take this moment away from the both of you.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe you!” You laugh, voice nearly gettin’ lost in the wind, cheeks hurtin’ from the way you’re smilin’ so much, “Goddamn you’re so -- so -- stupid!”

Kylo laughs at that too, a deep rumblin’ sound that feels so much like thunder that you’re sure it’s shakin’ the earth. Or maybe that’s Sam and Agnes, the way they’re throwin’ their heads back and whinnying and stampin’ their hooves into the caked dirt below. Either way, it’s a good sound, one of them sounds that makes you ache in your bones; you can’t remember the last time you heard someone else laugh so genuinely.

“Yeah?” He finally decides to slow Sam to a halt, and you do the same, tuggin’ on Aggie’s reigns to get her to calm just a little bit, the horses powerful legs comin’ to a gentle trot, both you and Kylo gulpin’ down air.

“Yeah. Why the hell did you bring us through there knowin’ there was bad blood?” You reach into the saddle bag and pull out a canteen, measurin’ a careful sip or two of the fresh river water, before decidin’ to pass the jug over to Kylo himself.

Gratefully, he takes the same size sip as you, and you think that’s mighty chivalrous of him once again, on account of he’s a much bigger person than you, and should clearly need more water. Still, you don’t protest when he hands the canteen back to you, the lid screwed on nice and tight to avoid spillin’.

“It was the only place I could think of that’s close enough.” He shrugs, and you frown ever so slightly at that, knowin’ that really, as long as you stay close to the Colorado River, you’ll have just about anything you need.

Well, almost, anyway.

“Close enough for what?” Your curiosity gets the better of you, especially when he starts rummagin’ around in his own saddle-bag for somethin’. You lean over, tryin’ to be nosy and get a peek inside, but he only clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and you duck your head, embarrassed at bein’ caught.

“For this,” Kylo doesn’t make you wait though, pullin’ out a couple boxes of bullets, but much more importantly, “And these.”

When Kylo pulls out the burlap sack filled with coins, your eyes widen. Right there in his fist has to be over five hundred dollars in gold and silver, more money than you’ve ever seen in one place save for the banks you burn. It makes your mouth go dry, and you wonder how he got a hold of it all, if he took it from the cash register by force, or if he stole it discreetly.

“Holy shit, no wonder you were takin’ so damn long.” You urge Aggie a little closer to get a better look, darin’ to stick your hand in the bag and scoop up a handful of the coins. They were heavy, heavy and real.

“I figured you wouldn’t be opposed.” Kylo speaks quietly as your hands let the coins fall between your fingers, clinking together back in the sack. He gives you the sack then, lets the weight of it rest in your hands, clearin’ his voice, “We’ll need it for Ruby City.”

Without a thought, you push it back into his hand. He was the one who had stolen it, it belonged to him. Yes you were out of money, your own coin purse completely empty, but...but you had more pride than that, to accept someone else’s hard earned coin. Even if he had earned it wrongly, it was still his.

Besides, you reckon as you shake your head when he tries to give it back once again, Kylo was right -- it’s less suspicious to travel with a man, and if you’re traveling together, he better be the one to handle the money.

Kylo seems to read your thoughts, and he just nods, before taking a couple coins out and handing them to you, fifty bucks weighin’ on your palm.

“Just take the fuckin’ money.” He says with a small smile. “I won’t hear any ‘no’, it’s yours too, for helpin’ me by distractin’ the townfolk.”

You sigh, and reluctantly put the coins in your own small purse. For the first time in a while, the fabric is bulged out and heavy. Kylo puts the burlap sack back in his saddle-bag, and you resolve to ignore its existence until you need him to pay for a room at an inn somewhere.

“Should’ve warned me that you knew the damn bartender.” You scold him then, a little disgruntled that he had kept that information from you. If you were going to be a distraction, you would’ve liked to know exactly who it was you’re distractin’. “Should’ve told me y’all hated each other.”

You don’t tell Kylo that you were flirtin’ with that Armitage, certain that he wouldn’t like it. He sure as hell didn’t like it when Amos was gettin’ a little too friendly with you, anyway, and he was just a stranger. To your surprise though, Kylo scoffs out a laugh, and fishes out his old cigarette from the inside of his boot, lightin’ it with a match and puffin’ smoke through his nose.

“Hate?” He’s got humor in his voice as he urges Sam forward, needin’ to get back towards the water’s edge before the sun sank too low in the sky, “Nah, Hux and I go way back. He’s a good friend.”

You level him a dirty glare at that, if only he had told you he coulda’ saved you a world of panic! You think about the way that Armitage shot out his own windows, the way that Kylo managed to murder Armitage’s brother without any guns of his own, and all the damn fallout that came from it.

“Didn’t seem to be actin’ like a good friend when he was aimin’ his shotgun at your face.” You point out, thinkin’ to yourself, men are so goddamn strange.

Kylo laughs again, and you find yourself growin’ dangerously used to the sound, so you just sigh and shake your head. He smokes and smokes, both of your horses leadin’ you closer to the water, havin’ galloped away from it ever so slightly.

“He likes when I come rollin’ through, trust me. He always complains about how quiet his lil’ town of Ragrock gets, likes to give the folks somethin’ to gossip about every now and again.” Kylo explains, patton’ Sam’s neck and flashin’ you a gold-tipped smile.

“So he really wasn’t going to kill us then?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh no he probably would’ve if I let him.” Kylo answers quickly, “‘Specially after what I did to Brian. But he’ll be fine with it in a couple weeks once folks tell him I wasn’t the one that started nothin’.”

You stare at him for a little while, and he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, but he only gives you a crooked smile and a wink. You weren’t so sure what that wink meant, but if you had to guess, it could really only mean trouble.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” You lick across your teeth to prevent yourself from smilin’ and givin’ him the satisfaction of knowing that he entertains you. The grin he gives you tells you he knows it anyway.

“Nothin’ that you can’t handle though, I reckon.” Counterin’ with a slight smile, Kylo ducks his head and blushes, and that alone is enough to make you tap your heels against Aggie’s hide, to get her to go gallopin’ down the canyons again.

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

Some hours later, when the world around you starts to cool off from the settin’ of the sun, you and Kylo set up camp near the river. He had gone ahead and scouted the spot out, made sure there weren’t any folks who had already laid claim to that particular stretch of the bend, no one that could go cousin’ any trouble.

There was more than enough money now, to buy new stocks of food whenever y’all got to the next stop along the route, but that didn’t mean that you were about to let Kylo blow through the supply. So instead, you ask he hunt you down another rabbit for dinner, which he does in less than a half hour, impressin’ you once again.

It’s quiet, out there by the river. The sky has faded to a gentle purple, the silvery moon high in the sky. You’ve got a fire made, nothin’ too big or roarin’, just tall enough to heat up the cast-iron pot that you’ve got hangin’ over it by an iron stake. That rabbit is stewin’ in the pot, along with some water, beans, cut up carrots and a little bit of rice. You stir the pot, listenin’ to the sound of the river as it trickles past.

The sweet sound of a harmonica sounds then, and your gaze snaps up to see Kylo with the instrument against his lips. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathin’ nice and even, the high tune of a melody makin’ your throat choke up. It was a tune you knew all too well, once upon a time, a long time ago.

You stir the stew, chewin’ on the side of your cheek, until somethin’ in you compels you to sing. Your voice is a little rusty, but it doesn’t deter Kylo one bit, in fact, when he catches wind of you singin’ along to his tune, he plays a little louder, a little clearer, switchin’ to the harmony as you take over the melody to the sad cowboy song that you once used to teach yourself,

"O bury me not on the lone prairie."

These words came low and mournfully

From the pallid lips of the youth who lay

On his dying bed at the close of day.

He had wasted and pined 'til o'er his brow

Death's shades were slowly gathering now

He thought of home and loved ones nigh,

As the cowboys gathered to see him die.

"O bury me not on the lone prairie

Where coyotes howl and the wind blows free

In a narrow grave just six by three—

O bury me not on the lone prairie"

"It matters not, I've been told,

Where the body lies when the heart grows cold

Yet grant, o grant, this wish to me

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

Kylo sets down his harmonica then, and you blink away a light mistiness in your eye. It ain’t good to dwell on the past, you know, but sometimes, times like these, you can’t help but think ‘bout it. Kylo’s blinkin’ away somethin’ too, you notice, so as you stir the stew and determine the rabbit and vegetable and rice are all as cooked as they need to be, you ladle a big bowl for you and for this man who has become the closest thing to a companion you’ve ever had in your life, and you take it over to him.

He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, not for a while. You simply sit down next to him, as close to him as you’ve gotten since that time in the river, and hand him the bowl and spoon. He accepts it gratefully, his own gaze cast into the fire, and not for the first time, you wonder what’s goin’ on in his head.

After a couple bites of the stew, you rest your head on his shoulder. It’s a tentative motion, a hesitant one. Kylo holds his breath, you can feel it in the way he tenses ever so slightly, but he doesn’t tell you to move, and that’s as good of an invitation to stay as any, you reckon.

“You can’t go lookin’ at me like that, by the by.” Breaking the silence, you slurp down a spoonful of stew yourself, lookin’ into the comforting vision of the flames which flicker and flare gently in front of you.

“Hm?”

“If we’re meant to be cousins,” You explain, voice soft and kind, knowin’ that you’ve been too hard on him these past couple days. “You can’t be givin’ me those eyes of yours. Folks might see through the ruse.”

Kylo surprises you by shruggin’ with his other shoulder, his cheeks crinklin’ into a smile. His dimples crease, and he chews on his lip a little, keepin’ his eyes down as he blushes.

“Folks marry their cousins all the time, it wouldn’t be so strange.” Kylo nearly whispers, almost like he’s afraid to speak the words, rushes quickly to try and change the subject as soon as he’s said it, “Hell, my mother almost married her own damn brother on accident -- but that’s a long and complicated story.”

“Oh so we’re married now.” You smile, feelin’ the heat rise to your own cheeks. It’s less of a question and more of a statement, the way you say it, and you find that against your own better judgement, you like the way it sounds. You like the idea of it, and that makes butterflies spark up in your stomach, a feelin’ you ain’t so used to.

“We could be.” Kylo doesn’t dare look at you, idly stirring his bowl, “We could pretend, anyway.”

You think for a second about what that might be like -- but then you shake your head a little and sigh, “I made a promise I’d never be a meek housewife.”

“Ain’t no one here callin’ you meek.” Kylo reassures you, and now it’s your turn to duck your head, to rest it against his shoulder a little more. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, you wonder if he can hear it out there in the quiet of night.

“Be my cousin, for just a little while longer.” You whisper, a silent plea to just give you some more time, “Until we make it to Ruby City.”

“I can’t get a good read on you.” Kylo hums, and you’re relieved to hear that he’s not got an angry or disappointed edge to his tone.

He really does respect you, you realize all of a sudden. Maybe it’s foolish to come to that conclusion so soon, so quickly after you’ve met him, but you can’t help but come to it nonetheless. He’s done nothin’ but respect you this whole time, and you don’t know what to do about that. It’s never happened before.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask, a hint of a smile on your lips.

“It means that you’re the most mysterious damn woman I’ve ever met.” He replies easily, a smile on his own.

“I have to be.” Shrugging, you eat another bite of the stew, wishin’ you had some spices to throw in it. You hope Kylo doesn’t think it’s too bland -- before growin’ bashful again, at the thought that you want him to enjoy your cookin’.

“Why’s that?”

“Because the more people that know about me, the less safe I am.”

“I told you -- ”

“I know, you ain’t gonna hurt me, I know.” You interrupt him, before sighing, wondering if you were really going to do this, if you were really going to tell him. “That’s not what I meant.”

Kylo senses a shift in the air, a change in the atmosphere, and his teasing playful smile melts into something a little more somber, more serious. He watches you, and waits for what you have to say, and you decide that what the hell -- if you couldn’t tell Kylo, you couldn’t tell anyone at all.

“I didn’t always used to be an outlaw, you know.” Setting down your bowl of stew, you fidget with the hem of your blue dress’ skirt, and look into the fire, your memory transporting you to a place and time that felt like a million years ago. “There was a time, a long time ago, that I was a school teacher, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere Utah...”

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

You were young, when you started teachin’ at the school. It had always been your favorite place when you were growin’ up, and when the teacher herself got married and moved away, you jumped at the vacancy at once. This was the only way a young woman like yourself could earn a living with her clothes on, you knew that, and though you were barely older than the students that came to your classes, you took your job seriously.

It had been a bright sunny morning in Spring the day you turned sixteen, when the bells tolled for all the school children to come rushing to your door. Standing outside the single room schoolhouse, you had a cheerful smile on your face as you welcomed the students that you had come to love and care for, as they bounded up the few steps and into the wooden building. Ranging in age from as young as five, to as old as twelve, two dozen students took to their seats, fresh faced and recently washed, hair combed for their lessons.

“Good mornin’ class!” You walk to the front of the room once the bell finishes tolling, picking up a piece of chalk and writing out the first line to a popular sea shanty turned folk song, your delicate cursive spelling, ‘O Bury Me Not On The Lone Prairie.’

“Good morning Miss (L/N)!” The class responds in happy unison. One of your students, a young girl named Wendy quickly gets out of her seat to place an apple on your desk before hurrying back.

You smile at her, at all of them, having grown so fond of this mis-matched group of kids that have been placed in your care for the weekdays.

“I trust y’all had a good weekend?” You ask them, met with a chorus of overlapping affirmations, and you chuckle at their response to immediately wantin’ to tell you all about everything they did on their days off. “Good, I’m glad. Now if you would buddy up and please take out your textbook, we’ll pick up where we left off on Friday.”

The McGuffey reader was your go-to book to teach the children with, it had everything you needed -- reading, writing, and arithmetic that was easy enough to understand by even the littlest of your students. It was broken down into repetition, phonetics, and even had lines to trace the letters and numbers, but more than that, it was the book you yourself had learned to read by, so you were familiar enough with it.

“Who would like to be the first to read what I’ve got written up on the board?” You ask, once they’ve all opened their books to the appropriate page, a handful of eager students at once clamoring to volunteer.

And so, like any other day, the morning turned to afternoon, and the afternoon turned to evening. When the bells rang to dismiss the class, the children groaned, knowing that meant they had to go home where their family would likely put them to work in the field or in the kitchen for an hour before supper.

“Thank you for another wonderful day children, y’all be good for your parents now, you hear?” You try to encourage them to cheer up, even if it did warm your heart that they liked learning from you so much. “Oh, Rickie? Could you come here for a minute? You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

Sitting at your desk for a moment, you saw the earring that you had stashed in your drawer from the evening prior, and you fish it out as the ten year old skips over to you, his mousy brown hair flopping around as he does. You smile, thinkin’ that he might do to ask for a trim when he gets home.

“Yes ma’am?” Rickie stands before the desk, and you hand him the earring, his eyes going wide as he recognizes it.

“Could you do me a big favor and deliver this to your Mama? She must’ve dropped it here last night and I’m sure she’s goin’ crazy lookin’ for it.” You smile, and he nods happily.

“She sure is! Earned myself a smack upside the head I did, when she thought I snatched it from her dresser!” Rickie laughs, clearly glad to have been vindicated.

“Well I’m sure she’ll be sorry when you bring it back to her, let her know I was the one who had it, not you.” You smile back warmly at him, but he’s already runnin’ out of the schoolhouse, callin’ another thanks and a goodbye behind him as he goes.

Only a moment or two before the last of your students are gone, is there a knock on the door.

He doesn’t wait for an answer before coming in anyway, and you look up with a frown to see who would be so rude as to invite themselves, until you recognize the sheriff and put a forced smile upon your face.

“Hello sheriff, how are you this fine evenin’?” You present yourself as politely as possible, as the man’s spurs clink while those heavy boots of his walk across your floors, trackin’ mud in from the outside with little care.

You didn’t like him, the sheriff. Didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at you sometimes, didn’t like the way you caught him starin’ at the girls in your class. He was one of the oldest fellas in town, maybe three times your age. He’s starin’ at you now, eyein’ you up and down in a way that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m doin’ well honey, thank you.” The sheriff chews on some tobacco, a habit you can’t stand, before pointin’ out the door behind him and askin’ with a stern voice, “That boy wasn’t givin’ you any trouble, was he?”

“Rickie? No of course not, he’s a good kid.” You’re quick to reply, not wantin’ to cause any trouble for the young farmboy. You and the sheriff look at each other for a moment or two, before you grow more and more uncomfortable, busyin’ your hands with the worksheets that’ve been left on your desk to grade. You clear your throat, “Is -- has somethin’ happened?”

“Naw, I just wanted to come by and see ya before your night class starts.” The sheriff’s spurs clink clink clink over to the desk where he sits himself down, right on the wooden table-top.

“Well, here I am. Can I offer you somethin’ to drink? Coffee?” You try your best to be polite, hoping that one of your night students -- adults from the town who never got to go to school when they were young -- might show up and come to your rescue.

“Not tonight, thank you.” He replies, making you sigh out with relief against your better judgement. He doesn’t notice, instead you can feel his gaze on your chest, “But, if you’re free this friday evenin’, I’d love to take you up on that offer.”

“Oh...I see.” Bile rising up in the back of your throat, you shake your head and try to reject him as politely as possible, voice clipped yet firm as you move from around the desk to the chalk-board where you erase the children’s lesson and prepare for the adult’s. “Sheriff, I’m sorry but, I’m not quite interested in seein’ anyone at present.”

“And why’s that?” He doesn’t leave you alone, and you begin to panic with the way he’s steppin’ closer to you, knowin’ that if he traps you against the board, there won’t be a clear path to escape.

“Well it ain’t allowed for a woman to be datin’ while she’s a schoolteacher.” You explain, your voice starting to wobble.

Something about that makes him chuckle, somethin’ sinister, his blackened teeth from all that damn tobacco too close to your face when he grins.

“Must be awfully lonely,” Sheriff runs his hand up your arm, “Missin’ the comfort of a man at night.”

“It’s not.” Your body shudders in revolt, and you try to side step him, blood pounding in your ears, eyes wide in distress as you feel sweat bead up and trickle down the back of your thigh, “I appreciate your concern but -- ”

“Let me just get one kiss then.” He doesn’t let you go that easily, grabbing your arm harshly and dragging you over to one of the desks where he pushes you with a rough shove. His hand grips your cheek too hard, forcing your mouth to pucker as you fight him.

“Sheriff, I said no -- please get away from me -- I don’t -- don’t touch me!!” You knee him hard straight in the groin, your panicked scream alerting the adults who had thankfully, miraculously, decided to show up for evening class early.

“Miss (L/N)!” A couple of cattle ranchers kick the door open and run to your side, tugging you away from the sheriff who laughs loudly. You smell the stench of alcohol on him, realizing he’s drunk as all hell, and cling to the strong rancher, tears threatening to spill over your eyes.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch our teacher again!” One of the ranchers, a nice man named Francisco, holds you tightly, protectively. You always liked Francisco, he treated you like a daughter he never got to have. The other, Jedidiah, stands firmly next to you, so ready to lunge at the sheriff that you can’t help but feel immense gratitude towards them.

“Everythin’s just fine son, run along now.” The sheriff chuckles, but neither Francisco nor Jedidiah move a muscle.

“Sheriff I think you need to leave.” Mustering up as much of your courage as possible, you speak clearly, willing your voice not to shake as the safety of Francisco’s arms give you strength, “Class begins soon, I’m sorry.”

The ranchers stare the sheriff down, and he stares back, before noddin’ with a sick understandin’ that you reckon means this won’t be the last you see of him. Spittin’ his tobacco onto the floor, that same floor he sullied with the mud under his boots after the children had so lovingly cleaned it with you, the sheriff turned on his heel and left, pausin’ at the doorway for a moment to send you a dark, threatenin’ chuckle, “You will be.”

