#mayor lodge

[jhsharman]

Briefly off topic

To be sure, I have no idea why the Riverdale Ledger and Riverdale Record would have Springfield's mayoral elections as its front page news. And -- how many newspapers can compete in Riverdale? I guess it is good to see the Rockets are having its way over the Isotopes -- there has been bad blood between the two towns for some time.

The Quimbys are one of those political dynasties.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 9

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

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Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“This town looks peaceful to an outsider, a perfect place for a pensioner to spend their free time,” Steve commented, his gaze sweeping over the quiet streets.

“I guess the Bronze Lodge is their only destination,” you replied, noting the town’s well-known resort.

He nodded. “It's a great place and helps the economy. Most locals work there.”

You glanced around, recognizing a few faces from your past. “Hmm. I see some familiar people.”

“So, you've met the homecoming queen,” Steve said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“My number one hater,” you responded dryly.

“She will hate you even more after seeing how successful you've become,” Steve chuckled.

You nodded, and the ice between you began to melt as the conversation continued. The years apart seemed to fade as you shared updates and memories.

“Don’t you realize you're talking behind her back? Isn’t she your close friend?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Steve shrugged. “Not anymore. After graduation, all of us went our separate ways. Bucky went abroad to study business, Natasha pursued her modeling career, and others moved to different states.”

He sighed, reflecting on how time had changed their once-close group. As everyone grew older, they followed their own paths. But in the end, almost all of them returned to this town.

“What made me curious is Jake. I thought he would be the one to make it big since he won multiple competitions related to computers,” you said, recalling the prodigious talent he once displayed.

“Ah, Jake. He wanted to be popular so badly back then. Ironically, he got it in the worst way possible,” Steve replied with a hint of regret.

“What happened to him?” You leaned forward, intrigued by the unfolding story.

“Well… Jake got out of control with his IT skills and hacked the department of defense and he made a crypto scam.”

You gasped. “Really?” Would a guy like Jake do something like that?

“The government banned Jake from anything related to coding for a few years,” Steve explained, shaking his head.

“How did you know all of this?” you asked, impressed by his knowledge of the local gossip.

“His mother told her friend, and her friend told her hairdresser, and the hairdresser told everyone at the church,” Steve said with a wry smile.

Gossip travels fast. You almost spilled your hot jasmine tea, laughing at the absurdity. Steve quickly handed you a tissue, and you gratefully accepted it.

“Then… what do you think about Mayor Martin?” you asked, curious about the town's leadership.

Steve's expression turned serious. “I don’t trust him.”

A shiver ran down your spine at his words. Something was wrong if even someone as reserved as Steve didn’t trust the mayor.

⚰️

You went home, Steve's words still lingering in your mind. You needed answers, so you decided to ask your dad about what had happened in the town since you left.

Tom sat in his favorite armchair, engrossed in a thick book. Without looking up, he replied, “There haven't been any significant changes, except for the new resort owned by the Barnes.”

“But,” he continued, his tone growing more somber, “I have noticed an increase in the number of funerals I've conducted for a single travelers.”

'Single travelers?' A cold shiver ran down your spine at his words. "Who paid for the funerals?" you asked, your voice tinged with unease.

“The town mayor, Martin, has been kind enough to pay for the funerals,” Tom added, finally lifting his gaze from the book to look at you.

Your instincts screamed that Martin’s kindness had a hidden agenda. “Don’t you ever wonder why so many tourists die in this town?” you asked, your voice tinged with suspicion.

Tom chuckled, dismissing your concerns with a wave of his hand. “Are you saying there’s a serial killer in this town? That’s impossible. The police have deemed all the deaths accidents.” He closed his book and patted your shoulder gently. “You should go to sleep. You've been working too much.”

As Tom headed to his room, you remained in the living room, deep in thought. Your father, accustomed to dealing with death, seemed numb to its frequency. But not you. The increasing number of deaths didn’t sit well with you, and the mayor’s supposed generosity felt more sinister than charitable.

Should you and your dad leave this town? The question gnawed at you as you pondered your next steps. Once a familiar haven, the town now felt shrouded in mystery and danger.

👠

The next day, you returned to the hotel feeling renewed determination. As you walked into your office, you stopped abruptly. Once cluttered with documents and black binders, the table was completely empty. A wave of panic surged through you. Had someone stolen everything? The scene eerily reminded you of when the FBI raided your office and confiscated all your belongings.

You bolted out of the room and hurried to Bucky's office. As you approached, you heard raised voices from behind the closed door.

“You’re doubting me?” a woman exclaimed.

“At first, but now I have the evidence. Numbers don’t lie,” Bucky responded firmly.

“Hmph. I still can’t believe it. She’s only been here for a few days, and you trust her over your own mother?”

You couldn't take it anymore. You pushed the door open, making both Bucky and the woman flinch. “Are you doubting my skills?” you demanded, crossing your arms and standing confidently.

The woman turned to face you. She was Lydia Barnes, Bucky’s mother. At fifty years old, she exuded elegance and grandeur, her rich lifestyle evident in her designer clothing and impeccable grooming. She looked you up and down, her eyes narrowing.

Lydia remembered you. You used to be a shy girl who never met anyone's gaze. But now, you stood before her with unshakeable confidence. Your eyes, so full of determination, reminded her of someone she detested—your mother.

Lydia’s face hardened. “I see you've returned,” she said, her tone dripping with disdain.

“I have,” you replied, meeting her gaze steadily. “And I found discrepancies in the financial records. Someone has been embezzling money from this resort.”

Lydia's eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you accuse me?”

You maintained your calm demeanor, but your eyes locked onto hers with a sharp intensity. “I didn't accuse you, Mrs. Barnes. But why are you so defensive?” You let the question hang in the air, trying to bait her into revealing more. “It’s impossible for a business owner to steal from their own business, isn’t it?”

Lydia's face went pale for a moment before she recovered, her expression turning icy. She was momentarily stunned, clearly taken aback by your insinuation.

Bucky stepped in, his tone exasperated but calm. “Mom, we’ll discuss this later. Right now, we need to focus on the numbers and figure out what’s really going on.”

You took a step back, observing Lydia carefully. Her fists were clenched tightly at her sides, and her eyes were narrow slits of fury. She was clearly not used to being questioned, especially not in her own domain.

Lydia straightened up, regaining some of her composure. “Very well,” she said coolly. “But don’t think for a moment that I’ll let this go.”

As she turned to leave, you caught a glimpse of vulnerability in her eyes—a fleeting moment of fear that she quickly masked. It was enough to confirm your suspicions that there was more to this story than she was letting on.

Bucky let out a heavy sigh once she was gone, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry about that. She’s...complicated.”