“Are you alright Miss (L/N)? Did he hurt you?” Jedidiah takes his cap off and kneels in front of you, tryin’ to appear as non-threatenin’ as possible. Francisco releases his hold on you, and checks you for any marks or signs of stress, but you just let out a shudderin’ breath and shake your head. You’re not sure which question that’s meant to answer, but they don’t press you.

“Who do we call when the sheriff’s the one acting out?” Francisco wonders aloud, and you feel like there’s lead in your belly, because he’s right.

The only way you’d likely be able to avoid the sheriff and his wrath would be to leave town altogether, and well, you couldn’t do that. Who would keep after the students then?

There wasn’t any trouble during the lesson that evening, much to your satisfaction. The later it got in the night, the more you felt relieved, surely if the sheriff was going to cause trouble, he would’ve done so by now. Your students can tell that there’s something off about you though, a few of them approachin’ you after the class was done, wonderin’ if there was anythin’ they could do.

In hindsight, you wonder how different your life would’ve been, had you asked to stay with one of them for the evening, or had you asked one of them to stay with you.

The chokin’ woke you up, before anythin’ else. Smoke, thick black plumes of it pouring out of the windows, the doors. Smoke in your lungs that had your body joltin’ up and out of the little bed up in the attic where you lived above the schoolhouse, had you rollin’ onto the floor in a panic.

“No!” You shout, as the heat of red orange yellow flames begins to lick up the walls, eatin’ away at the wood structure of the building, the whole thing two steps from bein’ a blazin’ bonfire out in the field, “Oh god, oh god no!”

Frantic, you run, mind going blank, trying to focus on grabbin’ the important things, only the important things; a photo of your family, the money out of the dresser, a copy of your favorite book. That was it, all you had that you could think to grab, before trying for the door.

The handle burns, and you scream, shaking the pain away from the blisteringly hot doorknob. You’re fucked, oh you’re so fucked, you think as you back up enough to barrel your way through the door, the wood shattering and splintering. The fire reached all the way up to the attic, there was nowhere you could escape. You could jump out the window, but you’d break your neck landin’ on the hard ground. Outside, someone yells, revelin’ in the way that you scream.

“If I can’t have you, ain’t nobody gets to have you, hear that? You hear that bitch?” The sheriff cackles tauntingly, and the fear of death drips icy cold down your back, compels you to run as fast as you can down the wooden rickety stairs, into the blaze.

If you can just get out, if only you can get out of this building, maybe you’ll survive, maybe you --“No!”

One of the stairs has shattered beneath your feet, your foot stomping straight through it, trapped. You cough and hack up the smoke, it’s stinging your eyes, it’s in your lungs, soot in your mouth, you can’t see, oh god it’s so hot, the flames are surrounding you, and your foot is stuck through the stairs.

“Please, please come on you’re strong enough for this, you have to be strong enough for this, come on.” You sob, willing yourself, yanking your foot out in harsh movements as the laughter screeches around you in a drunken stupor.

Eventually, in all your efforts, the structure of the stairs give away entirely, and you try to grab onto something as the floor falls beneath your feet, sending you crashing down into the classroom below. The fire’s taken everything here; the wallpaper, the tables and chairs, even the shiny apple that Wendy sat on your desk, all reduced to ash, cracking and spitting in the flames.

You’ve hit your head from the fall, you can’t move. Somethin’s pinned your legs, you can’t feel nothin’. At least there ain’t any smoke down here, all of it risin’ up up up through the building. The smoke pushes the bells, make them toll. You wonder if they’re callin’ the Reaper, tears slippin’ down your cheeks.

“All the books, oh the poor children.” You whisper, thinkin’ of them all, watchin’ as the textbooks singe to nothingness, knowin’ that soon your body will follow, “Who’s going to teach the children?”

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

Kylo’s arm is around you, you realize, out there in the present. He’s stock-still, face gone pale, somber. He’s crying, you realize, jaw clenched tight, the muscle in his cheek flexing from the force of it. You’re crying too, wetness on your face. You watch as a tear plips into the rabbit stew, and you’re not entirely sure if it’s one of yours, or Kylo’s.

“The rest of the town came to my rescue, once the flames got so bright you could see ‘em from across the fields. They thought I was dead, when they found me.” You clear your throat, rememberin’ the details of the story that you had only found out after the fact, “I was covered in soot, breathed too much of it in, I wasn’t wakin’ up. I later found out that the sheriff didn’t let them give me a funeral, just told them to stick me in a coffin and gave me a shallow grave.”

Kylo remains quiet, but the arm around you tightens. You’re reminded of Francisco then, how he had protected you. You wonder where he is, what he’s doing. If he ever got to have a daughter.

“I was glad for that part at least, it wasn’t too hard to dig my way back out when I woke up. I must’ve only been there for a couple hours, the dirt wasn’t packed tight or nothin’, thankfully.” You sigh, not knowing when to stop, now knowin’ how to do any of this, how to be vulnerable like this. You ain’t had to be vulnerable in a long, long time.

“Must’ve been out of my mind, I had never thought about killin’ anyone before, you know. I was more angry about the loss of the school than I was for my own life, if you can believe. I hunted him down, the sheriff. He thought I was a ghost, and he hid from me. I found him in the end, doused him in kerosene and lit the sonofabitch on fire right on his front porch.”

You lean your head on Kylo’s shoulder, and ever so gently, he rests his cheek against you back.

“I was sixteen then, and “I’ve been burnin’ shit down to the ground ever since.” You whisper, voice almost lost by the trickle of the river as it flows down to Colorado.

“I’m sorry.” Kylo says, snuffling into your hair a little bit, holdin’ you close, a silent promise.

“It ain’t your fault.” You reply, fightin’ that sour feelin’ in the back of your throat, nudging your face a little closer into his neck.

“If I had been there, I would’ve helped you.” He says, even though you both know that there ain’t no changin’ the past.

“You’re here now.” You pull back enough to look at him, really look at him right in the eyes.

“Yeah, I am.” He nods.

You wonder, sometimes how life might’ve been different, but after all is said and done, this is the life you’ve got.

Kylo lies down then, one arm extended out from his body, an offer.

You don’t think twice about it, when you lay down next to him, your head usin’ that arm as a pillow. It wraps around your shoulder, tuggin’ you to Kylo’s chest, and for the first time in a long time, when you sleep, you don’t dream.

"I've always wished to be laid when I died

In a little churchyard on the green hillside

By my father's grave, there let me be,

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"I wish to lie where a mother's prayer

And a sister's tear will mingle there.

Where friends can come and weep o'er me.

O bury me not on the lone prairie."

"For there's another whose tears will shed.

For the one who lies in a prairie bed.

It breaks me heart to think of her now,

She has curled these locks, she has kissed this brow."

"O bury me not..." And his voice failed there.

But they took no heed to his dying prayer.

In a narrow grave, just six by three

They buried him there on the lone prairie.

And the cowboys now as they roam the plain,

For they marked the spot where his bones were lain,

Fling a handful o' roses o'er his grave

With a prayer to God his soul to save.

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

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Taggin' some Kylo lovin' friends!

@mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @bitchydecisions @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @thembohux @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @babayagakeanu @safarigirlsp @steeevienicks @materialisthicc @hswritingrecs @rosi3ba3z @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad @loverofallthings @groovetoob @bxnnywriting @angel-bxby3 @smallgirlbigpersonality @lovelyyy-luna @2000andwhat @raddo1975 @cornmousequeen @metsienmenninkainen @caillea @painttheskylineforme @holding-on-to-starwars @kylo-ren-is-alive @caitlin-was-here @icarusinthesea @princessflip @goddessofsprings @mrs-gucci @baubub @bucky-j-barnes @mindyoshiii @beachwoodmonet @darkhairedmenrule @eagerforhoney @nekonaomitard @einmal-im-traum @justlenastuff @0nihiime

[alirhi]

...goddess help me...

This fucking episode. *deep breath* This... This episode is where I'm expecting to get some serious hate. Let me just get this out of the way right up front:

I. Hate. Zemo.

I do not find him sympathetic, or funny, or charming. I find him creepy and annoying. I did not like him in CA:CW and I do not like him in TFATWS. If you are pro-Zemo, you are not going to like my version of this show from here on out. Just find something else to read and don't bother me about it. You've got the actual canon, so go enjoy that.

Got it? Good. Now, on to the main event!

Episode 3: The Power Broker

First of all, Sam doesn't let Bucky walk in there alone. No matter Bucky's (flimsy and nonsensical) argument, Sam's like "hell no. I go in with you, or you don't go in." The main reason for this isn't to keep Bucky from breaking Zemo out of prison (with decent writing, he would never do that) - it's so that Sam witnesses Zemo taunting Bucky with/about the trigger words. because Zemo is a piece of shit.

Since he doesn't know the full story, Sam is confused, but he files this interaction away to ask Bucky about later. He's listening to Zemo acknowledging that Bucky was "not conscious for most of [his] imprisonment" (which, yes, clearly refers to the time he spent frozen, but can also mean while he was under their control as TWS/"The Asset" - also, key word: imprisonment) and when he calls Bucky a means to an end, Sam scowls, looking ready to go off on him, but he waits. They've got more important issues.

Neither of them entertains the thought of breaking Zemo out for even a nanosecond. He does that shit himself. And literally the only reason I'm sticking with him getting out at all is because I want to address some truly egregious moments linked directly to him in the show. Zemo makes them think he's setting them on the trail when really he's just sending them to his motor pool. Bucky and Sam are confused until they see Zemo in his stolen guard uniform, then they're both angry and want to ship him right back to prison, but he strikes a deal with them: "My help for my temporary freedom. Creating super soldiers cannot be allowed to continue; let me finish my work, and then do with me as you will." He has no intention of going quietly back to prison, obviously, and they're not stupid enough to believe otherwise, but they believe they can keep him on a short leash, so they agree for now. Anything to bring down the Flag Smashers and whoever created them.

After the title, we cut to Raynor on the phone in her office. She's agitated, fiddling with things on her desk. "No, sir," she's practically growling, "it was disrupted. - Walker did! - It's not my fault your new attack dog got off-leash!" She pauses, huffs, and says more calmly, "No. Of course not. I'm sorry. - Well, I don't see how, with the new Cap strutting around barking orders! - What am I supposed to do? Tell Captain America in front of a dozen witnesses that he can't have his predecessor's favorite pet because we're not done reprogramming him? I didn't see that going over too well. I made a call. - No. No, no, no, we can still use him. The work's not finished, but he still trusts me. He'll be back." A pause as she listens. Angry again, she snaps, "What do you want me to do, shove a tracker up his ass? He'll be back, and we'll pick right back up where we left off! - Don't worry, sir, the Asset will be fully compliant and ready to use soon. I'll make sure of it. - Yes, sir. You, too." She hangs up and tosses her phone on the couch, grumbling, "Dick."

Cut back to Sam, Bucky, and Zemo getting going on their trip to Madripoor. On the plane, Sam wants to talk to Bucky about what he's learned so far, but doesn't want to bring it up in front of Zemo... until the notebook incident reminds him that Zemo already knows more about Bucky than he does.

After Zemo's line about the list, Sam angrily corrects him: "You mean people HYDRA used The Winter Soldier to hurt." When Zemo shrugs and his response is basically along the lines of "what's the difference" Sam is like "oh hell no."

"Those words you were reciting at him," he reminds Zemo, "what were they, Russian? They clearly meant something. They were supposed to do something. What are they?" "Sam, let it go," Bucky pleads, unable to look at either of them. "It's nothing." "You wanna drown in your guilt, that's fine," Sam snaps, "but make sure it's for the right reasons." He turns back to Zemo, who's smiling at this exchange because he's a monster and thinks Bucky's suffering is fucking funny. "I asked you a question, Zemo. What did those words do?" "They activate the Winter Soldier programming," Bucky grudgingly admits. He doesn't want to talk about it, but he's sure as hell not going to let Zemo speak for him. "Or, they did, before the Wakandans got all that shit out of my head." "It's a shame," Zemo says with a smirk. "Imagine the possibilities that come with perfect obedience." "I think you mean 'slavery'," Sam growls, "and I think you're in the wrong crowd to be looking so pleased about it. Remember that we can send your ass back to prison any time." "Of course," Zemo agrees, but with an arrogant smile that shows he doesn't believe for a second that these two have any real power over him. Still, he bides his time and sits back quietly, watching Bucky fidget with the notebook. Sam turns back to Bucky, seeing his discomfort; he won't let the topic go, though, not yet. He just softens his tone. "So, they 'activated the Winter Soldier'? What exactly does that mean?" Bucky shrugs, still not looking up. "Pretty much what he said - perfect obedience. What little consciousness they left me between cryo and the chair was squashed down, locked away. And I did whatever I was told, exactly the way they told me to." It finally clicks. He'd had his suspicions before, of course, but now Sam gets it. Visibly horrified, he stares at this quiet, broken man, and finally sees the truth of what he'd been through for 70 years: "They stripped away your autonomy. Shit, Bucky, they didn't even let you be a person. That's..." He swallows, looking like he'll be sick any minute. "That's awful, man. I'm so sorry." When Bucky tries to shrug it off and downplay it again, Sam gets angry. "Look at me!" He waits; it takes a few seconds, but Bucky reluctantly looks up and is surprised to see just how upset Sam is on his behalf. "It wasn't your fault. None of it. When Steve said you didn't have a choice, I had no idea... You really, truly had no choice; not even the ability to choose. That's horrifying." "I doubt it would make much difference to the people he's killed," Zemo points out snidely. "Or their families. Let's ask Tony Stark, shall we?" "You shut the hell up," Sam growls. He watches Bucky flinch and make that face - the face he's starting to really fucking hate - that says he agrees with Zemo. Bucky still can't see things the way Sam does; he still feels the guilt and shame, and even when he himself pointed out his lack of agency under HYDRA, it didn't click for him that Sam is right, not Zemo.

It's too much, too soon. Sam sees that and decides to change the subject, to give Bucky some time to process. He nods at the notebook, and they have their little Marvin Gaye debate, where Sam is over the top about it on purpose, because Bucky needs the distraction.

Of course, Zemo ruins it by opening his big mouth again and reminding Bucky of more trauma: his time fighting in WWII. That's why Sam latches onto the bit about Madripoor; to keep the focus not only on the task at hand, but off of Bucky's past that he clearly still can't cope with.

"James... You will have to become someone you claim is gone." Sam is officially ready to throw Zemo out a window. 😂 The only reason he doesn't jump to Bucky's defense again and basically tell Zemo to fuck himself (in a PG-13 way 🙄) is because Bucky's, as Sam pointed out in ep2, a grown-ass man, and because he's just learned how few decisions this poor man has been able to make in his life. Sam doesn't want to come across as another "handler," deciding everything for him, even if he does think this plan is stupid and needlessly cruel.

At the bar, when asked if he wants "the usual", Sam just casually waves the bartender off like "nah". Zemo already said they had business to attend to, so it's not like anyone would be suspicious that now's probably not a good time to be doing weird shots lol. (wtf even was that? I'm not sure I want to know, but...what part of the snake did he drop into that drink?)

Sam's not an idiot (I'm really so sick of this trend of turning intelligent characters into morons because the writers can't think of any other way to move their plot along) so his cell phone has been off this whole time. No sudden call from Sarah to put them all in danger. There was really no point to that, anyway; Sharon likely would have killed Selby for talking about Nagle with or without the excuse of "saving" Sam and Bucky. I mean, it's not like they know who fired that shot, ever.

"They cleared the Bionic Staring Machine," Sam still jokes, but he follows it with, "and they think he's a mass-murderer." "They think?" Sharon stares at him incredulously. "Didn't he kill pretty much everyone he's ever met?" "Wow." Sam glances back at Bucky. "She really is awful now." To Sharon, he adds, "You met Steve; do you really think he'd have defied 117 countries to protect someone evil?" "He did it for Bucky," she points out. "Let's face it - Bucky could blow up half the planet, and Steve's loyal-to-a-fault ass would still take a bullet for him." "You know I'm sitting right here, right? I can hear you." "Look, I don't think you're evil, Bucky," Sharon assures him. "But I know you killed a lot of people for HYDRA." "I'm not denying it." "He didn't have a choice," Sam snaps, glaring at them both. "But we're not getting into that right now. My point is, the government's afraid of Bucky, and they still pardoned him. All you did was steal something. I'm sure they can be persuaded to see reason." "The day the US government sees reason," Sharon quips, rolling her eyes, "is the day I sprout real wings and fly off into the sunset." "Careful, Icarus," Bucky mocks with a smirk, "the sun and brand new wings don't exactly go together." Then he shrugs and glances at Sam. "But she's not wrong."

At the party that night, it takes a few minutes (grumpy old man Bucky's not sure how to feel about the music lol) but a peek of pre-war Bucky comes out to play: they were told to "blend in", so he dances. At first he's just bobbing around alone looking stoic and out of place, but soon he's smiling and dancing between two attractive people - one male, one female. Sam is surprised, but before he can tease him for it, Sharon comes to get them all. Even she's a little "wait what?" at Bucky having a little fun lol. (recovery is not linear, guys. trauma doesn't mean "perpetually miserable, no fun, doesn't even know how to smile." in my TFATWS, Bucky gets his lighter moments; real ones, not humor at his expense)

When they find Nagle, Bucky's the one who notices and opens the secret door, while Sam keeps an eye on Zemo. Bucky catches Zemo trying to grab that gun; closes the drawer on his hand before opening it and taking the gun away. "Nice try." Nagle tries to get away while there's only one person watching him, but Sam catches him and forces him back into his seat. With a bruising grip on the back of Zemo's neck, Bucky drags him back over to where he and Sam can both keep an eye on him. Nagle is killed in the shootout as they're trying to escape; Zemo still runs off, blows shit up, and comes back with the stolen car so he's not totally useless.

I had no problem with Zemo being the one to kill Nagle; Nagle was the worst and def had to die, and Zemo has never had an issue killing anyone. Where I took issue with this scene was Bucky and Sam being dumb enough to let Zemo wander and get his hands on a gun. Nope. Not happening.

Anyway, shootout! Explosions! Funny banter! The seat thing, which is my favorite nod to CW ever lol... And then the conversation on the plane...

"You okay?" "Yeah." Sam sighs. "Just thinking." "About how to get Sharon that pardon you dangled in front of her?" He shakes his head. "About how Nagle referred to 'The Winter Soldier Program" like it was some kind of after school club; like you weren't standing right there. And 'the American test subject' like... Like Isaiah wasn't even a real person." He turns to face Bucky, looking angry and weary. "Makes me wonder how many times... How many times are we gonna run around in the same circles before people learn? And how many people need to get crushed underfoot in the meantime?" "Did you really just equate me with Isaiah?" Bucky frowns, not sure how to react to that. "That man is a hero." Sam opens his mouth to say something, but his phone goes off and Zemo approaches at the same time, effectively cutting off their conversation.

When they get to Riga and Zemo tries to guilt trip them over Sokovia, Bucky deadpan reminds him, "Neither of us were involved in that fight." "I doubt you'd have been much help if you were." He shrugs. "Probably not. But I like to save my guilt for events I was actually present for. It's a thing." Zemo laughs. "Fair enough."

Bucky goes on his walk, and meets up with Ayo.

[comrade-meow]

‘Sex work’ advocates and the Nazi propaganda playbook

Last month Nordic Model Now! was asked to participate in a University of Exeter student debate on the proposition that “This house believes that sex work is real work.” As a group, we are ambivalent about taking part in such debates. On the one hand, they are seldom a conducive forum for understanding nuanced and complex issues – but on the other hand, if we don’t participate there is a risk that the audience won’t hear the feminist analysis of prostitution. No one else in the group was able to take part that night, so reluctantly I agreed.