You nodded, taking in the tension that still lingered in the air. Lydia was an odd woman, and you couldn't shake the feeling that she harbored a deep-seated dislike for you. The first time you saw her was at her husband’s funeral—Bucky's dad.

Even then, her eyes had fixed on you like a tiger eyeing its prey. You always wondered what you had done to her.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

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Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating.

Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

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[threepandas]

Bad End: Heroic Collection

New Haven wasn't a major metropolis. Some big city like Delhi or Tokyo, Jakarta and the like. It was big for the area. A major hub for commerce and crime on a local scale. But Nationally? INTERNATIONALLY? Not even close. No matter WHAT the great ambitions that haunted the Mayor, late at night, may tell you.

So, really, there was NO fucking reason for any A Listers to be here.

NONE.

Our biggest exports were fancy fucking jams and that one fashion line I couldn't pronounce. We had honest to God Jam festivals in the fall. It was a circuit, Mayor gave out awards. There were pies. Firestrike always ate himself sick. Agent always laughed at him. I... Fuck, my head was ringing. I'd hit that last building HARD. Was pretty sure I tasted blood. Not... not sure if that was because I busted something in my mouth or...

Over my comms, I could hear my teammates fighting. Trying to hail the Alliance. If we could... could just hold on...

Long enough for the major players to GET here?

Then what? I had to wonder. Staring at a burning bus in front of me. It was half way lodged through Mrs. Brahimi's shop. Please, God, let her and the workers have got out all right. I'd been there just this morning. She made me those stuffed flatbread things. Said I was still too skinny. Should rest more.

I use the twist remains of a book return to lever myself to my feet. Book..? Oh. I'm by the library. Which..? Fuck. Main one. That's city hall.

Smoke rises around the city I've lived in all my life. Fires everywhere. I'm supposed... supposed to be a hero. But I can barely stand. Feel sick as the world sways. My body is one big bruise. Gotta... gotta keep fighting. Helping. Save people.

In the distance, I can hear screams.

I'm coming. I promise. I'm coming!

I make my screaming body move. Stumble. Catch myself. Then keep going. The hiss and spit in my ear tells me that my communicator is probably half broken. I don't try it, in case that breaks it the rest of the way. Wrench doors from half crushed cars to free trapped civilians. Lever wreckage, hold it with trembling limbs, so people can crawl to safety. Run. Please, god, RUN!

We aren't strong enough.

He's here, The Collective.

A hivemind super threat. Alien supposedly. So far above my team's pay grade we know basically nothing. The kind of thing we were expected to never realistically see. We're nobody's. Fuck it, we're HAPPY being nobody's. It meant we got to go home each night. Didn't face The Horrors. Like him.

He CONSUMES.

Hungry. Trying to fill some void that's never going to fill. Supposedly a planet eater. Gutting worlds for resources, materials, to continue his own expansion. Now fixated on Earth for it's continued refusal to die. For its defiance. Some A+ sort of monster, to our high C rank. At best.

Fuck... we dealt with HUMANS. Fought gimmicks and tech. Little fish in our little pond. Now this tsunami was bringing the ocean to US and it was all we could do, to swim and survive.

I leaned against a half smashed car. Braced myself against it, more then anything, then started pulling pot shots. I... I was gonna black out soon. With a concussion like this? Probably wasn't gonna be waking up. Especially if those THINGS found me before a friendly did.

All across the city I called home, The Collective had Drones tearing the place apart.

They'd almost be pretty. Tall, elegant, androgynous lookin, supermodel twinks in battle armor. Drones apparently covered their lower face. I'd know the "commander" by their uncovered face and "use of adornments". Useful! Except they could fucking SWITCH on command, so you have to take out ALL of them.

Because they weren't a collection of different soldiers.

THEY weren't a THEY. That? Was a fucking HE. Singular.

You don't consider each of your individual cell as people. Each follicle of hair. Why would HE? God damn it. It was like fighting a giant. Against Gods. They just kept coming. And my ammo? Was not endless.

Worse. The drones had stopped looking. I don't know WHAT they had been searching for. But now? They started to converge on me. On city hall. Fuck. I... I couldn't even really stand anymore. My vision was blurring. I knew for a FACT my shots were shit. But dense as they were crowding? It seemed enough. Kept them back.

Three cartridges left.

Two.

Only one more...

The Alliance was coming. Half my team had gone silent. I could hear tears in the voice of Tech, back in the office. They had our life signs. Built into our armor. I could only imagine what mine looked like. Prayed, like I hadn't since I was a kid, that the others were just unconscious. Safe somewhere.

Someplace this nightmare couldn't reach them.

I doubted I was that lucky.

Tech was begging me to hold on. Giving me ETAs. And... And I was out of bullets. The block half full of Drones. I had escrima sticks. A fucking tazer. It would have to do. Sticks came out, as I swayed to my feet. No longer letting the car behind me hold my weight. What's a little... let's say, hundred or so, on one? Eh?

Bring your friends. Let's make it a fair fight.

I'll go easy on you.

Bravado until the end. Remember, never know who's watching. You are a symbol. Before you are a man, you are their HERO. Don't you DARE let them down. Even if you die. Especially when you die. B.. Bravado until the end. Plaste on a smirk and say a one-liner, we got hope to shoulder.

I took down about three Drones... I think... before the rest swarm me.

Feel hands pinning my arms. My torso. Everything. A weak point between the panels is ripped open. High grade military fabrics doing jack shit against their impossible strength. The distinct pinch tug of a needle in my skin. Cold spreading. The sudden exhaustion of a powerful sedative. I... am gone.

Time... is blurry.

Now and Then running together in my senses. My brain. The concussion doesn't help. Or... or didn't? It feels... gone? Gone-ing? Oh... look, sky. Clouds. Pretty. Wasn't I standing? I am standing. No... no being dragged. Chair? Not chair. Stairs? Carried. Pretty window..... where am I? Fuzzy. Bluzzy fuzzy purple beans~ he he he~ oh! Those are the... watch'ma call it! Gucci chairs! That rich lady had! Neat. Plurble.

Ouch! Why'd you pi...?

My mouth is dry as sand. But suddenly? I am hyper aware. The floating drift of my mind VIOLENTLY gone, replaced by alerted and focus. Drones surround me in a vaguely familiar hallway. Shit. I think it's that rich designer's place. My helmet is off, but my mask is still in place, thank god. The Drones stand far to close for my liking. Their many eyes, amused.

So glad to entertain, you Fuck.

I am frog marched down the hall. Damn near dragged. They were too smart to restrain me with my own cuffs, unfortunately. So my hands are bound behind my back with something tight I can't get a good feel off. Bastard secured it to my belt, too. Great.

The Collective's "Face" is surrounded by what must be every jewel in the city. Piled high in some vague sorting pattern I refuse to even try and comprehend. He's trying on rings. One on every finger, to see what matches his skin tone. Looks good. Already, he has a pearl stud and some earrings he's decided he likes. He looks up as I'm dragged in, and I realize immediately what one of "a few other differences" between him and the Drones are...