From the comments on social media during the debate, it appears that most of the students were won over by the arguments of the two proponents of the proposition – even though it was clear to me that they both had powerful vested interests in a booming sex industry, that much of what they said was palpably false and much of their argument relied on ad hominem attacks on myself and the other speaker against the proposition.

I was awake much of that night wondering why the students at one of the top universities in the UK appeared to be so unable to see beyond the self-satisfied veneer of the two speakers for the proposition. By the morning I’d resolved to analyse the arguments for the proposition and place them in context, with the aim of providing some help to those coming to similar debates in the future. This article is the result.

The Nazi Manual of Propaganda

Yale professor and expert in the history of fascism, Timothy Snyder, talks of the 1924 Nazi manual of propaganda that advised finding simple slogans and repeating them over and over and framing opposition as disloyalty or worse. Many people, he says, have taken up these tactics in recent years, leading not only to an erosion of the understanding that politics should be about reasoned debate leading towards constructive and informed policy, but also to politics being viewed as a battleground between ‘friends’ and ‘enemies’.

You would need to be blind to not recognise that these tactics have become increasingly common in the UK and US in recent years, and how they have been used to manipulate the public into support for policies that are not in their best interests and that might have catastrophic consequences. Depending on the arena, dissent is framed as hatred, ‘anti-science,’ or not ‘evidence-based,’ and this acts as a powerful silencing force that shuts down critical thinking and coerces acceptance of what is often little more than hot air.

These tactics obscure who are the real beneficiaries of the propaganda – usually people who gain power or who benefit in financial or other ways from whatever is being promoted. Bizarrely, we can observe these practices on both the right and left of the political spectrum.

These tactics were on display in the University of Exeter Debating Society debate. It was by no means the first or only such debate I have taken part in or observed, and nor was it the first time that I saw those promoting the idea that ‘sex work is real work’ consciously or unconsciously using tactics from the Nazi propaganda playbook.

You don’t have to take my word for it. You can read the transcript of the debate and I’ll illustrate my claims through an analysis of the key arguments used by the two speakers for the proposition.

Jerry Barnett

The first speaker for the proposition was Jerry Barnett, who’s the author of the book, Porn Panic. He regularly writes on sex and the ‘economics of sex,’ and runs a YouTube channel called ‘Sex and Censorship.’ In other words, the sex industry indirectly provides his daily bread and butter.

After introducing himself, he defined work as: “A voluntary exchange of time or labour for money or some other payment.” He didn’t mention that this definition deviates significantly from the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition, which is based on mental or physical activity, and he didn’t explain how you can exchange time for money.

One of the key arguments against prostitution being considered normal work is that although it involves some mental and physical activity (pretending the punter’s a great guy, cleaning up afterwards, etc.) the core feature of prostitution is that he uses her body – he gropes and penetrates her. This is not about her being actively engaged in mental or physical activity but someone doing something to her.

What other work involves someone doing something to you while you lie back and endure it? The only thing that I can think of is participating in medical trials – but that’s not considered work – even though you might be paid for taking part.

So, he sneakily expanded the definition to make it easier to argue that a man penetrating your orifices is a normal form of work – although of course he didn’t mention penetration because, like most sex trade lobbyists, he buries such fundamental realities in euphemism and obfuscation.

Interestingly, he did admit that it is invariably men who are the customers (or punters as we call them) and nine or more times out of ten it is women who are being penetrated – or earning an income from ‘sex work’ as he euphemistically described it.

His arguments hinged around two key contentions: First, that ‘sex work’ is well-paid, enjoyable work that has short hours and is particularly suitable for anyone who needs flexibility. I will leave aside the questionable ethics of promoting such a skewed reality to an audience of impressionable young women and men.

Second, that opposition to ‘sex work’ is based on false statistics, the conflation of trafficking and consensual ‘sex work,’ and moralistic values from people who are anti-sex and who attack women’s rights, and refuse to “listen to sex workers who say it’s empowering.”

Most of the time, he expounded on one or other of these claims, all presented with utter conviction, while implicitly framing anyone who disagreed with him as the enemy – the enemy of women’s rights, of rational debate, of men, of more or less everything that he considers good in life.

He dismissed my arguments as “anecdotes” even though most of his were based on wishful thinking rather than hard evidence – while at the same time claiming they were “evidence-based.”

For example, I mentioned that the murder rate of women involved in prostitution is the highest of any group, including in the UK, and that where prostitution is legalised, the murder rate of women in prostitution usually remains high.

His immediate response?

“Anna is good with anecdotes but when she tries to use statistics, they don’t seem to add up at all. I think the last time I looked, the professions with the highest [murder rate] were police and fast-food delivery people who are overwhelmingly men. But yeah, the anecdotes stack up, the statistics don’t.”

I didn’t manage to respond to this until much later in the debate, when I quoted a senior police officer who, when giving evidence at a Home Affairs Select Committee inquiry in early 2016, said:

“We have had 153 murders of prostitutes since 1990, which is probably the highest group of murders in any one category, so that gives the police cause for concern.”

I didn’t have the stats for police murders at my fingertips but I looked them up later and found data that suggested there had been about 28 murders of police officers in the UK during the same period (1990-2015). So, there were more than five times as many murders of women involved in prostitution as police officers. I couldn’t find any data on fast food delivery drivers other than a few isolated press reports.

So much for his grasp on statistics. But the damage had been done.

Charlotte Rose, the other speaker for the proposition, compounded the damage by asserting more than once that there had been no murders recorded of women involved in prostitution in New Zealand, where the sex industry is fully decriminalised.

But again, this is untrue. The German women who run the Sex Industry Kills project have documented 10 murders of prostituted women in New Zealand since the sex trade was decriminalised in 2003 along with a number of attempted murders. That is a significant number given New Zealand’s small population (currently less than 5 million).

One of my key arguments was that the sex industry normalises and eroticises male dominance and one-sided sex, and feeds men’s entitlement and reduces their empathy – which are the very attitudes that underpin the current epidemic of rape, child sexual abuse, and other forms of male violence against women and children.

Jerry’s response? That there was not an epidemic of male violence against women. He based this assertion on another made-up definition centred on “a steep sustained increase” – unlike the Oxford Dictionary, which centres the definition merely on a disease being widespread.

He said that not only was there not an epidemic of male violence but that the prevalence of such violence has been on a steep decline for 50 years.

But this is not true. Research has shown that male violence against women has risen significantly in the UK since 2010 and that new forms of gender-based abuse are increasingly prevalent. Even the UN describes male violence against women as a pandemic – which is an epidemic that has spread to cover multiple countries.

I mentioned that the judge in a judicial review about Sheffield Council’s relicensing of Spearmint Rhino (a lap dancing club) had castigated the council for rejecting a large number of objections from women and community members who said that the club had made the streets less safe on the basis that these objections were nothing more than “moral values.” The judge was clear that the objections were not about morality but were issues of equality.

Jerry responded as follows:

“There was briefly the anecdote about Spearmint Rhino and that women didn’t feel safe in the area. The fact is I’ve been involved, I’ve got stripper friends who’ve been involved in these campaigns to keep the venues open and these claims are false. They come up over and over again – that the presence of a strip club in an area makes women less safe. This has been de-proved, debunked, using evidence over and over and over again. So, the idea that women don’t feel safe in the area is a different thing.

Unfortunately, if women don’t feel safe, that’s sad but then they should acquaint themselves with the facts that actually the presence of a strip club in an area does not lead to an increase in sexual violence. And yet these kinds of things are continuously claimed to make it look like this is a woman’s rights movement rather than a morality movement, which it is.”

As for his claim that the increased violence in the vicinity of lap dancing clubs and similar has been “debunked” many times, well I couldn’t find any clear evidence that supported that. Rather I found much to the contrary. The Women and Equalities Select Parliamentary Committee in its report on its inquiry into Sexual Harassment of Women and Girls in Public Places, accepted the considerable evidence that sexual entertainment venues, such as lap dancing clubs, “promote the idea that sexual objectification of women and sexual harassment commonly in those environments is lawful and acceptable.”

But that is not good enough for Jerry. He sticks to what he knows is effective, and repeats sound bites that are simply not true while dismissing solid evidence and presenting any opposition as irrational and the work of moralistic enemies.

As to a man telling women they are being irrational to fear male violence, what can I say? I am not sure anything I would like to say is publishable.

Charlotte Rose

The second speaker for the proposition was Charlotte Rose, who was wearing a t-shirt advertising Fan Baits, a new commercial sex industry advertising platform. She introduced herself as, “a former multi-award-winning escort, current radio presenter and advocate for decriminalisation of sex work.”

She went on to say:

“I just want to discuss something that may affect your moral judgement. How do you all feel when I mention people who work in abortion clinics, abattoirs, factory farmers, nuclear power station workers? To name just a few. For me I do not like it. But just because we do not like what these people do, it doesn’t give us the right to state that their work is not legitimate.”

Since when have people campaigned against factory farming or nuclear power because they didn’t approve of the people who work in those industries? Eccentrics aside, the arguments are always around the impact of those industries on the environment, human and animal health and welfare, and other wider issues – and any personal disapproval is reserved for those who, knowing the damage caused, profit from those industries.

The inclusion of abortion clinics in this list is a sneaky attempt to associate our opposition to the commercial sex industry with extreme anti-woman protestors against abortion. This is a classic example of suggesting guilt by association. For an audience of students whose average age is likely to coincide with the peak age for abortions, this is particularly reprehensible.

Charlotte then said that “until you’ve worked as a sex worker, you’ve got no right whatsoever to dictate anything against [sex work].” This is an argument that we hear repeated over and over in true propaganda playbook style, making people lose their critical faculties and the ability to say, hang on a minute, I’m entitled to have an opinion on factory farming and nuclear power and other industries that have a wide impact, why on earth can’t I have an opinion on the sex industry?

And the truth is, of course you can have such an opinion, and indeed as a concerned citizen, you should – but they don’t want you to. Because once you really look at the sex industry, it’s hard to ignore the rampant abuses and negative impacts on us all, particularly young people.

Like Jerry, Charlotte expounded on how “consensual sex work” has nothing to do with sexual abuse, exploitation and trafficking. But of course, it does. There is no separate market for trafficked women – they are on the same street corners and in the same brothels and so-called massage parlours as women who may have made some kind of choice to be there. From the outside you can’t tell what led a woman to that place – nor what is holding her there.

As we have written elsewhere, most pimping meets the international definition of human trafficking and most women involved in prostitution have one or more third party (i.e. pimp) feeding off their prostitution. And the evidence of the violence inherent in prostitution is overwhelming.

Charlotte may not be a male chauvinist pig as all the evidence suggests that Jerry is, but she was equally happy to misrepresent our arguments and frame us as hateful and dangerous. She claimed several times that we want to “delegitimise” her work. (What work? Didn’t she say she was a former sex worker?)

In an attempt to convince everyone that her work really is real work, she went into a long explanation of what it entails: dealing with emails (80 a day), text messages (120/day), phone calls (50), notifications, advertising, website SEO, updating her photos, social media and special offers, booking hotels, etc.

She then asked whether that sounded like work – which of course it does. But that was missing the whole point of the debate because she didn’t mention the core aspects of prostitution – sexual intimacy with a stranger who pays you to have his every whim and fetish met with a smile.

She claimed that “delegitimising sex work” damages her credibility and means men won’t see it as legitimate work and means she “can’t get a mortgage by writing down that I’m a sex worker.” But later when she was asked why she was against legalisation of the sex trade (she favours full decriminalisation), she said:

“Legalisation is what happens in Amsterdam, but women, or sex workers […] have to pay for a licence. So, first of all, they’ve got to give a large amount of money to be able to get a licence to give them the ability to work and be in a legitimate premise.

Number one, they cost a lot of money. Number two, their details are known so there’s no anonymity. If someone wants their business not to be known to the government, then unfortunately they won’t be able to work. So, these two massive factors are why we don’t want it to be legalised.”

But hang on a minute… Isn’t she arguing for ‘sex work’ to be considered ‘real work’?

And isn’t one of the things that distinguishes ‘real’ – or legitimate – work from scams, drug dealing and other illegal activity, that when you earn money from ‘real work,’ you fill out a tax return and inform the government about where your income comes from.

So actually it sounds like she doesn’t want it to be regular ‘real work’ after all.

She made other arguments that were equally dodgy. She claimed several times that by expressing our views, we are causing actual harm to sex workers:

“One of my morals is not to cause harm to other people. I would never use my morals to cause harm to anybody. Your moralistic view is causing harm to sex workers.”

She is talking about an industry in which women involved in it have an extremely high murder rate – almost invariably by male punters and pimps – and yet she suggests that the problem is naming and describing this reality.

I explained that our position is that nothing can make prostitution safe and so we need to reduce the amount that happens. Anything that normalizes it means it will increase – it will increase men’s demand for it and more women will be sucked in and be hurt. As her position is that prostitution should be legitimised and become a normal job, you could therefore argue that her position will cause harm – like she claims about us. However, we prefer to argue on the facts and actual evidence.

Conclusion

Judging by the comments on social media, the young audience were swept along by Charlotte’s glamorous and suave act – in the face of which our attempts to focus the debate on the depressing realities of prostitution appeared about as alluring as a school assembly address by Miss Trunchbull on a bad day.

But reality is what we must deal with. Basing public policy on wishful thinking and propaganda invented by those with powerful vested interests is a recipe for disaster. You only need to consider Brexit to understand that.

The Brexit debate was dominated by sound bites and hot air underwritten by hedge fundies and other capitalists salivating at the prospect of looser and weaker regulation of business and commerce. But large sections of the British population were swept along by the propaganda and were blind to the likely dangers. It is only now, four years later, as the actual reality of Brexit is becoming impossible to ignore that opinion polls are showing the majority turning against it and realising it is almost certainly a terrible mistake.

You can’t help wondering in this context why schools and universities are not educating students about the dangers of propaganda and how to recognise and resist it. All of us, but especially young people, need to understand how to identify vested interests, easy answers and soundbites that oversimplify complex subjects, attacks on opponents and unevidenced assertions that they are motivated by hate or worse, and to see these as red flags.

Much of life is complex and messy and inequality and abuse of power is rife. There are no easy answers. Real solutions require hard work and challenging powerful vested interests – not following them like sheep.

[blackmissfrizzle]

Belle of the Ball

Characters: Klaus Mikaelson x black!reader

Summary: Klaus goes dress shopping with the reader.

Warnings: Mentions of a blood (it’s a vampire fic lol), smut, fluff, and maybe a little angst.

“Uncle Marcel?!” You called out into the humongous house.

“Where are you? We’re gonna be late!”

You wandered around the compound some more until you felt someone tug on your arm and pulled you into the hallway.

“Quiet, little one.” Klaus covered your mouth to suppress your shriek. He felt your smile against his hand as you registered it was him.

Taking his hand away from your mouth, he replaced it with his lips. It started innocent enough until you hunger for more.  Licking the seam of his lips, you pushed your tongue into his mouth, dominating the kiss for a bit until Klaus decided he had enough and took charge.

Just as his tongue roamed your mouth, tugging and pulling, his hands did the same thing with your body.

Suddenly you remembered that you were supposed be meeting up with your uncle and not making out with the original. Reluctantly you stopped the kiss but made no effort to move away from him.

“Klaus, we can’t be doing this here.”

“Or what, my love?” Klaus asked, kissing along the column of your neck.

“Or Marcel is gonna try to kill you for real this time.” You pushed against his shoulders and dipped under his arm.

You’ve been secretly dating Klaus for about six months thanks to Marcel. He didn’t want you mixed up with the supernatural beings of New Orleans, especially Klaus. You guessed it had something to do with you being his only living blood relative.

It was a year ago when Marcel found you. You had just moved to New Orleans for law school and decided to tour the city. When Marcel saw you in Rossesau’s he didn’t know if he should’ve hugged you or attack you. You looked exactly like his little sister.

Even though Klaus took Marcel in, Marcel kept up with his family until he couldn’t. That’s why he didn’t know his baby sister had a baby, continuing his bloodline, which eventually led to you.

“Pay him no mind, little one. He’s just getting his ounce of payback for me keeping him away from Rebekah.” Klaus cupped your face and began kissing you again.

No matter how bad you wanted his kisses to continue, you backed away. You really didn’t want to get in between a fighting Marcel and Klaus again.

Thankfully, it was the right move. Marcel was making his ways downstairs with a blissful Rebekah trailing behind. “I can’t believe you convinced me to do this.”

“The only way I’m taking your money is if you go shopping with me.”

Your sorority was throwing their annual big charity event and this time they wanted to have a fancy ball. Now you had to find an acceptable dress and date for the event.

“How noble.” Rebekah commented from behind Marcel.

Rebekah did not care for you too much. First, it was Klaus that kept Marcel from her. Then, it was New Orleans, and now it was you. She felt as if she would never get to be the center of Marcel’s attention.

“Do you have a date yet?” Marcel asked, pretending not to hear Rebekah’s snide remark.

Klaus’ head perked up. This was the first time he heard of you taking a date to the charity ball.

Quickly, your eyes shifted from Marcel to Klaus. His face appeared nonchalant, but you could sense he was seething under his calm façade. Purposely, you left out that tidbit to Klaus, because you didn’t want him to murder the poor guy. “I asked a guy from my study group and he said yeah, but he had to double check if his internship wouldn’t get in the way.”

“If it was me, love, a pesky internship would not get in the way of a night with a beauty such as yourself.” Klaus complimented you and then kissed your hand.

Marcel put himself between you and his sire. “Enough of that! Klaus, stay away from my niece.” Swinging his keys around his finger. “Y/N, let’s go.”

At the last minute, Rebekah called Marcel’s name. She claimed Marcel knew nothing about fashion and that you would appreciate a woman’s opinion. You knew she just wanted to spend time with Marcel, so you told him it was alright, because in the next breath you invited Klaus. If Marcel’s girlfriend was going, you were gonna bring your boyfriend.

Your uncle tried to persuade to rescind the invitation, but you wouldn’t. You came up with the piss poor excuse that Klaus would be lonely and bored, since Haley took Hope out on a day trip. Since you wouldn’t give up, Marcel allowed Klaus to come.

—

Five stores later and you still hadn’t found a dress. You wanted to go home and sleep, but Klaus wanted you to try one more store. At his insistence you went.

As soon as you stepped in an attendant greeted you. “Ms. Y/L/N, welcome. Mr. Mikaelson has chosen a couple of pieces he would like you to try on. Would you please follow me?”

You looked to Klaus confusingly. When did he have the time to pick dresses for you?

Klaus saw the storm brewing on Marcel’s face and had to quickly put it out. “Calm down, Marcellus. We all know I have exquisite taste. I’m simply just trying to make your niece the belle of the ball.”

Klaus was fooling nobody, Marcel thought. He knew Klaus wanted Y/N and he had to protect her at all costs. Y/N wasn’t gonna be collateral damage just because Klaus Mikaelson was interested in her.

“Be nice, Uncle Marcel. He’s only trying to help.”

Hearing your voice soothed Marcel. Unfortunately, you and Klaus were right. Anyway, what harm could be done if Klaus picked out your dress? It wasn’t a marriage proposal.

Allowing you to try on the dresses, Marcel and Rebekah browsed around, looking for backups just in case.

The attendant brought you to the dressing room, but there was only one dress. “Umm, there’s only one dress in here.”

“Mr. Mikaelson said you would fall in love with this one,” the attendant claimed before leaving you.

The dress was beautiful no doubt, but it was not you. There was no way you could do the dress any justice.

“Try it on, love.” You heard Klaus’ voice clearly.

“How’d you get back here?”

“I may or may not have compelled the owner. Now stop stalling and try the dress on or I’ll have you screaming my name loud enough for your uncle to hear.” You could hear him smiling. You knew a part of him wanted you to disobey him so you could out your relationship to Marcel, but you wouldn’t give Klaus the satisfaction.

Poking your head out, you stuck out your tongue at him. “You don’t play fair.”

“You’ll learn that I never do.”

Undressing quickly, you put on the dress. Unable to zip it up, you exited the dressing room with your back towards Klaus so he could do it for you.

“No peeking,” Klaus ordered, when he caught you trying to look in the mirror. He choose to torture you some more by slowly zipping up the dress and when he finished he lightly kissed the base of your neck.

Klaus guided you to the platform in the center of the room. Removing his hands away from your eyes, he finally allowed you to look at yourself in the mirror.

A gasp escaped your mouth. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. To your surprise, the dress actually looked good on you.

The dress reminded you of Aurora’s in Sleeping Beauty, but with glitter. Taking a twirl, you admired yourself. Klaus truly was a genius. Your dark cocoa skin complimented the pink dress perfectly. You played with your bundles, thinking of ways you wanted to style it.

Turning towards the genius, you jumped into his arms. “It’s perfect!” You squealed.

“You’re perfect, love.” Klaus couldn’t help himself and had to kiss you.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from him. Right when he was just about to whine, Klaus witness you shrug out the dress. Leaving you only in your bra and panties.

Tilting your head to one side, you exposed your neck to Klaus. “I think all this dress shopping made you work up an appetite,” you suggested.

Klaus’ fangs descended and his eyes turned black. “I think you’re right, beautiful.”

When his fangs pierced your skin you were in heaven. Klaus knew exactly how to bring you to ecstasy.

Klaus didn’t know what he loved more, the taste of your blood or the sweet nectar between your legs. Honestly, it probably didn’t even matter, because either way you were feeding him.

So consumed with Klaus sucking on your neck, you didn’t notice his fingers slide into your core until you were close to coming. This was your favorite combination. Klaus draining you and making you cum at the same time. It left you feeling like you were floating.

Being careful not to take too much blood, Klaus retracted his fangs much to your displeasure. “You know I can’t take too much, little one. Safety comes before your pleasure.” Klaus reminded after you whimpered from the loss of his fangs.

Since there was still blood slowly oozing out of your puncture wounds, Klaus placed his lips there and sucked hard, getting the last bit of your blood.

“Get off of her!” Marcel’s voice jolted you. You were so consumed with Klaus that you forgot about Marcel was the one taking you shopping.

Marcel couldn’t even look at you right now. He specifically told you to stay away from Klaus and you disobeyed. “Get your clothes on, pay for the dress, and we’re leaving. NOW!” Marcel ordered you with his back facing you.

“Dress already paid for, Marcellus. I made sure of that.” Klaus said, moving closer to you.

“Klaus!” You whispered yelled at him. Provoking Marcel was not the right move right now.

Marcel ticked his head and stalked over to Klaus. For awhile they stood there silently just staring at each other. Marcel with hate and Klaus with a cheeky grin.

“Let’s go.” Marcel looked back at you and walked out, dismissing Klaus without a single glance.

Head hanging low, you began to follow Marcel until Klaus stopped you. “Queens do not bow their heads for anyone. Don’t let me catch you doing it again.” He whispered into your ear and then kissed your temple before letting you go.

—

“Didn’t I tell you to stay away from him, yes or no?!” Marcel asked, wearing the carpet with all his pacing.

“Yes,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. This was going on for hours it seemed. He wouldn’t let you get a word in.

“I can’t believe you went against me! He’s dangerous, Y/N.”

Blah, blah, blah, blah. Soon, you started tuning Marcel out. He was just repeating himself and you were tired of it.

“Okay, I’ll admit he’s dangerous, but he’s kind, protective, and loving.” You went on to describe all of Klaus’ positive traits much to Marcel’s dismay.

Standing above you with his hands on his hips and the ‘I’m very disappointed in you’ father’s face, Marcel asked, “You do know we’re talking about Klaus Mikaelson?”

“Yes! I get it, he’s done you dirty. But you said so yourself he’s gotten better.” You reminded Marcel of your first conversation about Klaus. “Uncle Marcel, I’ve never felt this way about a guy before. Please, give us a chance.”

Your eyes, his sister’s eyes were getting to him. He was never able to say no to her, figures he would never be able to say no to you.

“Okay, but you move in with me. We never know if one of his enemies will try to take you and I prefer to keep you safe.” Marcel was already thinking of bringing you in. He wanted to spend more time with you.

Excited, you jumped from the couch and hugged him. “You got yourself a deal.”

“I’m so glad you could come to an agreement. I didn’t want to have to dagger you, Marcel.” Klaus entered your apartment and clapped Marcel on the back.

Marcel’s lip snarled. “You were outside this whole time?”

“Indeed I was. I understand your concerns for your niece, but Marcellus,” his eyes cut to you before he continued. “She’s the one. The only other person I feel as strongly about is my child. Do what you will with that.”

Marcel knew the lengths Klaus would go to protect Hope, that’s why he felt a weight lift off his shoulders when Klaus made that comparison. Klaus may have not been the man Marcel imagined you with, but he would have to accept that for the sake of your happiness.

With one more threat, Marcel left, leaving you and Klaus alone.

Klaus backed you into the couch until you had no choice but to lay down. “Now that our little secret is revealed, we got one more pesky problem.” He whispered lowly, his beard slightly tickling you.

“And what is that,” you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Your date to the ball. Do you want me to cancel his invitation or do you want to?”

“I’ll do it!” You rushed to reply. Your way would involve a lot less blood and guts than Klaus’ and you had a feeling you would have to continue doing that for the foreseeable future.

Tagging: @twistedcharismaaa @wawakanda-bitch @thickemadame @tgigoldie @chaneajoyyy

[acreepqueen]

Selkie Boyfriend (Part I)

FINALLY.

Thank you so much for the lovely request, anon! I’ve had this in the works for a while but I haven’t had the time to flesh it out and finish it until recently. I applaud you for your patience and I really hope you little creepies enjoy!!

Keep on the lookout for a part two! Hopefully coming before the end of spring break!

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

The beauty of the ocean had always entranced you. The soft crash of waves on the shore and the tangy smell of the sea on the wind was always enough to relax you. Every summer you rented the same beach house on the coast. Sure, it wasn’t the most up to date, but you could live for a month with spotty internet. At least you had AC. After setting your bags down you rushed to the rocky shore. You carefully worked your way down the weathered wooden steps descending the cliff-side. At the bottom was a small beach that was almost hidden by the cliffs. The water was always a bit too cold for your liking, but you dipped your feet in nonetheless.

Sighing you stood up and prepared walk back to the house. Sparing a quick glance to the overcast sky, you slowly made your way back. When you returned to the top of the stairs someone was already standing by the door of the rental. He leaned against the old wood so comfortably you might’ve believed he owned the place. As you walked up he waved and called out a greeting to you.

“Hey, Miss! Sorry to bother ya during your stay here, but I’m afraid I left something of mine inside. Would you let me retrieve it?” he asked smiling politely. You hadn’t really looked around much so it was possible something was left in the home. Although, there seemed to be an underlying nervousness to his demeanor. He shuffled his weight between his feet and constantly wrung his hands out with one another. You stared at him for a moment.  The man looked to be about your age. His wispy blonde hair came down to his shoulders and obscured his ears from your view. It vaguely reminded you of a willow with the way it covered some of his face. A couple of cowrie shells dangled from a string tied loosely around his neck. He wore a simple white tee with some khaki shorts. His eyes resembled the murky waves of the deep, a foggy blue-dark gray mixture, and freckles dotted his complexion. He didn’t seem to have any ill intent, but you didn’t know him.

“Can I go get it for you, sir? Where’d you leave it?” you asked, hoping to avoid him coming inside. He shook his head and tried to play off a grimace as a smile.

“No, no! It’s really quite alright. I just need to run in and grab it and then I’ll be out of your hair!” he tried to persuade you. You narrowed your eyes. This was an utterly stupid idea and probably why you would end up murdered or robbed. You kicked yourself mentally as you unlocked the door and let him inside. He thanked you all the while and immediately darted down the hall. When he returned he had a seal coat in his hands. Your stomach dropped. You knew that seals were protected in this area. As if sensing the words that were going to come from your mouth he replied to your unvoiced dread.

“Don’t worry. It’s just a family heirloom, been passed down for generations,” he assured you. In all honesty, you didn’t know why you believed him, but you did. He introduced himself as the owner of the house. You were a bit shocked to say the least. Your mind had created an very particular image of the owner of the place, you had really thought he’d be an old, hardened fisherman. 

“It’s good to finally meet you, then.” 

“Same to you. You’ve been renting out this house for a while now, yeah?” he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

“I like the isolation. Plus, it’s beautiful out here.”

He hummed in agreement. Before looking out the kitchen window, which was visible, even from the front door, inside the compact little cottage. He frowned for a split second, but then looked back to you with an apologetic smile. As he spoke he carefully folded the seal skin in his hands.

“It was nice to finally introduce myself. I was planning on it anyway cause of the trouble we’ve been having at the cliffs, but I didn’t know when you would be in. Try to stay in when night falls, okay? Recently, the crowd down there has been getting a little...rowdy to say the least,” he warned you. He waved as he followed the path back down the cliffs and to the beach which struck you as odd. Hadn’t he just told you to stay away from the beaches at night? You sighed, but didn’t dwell on it. After all, you didn’t want to poke your nose into his business.

You had dinner using some of the ingredients you had brought with you and settled in for the night. Something about the sound of waves always lulled you into a peaceful sleep. 

You awoke the next morning to the sound of loud knocking at your door. Groggily, you got up and walked down the hallway to go see what was going on. When you swung open the door, there stood a small girl with her blonde hair tied back into a loose ponytail. You instinctively glanced behind her for an adult, but there was no one. The girl couldn’t have been older than six and you were growing rather concerned. She looked confused when she saw you standing in the doorframe.

“You aren’t Uncle Errol,” she said nervously. Unsure of what to do you asked her for her name. She seemed excited to be asked a question.

“Nonie and I’m five!” she gleefully announced as she darted past you and into the house.

“W-wait!!” you called after the small child, to no avail. You grimaced and shut the front door to go after the child. After around fifteen minutes of running throughout the house, Nonie finally settled down and you managed to convince her to sit at the small kitchen table with you. At her request, you poured her a glass of milk and gave her some animal crackers you had stashed away for a snack later. She grinned at that and started talking to you at a million miles an hour in between bites while you tried to ask more about this Uncle Errol and where he was.

“You’re nicer than Uncle Errol. I like you and animal crackers! Uncle Errol says I shouldn’t talk to strangers, but I’ve seen you before and you don’t look strange!” she chattered happily.

“Does your uncle own this house?” you finally managed to butt it. She nodded before moving on to talk about everything she could think about. You sent the owner a quick text informing him of the situation and within minutes there was a frantic knocking on your door. 

“Who’s that?” Nonie asked as she continued to munch on animal crackers, her milk long gone.

“Hopefully your uncle,” you stated absentmindedly. She immediately stopped eating and frowned. As you walked to the door she trailed behind you glumly. Sure enough, when you opened the door the man you had met the night before was on the other side. He looked frazzled which turned to instant relief when he saw Nonie clinging to your leg.   

“Nonie! Don’t run off like that! You could’ve been hurt and your parents would’ve skinned me!” he scolded. That only caused her to bury her face in your pants. The man who you assumed was Errol sighed and looked to you apologetically.

“I am so sorry. I normally watch her on Saturdays, but I was running late and she came to find me. Thank you so much for looking after her.”

“It was no trouble at all, really! Your niece was very polite,” you replied. He smiled and begun trying to convince Nonie to go with him when you noticed something odd. The seal skin that he had retrieved last time was with him and sopping wet, yet he himself wasn’t. You chalked it up to him dropping it, but it still seemed odd. When you zoned back into the conversation it seemed to be at its end. Nonie let go of your leg reluctantly and grabbed her uncle’s hand.

“Say goodbye to the pretty miss,” he told Nonie, who waved enthusiastically, regaining some of her earlier liveliness. You waved back before heading back into the house. When you got back inside you realized what he had said. It was flattering to be called pretty, but you definitely didn’t want to misinterpret anything. After making a late breakfast and lounging around the house until around the evening you decided to go down to the beaches. It wasn’t nighttime yet anyway. 

In the light of the setting sun, the wind pinched your skin with a chill. You hoped that the beaches would be quiet as it certainly wasn’t the ideal weather for swimming. When you made it to the beach you did find it empty.

The waves looked intimidating as they were slammed into the shore by the wind. Heavy gray clouds rolling over head certainly didn’t help ease the ominous feeling given off by the choppy sea. A storm was almost certainly brewing in the clouds. Thoughts of the storm were interrupted by the sudden sound of loud music and laughing. As you kept walking down the beach you noticed a small bonfire and a decent-sized group of people. You started to walk away, but someone from the group called out.

“Hey girl! Do ya want a drink?” they shouted. Feeling a bit uncomfortable you pretended you hadn’t heard and just kept walking back down the beach. It wasn’t long before you  heard footsteps behind you and the voice much closer.

“Hey! Are ya new around here? I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Want to grab a drink with us?” the voice, who you know recognized as being a man asked. You smiled but shook your head.

“No, it’s getting a bit late and I’d like to go back to the cabin,” you replied politely. The young man frowned and nodded before running back off to join the party. You were mostly relieved, but also felt a bit bad about rejecting the offer. They didn’t seem to be nearly as dangerous as Errol had claimed. In fact, they seemed pretty nice. On the way back to the cabin it was mostly quiet, as it always was so far away from the town. It was beginning to get a bit dark so you started to pick up the pace a bit. Before you knew it, it was getting kind of hard to see. 

Then, your feet got tangled up in something you didn’t see and you tripped, eating some sand. You sat up and felt around for what you tripped over. Your hands slid over something smooth and soft. A blanket? Bringing it closer to your face you recognized it as the seal skin Errol had left at the cabin prior. You looked at it in bewilderment. What was it doing out here?

As your eyes adjusted to the dark you noticed a shape in the water. Soon you made it out to be Errol standing there as if frozen in place like a statue staring at you.

“Oh! Hey! I tripped over this!” you announced waving the skin in the air. He didn’t respond. You stood up and walked over to him, carrying the skin. The wide-eyed look on his face and lack of response was starting to worry you.

“Are you alright?” you questioned. He seemed to snap out of his stupor and nod. A bit warily, you handed him back the seal skin.

“Here. Sorry I tripped over it,” you apologized, hoping you hadn’t committed some sort of grave atrocity on a family heirloom. When you handed him back the skin he let out a heavy sigh and then begun to laugh a bit. Then, he started to laugh hard. 

“It’s fine. You just startled me!” he managed to choke out between fits. That was when you noticed something crucial. He wasn’t wearing any clothes. Instinctively you shielded your eyes and started apologizing even more profusely. No wonder he had looked so shocked! He got out of the water and walked over to wear his clothes lay and put them on while you were still smoldering in your embarrassment. He insisted on walking you back to the cabin and you reluctantly agreed. 

You were glad you let him. On the way back you encountered a group of middle-aged men who definitely had too much to drink. The tallest of the group stumbled over to you and grinned.

“Hey honey, wanna ditch this loser and come hang with us?” he slurred and gestured to the group of guys. Errol looked like he was going to say something but you just rolled your eyes, shook your head, and continued walking. When the man grabbed your arm is when your blood ran cold. His grip was sweaty and tight. You jerked your arm but his grip didn’t loosen.

“Let g-” you didn’t have time to finish your demand before Errol clocked the guy in the face. A bit appalled, you just stood there blankly for a moment. The guy reeled back and tripped over himself, falling to the ground. 

“Can’t you see she’s clearly not interested? Do not lay hands on someone you don’t know,” Errol spat, coldly. To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Errol seemed like a really chill guy, not to mention his frame was only a little bigger than you. Errol gently tugged on your arm as you both made your way back up the cliff and to the cabin.

“Geez, it’s been an eventful day,” he chuckled as you started to part ways. You giggled a bit as well and agreed.

“Good night, Errol,” you said as you unlocked the house door. He smiled and waved. You were already inside and didn’t have the chance to see him walk back down to the beach. It had been a rather traumatizing day and you headed straight to the bedroom to get some needed sleep.

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[hiro-gari]

Batarou “What If” Headcanon - Different First Meeting

by: Little1993lamb for: Lilia / @hiro-gari

Word count: 4134 Warning: Blood mention, unconscious and injured Badd at the beginning, also some intimate cuddling at the ending but nothing explicit. Kinda OOC characterizations. Bad grammar and very limited vocabulary because I’m still not fluent yet on my English I’m so sorry.

I have this Batarou canon-divergent AU headcanon where instead of standing up again after being hurled across the streets by Elder Centipede, Badd was fainted. Garou was the one who begrudgingly helped the unconscious Badd by carrying him away from the battle location and letting him rest in his shack.

I was wondering how it would turned out if they faced this kind of situation, so I tried to write a self-indulgent scenario about what was I imagined about it. Hope you can enjoy this headcanon! 😊💕

————————

When Garou saw Metal Bat fell from the sky after being hurled by Elder Centipede and crashed on the roadside, he thought his chance on defeating Metal Bat was over. No way Garou wanted to fight a heavily wounded hero because there was no satisfaction taking on someone who had already worn out and couldn’t properly show their real strength. So he started to looking for his next target on different location.

As Garou walked past Badd, he heard a pained groan from the injured hero. He was surprised when he saw Badd slowly standing up using his metal bat to prop himself up as a crutch, then with wobbly legs he tried to walk heading towards the previous battlefield against Elder Centipede, blood from the opened wounds dripping steadily on the ground. Garou couldn’t believe if Badd still have any strength to continue fighting, especially with those nearly fatal injuries.

He was just wanted to call Badd when the hero suddenly collapsed face down in the middle of street, his metal bat dropped from his weakened grip and hit the hard surface of asphalt with a clang. Garou rushed in to check on Badd’s condition, he came here to seek a good fight not seeing a dead hero, for fuck sake!

As Garou crouched down and flipped Badd over, he saw Badd still breaths despite it sounds more like faint wheezing than normal breathing, his face was painted by his own blood, his closed eyes scrunched up from the sheer pain.

Garou was relieved to know Badd still alive, as much he likes to hurt the hero he didn’t want him to be dead. Now that his problem was over, Garou stood up and walked out heading to his next destination, leaving Badd lying unconsciously in the middle of empty road. He guessed someone from Hero Association would come to rescue their precious hero and take him away to nearby hospital, so Badd wont be his responsibility.

After walking for a couple metres far enough from the previous spot, Garou take a look on Badd. Still nobody comes.

He tried to ignore the poor hero and continue walking. It’s been hundreds metres from the spot and when Garou checked again, there’s still nobody coming to save Badd. At all.

It pissed Garou off.

How come the supposed big-named “Hero Association” was so unprofessional like this?! Not keeping good track or surveillance on any of their hero members especially who currently engaged in such dangerous life-threatening mission, not providing immediate emergency help for who has fallen or heavily injured?

Garou could understand the part of “saving the civillian first”, but what about their own heroes? They wrongly assumed that their heroes could do all of their job smoothly, and when something wrong happened to the heroes they don’t take immediate actions to help them.

He shouldn’t have to give any fuck for Badd, but seeing that nobody else even cares for the unconscious S-Class hero made his blood boils. Begrudgingly, he running back towards Badd. After Garou made sure Badd still breathing fine, he carefully scooped the hero up in his arms by bridal style carry then quickly fled from the scene before somebody from Hero Association or random civillian sees him “kidnapping” their precious hero.

Garou decided that he would treat Badd by himself in his shack since it was the nearest location from there. It kinda amused him, who would have thought that the Hero Hunter was bringing his own prey into his evil lair?

———————–

Arrived on the abandoned shack in the middle of forest, Garou laid down Badd on the bed. After he checked through all the visible wounds, he take his first aid kit and started to do his (it was supposed to not) job.