It's the EYES,

They GLOWED.

Metallic almost. Nearly neon. They reflected the light in a way the Drones simply did not. It made their face... horrificly predatory. Made for WATCHING, somehow. Unnerving and haughty. Beautiful still, but uncomfortable to be near.

Sitting up on a table that basicly swallows the room, dead center like a show piece on display, with one long leg tossed over the other and no fucking shirt on? The Face looks almost carefully, artfully, staged. To maximize some "haughty yet coy, alien prince who maybe wants to fuck you" shtick.

Does... Does he not realize I'm NOT one of the usual opponents? I mean. Flattered at the "join me! The Darkside has sex and cookies!" set up. Always fun. Classic, really. But, like? I would be... at BEST... a solidly MID goon.

Also "NO".

Gonna preemptively throw that out there. Maybe some expletives for flavor. Suggest someplace sunless to shove it. SOLID "No". Good try, though.

Around me, the Drones are shaking with silent laughter. Staring down at me, their pale eyes dancing with amusement. It's creepy as hell. Unnerving to be the center of attention like this. For this many eyes, utterly in synch, to surround and watch my every twitch. Act fascinated and amused, like I'm some little animal performing tricks.

The Face hasn't dropped his Seduction to the Darkside routine. If anything, he seems delighted by the defiance. Which... yeah, that tracks. It's why he's harrasing out planet to begin with. That one's definitely on me. So, better question? Not that I'm not glad and all? Why the FUCK am I not dead.

"And lose my HERO? Perish the thought~" drawles The Collective, the posture light and lazy, even as something dangerous threaded itself through their tone. It sounded... possessive. But that couldn't be right. "I would NEVER do such a thing! In fact, we are going to have to be far more careful with that little processor of yours. Far too fragile. Just the one, too. Horrifying, really."

Thanks. Just what every guy loves to really make 'im feels special. Insults.

Fucker.

More laughter from all around me. I grit my teeth. Come oooon, Alliance. Where the hell ARE you guys!? Could REALLY use a rescue! The hands holding me still are drifting. Fucking handsy. Damn near stroking even as they hold me immobile. They're looking for the clasps and buckles on my armor. Have already found the obvious ones. Fingers oh so casually drifting over, to grip, flex, and tear them apart.

I do NOT like how loose my armor is starting to feel. Barely able to hold on. Protect me. Limited as that protection may be. I think I'm developing a horrifying empathy for clams. Crustaceans in general. Anything that gets slowly pried from the safety of it's shell, too certain doom.

The Face casually tosses the rings he was playing with aside. Tens of thousands of dollars bouncing off to God only knows where. He slides from the table to stand. Shit. He's huge.

The androgynous twink supermodel thing he has going on? Fucking LIES. Twists your perception of how, EXACTLY, strong the Face body IS. He clears seven feet easily, is muscled in that distinctly "never see me coming until it's too late" sort of way all the ninja types are.

The tattoos. It's the FUCKING tattoos! They give the illusion that he's slimmer then he actually is.

It HIDES MUSCLE MASS.

I can't tell if that's vanity or strategy and I hate it. Glare as he sashays towards me. Hips rolling in that elegant catwalk strut. I'm forced to my knees. Because of course I am. How ELSE will the bastard loom and gloat? Though really, weak as I currently feel, it's more that the Drones holding me up? Stop doing that. My knees more or less just give up on their own.

"Like what you see? You're staring so intently~" He mocks. If he were being genuine, I'd call it teasing. Flirtatious. But I know better. "It IS a pretty body, isn't it? I worked hard on it, you know. All sort of fun little details~ Might honestly be one of my favorites. If you're good for me, I'll let you explore it~"

THERE it is.

Darkside. Sex and cookies. Sign up today. Fuck you and not in the fun way. Keep your hands to yourself, Collective. You're not convincing me. You could tell me the sky was blue, and I'd make three presentations with a PowerPoint, on why you were a liar. No, still No, and a hefty fuck off No for spice.

Three steps away. Two steps. One.

A man that tall and dangerous? Frankly did NOT need heels. Figures he'd wear them anyway. Sharp enough to kill a man. Right infront of my folded knees. I refuse to look up. No more fucking games. Did have to wonder, though, if those pants... if they even WERE pants? Were painted on or not. Very tight. Looked vaguely metal yet leather.

Shit.

Fingers, splayed wide as they run themselves through my sweaty and probably bloodstained hair. Couldn't have been nice to touch. Wrong angle and just a touch too big to be a Drone. Light as a lover, sweet almost, soothing. Before it inevitably tightens, gripping the strands. Honestly not as hard as I expected, didn't even hurt.

Still, my head is forced back.

Back and back and back, forced to arch my spine, hang awkwardly at some forty-five degree angle. My thighs and abs already screaming. A Drone grabs the back of my armor and, with an almost casual yank, my chest plate is violently snapped free. Both tossed to the floor away from us.

"There we are~" the Face hums down at me, eyes nearly hypnotic in how the light moved from within, grin full of sharp and deadly teeth. "No more of that ugly thing in the way. I much prefer this~"

"Tell me, Little Hero, do you remember? Becoming mine."

No, I certainly do fucking not. What the HELL is he-!? From behind the Face a Drone steps. Dressed differently to the others. Casual clothes. Like... actual street clothes. If they weren't GREEN I never would been able too-...

In horror, I watch as the pigment of the Drones skin melts away to a middling average. So utterly nondescript a blend of ethnicities that it's genuinely hard to place, but won't stand out no matter where he goes in the city.

I... I had seen that face.

SAVED that man.

Thought he was CUTE! T..Thought WE were having some sort of MEET CUTE! Oh God. That was at the festival. I was out of costume. Saved him from getting crushed. Then my teammates handled everything before I could slip away. So I just... stayed. Showed the cute tourist the festivities.

We ate FANCY JAMS, YOU FUCK!

I pined our that cute tourist for WEEKS. Was UNBEARABLE. Tech threatened to shove me off a roof! Oh my god.

Laughter.

Dozens of mouths, laughing in perfect sync. The noise layered and bouncing strangely around the room. Deeper then it should be, higher as it swings. Like a radio or voice modulator that someone is messing with. A momentary loss of control. My anger fizzles out to fear. Oh... oh yeah...

I forgot I was fucked.

At.. at least I know why?

A step forward. Past too close and now basically in my lap. A foot on either side of my knees. I try not to think exactly where my face would be pressed if I wasn't dragged back, to hang near painfully arched, so he could lean down and I could be forced to make eye contact. That way lay madness.

He moved his other hand to my face, cupping it. Dragging his thumb possessively across my mouth. He hummed, pleased.