Garou carefully wiped the blood off and delicately tending Badd’s wounds while Badd still resting, wondering why and how could a teenager so young like him willing to working as a hero and doing some dangerous jobs like that.

He also secretly admiring Badd’s beautiful face and strong physique that could rivals his own, thinking it was very unfortunate that they’re enemies because if they’re not maybe Garou would be attracted to him. Maybe.

Garou gently caressing Badd’s cheeks while watching over him from the bedside like a guardian dog (or wolf, as he’s not associated himself with dog). Some unexpected thing happened: Badd unconsciously leaning more further into Garou’s touch, he was even humming or purring adorably like a kitten in his sleep! Never had thought that the delinquent-looking hero brat could be this cute.

Garou guessed his hero hunting schedule for that day could be temporary postponed. Watching over an adorable hero seems more interesting thing to do at the moment.

———————

When Badd was awake hours later, he saw Garou sitting across the room, supervising him from afar. Slowly regaining his consciousness, Badd questioned his “savior” identity. At first Badd thought he was a random civillian who kindly saving him from the battlefield. But when he realized that he is Garou the “Hero Hunter” from the way he talked about the other heroes and all the suspicious hints around him, Badd immediately on alert and he tried to fight Garou. Although Badd couldn’t do it as he fell down nearly passed out on the floor because his body was still too weak and in pain.

Garou who doesn’t want to fight a heavily injured person, suggesting Badd to just calm down and go back resting again as he wasn’t in the good condition for combat. He let Badd know that he has absolute no interest to beat up the already beaten up people, thus he wont targeted Badd. At least until Badd has fully recovered.

Garou helped Badd up from the cold floor by carried Badd towards the bed and laid him down on the soft surface.

Badd was taken aback by Garou’s hospitality despite the cocky bastard personality, he didn’t believe that this person is the “Hero Hunter” who hurted his fellow hero comrades days ago. And that Garou actually also a young teenager just like him and not a creepy middle aged man criminal like he had thought before.

Not to mention Garou is very handsome and kinda charming in some way.. Still hated his cheeky arrogant attitude, though.

So they just talking heart-to-heart, surprisingly having more civil conversations. They shared stories like their motivation (even if they clashed with eachother), their ideas on “hero and villain” (Garou was surprised Badd actually on the same page as him!), what they do on daily basis (Badd as both highschool student and pro-hero, Garou as a martial artist), their family (Badd was telling Garou about Zenko proudly and Garou reluctantly telling Badd about Bang, in which Badd realized he’s one of his coworker).

Garou and Badd actually enjoyed their interactions without realizing it was kinda wrong to befriend the enemy, especially that they’re still hunting on each other. But they didn’t care about it at that moment, they just happy there’s someone their own age who was willing to talk and listening to each other.

Fortunately after Garou explained his whole backstory, Badd started to understand him and wont judge or thinking badly of him. Although Badd was still pissed off about Garou hurting his coworkers, but other than that he understand a bit about what Garou has done.

Since both of them experienced how hard their life as an outcast, just because they were “different” kids who don’t like to conform social norms. Basically rebels. From their similar fate, it brought them together now that they’ve come to understanding each other. Also, their chemistry from the quick bonding is undeniable. They just fit, like two puzzle pieces that meant for each other.

Although Garou was left unsatisfied because he couldn’t fight the famous “S-Class Hero Metal Bat”, at least he has Badd as a secret ally (or a new friend, Garou wont admit it). On the other hand, Badd was glad Garou only “hunting” for sport and never has intention on doing some murder spree like what Hero Association had claimed before, and that he realized Garou is not really a bad guy as he just misunderstood. As proven by what he did for Badd, Garou still has kindness in his heart.

Badd couldn’t help but having a secret crush on Garou.

———————-

Because he still couldn’t walk by himself and must rest for at least a night, Badd called and informed Zenko that he’s currently stay at his “friend’s home”. Garou smiled to himself at the mention of him as Badd’s “friend”, this was the first time after so many years he was referred as someone’s friend. It’s kinda warmed up his frozen heart.

Garou has decided that he excluded Badd from his hero hunting target, but it doesn’t meant he would given up on a chance to fight or sparring with him.

That night, when it’s time for them to rest, Badd offered Garou to sleep beside him since it was Garou’s bed and Badd only borrowed it for awhile. Garou was both amazed by Badd’s brave soul for inviting a dangerous enemy to sleep together with him and wondering why it was a good idea in the first place. But then Garou teased Badd, asking if Badd has a hot for him as he grinning naughtily.

Badd was spluttered by Garou’s flirting attempt and blushing furiously before denied all of Garou’s accusation. Badd said he just want to share comfortable place to sleep as he didn’t want Garou to lie on the cold ground alone. Besides, he trusted Garou for not hurting him in his sleep, as it has already proven before. Badd smiled genuinely to Garou as he pats the empty bedspace beside him, inviting Garou to rest with him.

Hence two big boys shared narrow bed trying to make enough space to sleep. Badd made himself comfortable by sleeping sideway facing the wall while Garou spooning him from the behind. He didn’t meant to spoon Badd but the lack of space forced him to do that, not that Badd would protest anyway. Garou asking if he could put his arm around Badd’s waist, since his current position made his arm muscles get cramps. Badd sleepily mumbling an answer that he doesn’t mind it so go on.

Now Garou fully cuddling Badd in a warm embrace. Garou silently admit it feels very comfortable to have someone to cuddle, to have someone’s welcoming presence in a cold night. He didn’t expect that one day he could spend a whole day with the S-Class Hero Metal Bat and bonus a night sleeping beside him, all without any fight. But Garou wont take it for granted as he snuggled closer to the smaller man.

On the other hand, despite trying so hard to not thinking about it, Badd still couldn’t believe he let himself to be cuddled by a supposed enemy. But strangely he feels safe in Garou’s embrace, almost like some protective hug that ensuring his safety from any dangerous wilderness creatures outside the shack while he’s still healing from injuries.

Badd could feel the strong presence of Garou’s muscled body enveloping his own, or Garou’s warm breath on the back on his head, it was so close Badd was sure Garou almost kissing his nape. That made Badd once again blushing so hard he hoped Garou wont noticed his reddening face from behind.

And Garou’s arm that wrapped around his waist, he couldn’t help but noticing how beautiful his hand with slender long fingers, totally different with him. It made Badd wanna hold Garou’s hand with his own hand, to warm Garou’s cold knuckle with his palm. Thus Badd slowly put his hand on top of Garou’s, wrapped it in a gentle manner so he wont startled him.

Now Badd could sleep peacefully with a soft smile plastered on his face, unknowing that a flustered Garou still fully aware what Badd was doing and currently trying his best to not letting his internal scream out on how adorable Badd is. He forced himself to ignore the warmth of Badd’s palm on top of his hand, while he unconsciously wrapped his arm more tightly around Badd in which earn him a soft purr sound from sleeping Badd. Then Garou followed Badd into the dreamland..

At some point in the middle of night, Garou felt something tickling his nose and there’s sudden pressure on his chest. He tried to open his sleepy eyes and found Badd changed his sleep position into curled against him. Badd snuggled his head on Garou’s chest, soft snoring could be heard from him. He clung his arm around Garou and it seems he also clutched Garou’s back, preventing Garou from doing any movement like an anchor. Their legs are intertwined now, even made it impossible for Garou to release himself from Badd without awoken him.

Seeing the innocent look on the usual delinquent-like scary face, it got Garou wondering if he should be thankful to see the true face of Metal Bat: a soft-looking young teenager who should just spend his time living his life instead of suffering the hardship on the street working as underpaid hero for some ungrateful ignorant people they called themself “Hero Association”. Garou almost feels sad for Badd that as an orphaned firstborn he must do all of those hardworks to make a living with his beloved little sister, even if it also endangered his own life.

And from listening on Badd’s stories, it seems he was actually different from most heroes that Garou have seen before. Badd is not a self-righteous hero, he’s actually a quite humble person if people got past his hot-headed personality, he’s very confidence with his own ability despite not having fancy power, not giving a flying fuck for popularity as he thought it’s very unecessary thing for a professional hero, he also hates bullies as much as Garou (that’s good!), and lastly, Badd is actually kindhearted person who wears his heart on his sleeve.

Garou didn’t realize he just listed off all of Badd’s goodness, it brought a genuine smile on his handsome face. He thought maybe he should give a tiny reward for Badd while he still asleep. Gently sweeping back the wild messy jet-black hair of Badd that has been tickling his face with his hand, Garou kissed Badd’s forehead so softly.

When he heard Badd humming happily in his sleep and snuggled even closer on him, Garou just chuckling and he landed a more lingering kiss on his forehead again. After that, he ruffled the messy yet silky black hair of Badd before settled his arm on Badd’s back, pulling him in into an intimate embrace.

Even though they didn’t do something illicit act at all (they literally just sleeping together like sleep SLEEP), Garou still feels it was forbidden thing to bonding with his own enemy, his supposed prey. Yet they spend a night sharing some comfortable warmth together.

He knows by the time the sun rising in the morning, they would be back to their own duty and forgetting what they have shared before. But still, Garou wanted to enjoy his limited time being with Badd.

Garou wished Badd has the same feeling as him.

It was hard to admit that he was slowly falling in love with Badd.

——————-

Morning has come, the bright sun rays made Badd slowly opened his bleary eyes. Instead of the dull painted wooden wall, he faced a wall of hard chest muscles. When Badd looked up, he found a pair of yellow eyes were gazing back at him followed by a wide cheeky grin from certain wolf boy. Garou greeted him by something like, “Good morning, sleeping beauty~” before landing a brief peck on his forehead.

After processing on what happened to him, Badd has come to realization that: 1. Garou was cuddling him, 2. Badd was in Garou’s embrace for ALL NIGHT LONG, 3. Garou just kissed his head. The audacity!

That moment Badd immediately slapped Garou’s face and kicked him out from the bed, face bright red from the anger and embarassment. Garou only laughing so hard at Badd’s priceless reaction, he told Badd it was actually very adorable to him. Badd who clearly heard what Garou has said just facepalmed to hide his even reddened face. Him adorable?? Garou, the Hero Hunter, said that? The fuck–

Then suddenly the intense pain on his body was back again when he tried to get up from the bed, reminded Badd that he still not fully recovered well. Blood seeping through the freshly changed bandages that wrapped his torso. He doubled over from the sharp pain he felt on his broken ribs. Garou quickly gets on Badd’s side makes sure he wont fainted again, carefully pulling Badd into leaning on his broad shoulder while also securing him in a one-armed hug.

After taking a few of heavy breaths, Badd finally take a hold of himself over the pain. Seems like Garou was helping to make him more comfortable by his presence, he could feel his slender fingers wrapped on one of his shoulder, his thumb making a circle motion caressing the skin beneath the fabric in a soothing manner. It worked on him. Besides, it feels nice to be so close with Garou like this, witnessing the hidden caring side of the Hero Hunter.

He decided to stay a bit longer leaning on Garou’s embrace, as they enjoyed the peaceful morning in silence.

———————-

During the time Garou helped him changing his bandages with the new clean one, Badd checking out all of new messages from Zenko on his phone. He felt guilty to even made his little sister worried for him the whole day, that’s why he must come back to his home right away.

Now that he’s fully awake already and regained his strength after nightly resting, Badd picked up his metal bat as a crutch to stand up from the bed. He genuinely thanked Garou for saving him from the battlefield and taking care of him for a whole day. As an exchance, Badd wont tell or reporting Garou to Hero Association higher ups and his fellow hero members. But only for this time, because next time they meet again they will be back as enemies, no more hospitality between them.

Garou was stunned by those statements for a second before letting out an amused chuckle. Badd’s threat actually gives Garou a lots of joy it brings his trademark cheeky grin on his face, his sharp golden eyes glinting brightly under the morning sunlight. He took it as a promise for their inevitable encounters in the future, because Garou still wanted to fight Badd when he’s on his prime condition.

Garou replied to the hero he couldn’t wait for that time to come, so Badd should be prepared. The teen hero smiled back to him as a silent agreement.

Once Badd stepped out from the shack, he asked Garou for the right direction to the nearest mainroad. Garou pointed it out to him but he wasn’t really sure if Badd was already capable to go through the wood successfully without stumbled on some tree roots or some rock or toppled over after accidentally reopened his wounds.

Badd reassured Garou that he was fine, but Garou totally not convinced by that, especially after watching the way Badd limped heavily as he walked. Garou letting out frustated groan while facepalmed, he was certain Badd was either being stubborn thick-headed brat or just plain dumb.

Reluctantly, he followed Badd from far behind watching over him from the tree branches, makes sure the hero reaching his destination safely first before going back to his shack planning his next hero hunting acts.

Badd tried his best to keep moving forward despite his limping, hopefully he could still continue walking until he arrived at home. Just as what Garou had guessed before, he tripped over a tree root and Badd losing his balance. But before he fell, suddenly a strong hand gripped his shirt collar from behind, prevented him from planting his face on the dirt.

It was Garou who saved him (again), as he straightened Badd’s standing position. The hero hunter placed Badd’s arm around his neck and holding Badd’s wrist with his hand to keep Badd from falling. Then Garou placed his own arm around the hero’s slim waist, supporting him in a safe hold before walking with Badd together towards the main road outside the forest.

During the walk, Garou scolded Badd that he couldn’t stand watching Badd acted like a tough guy when he was clearly needs some help. He didn’t want to see him passed out pathetically in the middle of nowhere where there was no people around. If Badd really wanted to passed out again, at least do that when he has already out from the woods so somebody could find and bringing him into the hospital.

Badd just groaning irritatedly, hated that he got scolded by his own enemy, but Garou was totally right he still need his aid until they get out from there. Besides, Badd wont protest anymore because he found himself in Garou’s tight hold again. He didn’t mind to feel it once more for the last time.

Few minutes later they reached the forest-city border, and Badd could see the main road from the spot they currently standing at. Garou released his carry hold from Badd and let the hero going back to his own home.

Just before Garou shoo-ing Badd away so they could finally parting way, a pair of hands suddenly cupped Garou’s face, stroked his cheeks gently, then the young hero giving a soft yet lingering kiss on it. The moment when those plushy lips of Badd touched Garou’s cheek, his brain freezed. What?? What had just happened??

When the kiss ended, Badd immediately averted his eyes from Garou, face blushing brightly. Slightly pouting, Badd explained that he did that as a way to show his full gratefulness for all of Garou’s kindness, that because he saved his life before it was too late. Also, Badd had to admit he really likes Garou’s company. Or rather, he likes Garou as who he truly is: a caring person.

The surprise “thank you” kiss and heartfelt confession left Garou speechless. He never expecting Badd would feel like this towards him, especially that it has been clear Badd knew about his status as a criminal. Despite knowing that, Badd still did it anyway without any hesitation. Garou couldn’t help but feeling happy and excited to hear Badd likes him.

After a hot minute of awkward moment of silence between them, Badd quickly turned away and gave Garou a quick goodbye. But before Badd walked too far, Garou caught his hand to make him stopped. He noticed how warm Badd’s palm right at the moment, and even though he couldn’t see his face Garou knows Badd was still flustered by previous confession. He grinned widely at the thought.

While brushing Badd’s knuckle in his hold with his thumb, Garou telling Badd that he feels honoured that a hero take a liking on him, but this wont change the fact that they still have promised fight next time they meet. In fact, Garou becomes even more interested in him. Smirking devilishly, he yanked Badd back to him.

The sudden force made Badd facing Garou again, so he could see Badd’s adorable reaction when Garou brought the hero’s hand towards his lips and kissed his knuckle in a very obnoxious way, not forgetting to give Badd a naughty flirtateous wink and a charming smile after that.

That action earned Garou a powerful swing of bat (fortunately he has good reflex to avoid it) and an “angy kitten” look from Badd who was blushing furiously by Garou’s flirting attempt. Badd declared he wont hesitated to destroy Garou on their next encounter, personal feeling aside.

Then by that, Badd walked out from their spot to continue his way back to his home, finally leaving Garou alone.

But Garou wont forget the way Badd smiling so tenderly for him at the end of his speech before he left.

Now that everything about his caretaking duty on Badd is already over, Garou decided to going back to his shack.

Being a hero hunter is always feels so good to him, but Garou didn’t expect that playing a caretaker role wasn’t so bad. Especially if it’s involving a certain angy small delinquent hero.

What was him, Badd’s “guardian angel”? Or maybe more of “guardian demon”? But anyway, he doesn’t regret his action on helping Badd. At all.

Metal Bat, hmm? Garou really couldn’t wait to see him again in a battlefield.

—– 💖THE END💖 —–

———————–

Notes:

You can pinpoint easily which parts I was hyperfixating on and which parts I was going “Idek wtf I was writing- AW FUCK IT JUST WRITE”, lmao! 😂 Forgive me for having alot of inconsistency in this writing aaa I’m so sorry 🙇😭💦

Yess this headcanon was purely a self-indulgent thoughts! Although I love their legendary epic fight (in fact it fuels Batarou shipper soul in me! ❤), but I’m curious what if they could talk casually and Badd trying to understand Garou’s perspective without judging him. So this headcanon was born 😆

Oh btw I mentioned “guardian demon” at the last part, it was actually another AU headcanon of mine, where Garou is a Demon who was summoned by human Badd! You can check it out in here: https://kaincuro.tumblr.com/post/615404377513066496/

Which is it also have been made as a story by @lovelybutnot-ablankcanvas with a title “Dangerous Illusion” in here (plz check all of her amazing fics! 💖): https://archiveofourown.org/works/23665795/chapters/56809585

Thank you so much for reading this Batarou headcanon! Despite it was messy and not perfect, I hope you still like it 😅😉💕💞💖💝💐

-Little1993lamb-

—————————–

~Lilia:

These two flirting is so DANGEROUS but oh my god are they adorable 😭💞

I can just imagine Garou like ??? hello??? HA?? Come get ur dumb handsome hero I’m tryna wreak havoc here wtf

And he’s got so much experience treating battle wounds that a hospital doesn’t even cross his mind. he’s like ok we’re doing this the right way. Which takes us to:

tHE SINGLE BED TROPE! I liiiive for this 😭💞 thank you for the cuddly scenario my brain is so happy

I literally squeaked cause AWH OMG Garou like “brain.exe has stopped responding” ☠️☠️ he doesn’t know how to handle the soft affections like cheek kisses omfg but then he just turns it around on him by kissing his knuckles and acting all gentlemanly but lookin cocky as hell at the same time ahhh

Thank you for this beautiful headcanon💕 Even tho I love their fight scene too, it is Therapeutic to ignore canon sometimes for the sake of the fluff 🥺💗

[rye-views]

Just Mercy (2019) dir. Destin Daniel Cretton. 7.6/10

Makes you think about all the possibilities that could’ve happened after all this such as maybe the family of the dead feeling wronged for having him released, the town coming to attack him, and so on. So much hate can still occur. It makes you think of the injustice alive not just within the law but within the world.  Makes me also think of how much good can be within people to help others through the hardships.

I like the concept of having someone be brave enough to do what’s right by talking them through it.

Spoiler: [About Walter Johnny D McMillian out cutting trees for work in Alabama. He drives away and gets pulled over by the police, who arrest him with a squadron of other cops. He’s under arrest for the murder of Ronda Morrison even though he claims it wasn’t him. The community believes to have found justice. Bryan Stevenson is currently a law intern and arrives to reveal to Henry Davis that his execution date won’t be anytime for awhile. Davis shows major thanks for this. They start talking about their similar childhoods and bond. Later, the guard takes Davis away as Davis tells Bryan to come back. Once Bryan turns into a lawyer after graduating from Harvard, he moves to Alabama against his mother’s liking. He works with Eva Ansley and starts the Equal Justice Initiative to help improperly prosecuted death row prisoners. They are rejected the building they had first put down for as an office. Bryan has dinner with Eva and her husband as they talk about why they care about this. Bryan goes to the prison and is strip searched without cause by the officer. He then meets with several prisoners and gets their stories. Herbert Richardson fought in Vietnam and came back with PTSD. He ended up setting a bomb and killing a girl. Johnny D doesn’t want to try again for a retrial since it’ll only get rejected. Bryan has hope to keep trying. Johnny D, Herb, and Anthony Hinton talk through the walls of their jail cells about Bryan. Bryan works on the cases. He believes that Johnny D didn’t do it since the case is entirely based on Ralph Myers’s confusing testimony after being charged with a murder himself and the testimony of Bill Hooks. Bryan goes to talk with Tommy Chapman, a prosecutor, of the lack of real evidence. Tommy refuses to listen as he believes that Johnny D did it and the whole community believes it. Bryan goes to meet Johnny D’s family. Their community of friends is also there. He meets with Minnie, Johnny D’s wife, who welcomes him. They all talk about what Bryan wants to do for Johnny D and when asked how he is different from previous lawyers, he says he is doing this without taking any of their money. Bryan also learns that almost everyone in the home has seen or was with Johnny D before the murder in a location too far. Darnell Houston also mentions that he was with Bill Hooks at work so his testimony couldn’t have been real. Darnell reluctantly agrees to sign a statement. Bryan meets with Johnny D and they agree to work together to try again since he met up with his family. Bryan gives Johnny D’s family photos to him to keep. As Herb beats himself up over killing the girl, Johnny D and Anthony comfort him. Bryan tries to fight for Herb as Eva gets a call saying there is a bomb in her house for helping Johnny D. The family evacuates as the police come to sweep the place, but nothing is found. Eva and Bryan go around asking witnesses or people involved to talk about the case, but most brush them off. Darnell gets arrested for perjury and Bryan gets him out. Darnell now refuses to testify. Bryan visits Sheriff Tate about the arrest and Chapman is there too. They both refuse to listen to Bryan about the case. Chapman mentions that the motion to reopen the case was denied. As Bryan is leaving, cops pull him over and get him to exit the vehicle at gunpoint. They search the car and leave. Bryan tells Johnny D that he has to talk to Ralph. He does so and isn’t talked with about the case. As they talk about other things, Bryan talks about Johnny D having kids and Ralph starts talking about his testimony. Bryan learns that Ralph talked about the murder before the recorded statement shown. He goes to the Escambia courthouse to find the original statement. He hears tapes of Ralph’s testimony saying he won’t falsely accuse someone of murder. Herb’s motion for a stay of execution and petition for writ of certiorari was denied. It’s Herb’s day of execution and Bryan watches the death as the other prisoners clank their cups against the cell in camaraderie. Bryan breaks down in the car after with Eva there. Bryan talks with

Ralph and learns that Ralph was put on death row, but taken out after the false testimony. He has a severe fear of fire and was put right next to the execution room, where he constantly smelt the burning skin and had to leave. Many of Johnny D’s friends and family come to court as they try for a retrial. Bryan brings in Ralph, who gets scared to confess the truth. Bryan covers Ralph’s view of Sheriff Tate and Ralph eventually tells the truth. When Chapman talks to him, Ralph says his questioning doesn’t make sense with what’s happening. More witnesses come to talk of the truth. The judge denies a retrial since Ralph’s perjury discredits his testimonies. Johnny D’s son, John, cries at the injustice and is arrested. Bryan thinks of the failure as he talks with Eva and with Johnny D. Johnny D mentions how Bryan allowed him to have his truth and that’s what matters. Bryan tries again. The injustice of the case is brought onto TV on 60 minutes and they take things to the Supreme Court. Chapman requests a new investigation as this stalls time. Bryan confronts him about it and Chapman justifies himself. At court, Chapman joins the motion to dismiss the charges and Johnny D is freed. Johnny D goes home. At the US Senate Hearing on the Death Penalty, Bryan and Johnny D talk about it. Bryan and Eva continue to fight for the wrongly condemned through EJI. Johnny D and Bryan stayed close friends until Johnny D died from dementia. Anthony was released after 30 years. Sheriff Tate was re-elected for sheriff 6 times. A new investigation, remaining unsolved, shows that a white man most likely killed Ronda.]

[holylulusworld]

Revenge best served cold

Request: Would you please write for Bucky & reader, wherein he’s in love with Natasha but is forced to marry reader, he’s never home ignores her even when she tries hard. She even has to work as a waitress for money, one-night Brock tries to rape her, Steve arrives just in time and saves her. They become good friends. It’s on you if you want her to stay with Bucky or get married to Steve. It could be an au where they are not Avengers.

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky x Mobster!Reader, Mobster!Steve x Mobster!Reader, Thor Odinson, Sam Wilson, unnamed OFC’s

Warnings: angst, mafia business, arguments, language, violence, characters death, murder, love triangle, teasing, possessive Bucky, sassy reader, a hint of making out

Consolation Bride Masterlist

Coughing Steve watches, you get off the bed to grab Bucky’s shirt. He tries so hard to not look at you bending over to grab Bucky’s boxers, to toss the fabric into your husband's face.

“Not bad for an old man, Barnes. I think I’ll ride you occasionally.” Bucky tries anything to remain calm but the way you check his best friend out, licking your plump lips makes him furious.

“You can’t just check Steve out. You’re still my wife!” Steve tries to stay out of the fight but you slide your fingers over his chest, chuckling at Bucky’s outburst.

“Bucky is bad at sharing, Steve. For months he fucked someone else and now that I show interest in your dick he doesn’t want to share.” Steve starts panting when you move one hand to his hardening crotch, squeezing him tightly. “You’re packing, Rogers. Maybe I want both of you one day…” Smirking at Steve you round him to smack his ass.

“Y/N…”

Turning around you blow a kiss at Bucky who is not amused at all. “What? Do you want to discuss your infidelity with me? Do you want to talk about Natasha and the way you treated me, or do you want to avenge the loss of your arm, Barnes?”

“I told you I’m sorry…”

“Not enough, Bucky. Whatever we had; it’s long gone. Died that first night we spend together as you forgot about me. I like to fuck you, nothing else. You want feelings – look for a foolish girl believing your lies.” Eyes cold you walk toward the bathroom to have a shower.

“Y/N, we should talk about our next steps. Everything else can wait.” Steve tries to reason and you smile at him. “I’ll be ready in thirty. Bucky can join us or play princess and stay here…”

----

“You touch my wife, you die, Stevie. I’m warning you one last time.” Bucky tries to threaten his best friend while you get dressed.

Steve doesn’t react, simply rolling his shoulders he growls low in his throat watching you walk out of the bathroom in nothing but your underwear.

“Did you just threaten Steve?” Poking one finger into Bucky’s chest you narrow your eyes. “If you ever want to fuck me again stop acting like you have a claim on me. You lost the right to call me yours a long time ago. The moment you stuck your dick into that slut’s pussy to be correct.”

“Y/N, you are still my wife. You can’t just fuck my best friend only to hurt me.” Bucky tries to touch your cheek but you take a step backward.

“This has nothing to do with revenge, Buck. I like Steve…a lot. He was there when you didn’t care about me or rather didn’t give a shit on me. I’m only still here as you saved my life, James. I owe you respect and to stay by your side, this doesn’t include love.” Lying straight to Bucky’s face you smirk at your husband. “You’re lucky your dick is a good ride.”

“Goddammit, Y/N! I love you. I killed a man for you and even killed Natasha to prove my loyalty. I made a mistake…” Sighing Bucky grabs your upper arm to glance at your lips. “I want you. If this means sharing you with Stevie so be it but you’re still mine.”

“Hmm…such an Alpha type you are. Do you want to mark me too? I mean shall I wear your name around my neck or something?” Pushing against Bucky’s shoulder your fist his hair roughly, forcing him to meet your eyes. “ To clarify some things - I’m the boss now. I say fuck me, you do so. I say watch me fucking your best friend…you do so…” Bucky is panting heavily, not able to hide his arousal he growls when you move your hand into his boxers, grabbing his cock harshly.

“Baby…”

“This is mine. If you only look at another woman my men will cut it off and you will eat it. You will only make me cum, no one else. I want you to work - hard…” Chuckling at the last word you bite along Bucky’s neck, leaving another make. “You’re mine not the other way around. Get dressed and later I’ll fuck you some more…” Pecking Bucky’s cheek you walk toward Steve to smack his ass again.

“Boss?” Steve tries to act professional but he can barely think straight by now. “What now?”

“I want to hear anything you found out. Later I want to ride your dick and Bucky will watch us.”

Bucky growls, giving you a dirty look at your words but you only blow him another kiss. “I want you to know how it feels to watch the person you love to fuck someone else. Now get dressed before I change my mind and stop riding you hard…”

“I will bend you over my lap one day and spank your ass bright red. Maybe I let Stevie watch and we take turns after I’m done with you…” Bucky’s eyes are darker than ever when you look over your shoulder to give him a wink.

“We will see that, Barnes. Get dressed, I hate waiting.”

----

“Do you need anything boss?” Thor asks while he won’t let Bucky come close to you. Like a bodyguard, he towers over you to intimidate any man in the room with his size.

“No and stop calling me boss, Thor. You deserve to call me Y/N.” Your voice is softer and you pat your friend's hand while you glare at your husband.

“Why is this punk so close to you and your husband has to sit far away?” Bucky is not amused to only watch you talk to Thor, Sam, and Steve while he must watch you.

“You will get your chance, dear husband. Thor and Sam gathered information to get hold of Arianna’s father, her cousin and someone elsehelping them. Do you want to act like an Alpha not liking other men around me or can we start talking about the business, James?” Surprised by your words Bucky nods, smirking.

“You’re damn sexy while running the business. Go ahead and tell me what to do boss.”

“Boss?” Sam glances at Bucky, asking for permission to talk. Bucky gives him a curt nod, relaxing in an armchair.

“Sam, tell us anything. I want to strike back. None of them will survive. They killed Wanda, Pietro and other people I liked.” Your eyes meet Bucky’s and you give him a soft smile.

“Let’s check the information, Sam. Go ahead.” Pointing at a huge monitor on the opposite wall you hand Sam your mobile device.

“We found out Arianna’s father and the others are hiding in this building. We have two entrances. At least eight men guard the house day and night.” Pointing at a picture Sam explains all men did not leave the house since this morning.

“Bucky, should we strike tonight?” Your question catches your husband off-guard. “You are an expert in storming houses. What do you think?”

“They are all at the same place at the same time, we should strike and take them down. We should not waste another minute. Let’s call our men and prepare everything.” Bucky gets up to walk toward your desk while Thor eyes him suspiciously.

“Calm, Thor. Right now my husband is no threat but stay sharp.” Chuckling you give Bucky a dirty grin and he smirks in response.

“True. I only lose my patience in the bedroom. Do you want to join us, Thor?” Flustered Thor looks at Steve wide wide eyes.

“Join you?”

“The attack, Thor.” Bucky chuckles as he plops onto your desk. His hand starts stroking your thigh and you press your legs together to not give him access to your most private parts.

“Let’s strike.” Steve finally breaks the awkward silence. “I call Clint and let him prepare a few things. Sam, Thor, can you assist me?”

“Thor, help Steve and Sam. I think I need to discuss something with my husband in private.” Thor reluctantly leaves your side, glaring at Bucky one last time.

“That punk doesn’t like me.” Bucky curses under his breath as the door closes behind the other men.

Silently getting up you stand between Bucky’s legs to fist his jacket. “You sure that you can come with us? Do you need more time?” Searching your face Bucky gives you a dirty look.

“Is my beloved wife concerned about me?” A scoff is your answer, but you won’t let go of his rough leather jacket.

“Only about tonight. Hmm…” Leaning closer you move your hand over Bucky’s left shoulder, checking his artificial arm. “You should tell me if it hurts.”

Bucky is leaning closer to you, brushing his lips over your forehead. “It hurts to see you with Steve, Baby Girl. Hurts so damn much.”

“Good. Then we are almost even, James. All these months I felt the same pain but unlike you, I will not treat you like shit.” Turning on your heels you walk out of the room, leaving a crumbling Bucky behind.

----

“Strike!” Thor yells and T’Challa along with Sam use a battering arm to burst the door open. The guards outside are already dead. Killed by Clint’s arrows they won’t be able to defend their bosses any longer.

Thor is following Steve and Bucky inside, shielding you with his large body to make sure no one can hurt you.

“Boss, stay behind me no matter what.” Thor is throwing a knife at an attacker as Bucky rams his metal fist into one of the guards trying to grab your arm.

Pushing Bucky away you fire two bullets into an attacker’s head trying to attack Steve with a knife. “Damnit, where did you learn to shoot like that?” Bucky gasps grabbing your arm to press you against the wall as someone fires into your direction.

“France. I wasn’t there to learn French, French kisses or how to make Profiteroles, James.” Chuckling you duck down his arm to fire another round at the attacker trying to hit Thor with a bullet.

“Let’s get going, boss,” Thor exclaims not liking to see Bucky so close to you. “I know where her father is.”

“Good, James…follow Thor.” Cursing Bucky follows your tall bodyguard, not liking the way Thor gently places his hand onto your back to lead you toward the hallway.

----

Gunshots echo through the mansion while Thor, Bucky, Steve and you burst into the locked room to find Arianna’s father, her cousin and Natasha’s father hiding behind a large desk.

“Game over,” Steve exclaims waving at the men with his gun. “You can hide like a scared mices behind the desk or come out and die like men.”

“I don’t know why you are doing this.” Arianna’s father tries to buy time but you won’t let him breathe for another minute.

“Who killed James' brother and my father?” Aiming your gun at the man’s head you narrow your eyes. “I count to ten and then you will die or you tell me who killed our relatives and I might let you live.”

“He killed Jason for me.” Pointing at Natasha’s father he looks at you with wide eyes. “Your father, that was Arianna. Not one of us, I swear.”

“But it was your order – right?” Eyes cold you look down at the man kneeling in front of you as he reluctantly nods. “I’m sorry…”

Pulling the trigger, you shrug. “I’m sorry too, bastard.” Pointing at Natasha’s father you wipe some blood spatters off your cheek as James walks toward his former lovers’ father to slam his fist in the man’s face. "Bucky, he’s all yours.”

“Why?” Bucky gasps as Natasha’s father chuckles. “Natasha wanted you, so we had to make sure you hate Y/N and her father.” Features darken Bucky presses the barrel of his gun against the man’s forehead, pulling the trigger before he takes deep breaths.

“I can kill the other guy.” Thor offers and you nod, glancing at Bucky who tries to compose himself as Steve squeezes his friends’ shoulder.

“James, we should go…” Your voice is softer now and he nods, holding back the tears. “We can talk about everything else later. Thor, I trust you to take care of this…” Pointing at the dead men you clear your throat. “Trash…”

----

Back at Bucky’s house you silently walk into the bedroom in your nightgown to lie next to him. Since you came back he didn’t say a word and you remained silent yourself.

“You killed a man today.” Turning around to face you Bucky gently cups your cheek. “I could’ve done this for you.”

“No, James. This was my duty as my father’s daughter, just like you had to kill Natasha’s father to avenge Jason’s death. Can we just sleep a bit, I need to calm down and plan my next step.”

“Do you want to be with Steve now…?” Bucky’s eyes search your face as you lean closer to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love you, Y/N.”

“Let’s sleep, James. Tomorrow is another day. I did not leave you while you were vulnerable, I think this says more than a thousand words. Now let’s sleep a bit and we can talk about everything else later.” Snuggling into your pillow you don’t move away when Bucky curls into your side.

Consolation Bride Tags

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Marvel Tags

@stuckys-whore​, @notyourtypicalrose​, @voltage-my2dlove​, @thedoctorscamanion, @officialmarvelwhore​, @randomgirlkensy​, @juniorhuntersam​, @lumar014​, @doctorswife221b​, @sister-winchesters99​, @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​, @the-soulofdevil​, @chonisberonica​ , @redroomproperty​, @natura1phenomenon​, @chaoticfiretaconerd​

Steve Rogers/Chris Evans Tags

@hhiggs​, @roonyxx, @stylesismyhubs​, @multisuperfandom​, @mrspeacem1nusone​​, @shadowcatsworld , @fallenoutofrose​​, @rynabarnesrogers​, @denisemarieangelina​

Bucky Barnes/Sebastian Stan Tags

@rynabarnesrogers​

All works Tags

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[ethelphantom]

Into the... Wait, we’re all what now?

As it turns out, I’m horrible at keeping things as one-shots, so now you’re getting a continuation of the fic in which Mari falls into the DC verse. Using Maribat March is definitely a wonderful way to continue these things. Also, yes, this means you can ask to be tagged to the story from now on. There is at least one more thing to write about this if not more.

Ao3 || first part

This is Maribat -- don’t like; don’t read

______________________________

It was way too late to be up and awake but apparently, that was precisely what Marinette was anyway. Sighing, she pushed the covers aside, slipped on a pair of fluffy socks and made her way to the kitchen through the seemingly endless halls of the Wayne Manor.

As she got into the kitchen, she checked the clock from the microwave oven. It was only 3.29 am. Damn it. She hated the fact she couldn’t sleep. She also hated the fact they hadn’t yet figured out a way back to her own world. The Amazons didn’t know anything about the miraculous — her own world was a cartoon in their world, it turned out, and she kind of knew her partner’s identity, as well as Papillon’s and Mayura’s identities, which, poor Chaton. Hopefully, the Parisians were doing fine without her there to capture and purify the Akuma —, though Wonder Woman had said she could still try to look further into it.

She was glad that Diana had promised to do that because Marinette really would have preferred to be home, especially since speaking English all the time got very tiring. There weren't many people she could speak French with, not really. Dick knew some French, Bruce could speak French, and Tim was able to hold up a simple conversation for a while, but it... It wasn't really enough.

It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy being with the Wayne family, no. She loved the family and kind of considered them her other family aside from her Maman and Papa. She’d even been officially adopted to the family in their world’s eyes so it wouldn’t confuse anyone as to why a random girl suddenly hung out with them without dating any of them. It had been Tim’s idea, Bruce had decided it was a good one, and then they’d asked Marinette if that was something she was okay with. She was. It wasn’t like her family was in this world or universe anyway, and it was nice to know she belonged somewhere. Besides, she fit the pattern — black hair, blue eyes. The only ones who didn't have both but had black hair anyway were Cass and Damian, really.

It was a little amusing that the only one who was actually related to Bruce looked like him the least if they ignored his facial structure.

Quietly, she tiptoed around the kitchen, having already given up on the idea of sleep at this point. She made night snacks for herself and poured herself a cup of coffee, sighing happily as she inhaled the bitter smell of it. The coffee was scalding hot as she took a sip — just how she liked it. The drink warmed her hands as she held the cup which was nice, seeing as the Manor was rather cold at night.

Marinette settled herself at the small table in the kitchen that was mostly meant for anyone who really, really didn’t want to eat with the rest of the family and opened her phone, meaning to go through her Tumblr feed and maybe watch Netflix. She'd even been ready to just start watching a new show when she was interrupted.

What caused the interruption was someone trying to get a mug out of the cupboard quietly and instead dropping one on the ground. Thank god it was the sole plastic mug in the entire manor, so nothing broke.

Marinette turned to look at the source of the voice and found Tim staring at the ground with what looked like grief in the dim light of her phone. She would’ve understood if there was coffee or if it had been Tim’s favourite mug (as that one could be broken — Jay had threatened to do it once or twice by now, actually), but no. Nothing was broken, nothing had spilt on the ground, nothing needed to be cleaned up.

So what was it?