He pressed closer, sliding down my front to his knees, straddling my lap. REALLY hoped that WAS, in fact, a weapon in your pocket there, buddy. Because I am not liking the handsy direction this is going, nor have I come to terms with my meet cute being a monstrous planet killing warlord. Not feeling sexy, my guy.

....okay, a LITTLE sexy, but that is hormones and we ignore those.

Fuuuuuck, wandering haaaaands! Now would be a GOOD TIME for door kicking rescues! I do NOT want to learn anything new about myself today! I want to go HOME. Sleep forever, maybe! Have a burrito the size of my head! Oh god. Think unsexy thoughts. Math. Sad puppies! Sad puppies doing MATH!

The Collective had dragged me upright. Pressed my face right up against their Face's bare skin. All I could smell was expensive cologne and man. Warm skin. Oh god, I am so gay. This is hell and I am very, VERY gay. If evil, why sexy hot hot hot? Hormones are making very convincing arguments. Horny brain says let's make terrible life choices.

No! Nooooo. Stop it, Me! We are fucking better then this! God damn it, you trainwreck, you are a ROLE MODEL! Act like one! (But horny...) (NO!!!)

God I was never going to mock the fuckers who hesitates at the "sex n cookies" speech again. Persuasive mother FUCKER!

"Aah~" he sighed contentedly, far too close to a moan for my sanity's liking. Hands having finally found the hidden zippers of my undersuit. Slowly dragging it open. "You are FAR too cute~♡"

"I can't wait to get you off this worthless little rock. Back to ME. I'll have so many WAYS to take care of you~ Backups and rudimentary supports we can set up, at least until I get you something proper."

Horrifying. Deeply Horrifying. REALLY never wanted to know what terrified and horny felt like, but here we are. Distantly, I hear thunder. There's no clouds. A flash of red through the skies. Green followed by metallic purple. Oh thank fuck. Keep his attention. Just... just keep his attention.

"We'll use me as a base. Keep you in stasis. Away from all these ugly, dangerous things~! Just you and me. Perfect. BETTER. Infinite and beautiful. I'll make all sort of bodies just for you to play with. Even let you keep this one! If you want. It'll be a precious memory for us, of where you began. How we met."

A mouth on mine. I can't breathe. Can't escape the arms wrapped around me. My protests do little more then waste oxygen. I feel light headed. Come one, team Alliance! He's here! HE'S HERE!!!

"You're going to be MINE, little Hero. I finally figured it out. What I was missing. It was YOU~♡! My beloved, delicate, little thing~. I'm going to take SUCH good care of you."

"Forever~"

[greyfongschemmenti]

This Is How It Feels | Part 1

Pairing: Regina Mills x Reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 1k

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Summary:

In a mystical town where dark magic intertwines with everyday life, the formidable and wicked Mayor holds sway over all. One rainy night, a mysterious stranger appears, a curious mind who slowly will uncover secrets and allure. As the Mayor and the stranger's paths cross, a forbidden attraction blooms, leading to a spark that both don’t understand. Can love and happiness be brought with danger, betrayal, and a battle between light and darkness.

Notes:

As I’m rewatching OUAT I have gotten the feeling to write this fanfic. Hopefully you all will like it. I will try to keep the gender of the reader neutral.

The rain poured relentlessly as you arrived in the quaint town of Storybrooke, your car broke down at the town’s entrance and you’ve been walking into town seeking a dry place to wait out the storm. You find the only place that’s open tonight, a diner by the name of Granny’s. Shrugging your backpack on you push the door to head inside the establishment. There’s some people in the establishment, a couple of young adults chatting and laughing over milkshakes and fries. You wipe the raindrops off your sleeves then find an empty booth in the corner.. You place the backpack in first then take a seat looking at the door, a little quirk you always do for safety. You hate having your back towards a door. Reaching down your pocket you pull out your phone to realize it has no power “crap, I forgot to charge it”. You mutter under your breath as a menu slide towards you “Welcome to Granny’s! Oh my, you're soaked!” a red haired young waitress greets you warmly. 

You look up and give her a small smile then take the menu to give it a glance “thanks, um yeah my car broke down just at the entrance of town. Had to walk in the wait to find help”

“I'm so sorry to hear that! Let me get you a towel and a hot cup of coffee to warm you up.” She pours you a cup of coffee and look at you more intently as you look at the menu “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before”

“Uhh, yeah I’m not…from here. I was—“ you begin to explain but notice eyes looking your way. Ruby looks over her shoulders then turns back to you “don’t worry this town isn’t used to new people.” She kindly explains as she gives you a warm smile. 

You sit up straight and tug on your sleeves as a defense mechanism “I see that. Um thanks for the coffee. I think I’ll just have this for right now” you give her a soft smile. Ruby returns the smile and turns to leave when you almost forgot “oh! I’m sorry. Do you have a phone I could use to call a mechanic?” 

Ruby gives you a nod “yeah sure, but Billy's shop is closed for the day. We have lodging. You’re more than welcome to stay here until he opens. His shop isn’t that far from here” she gives you a sympathetic smile 

You look at her and give a short nod “That sounds perfect. I'm grateful for your help.” Giving her a small smile as she turns back to head to the counter. You prepare your coffee then take a sip. The door opens and a dark haired woman steps inside heading toward the counter “Ms. Lucas can I get a coffee to go?” Her voice is short and direct as she pulls her dark gloves off her hands. 

“Sure thing Madam Mayor” 

She turns around to face the crowd as she leans against the counter to wait for her order.You glance around the diner when your eyes rest on the mayor. you gaze at her profile and feel a pull. You shake your head in disbelief as you take another sip of coffee. Sliding out of the booth to grab your backpack. You reach down into your pocket to pull out your wallet and take out a couple of dollars for the coffee and tip. You turn around when with a second to react you grab the person you almost collide with by the arms to prevent them from falling. 

Time seemed to stand still as your gaze met the Mayor’s. In that instant, a torrent of emotions surged through your body. Your heart quickened its pace, aflutter with a mix of excitement and nervousness. A tingling sensation crept up your spine, sending shivers down your arms as if touched by an unseen force. Not understanding why you’re feeling like this.

“Watch where you’re going” the dark haired woman raised her voice. A flush of embarrassment tinged your cheeks, but you quickly regained your composure as you released her arms. "I'm sorry," you murmured softly, straightening up.

The Mayor looks you up and down in a quick glance. She quickly composed herself, her lips curved into a small smile as she spoke, "Well, you saved me a day at the cleaners, so no harm done." She raised her coffee cup in cheers, the warmth in her eyes matching the gesture.

Your smile mirrored hers, a chuckle escaping your lips. Her gaze lingered on you, curiosity sparking in her eyes. "You know, as Mayor, it's my job to know everyone in this town."

You shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips. "I'm just a passerby. My car broke down just outside town. Granny's has been most hospitable." you reach your hand out toward her “I’m y/n.”

"Regina," she offered you a warm smile though her smile falters a bit "Welcome to Storybrooke. I should get going." With that, she made her way towards the door.

"Goodnight, Madam Mayor," you called after her, watching as she opened the door and stepped out into the night.

You stood there for a moment, the memory of her lingering presence still fresh in your mind, before finally making your way to the diner counter to inquire about a room for the night. The thought of seeing Regina again brought a flutter of anticipation to your heart, wondering what new encounters and connections awaited you in the charming town of Storybrooke.

The warmth of the diner and the kindness of the people in Storybrooke start to melt away the coldness you felt from the rain. You find yourself wondering about this mysterious town and the people in it. As you settle in for the night, the sound of the rain outside lulls you to sleep, your dreams starting with the images of the mayor, a soft smile appearing on your lips.

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Shanks Touch

Prompt: Shanks visits your village after being away for a long time and in classic Shanks fashion a party ensues.

Requested by Anonymous

NSFW

Shanks X Male Reader

It had been a long while since Shanks appeared on the shores of your island. Many moons coming and going before you got word of the warlord checking in on one of his many territories. Your heart skipped a bit as you watched the horizon for any sign of his ship. The island always seemed to be more chipper when he was around, a never-ending party as Shanks would gleefully find any excuse to continue drinking.

         It took 3 mornings, but finally you could see it. The Red Hair Jolly Roger waving in the wind, it’d only be an hour or so until his ship would be docked, and everyone about seemed to be prepping for their arrival. Every tavern fully stocked, and more shipments expected to arrive soon, fully expecting to be drank out of house and home.

         The towns people’s happy faces talking of Shanks greatest feats as the town square looked like it was preparing for a festival. You, yourself were helping set up lodging, knowing the pirate crew would be passing out on land after being on the sea for so long. The towns mayor more than happy to gather tribute money for the protection the Red Hairs Flag offers us.

         Finally, you hear the bell ring through the town, the ship docking as his crew unloads the boat of treasures and booze. You run towards the dock, staying to the back of the crowd as you glance through faces to find the familiar red hair, his tall-tale laugh reaching your ears as you see him a couple dozen paces away.

         Your feet freezing in place when you see him smiling while talking to other townsfolk, a tug on your heart before you force yourself forward, determined to make yourself known. Before you can even get near him you hear him call your name, his attention turning towards you as he walks up to you. He bends down, easily picking you despite the one arm and twisting you around. “Shanks!” You say with a smile plastered on your face.

         “How I’ve missed you!” Shanks laughs out while putting you down, “This calls for a celebration!” His hand raising in triumph as you could see Benn sighing heavily behind him. The next few moments seem to move too quickly as you’re swept with the crowd, Shanks keeping a hold of your shoulder as he walks towards his favorite tavern.

         It isn’t lost on you how his hand ghosts your back before resting itself on your ass. A subtle squeeze as he leans closer to you. “I’m assuming by Benn’s reaction that you were already ‘celebrating’ on deck?” You laugh out, twisting your neck to look at him as you grab his hand, moving it to your hip.

         “He’s just a Sourpuss that I drank an entire keg” His booming laughter filled your ears as the entire town was swept into a rhythm of his making. Shanks leads you to the back of the tavern, sitting in an corner with a large round table, his men filling in the rest of the seats as tankards full of Rum and Vodka were placed in front of them.

         He pulls you onto his laugh, his arm wrapping possessively around your waist as he pulls you flush against him, his head leaning over your shoulder as you grab his cards for him, holding them only for him to see while he sips his drink. Cheering and laughing ringing through the building while you help him play poker, his hand laying on your hip as he grinds into you.

         It isn’t until a couple of drinks in that you feel him sink his hand into your pants, a blush rushing to your face as you glance to see if anyone notices, his fingers delicately brushing against the skin of your dick, a twitch into his hands as you suck in a breath. “I’m glad to see I’m not the only one happy to see you~” Shanks whispers into your ear, grinding his own hardon into you as you hide your face behind the cards in your hand.

         His thumb running over your delicate tip as you attempt to keep playing while distracted, moving one of your legs so he has easier access to do as he pleases. Shanks lips pressing against your jawline and neck as you press yourself into him.

         You can feel Shanks grin into your skin as he tightens his hold around you, a playful tug making you yearn for more, “Kid it’s your turn.” You slap a random card down, not caring about the game anymore as your head leans back onto Shanks’ shoulder, your free hand wrapping around to rake your fingers through his hair, a low groan escaping your lips.

         “Is there something you need darling?” His hushes whisper pressed against your neck as he leaves a bruising mark in his wake. Slow, deliberate strokes driving you insane as you try to thrust into his touch, “Remember you have to play properly,” His slight taunt making your ears ring as you open your eyes, glancing at the table. Most seem unfazed, others glancing but returning to their cards as the rest of the Tavern continues to party on.

         Huffing as you feel him teasing you, changing pressures as he continues to pump his hand, Shanks enjoying watching you unravel. Straightening your back as you scootch a little bit off his lap, your hand dipping behind you to palm the outside of his pants just as he quickens his pace.

         “Getting daring, aren’t we?” Shanks whispers, nipping at your earlobe as he ruts up into your palm, his grip becoming tight, a finger dancing over the slit of your sensitive tip as you choke on your breath.

         He pulls you back against him fully, jerking you faster as you lean against the table, your face in your arms as your hand barely holds onto the cards in your hand, your legs dangling on either side of him. Biting your lip to hold back your labored breathing as your release quickly approaches.

         Grinding your hips into his touch as you feel the pressure building, Shanks hand quickly glides down your shaft, a tight hold around the base of your leaking cock. A desperate moan escaping your lips as your eyes widen, the building of pressure feeling like too much. Your hands pushing you off the table as you push yourself against Shanks even further in a desperate attempt to get his hold on your cock to loosen, to let you feel the sweet release you’ve been craving.

         “Now, now.” His laughing tone hits your frustrated ears, “That’s for later. Can’t have you becoming spent too early.” You feel the pressure slowly ebb away, the tight grip around your cock loosening as you slam your head against the table in disbelief.

[abandonedography]

Vacant Sentinel

Nestled within the embrace of an enchanting, forested realm, a Château stands tall. In the late years of the 19th century, the visionary minds of the canton's general councilor and the village's mayor converged to give rise to this architectural gem.

Since its creation, time has woven a rich tapestry around this magnificent structure, placing it under the protective mantle of history. In the annals of French heritage, the Château finds its hallowed place, designated as a cherished "historic monument".

Its purpose, initially conceived as a haven for social receptions, bore a more specific and thrilling mandate – to serve as a venerable hunting lodge, where the elite of society could commune with nature in all its untamed glory.

For now, it remains vacant. A silent sentinel, waiting to reveal its next chapter.

By Jeroen Taal

[deadpresidents]

Everyone knows about Lincoln and Garfield and McKinley and Kennedy, the quartet of America Presidents who fell victim to assassination. Even the most casual observers of Presidential history can probably name the four Presidents who were murdered while in office, and many even know the names of the four assassins responsible for their deaths: Booth, Guiteau, Czolgosz, and Oswald.

There have also been quite a few (in)famous unsuccessful assassination attempts, where Presidents barely escaped with their lives, that many Americans are familiar with, including (but not limited to):

•Richard Lawrence's miraculously unlucky double misfire on the steps of the U.S. Capitol in 1835 which left Andrew Jackson unharmed but resulted in Lawrence -- who would be found not guilty by reason of insanity -- getting viciously pummeled by the cane-wielding President Jackson until Davy Crockett intervened to save the would-be assassin from the 67-year-old President. •The shooting of former President Theodore Roosevelt in Milwaukee as he sought another term in the White House during the 1912 Presidential election. Despite being shot in the chest, Roosevelt decided to go ahead and deliver his campaign speech before being taken to the hospital where doctors discovered that the bullet lodged inside of TR had first passed through a case for his eyeglasses and the thick pages of his speech in his jacket's pocket, lessening the damage from the gunshot. •The attempted assassination of President-elect Franklin D. Roosevelt in Miami in February 1933, just seventeen days in before FDR's Inauguration, which wounded four people and killed Chicago Mayor Anton Cermak. •The ill-fated 1950 attempt by Puerto Rican nationalists to storm Blair House (the temporary Presidential residence during the renovation of the White House) and kill President Harry S. Truman as he was napping. Truman was not hurt, but a White House Police Officer and one of the two assassins were killed during the wild shootout. •President Gerald Ford's trouble with two California women who separately tried to kill him in Sacramento and then San Francisco just two weeks apart in September 1975. •The shocking shooting of President Ronald Reagan in broad daylight from just a few yards away as he exited the Washington Hilton following a speech in March 1981, which left four people wounded and very nearly killed the 70-year-old Reagan just two months into his Presidency.

But what is amazing is that, in this age of instant information and the constant regurgitation of media coverage via the 24-hour news cycle, very few Americans know that there is a man sitting in prison in the former Soviet Republic of Georgia for attempting to assassinate President George W. Bush. What even less Americans realize is how close Vladimir Arutyunian actually came to accomplishing his task.

On May 10, 2005, President Bush spoke to a large crowd at an outdoor rally in Tbilisi, Georgia. In one of the photos at the top of this post, Bush is seen speaking from the stage in Tbilisi. The other photo is of Arutyunian holding a plaid handkerchief close to his chest. Wrapped in that handkerchief was a live hand grenade.

As President Bush spoke, nearby sat his wife, Laura, Georgian President Mikheil Saakashvili, and the Dutch-born First Lady of Georgia, Sandra Roelofs. They had no idea that, during the speech, Arutyunian tossed his handkerchief-wrapped grenade towards the stage. The grenade landed just 61 feet away from President Bush, well within range of causing serious injury, if not death.

Of course, the grenade did not explode. At first, it was thought to be a dud, but upon closer inspection it was discovered that the only reason the grenade didn't explode was because Arutyunian's handkerchief -- used to conceal the explosive as he stood in the crowd -- was wrapped too tightly around the grenade, preventing the firing pin from deploying. A Georgian security official noticed the grenade, grabbed it quickly and disposed of it as Arutyunian disappeared into the massive crowd and President Bush continued speaking.

After Bush's speech was over and once it was recognized that the President had only narrowly escaped a legitimate attempted assassination, Georgian police worked closely with the United States Secret Service, the FBI, and the U.S. Justice Department to investigate the assassination attempt and find the would-be assassin who seemingly melted into Tbilisi after his brazen, albeit unsuccessful attempt on Bush's life. Using DNA evidence and tips from informants, the Georgian police ultimately tracked down Arutyunian two months later. When they went to arrest Arutyunian, a gunfight broke out and Arutyunian killed Zurab Kvlividze, a top counterterrorism official with Georgia's Interior Ministry. Arutyunian was wounded before finally being captured with the assistance of Georgian Special Forces.

The Georgians tried Arutyunian on the murder of the police officer, as well as the attempted assassinations of President Bush and President Saakshvili. Arutyunian was sentenced to life in prison with no possibility of parole. A federal grand jury in the United States also indicted Arutyunian on the federal charge of the attempted assassination of the President of the United States, which is a felony. The U.S., however, has not attempted nor has any potential plans to extradite the failed assassin from Georgia, and Arutyunian will almost certainly spend the rest of his life in a Georgian prison.

[fadeintoyou1993]

It was the ultimate cliffhanger. Clifford Blossom had killed himself. But why? Life's not an Agatha Christie novel. It's a lot messier. Turns out, maple syrup was a front for his true business: transporting heroin from Montreal on his trucks. A narrative quickly emerged: That Jason Blossom learned about dear old Dad's drug running, and threatened to expose the truth; which led to Jason's abduction at the hands of a Southside Serpent named Mustang, and then to Jason's murder at the hands of his father. Clifford killed Mustang to cover his tracks, making it look like he'd overdosed, and tried to implicate a rival businessman, Hiram Lodge, as having masterminded the whole thing. And, oh, yeah, I almost forgot. Mr. Blossom threatened my life, so that my dad would confess to pulling the trigger, even though all he did was clean up the mess. And he would have gotten away with it, too, if it wasn't for a group of pesky kids who uncovered the truth. Even as Clifford Blossom, consumed by guilt and shame, took the coward's way out, Jason's murder had revealed some dark truths none of us were too eager to face - especially not Mayor McCoy, who wanted every last vestige of corruption crushed like a snake under a boot heel. [...] We had many milkshakes that night, and we all felt that as dangerous as the world around us had become, here, at least in this booth, we were safe. [...] Imagine this instant, frozen in time. People will look back at this as the exact moment that last bit of Riverdale's innocence finally died. When darkness won. Marked by an act of violence that was anything but random.

RIVERDALE (20217-2023) Chapter Thirteen: The Sweet Hereafter

[batrogers]

If you want the short version of "Which Link's pay their taxes?", here's my LU headcanons going off the excessively long post here:

Sky = He's telling people what taxes to pay because he's helping Zelda build the city on the surface and in Hylia's name, he's got way more sympathy for Gaepora now that he's had to deal with it himself.