When Marinette raised her eyebrow at Tim as he finally looked at her, Tim just sighed and shook his head. “‘S nothing, Nette, don’t worry ‘bout it,” he told her, crouching to pick up the mug. “Haven’t slept much, nothing more than that. I thought there had been coffee for a second.”

Marinette nodded, understanding what he was on about, and continued reading. It was only when Tim dropped down on the chair in front of her that she paid attention to him again. He had his laptop out and was frowning at his screen.

“A case?”

“Yeah. A series of murders, three robbed stores, riddles and a string of witnesses that refuse to say anything kind of scream multiple of our villains, and I’m not sure who to investigate first, or if it was a collective effort of theirs, or if someone is impersonating them and trying to frame all of them. None of them has claimed the crimes either, which is a little unusual and a lot disturbing,” he told her and turned the screen around for her to see. Indeed, there was a list of possible culprits and the chance of an unknown and the details of the crime.

“I can see why this is troubling you,” Marinette sighed and turned her eyes from the screen back to Tim again. “I cannot believe I’m suggesting this, but what if you slept and then looked at it again? I know you tend to try solving problems even in your dreams, so there’s that as well, but also your brain might want to brain better after sleeping.”

It took her a moment before she realised what she said, but when she did, she groaned and rubbed her hand on her face. “I can’t believe I just used a noun as a verb. Please kill me or knock me out so I could sleep.”

Tim just laughed at her. That asshole.

“What are you two doin’, drinkin’ coffee at this hour?”

Marinette jumped, startled that someone had managed to sneak up on them even in the silence of the night. She turned around to see the slightly glowing eyes of Jason and let out a sigh of relief, bringing a hand to her hear. “God, Jay, you scared me. A guy your size shouldn’t be allowed to move so quietly,” she whined and let her forehead hit the table. Jason only barely managed to snatch her cup away from her way so it wouldn’t fall down and that all her coffee wouldn’t end up on the floor.

She murmured her thanks into the table as Jason patted her head, laughing at her quietly. She would kick his ass in the morning for that. Maybe. After all, he had just saved her coffee.

This time, Marinette noticed when someone entered. She couldn’t bother to turn her head to look at them, though. They would make themselves known to the rest of them soon enough.

No, actually. There were two people. One of them had a very soft walk, barely audible, but now that Marinette was listening, she was able to find it. A hand touched her hair, gently pushing it away from her eyes and tucking it behind her ear. When Marinette looked up, just a little, she found the dark eyes of Cass staring at her. Marinette gave her a weak smile in return.

They don’t talk, not really. The time passed by as Cass just sat on the floor next to Marinette, Tim tried to solve his case, and Jason and Dick were talking (or fighting) about something in hushed voices again. None of the others, except for Cass, obviously, because she noticed everything, paid attention to the small frame that appeared in the doorway. Marinette did. She stood up, stretched and walked to Damian.

She didn’t touch him. She wasn’t sure if it was okay right now. Instead, she watched for any signs of what had happened, or reactions to anyone in the kitchen. Nothing. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Damian shook his head. “No. It was merely an unfortunately timed nightmare, I can survive.”

“I know you can. You’re strong like that. It just doesn’t mean you have to survive on your own, alone. It’s also a strength to recognise when you—,” Marinette yawned. She hadn’t slept in a too long time. “—When you need others for support.”

When Damian lingered in the doorway a little too long, his eyes going between the floor and Marinette. Marinette just opened her arms and let Damian walk into them before embracing him. “Do you want a hug? I can tell none of them you wanted a hug if that helps. We can also go to the living room if that sounds better?”

Damian nodded. Marinette shot Cass a text to drag the rest of them to the living room in about half an hour with pillows, blankets and mattresses. They all needed sleep, or at least rest, and maybe they could get that in a pillow fort?

The two of them went on ahead, and once they were there, Marinette sat on the couch and waited for Damian to come there with her. He, a little reluctantly and hesitating a lot, took careful steps towards her before he too was sitting on the couch and curling up against Marinette. She smiled and pulled him closer, securing them under a blanket.

Maybe he’d feel safer from the nightmares this way.

About half an hour later (though both Damian and Marinette had dosed off already), the rest of the family made their way to the living room, everything Marinette had asked from Cass with them. They built a pillow fort for them as quietly as possible, one of them always watching over Damian and Marinette so to make sure they didn’t wake up. Heavens knew both of them needed the sleep, and they didn’t want to try their luck and see if they would fall asleep again.

After it was done, Jason picked Marinette up in his arms as Dick carried Damian in his, and carefully laid them down on the mattresses before tucking both in. Tim and Cass curled up the closest to the two, Jason and Dick surrounding the smallest four of them the last. It was comfortable and much warmer than it usually was in the house, six bodies all huddled close.

Aside from how none of them knew how to not sprawl over everyone else, it was the most peaceful and well slept night any of them had had in years.

________________________

@kris-pines04 @thethirdwheelfriend @maribat-is-lifeblood @abrx2002 @persephonebutkore @rebecarojas07 @corabeth11 @kadmeread @silverwhiteraven @marinettepotterandplagg @freshbark @maribat-march2020 @catsandfanfic @fertileleaf @eat0crow @cutechip

[thehandsomeasshole]

@starttheanarchy from X

A rumbling high pitched cry of a living creature, the soft hum of a laser heating up. Before the spiderant can fully leave the ground in its attempt to launch itself at the red head, a quick shot from the head of DT turns it into ash. Moments later the large floating torso of a robot moves its way over to where the rest of the spiderants are and begins clearing the area with ease. "To be fair DT is a floating robot, I should get props for him being able to lift anything over a tonne at all." Is all she can say as she watches her creation be used not exactly for what she had originally intended.

A noise of agreement left her as she nodded her head, this was a mess that she was playing catch up on. Every step revealed a new and sometimes old issues or problems, and untold horrors that would explain some of the residents insanity.

"Oh so what am I suppose to not fight back and die? Self-defense is a thing." She keeps her lips tight on the actual number of people, she knows it is higher then she ever wanted.

Another reason to the countless hours she was stuck away while the others rested. But that is a mental spiral that no one has seen yet even herself, and Gaige wasn't going to break that record.

"Do you realize that it doesn't matter who, I would still be here. I would cause just as much chaos even if it was Maliwan or Torgue, the company doesn't matter, it is the enormity of the actions that are taking place that I have a grievance against. So once I am done with this, I got a whole check list to work through."

A small tsk as her eyes roll once more, she could already feel the odd ache from rolling them too often. But to want the title of tyrant why trying to claim being a hero? And he was calling her a hypocrite, the gall. But then there is silence after her offer. It is enough to get her to move forwards, the area now clear of deadly wildlife, and to sit down on top one of the ridges. And she could hear him begin in her ear, truly starting fro the beginning.

Her hand goes to her vault buckle, slipping it off and clicking it open to show a hidden system of her own design. A small holoscreen flickered to life above it and she began to take notes, to be able to keep her questions to herself and not interrupt. But before she could really take much, she had to slowly turn her eyes back to that giant floating H as he began to talk about the first real blood shed the station ever saw. No one deserved that kind of fate, let alone those who can't even fight back. And she could understand why loaders were used for what they are, even if there had been enough time to design something new.

Through out the whole story she let out the occasional hum or tsk in reaction, but also to let the man on the other side of the echo understand she was still listening.

A mechanic on Concordia? Something to ask others later on, there couldn't be many considering the lack of them on Pandora. As well as to ask on the reason why for the initial no considering at that point the vault hunters as far as she was aware had no issues with Hyperion, let alone Jack.

And she was torn on the laser because she could understand the pain of such handwork just ripped away. And she had a vague idea on how challenging it was with the laser that rested inside DT's head. But at the same time, she would never want anyone to have a laser of that magnitude considering if it could do that to a bandit settlement. Well it would only be a few tweaks away from being able to glass planets.

She paused in her notes when he mentioned seeing everything, it was hard to believe but there was something in his voice that made her believe he certainly saw something he shouldn't have. Gaige was going to have to go back onto that one on a different day since she could tell that right now was a horrible time to do so. And even as he talked about what Lilith did and the reason why he wore a mask, she could head just how this was not the cocky Jack from earlier.

This was a person who was done but still going. Something that it seemed being near Pandora did to people.

"Well I would say quit your day job regardless and stop all this without anymore murder. But we both know we are too far in to be willing to stop." A small click as she closed the cover on the buckle to once more hide away her person little holounit that stored information that she kept only for herself. The notes saved for review for another day. "I do have questions, but you sound..... Rough. Would you rather a topic change? Or just end this call? I do have things to do, and I'm sure you have plenty of ill placed paper work to finish."

Although it was given reluctantly, Jack agreed. It was impressive that she'd learned how to do those kinds of things at her age.

"Yeah, whatever. I'll give you that one. You also get props for making it look so ugly, just thought it was a bold move. Yknow? You know."

... What? He couldn't be totally nice.

"Sure. Self defense. Like when you stroll into someone else's town, someone shoots at you so you obliterate the entire population! That kinda self defense? Cause that's the kind that we've both partaken in, right?"

A small chuckle slipped past Jack's lips, and though he let the fact that she ignored his question slide, he kept the thought tucked away for later.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say, kid. Must be nice not to have a personal reason for doing all this." Had he said too much? "I mean, you must feel great getting all tucked up in your bed at night, snuggled up with your teddy bear, thinking about what a productive day you've had, while I've got widows and widowers moping about 'cause the vault hunters murdered their significant others while they were trying to do their jobs. Hope you rest easy, champ."

Sometimes Jack really did consider quitting. Leaving Hyperion for good. Taking Angel, maybe Nisha if she would, go back to Tantalus and live a quiet life.

Hah. A quiet life. In this universe? What a joke.

"Mhm. Too many eggs in one basket, right?" he sighed, shaking his head and letting his pen drop back onto the desk, satisfied that he'd done enough work to subdue his poor PA for now, "Don't even think I'd remember what I did before this whole fiasco if I tried."

Wait, wait, wait...

What?

She was actually... asking him? Not-...

Jack swallowed hard, "I- Uh... I don't..." he shook his head, brows furrowing deeper and he continued, "I don't really know what you'd have questions about, but... To Hell with it, shoot. Ask whatever the Hell you want, but keep in mind I will be drinking."

He leaned down, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out a small metal flask, flipping the cap up and taking a long drink. Exhaling sharply, he turned back to the echo.

"Alright. Go for it."

[idiotwhotalkstoomuch]

“One of the darker ideas I came up with” I say again again as I get more and more inspiration for more and more despair

So this concept involves me giving Shuichi that good despair cause when you love a character you either fill them with wholesome hope or horrible despair. Inspired by the first case of DRV3 and the fifth case of another game I can’t name cause spoilers to whoever wishes to learn

Back on my bullshit tagging @lonely-lgbt-writer because at this point it’s tradition

Naehinahara headcannons

* The protags were in the Big Killing game with sort of a twist I won’t say yet cause I wanna see if can shock anyone

* It was desperation hour after the deaths of Sakura, Nekomaru, Gundham, Miu and Gonta. Only 20 students remained and Nagito and Kokichi were being crazier than usual

* Groups of students were investigating or keeping morale to never forget the people of the fourth cases

* Shuichi was working with Kyoko Kirigiri to hopefully combine the minds of two Ultimate Detectives and find out who the mastermind is

* There was a lead! Time to tell the others- WHAT THE F U C K!?!

* A BODY HAS BEEN DISCOVERED

* Makoto was stabbed in the chest and was laying on the ground with loads of evidence leading to a certain someone.....

* Hajime Hinata

* Shuichi tried to find Hajime for a while and when he fails he concludes he just needs to get evidence to prove Hajime’s innocence cause there was N O way he killed Makoto

* They only found Hajime later on (about 5 minutes before class trial) near the incinerator with gloves on

* It’s pretty damning in the eyes of the group except Shuichi and Kyoko who are calling suss on this evidence

* Hajime is scaringly quiet about Makoto’s death along with everyone accusing him hardly speaking at all only having said “Shuichi”, “Makoto” and “Prove it”

* Most of the group refuses to believe Shuichi’s claims on grounds of “bias” (which is way too damn fair) with exceptions like Sonia and Himiko who have no real argument on it

* Later on when Hajime seems like he’s finally about to say something Monokuma ends the trial declaring time over and saying there should’ve been MORE than enough evidence to prove the blackened already

* Shuichi loudly protests but Monokuma is having none of it and declares voting time

* Out of spite, Shuichi voted Nagito who mocked Hajime about the murder but his one clearly wasn’t enough to stop the overwhelming votes for Hajime

* Hajime is still blank faced and empty even after being declared the blackened and after everyone tries to provoke something out of him, Kaito straight up moves over to punch Hajime and when he does

* *COUGH*

* Blood suddenly pours out of Hajime’s mouth as he clutched his stomach where he was punched and unable to stop the blood flow

* *CUE A LOT OF FREAKING OUT*

* Shuichi quickly runs over to Hajime’s side to try and help him and Hajime moves to Shuichi and says

* “S-Shuichi.... I-I nee....d to..... tell you..... s-something*

* As Hajime covers his mouth from all the blood, Shuichi looks at him very attentively as Hajime says

* “M-Makoto he.... found..... the.... m-mastermind”

* Those words caught the attention of everyone in the courtroom as Hajime wrapped his arms around Shuichi trying to speak up as he laid his head against him

* “T-the m-mastermind ....................”

* His eyes go dead as blood simply trickles off him now and his arms loosen from around Shuichi as his body goes cold

* Shuichi quietly calls out for him first and his calls grow increasingly frantic as he desperately tries to get a response from Hajime

* [Shuichi’s silent whispers had suddenly become frantic shouts and begging for Hajime to respond as it became clearer and clearer to the group that Hajime Hinata, a reserve course student of Hope’s peak academy had passed on from what appeared to be poison]

* Puhuhuhuhu..........

* Shuichi glares At Monokuma while furiously crying as he gripped onto Hajime’s body with Kaito not even being able to come up with something to console him

* “Awwww poooooooooor Hajime.... he knew too much and couldn’t cut free from any regrets before his inevitable death! How despairing....”

* Monokuma asks Shuichi to hand over Hajime’s body so he can execute it and as he refuses to let go, Monokuma threatens to either let him execute the body or kill everyone in the room

* Reluctantly, Shuichi gives Monokuma the body as Hajime’s corpse was executed

* Shuichi leaves the courtroom after the execution without a word and Kaito and Maki run after him

* Of course thanks to some encouraging pep talks and support he snaps out his furious despair and begins mourning as he grips onto his shoulder where Hajime spent his last moments before dying

* Later on, Kyoko accuses Hajime of being the mastermind causing very violent reactions because Hajime had already been disrespected enough with his bloody CORPSE being executed

* That’s when the Izuru Kamukura bomb comes in and she claims that Hajime was an AI version of the mastermind that was used as a mere pawn to take the mastermind’s spot as a student which would explain why he murdered Makoto and the strange poison that ended his life

* When Izuru appears he applauds Kyoko on her intelligence and as Shuichi stares at him shocked and revealed the whole Hajime situation

* He had become a self aware AI after Nagito crap talked him and Makoto’s investigation results and this was when Izuru decided he was useless to him

* The reason why the murder was so poorly planned was the fact that Hajime was trying to defy his programming and after murdering Makoto decided to do his best to get caught out of guilt

* He was ill because Izuru found fighting him a waste of time and decided to murder him since he was still registered as “human” in the simulation he would have blood and Hajime was gonna be something purely to horrify the group at that point

* Shuichi is in shock at the circumstances behind Makoto and Hajime’s death and had despaired but of course they manage to squirm their way to a lol hope ending (anything involving Makoto has a lol hope ending)

Yeah I hate my brain too

[moonlightmurder]

Robert Mark Steele : The Gentle Giant

Allan Chisholm was the boss of Goulburn Jail when numerous murders happened. When asked if it took a toll on him, he said only one death did and it wasn’t a murder, “Sure it does affect you — watching a man die is not pleasant — but with all of them…well… it was just part of the job. But there was a particular death during my time at Goulburn that stands out. One that really got and one that I am still saddened by now.“

“Hey you, retard,” the inmate yelled, throwing a handful of food slop.

“Yeah, you, dumb shit,” he continued to bully as the leftover meat and veggies slid down the target’s spine. “You giant piece of spastic shit. I’m going to hurt you. Hurt you real bad.“

Backed by a posse of tattooed arms and battle-scarred heads, the big-mouthed man stepped in. His leading left crashed into chin. His right, the enforcer’s trusted knock-out blow, slammed into temple.

The ‘giant piece of spastic shit’ shook his head. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hurt you. No trouble, please.“

The prison heavy went red with rage.

A body shot this time.

Wrong.

The giant wrapped his hands around the attacker’s neck, and with nothing more that a flick of his wrists and should twitch, he lifted the prisoner into the air.

“I told you!” the giant screamed.

The force of the blow that followed knocked the name-calling, food-throwing man out cold.

“He never hurt anyone unless he had to,” recalled Chislom of Robert Mark Steele, a man imprisoned for his role in five murders.

“Only one that I can recall. He was a bit like the guy from the movie The Green Mile — a gentle giant who looked like a killer. He was simple but kind, and could have destroyed anyone in the jail but didn’t. He was that sort of inmate. I really had a soft spot for him, and I don’t think he should have even been in jail.“

March 1993,

The rays of the rising summer sun, hot enough to wring steam from the damp grass, could not drive the evil away.

The light did not deter the devil.

“I ain’t going out without a fight,” said self-described sociopath Leonard Leabeater, surrounded by police in a Hanging Rock  Station farmhouse at Cangai, New South Wales. “I’m going to make sure they kill me.“

He hugged the shotgun like a teddy bear as he reflected on the two hostages he had just released : Trevor Lasserre, 11, and his sister, Tonia, 6.

“I don’t kill people under 12,” he boasted. “I’d rather be in South Australia killing cops.“

Leabeater had let the children go shortly after fellow fugitive Raymond Basset surrendered himself to police; the 25-year-old wasn’t ready to die. The third murderer, Robert Steele, 22, stayed with Leabeater even after the children had been released. Like Bassett, he didn’t want to be shot down in a hail of bullets, but he couldn’t leave the man who had taken him in, either. Steele believed Leabeater was the religious prophet of the spirit Astra. He had followed Leabeater, who foretold that his own death would come when he was killed by a warlock, without question. But with the death he predicted drawing near — it would later be revealed he told his sister he would die on an altar on the fourth month of 1993 — Leabeater instructed his loyal follower to leave. He told him to walk towards the light.

At 6am Steele strolled from the farmhouse, calmly smoking a Winfield Red, and handed himself over to police.

But Leabeater remained in the dark. The fresh sun, the threatening guns and the pleas driven through police-issue PAs not stopping him from claiming one last life — his own.

After a 26-hour siege, the nine-day rampage that saw Leabeater, Bassett and Steel kill five people was finally over. Leabeater’s body was found lying on a blood-soaked bed, a half-smoked cigarette still gripped between his fingers.

A shotgun was lying next to the remains of his head.

Bassett and Steele were charged with the murders of a pregnant 14-year old, whose charred remains were found on a Queensland farm; three miners, all shot in the head and two thrown from a cliff; and a helicopter mechanic murdered near Mount Isa.

Bassett was given two life sentences for the shocking crime. Steele received five life sentences plus 12 years without the possibility of parole.

The giant Steele, 130kg of bulk and brawn, was sent to Goulburn Jail. That’s where he pulled out a packet of Winfield Reds and offered it to the boss.

“I smoked Marlboros, and he looked at them and told me they were no good,” recalled Chisholm. “He offered me his whole pack. I remember that because no one in prison had ever offered me anything, and smokes were a very big deal to them. They are like gold in prison. That was the first time I saw his good heart.“

The next time Chisholm saw the giant’s kindness was when he reluctantly flipped the bully.