Four = He's enjoying immensely that his grandpa handles it for him, and he has NO intention of seriously dealing with it himself if he can ever avoid it. (He has indeed been sat down and taught how, and he is fond of insisting that he is *fourteen*, you are NOT dying, stop making me do this--)

Time = Zelda gave him lands as a gift for his military service and the whole knighthood thing, but she was sensible enough to give him lands that manage themselves, so he only "owns" Lon Lon Ranch. Talon incessantly teases him about this fact that technically he owes him tax, not Zelda, and Time groans every time it comes up. (Talon just pays the Castle directly still.) Malon, when she's especially annoyed at the cows or horses on any given day, will tell him that *his* livestock are acting up, but otherwise politely does not remind him.

Wind = Tetra has never paid a harbour duty tax she could avoid, but she HAS been caught and narrowly escaped several times. There's a few ports they can't legally visit anymore because of this, and Wind finds it hysterical. (I imagine the rest of the Chain is not looking forward to bailing him out of jail if they wind up in one of those cities.)

Twilight = As a resident of Ordon village, he's not really responsible for his own taxes because they're paid by the village as a whole. Mayor Bo handles it, and he hasn't legally established himself in anyone ELSE'S census so he's free of worrying about it. Mayor Bo does bug him for money once in a while, but overall it doesn't come up.

Warriors = He's a conscript who's not really asked if its legal for him to not be a soldier anymore, but hey! He's only paying some taxes which he likes because taxes pay for his food and lodging. He's vaguely complained about it a few times and rapidly realized the others have no idea what he's talking about, so he sticks to the simple stuff: he's a Captain now! He only pays a few nominal taxes. Better than the rest deal with, right?

Legend = His uncle and grandfather both are still around and so he's safe from having to pay his own taxes for a while, although they live elsewhere. That doesn't matter, though, because as a knight's son as long as they claim they're covering him the royal family doesn't much care what he does. Ravio has definitely stated this is fantastic, and Legend has been treated to some exhausting stories about the process to rebuild Lorule. He's holding out hope his uncle lives a very long time so he's not going to be stuck dealing with it himself, thank you VERY much.

Hyrule = He's living in Castletown and working with his Zeldas at this point, so he's paying whatever's normal taxes for the city. He's a nice enough kid he probably pays other people's taxes too, and does his best to keep up with things so his Zeldas have the best chance of rebuilding possible. Definitely ducks out of any labour calls though, so he doesn't draw monsters nearby and they all know why not.

Wild = He's paying Hateno taxes like everyone else, although I imagine he's had a few extended debates with the mayor about what's the most useful thing to pay in. The mayor sometimes has a hard time processing the fact there's options, nevermind what the options ARE. Zelda would mostly like him to stop trying to plant durian in the yard.

[hezuart]

Holly, Skadi, Berry Redesign

Skadi is the mayor of a very small, freezing town up on a mountain peak. Holly and Berry are her assistants. There are ski lodges and resorts to manage. Roads to plow snow off of, rare animal species to monitor and protect, and SOS search and rescues to commence. Their service is A+, and their welcoming presence warms your heart. You’re definitely coming back to their neck of the woods.

[anamericangirl]

You've never been wrong? You're the classic narcissist. Trump has been called out on his many lies. He is fact checked because he lies all the time and I don't see what is wrong with a moderator doing this during a debate. The lie he told about Haitians eating pets has been proven but he continues to spew that. The woman who started that lie copped to the fact. The Mayor, the Governor have both said that no complaint was lodged by anyone in Springfield. By the way; those Haitians are not illegals.

You don’t see anything wrong with it because you’re brainwashed.

[blackmoonowl]

prompt 27 with rj?

"Move away from the door and let me at him!"

Robert Joseph MacCready x reader

Summary: Jealous MacCready with some slight suggestive comments at the end.

1407 words

This was supposed to be a fun night out to celebrate a job well done, it had been his idea after all. But now MacCready's blood felt like it was about to boil. His fingers curled around the glass as a scowl appeared from under his hat. He knew Goodneighbor was a dump full of sleazebags, he wasn't exactly a saint himself. But this guy really should know better than to hit on someone taken.

The subject of MacCready’s anger was seated close to you, cigarette smoke coming out of his mouth. The mercenary had half a mind to just stand up and deck him in the face, but he didn't want to the two of you getting kicked out of his favourite bar. The random guy was clearly interested in you. MacCready couldn't blame them, you were a knockout with an even better personality.

But you were all his. The person he trusted most, someone who he'd give anyone for, someone who he wanted to introduce to his young son.

"Look, pal. You're killing the mood," MacCready finally spoke up, getting the other man’s attention. "Why don't you just leave, this ones taken."

"Who says you have to be the only one?" The drunken Goodneighbor resident responded. Whitechapel Charlie briefly stopped polishing a glass, listening in on the conversation before he continued his business.

MacCready's expression turned into a scowl. His hands clenched into fists. Your eyes flickered between the two men. You knew you probably had to step in soon, knowing your lovers temper.

"The hell do you mean?" MacCready's voice rose, stepping from his seat. He already didn't have the most patience, and the alcohol was making him even angrier. "Are you stupid, or are you just lookin' for a fight?"

"Scrawny kid like you thinks he can take me, huh? You sure you want me to beat you in front of your date?" The taller man mocked, towering over the mercenary in an attempt of intimidation. MacCready opened his mouth to continue arguing when your hand met his shoulder.

"Come on," you quietly urged. "He's not worth it, let's just go. I had enough of this." He felt your attempts at tugging him along, wishing to just leave the conflict behind, and to find a place to crash for the night.

But Robert didn't like that one bit. He didn't want to walk off with his tail tucked between his legs like some sort of coward. Some guy just hit on his other half, and he wasn't gonna let that one slide.

"Hold on, I wasn't finished," the young man hissed, pulling himself loose. By now most of the other residents had turned their heads to look at the commotion. None seemed too eager to intervene, watching as if it were entertainment. Likely a mixture between the mentality of the settlement, coupled with MacCready's reputation.

"Yeah? You're not exactly smart, kid." The man’s dark brown eyes bored into his own. "You lookin' to leave with a bullet in your skull?"

"Not if I lodge one in yours first. I don't think you know what you're dealin' with here. Now piss off before I make you," MacCready got right up in his newfound rival’s face, practically seeing red with anger.

"If the two of you are looking to catch a body, don't do it here. I don't want Ham or the mayor on my case. I also don't want to be the one scrubbing blood off the floor." The gruff voice of Charlie called out, setting a glass down.

The two men reluctantly backed off from each other, not before sending each other one final death glare. MacCready would have loved to pull out his hunting rifle and prove a point, but he didn't want either of you to pay the price for that. The crowd seemed disappointed by the anti climactic ending, going back to their drinks and banter.

"He's right, come on," you urged, gently grabbing MacCready by the duster. "Let's get you to cool off."