“A crook was picking on him,” Chisholm said. “He was a heavy and he was giving Steele heaps because he was simple. The guy was in high-security because he was a handful; someone who couldn’t be contained elsewhere. He was a tough bloke, but he picked out Steele. It was a huge mistake. Steele upended him and knocked him out with a single blow. He could have kept on going, but he walked away. He didn’t hurt him more that he had to, and I was there soon after the fight. He was apologizing. ‘It’s not my fault, chief. He was picking on me. I’m sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt him so bad,’ he said.”

Chisholm knew Steele was telling the truth. “He could have killed the bloke if he wanted to — and everyone else in the room — with his bare hands. But he was just protecting himself.“

Chisholm found Steele to be incredibly kind but easily led. “He was involved in that hostage thing,” Chisholm said.  “He was involved in the killings and the siege, but it was a cult-type thing and he was very young. I’ll go further than that — to be blunt, he was retarded. He wasn’t all there. He was the youngest, and he was taken advantage of. He was like a big kid who is extremely strong. He believed in what the other two were doing and he did as he was told.“

Chisholm became fascinated with the behemoth man-child.

“I was always in close contact with Steele,” Chisholm said. “And I built a rapport with him, mainly because we initially thought he was going to be such a threat to everyone else in jail and a major problem. But he didn’t hurt officers or anyone else. I would tell him to get back to his cell and he did. I honestly believe he should have not been in jail. He should have been in some psychiatric facility. He was a child trapped in a giant’s body. Yes, he deserved to be punished because of his horrendous crimes, and he couldn’t live in society, but Goulburn wasn’t the place for him, and it would kill him.“

Chisholm got the call on Christmas Eve, 1994.

“He’s dead, boss,” said an officer. “You better come down.”

Steele was on his knees, a twisted blanket the only thing stopping his head from falling onto the cell floor.

“About 12.05 am we got a call to say he had necked himself,” Chisholm said. “He was so big that he had to kneel down and fall forward to get enough tension on the sheet. He had tied it to the cell bars and pulled forward until he was dead. It took us ages to get him out of the cell because he was so big. It was really a horrible thing to see.“

Steele was to spend Christmas in solitary confinement after threatening to go out with a bang.

“I went and saw him on the Christmas Eve because of somme allegations he had made,” Chisholm recalled. “He always said that he was going to go out with something big and that he was going to make headlines. He said he would take officers with him, and that he would do it on Christmas Day. We didn’t think he would harm anyone, but we had to take the threat seriously. He could have cause absolute havoc in the prison. We would not have been able to handle him. It would have taken lots of men to contain him, and there would have been a lot hurt.

So we put him in segregation for the night. We told him no officer was going to go near him because of what he had said. We told him no officer would come, even if he knocked. They would have to call me first, and I would come and see him. He assured me there would be no problem. He seemed absolutely normal.“

The next time Chisholm would see Steele, the prisoner would be dead.

“It was a complete shock. We had no idea he would hurt himself. We were worried about others, not him. It’s the prison death that has affected me the most. It was such a sad tale, and I still think about it now. “

Sources: Australia’s Most Murderous Prison : Behind the Walls of Goulburn Jail and The Sydney Morning Herald.

[coasttocoastreads]

Welcome back to Week 2 of Coast to Coast Reads! Who’s still alive? Katya and I are dying while social distancing, but at least we had a few laughs discussing this book:

Crescent City (House of Blood and Earth) // Sarah J Maas

★★ / ★★★★★

Summary in one two gif(s):

Real Summary:

Crescent City, a place where vanir (supernatural beings such as angels, fae, shifters, etc.) and humans freely mingle and go about their days. Bryce Quilan is a 20-something fae/human who’s still reeling from the murder of her friends 2 years ago. But after she’s commissioned to help search for an ancient artifact, Bryce, along with her new angel partner Hunt, unearth previously buried secrets about the murder that threaten to expose a worldwide conspiracy. 

Pros:

Great side characters. I would die for each and every one of them.

Lots of different mythological creatures! Not just another Fae Book™️

Cons:

It’s literally ToG 2-7 combined. If you read Throne of Glass, you’ve already been spoiled for this book. 💀💀💀

It’s wayyyy too long

Drags a lot in the beginning

Plot .5/5 (the .5 is for you, Lehaba)

What can I say. SJM literally plagiarized herself by taking the plotline of the tog books and translating it to this new setting. The writing itself was subpar, and most of the time it felt like the author herself had no idea where the plot was going, instead letting it drag on until a plot twist that makes no sense is revealed. (You’ll know which one I’m talking about when you get there.) I’ll compare CC with ToG with spoilers under the cut. 

Pacing 2/5

The beginning is full of info-dumping as SJM tries to set up this world which is metaphorically like ours, but everyone’s hot and does fantasy cocaine all the time.  It narrates boring day-to-day schedules that could have been condensed into a paragraph and at times I was tempted to skip ahead. The plot does pick up near the last 25% though, so I’ll give it that. 

Worldbuilding 2.5/5

It was confusing. To be fair, after all the info was dumped at the beginning, I didn’t bother going back to try to figure things out when they popped up again after. But like still??? I think I only started understanding the hierarchy of the government with the Asterrii(?). Also what are the Triarii I am still lost. SJM attempts to blend a more modern society with one of fantasy creatures, and for the most part it succeeds, but it often just feels...strange. I think the one thing I’m most hung up about is why swords and guns still coexist. Like ??????? it’s one or the other plssssss abandon the “aesthetic” Also while they literally have cell phones and keurig machines there aren’t common things like cars? Why.

Characters: (This is unconventional, bear with me)

Main Characters: -infinity/5 they could go die for all I care

Bryce and Hunt were both super unlikeable, 10/10 would let fall from a cliff. They are literally just rewrites of Aelin and Rowan? Bryce is like ahahaha yeah people think I’m Just a dumb vapid Female™️ who parties too much and gets trashed but SIKE I’m actually the chosen one and I’ve been hiding it this whole time because I didn’t want to hurt people’s feelings uwu. And did I mention I’m actually a trained Warrior who can keep up with The Boys? It’s Aelin y’all. There are numerous times where a character says that she’s not stupid and I’m like...are you sure... This girl makes the poorest decisions, yet ofc, there aren’t any long term consequences... (Also 99% of her problems come from ghosting people literally just respond with “k” sis)

Hunt is... idek what to say about Hunt. He’s just Rowan but in angel form. His inner monologue cycles between I must pay off my debt so I can gain Freedom 😔, why is Bryce so hot 🥴, and Shahar 😭. Once again, literally Rowan who also was bound to some evil villain, had the hots for their CENTURIES YOUNGER pupil/protectee, and had an old lover die tragically which led to them believing they can never find love again UNTIL BryLin comes along. Snooze. 

Side Characters: Infinity/5 

Ruhn Danaan was the most valid character and that’s the hill I’ll die on. He literally just wanted to protect his sister cuz she’s stupid af but she keeps pushing him away bc he’s an “alphahole” (haha how subversive :/) I want a whole book about him and Hypaxia, preferably fanfiction so I don’t have to read “soft feminine breathing” ever again.

Literally all the supporting cast- Lehaba, Therion, Ithan, Jesiba, Flynn, Connor, etc, etc. had more compelling characters and side stories than Bryce/Hunt. I was 100% more invested in them and I can’t wait to read/write more about them. 

(Pls let me marry Jesiba Roga or Therion 🥺)

But while the people on the “good” side were spectacular, the villains all felt one-dimensional and the product of over-recycled and overused tropes mashed together. Sandriel and Pollux are literally just Maeve and Cairn (is that his name)

I’d recommend for:

People who loved Throne of Glass and are lamenting the absence of new content. Please read about Rowaelin 2.0

People stuck at home during this global crisis and have too much time on their hands. (If you need that free epub, hmu)

People who are willing to skip all scenes that feature just Bryce and/or Hunt 

People who hate themselves

Would I travel here?

Sorry, what? Already shredded my passport, not getting a replacement, sorry. 

Overall thoughts:

I wish I could somehow take those hours of my life back but alas. 

See y’all in two weeks with a hopefully better book selection,

Tiff

Spoilers under cut

Okay time to VENT

OKAY so CC=ToG, let’s break down how

Danika’s death is the Nehemia Incident, setting the mc up for a journey of self discovery/reclaiming their power. They both show up as ghosts later to encourage mc in a time of great self-struggle.

Syrinx if Fleetfoot. bc all female mc’s need a pet to reveal her Feminine and Soft side

Sandriel and Pollux are Maeve and Cairn. Evil female character with vast power and her torturer? COOKIE CUTTER FORMULA. The scene where Bryce offers herself up for Hunt in the lobby also kinda mirrors that scene in..HoF? QoS? Don’t remember, but pretty sure that happened. Also that scene was so fucking dumb, I really thought Bryce had a Smart Plan, but I was bamboozled once again. 

A gem from my notes: “Bryce is Aelin but with cocaine”

I think the whole demon portal thing is a ripoff of ACOWAR (or is it KoA I can’t even remember), sacrificing yourself to close the rift, etc, etc. 

Anyways, Bryce = Aelin, a party-girl front with a sob backstory that’s her superpower origin story who always has a Plan. 

Hunt = Rowan, broody warrior busy repaying debts getting orders they don’t want while pining over a lost love. They reluctantly let the female mc in and voila they’re in LOVE

The whole “plot twist” that revealed Hunt’s true plan along was so fucking dumb...

It wasn’t a plot twist, it was just plain bad writing

There was no set up at all, nothing alluding to Hunt secretly masterminding an attempted coup with the help of Magic Meth

The whole time I was like “...this is part of their plan right. There’s no way he legit planned this...”

Character’s POVs should reveal what they’re thinking, even if you’re just hinting at something to reveal later...this was just lazy

Another thing that really rubbed me the wrong way was the sudden reveal that Fury and Juniper had been in a relationship the whole time? Despite like above, there was no prior allusion to that?

It felt like half-assed representation at best and completely irrelevant to the story with it coming up again in a throwaway line near the end

Also? I’m fairly certain there was a scene in the beginning where they were all out clubbing and Juniper hooked up with some rando while Fury was also at the club with them? Was this before they got together or did SJM insert this so last minute that no one caught it?

Wtf is sunball. Can someone just help me out here.

Some people have been saying Hunt is Asian coded? Where???!!!!! All I’m seeing is the same stuff she pulled in ACOTAR where all the Illyrians were tan so people could claim they were poc for woke points but not get in trouble for art depicting them as white ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

SJM pls stay away from “like calls to like” you don’t deserve it

[kibbles-bits]

OMG! I love the whole Zamasu and Mai thing, and you even made it make sense. Though, now that Zamasu is slowly realizing that things aren't adding up with this partnership, what's next? Pls only answer when you have time.

I’m answering a year later cause i have time now >_>’

Part 1 | Part 2

This part goes on very similar to the anime. Black is tracking and messing with Trunks as he wreaks destruction, Future Bulma dies, Trunks meets up with Mai… And she is seemingly killed by Black. Trunks manages to use the time machine to go to the past. Zamasu, meanwhile, is looking for Mai since he usually waits for Black to be distracted before he talks to her. Except he can’t find her.

Unable to sense Trunks’s ki anymore, Black takes out his frustration on the city and it attracts Zamasu’s attention. Zamasu asks what’s going on and Black admits Trunks somehow got away from him just as he was about to end him permanently. Black is extra angry in this version cause he thought that ending Trunks’s life would improve his and Zamasu’s relationship since this was something the two had argued about a lot. Zamasu believes Black just let him go again and the two bicker about it until Black says exactly how the fight went down… and that he killed the girl who was always with Trunks.

Zamasu is shocked. He convinces himself for a second it wasn’t Mai who Black killed, but some other, insignificant human. He demands that Black elaborate, and Black obliges, oblivious to Zamasu’s state. As he recounts what happens, he is clearly pleased that he killed Mai, since she was seen as such an important and inspiring leader to the other humans and Trunks had cared for her so much. He laughs that she is dead. Before Zamasu can get properly pissed, Black’s time ring reacts to his recount of the story and he is able to follow Trunks through time, leaving a very emotionally confused Zamasu behind and alone.

Trunks is in the past and can give a slightly more detailed summary of what’s going on in his timeline, thanks to what Mai has told him about Zamasu and Black. Beerus and Whis were at first upset about the time travel, but what Trunks says about a Supreme Kai going rogue is more concerning. They’re skeptical at first since they’re only hearing about it from a mortal who already broke such an important law, but once Goku Black manages to appear in the timeline they believe him (though they stay out of the fight). They conclude that Zamasu became Supreme Kai and made a Goku clone as a servant.

After Black destroys the time machine and Bulma finds the old one to repair, Trunks tells the others more about the fights he’s had with Black and limited information he has about Zamasu, since he had never actually seen the Kai himself and relied on what Mai told him. Beerus thinks it’s weird that none of the other gods have gotten involved and Whis wonders if they’re even still around. Trunks tells them that Zamasu told Mai that he and Black were the last gods but hadn’t given any more info, to their alarm. To satisfy their curiosity, they travel to Universe 10 and bring Goku along to see if Zamasu would recognize him. If he did, then they would have reason to suspect a plan is in the works to annihilate the gods and Gowasu would be in danger. Goku fights Zamasu and notes the energy is similar to Black, but overall they find no evidence of Zamasu being malicious towards Gowasu and leave.

Zamasu searches the ruins of the city for Mai’s body. As he looks, he thinks over Black’s actions and his own role again. The balance of power and influence over each other is fresh in his mind and he gets angry just thinking about it, though he still doesn’t know what to do with his anger. It’s been a while and he can’t find Mai’s body and he’s disappointed. He remembers that searching for bodies is what Mai would do for her comrades and wonders if that means he considered Mai an ally of his. That thought, combined with how angry he feels over her death, causes him to reluctantly accept that he did see Mai as someone with worth, someone he liked. It only made Black’s actions more despicable in his eyes.

When Black returns, winded from his fight with Goku, Zamasu pretends he doesn’t hear him calling to heal him and continues his search for Mai’s body. Eventually, he does find her. She’s alive! (Shocker)

Mai, to his annoyance, barely spares him a moment to talk, but he is too relieved that she’s alive to be too offended. She is in a hurry to get back to the rest of the resistance and has no time to speak to someone who isn’t even an ally when there are lives at stake. She tells Zamasu this and in response he grabs hold of her to keep her still and heals her injuries. Reluctantly he admits how much he has begun to detest Black and that he is relieved to see she survived. Before Mai can even think of a response, they see explosions and she rushes in that direction because she recognizes it as the subway station the rebels would go during an evacuation.

Black is distracted by Zamasu asking what he was doing now and how did he get hurt. Black happily explains what happened when he went through the time distortion. He wanted to test out his body’s forms when destroying the humans, though he is admittedly slowed down by the injuries he got from Goku. Zamasu has him return to their base so he can heal him, giving the resistance time to escape with just a bit more of the civilians than they did originally. Eventually he leaves Black with tea and an excuse, to his counterpart’s confusion.

Zamasu returns to Mai who icily thanks him for distracting Black, but people still died and she’s sick and tired of such pointless deaths. To Zamasu, it’s different to see the mortals at ground level after watching them fight so boldly from afar. They are dirty, starving and scared and he feels weird to be connected to the cause of it. Mai asks how he even found her and the others and Zamasu realizes he must have picked up the ability to sense power levels after Black brought it up and focused on her.

Remembering that fact, Zamasu informs her that Black will know where they are. He can sense their energies and the only reason he hasn’t killed them all is because he is either toying with them or wants to draw Trunks out. This is a huge blow to the other resistance members’ confidence. Mai just expresses her distaste and firmly stands by her decision to hold onto hope and support Trunks and any allies he might bring. Zamasu is intrigued in the idea of Trunks bringing allies but Mai refuses to give details. She then asks him to go and please, don’t come back unless he is going to help.

Zamasu leaves and eventually decides to just dispose of Black. Not for Mai or the mortals (totally not), but because he’s done serving him. When he returns, Black shows him his new form, Super Saiyan Rosè that he was able to acquire by taking in all the moves he learned by fighting Goku in the past and turning them into his own in his body. Zamasu is immortal, but not powerful enough to dispose of Black quickly so his plan to destroy Black needs rethinking – if he messes up then Mai and the other survivors would be put at risk. He plays nice and impressed for now, but unfortunately does not have any time to really plan.

Trunks returns with Vegeta and Goku and Black is drawn to the area where are and the fight goes as it does in the anime as Zamasu watches from above. Eventually when Black is about to finish them off, Zamasu tell him to stop. Except in this version, he means it. Goku appears happy to see him, claiming he knew he didn’t seem like a bad guy and Zamasu is offended he calls to him so casually. Black is furious and demands an explanation. Zamasu tells him he’s had a change of plans and is not going to just follow him anymore. At some point it’s revealed Black is Zamasu from the past in Goku’s body and Zamasu criticizes him for it and his primal obsession again.

While Black is distracted, Yajirobe and Mai save the three Saiyans and send them back to the past, more hopeful now that Zamasu appears to have switched sides.

Zamasu spends his time keeping Black away from the remaining humans. Black knows he can’t kill him and Zamasu knows he can’t defeat Black on his own so eventually the fight goes to a standstill with the two just arguing again. Black is on the brink of hysteria because he can’t believe the one he is fighting is himself. He can’t deal with the idea that any version of himself could be as flawed as to think mortals are worth anything. He begins to taunt Zamasu. What did he plan to do if he killed him? The Super Dragon Balls are gone so he can’t undo anything. All the other gods were gone, was he going to live amongst the filth and sins of mortals? Stay at his side. They are so close to a perfect utopia. The last of humanity wasn’t worth it. He’s seen what they do, how they dare to claim godly power as their own and throw fists at true higher beings, what plan could he possibly have for them? Zamasu begins to lose confidence in his decision.

In the past the Saiyans are sent to recover. Trunks tells Beerus and Whis about how Zamasu had swapped bodies with Goku after losing a fight with him. Beerus decides he hates time travel and they revisit Gowasu and Zamasu. Like the anime, they prove Zamasu’s murderous intent and he is erased. They explain everything to Gowasu and he is horrified, but then decides he wants to help. Beerus says its unnecessary since Zamasu is erased in this timeline so therefore, he is gone in all of them, but Gowasu says it isn’t the case if Black is wearing a time ring. He wants to help the future Zamasu who has switched sides since he apparently had failed so badly with his own. Beerus doesn’t care and says to do what he wants, time travel is such a hassle.

Goku, Vegeta, Trunks and Bulma are ready to travel back to the future, more battle ready. Goku and Vegeta barely begin to fight Black while Zamasu stands aside uncertainly. As Black fights he recounts all the sins that Trunks, Vegeta and Goku have committed, confident he can get Zamasu back on his side with these blatant examples in front of him.

Shin arrives with Gowasu and once Black sees him, he is frozen. Gowasu condemns everything he has done in a speech and it makes Black furious but it gets through to Zamasu, strengthening his resolve and he rejoins the fight. Faced with Goku, Vegeta, Trunks, his old master and himself, Black completely snaps. He tries to kill Gowasu for a third time but Zamasu intercepts the attack. From there, Black’s attacks are overpowered and erratic. There’s a big dramatic fight and probably speeches and monologues but with everyone teaming up on him, it doesn’t take too long for them to kill Black. Trunks gets the killing blow cause its Trunks.

Gowasu asks Zamasu to join him in his timeline and perhaps they can make up their mistakes with each other, but Zamasu declines. He won’t go through with the Zero Mortal Plan, but he also can’t go back to standing idly by and watching as mortals fall to evil. Everyone parts ways and goes back to their respective timelines as everything gets wrapped up. Trunks’s future is safe and they begin to rebuild as Zamasu rethinks his future and his role. It’s all a pretty uncertain, but happy, ending…

…Then upper management gets involved.