Your partner grumbled, though was quickly convinced by a kiss to the cheek. He let you lead him out, his hat shadowing his eyes. The two of you silently ascended the stairs, nodding at Ham and walking through the front door. The young man had just begun to calm down when a voice called out.

"Wasn't done talking." The man stood in the doorway, slurring his words even more, a bottle held in his hand. You held back a deep sigh of irritation as you felt Robert's body tense beside you. Members of the Neighborhood watch were already eyeing the scene, hands held tight on their guns.

"Robert-" you tried to argue, but he shook his head. He had held himself back for your sake, but he was done now.

"What the fu-.. what the actual hell is your problem? You got a lot of nerve trying to drag this out," MacCready growled, his hand finally grabbing onto the familiar smooth material of his rifle. He may not kill the guy, but he was gonna need to seek out Doc Crocker after this merc was done with him.

"The fuck you say to me?" The drunkard growled, straightening. "I oughta pluck your remaining teeth out for that tone." That jab was the long overdue final straw, as far as he was concerned. He flipped his gun, aiming to strike the other man with the back of it.

"Try it, I'll make sure you'll never see straight again." MacCready took a step forward to charge at him. Fortunately, you were fast enough to block his way, managing to step in between the two. MacCready was able to stop himself in time before he accidentally struck you. You could practically feel the head radiate off of the former mayor as he yelled.

"Get out of my damn way, he's askin' for it!" His voice cut through the already rowdy night.

"No, we can just leave, I already told you this isn't worth it. Let's just head to hotel Rexford and we can just sleep it off." He shook his head, his rotten teeth gritted as he grabbed your shoulder.

"Move away from the door and let me at him!"

He demanded. The drunkard looked smug, having riled the duster wearing mercenary up. To your fortunate, Ham soon had his hand in the neck of the Drunkard, dragging him inside. The Neighborhood watched kept a close eye on the scene, still ready to put a bullet into anyone causing a ruckus. You knew better than letting MacCready do as he pleased. Best case scenario you had to explain yourself to Hancock, worst case scenario you'd both be in a ditch.

You took his hand, pulling him to the hotel Rexford. MacCready was still in a worse mood than usual, glancing over his shoulder at the bar with a sour expression. His ego was wounded and he was offended both for himself and you.

"Dammit," he grumbled as he leaned closer to you as you opened the door to the hotel. "Should've let me teach that idiot a lesson. Why didn't you let me cave his face in? Nobody was gonna care! Now he got away and we look weak." MacCready snapped at you, causing you to huff at him.

"I'm assuming you want to stay on Hancock and Whitechapel Charlie's good side, if you want to keep drinking at the Third rail," you reminded him, causing him to back down.

"You know what? Fine, but if I ever catch him again, he's gonna wish he never crossed us," he grumbled.

"No doubt about that," you sighed, tossing caps on the counter in exchange for a key. Pursing your lips, you watched his scowl for a moment before smiling.

"But I think I know a few ways to make you feel better," you hinted, causing him to nearly choke on air. Clair shot the two of you a disapproving look, but you couldn't bring yourself to care as you pulled your boyfriend along.

"Damn straight you will," MacCready grumbled as his grip on your hand got a little tighter, a small grin appearing on his face. "You got a lot to make up for." You decided not to argue, lightly huffing at him. At least it seemed his murderous intent was quelled for tonight. Though judging by the look on his face, that probably didn't mean you'd rest easy tonight.

[josefavomjaaga]

Napoleonic daily soap - special. Bonn, December 1795

I'm not sure if anybody still remembers the idea of a napoleonic daily soap. Briefly, I was quite fascinated by the idea but, as usual, I got quickly distracted. By that time, I had begun a little "special", featuring an event unrelated to Napoleon. Because, after all, the napoleonic saga is so much more than only one monsieur Bonaparte.

I had gotten halfway through the plot before I broke off. Now I've finished it - rather hastily and badly, but finished, and I'm posting it in case somebody is still interested. It's heavily inspired by some real complaints found in German sources 😋.

-.-.-

Napoleonic daily soap, special 1 – what was everybody else doing at the time [i.e.: September/November 1795]?

-.-.-

[Scene: Bonn. The Council Room/Ratsstube of the pub located in the town hall’s basement [that every German town hall seems to have]. Darkened wood lining the walls, carved ceiling, heavy oak furniture. Some dozen town officials, visibly well-off members of the local bourgeoisie in old-fashioned 18th century overcoats, gold watch chains hanging out of their waistcoats, are drinking and chatting happily]

[Mayor, raising his glass]:

"Gentlemen, we have every reason to be satisfied. The French army of the Rhine has continued its retreat." [Applause, town officials knocking on the table, cheering.] "The French headquarter has left our beloved Bonn for good. No longer will French soldiers rob our peasants, squeeze the money out of our working class and misappropriate the contents of the city's coffers."

[Town official, interrupting]

"Damn right! After all, that’s our job!" [Laughter, more cheering]

[Door opens. Kinzinger enters, an open letter in his hand.]

[Kinzinger]

"Don’t you rejoice too soon, gentlemen!"

[Mayor]

"Herr Kinzinger, you’re late for this meeting of the city council. Where have you been?"

[Kinzinger, handing him the letter]

"I was kept up by a courier who brought me this. Apparently, the French are returning."

[Groaning all along the table. The mayor hastily studies the letter]

[Mayor]

"The corps of one general Lefebvre will be stationed in our region … some brigadier general is even supposed to stay in our town … soldiers to be quartered in private houses … officers to be lodged and fed at the town’s expenses …"

[Town official]

"The usual, obviously."

[Mayor, gets agitated]:

"And there we have it. This brigadier general is not even here yet but already sends ahead a list of what he wants to be delivered to his personal cook on his entry into town."

[Town official sarcastic]:

"Efficient. What does he ask for?"

[Mayor, eyes bulging]

"He demands – get this: 12 pounds of ox meat, one mutton, half a calf, vegetables, white bread, chicken …" [some of what he reads is lost in a flurry of upset murmurs in the audience] "… coffee and sugar."

[Town officials all talking over each other]

"Outrageous – what sort of glutton is this? - this guy must weigh a ton! - do we really have to comply with this?"

[Kinzinger]

"We’ve had some bad guys here already but that one seems to be the worst so far."

[Mayor, knocks on the table calling for silence]

"Gentlemen, I say we must not put up with this. It is time to reign those Frenchmen in. We have met the demands of those French officers long enough. That's the last straw." [Cheers, applause and approval] "We will let this general …" [checks the letter] "... Soult know that the city’s coffers are empty, that the town’s resources are exhausted, that the things he asks for are nowhere to be found and that he has to come up with another way to indulge in his culinary vices."

-.-.-

[CUT to Soult’s office in Bonn. His younger brother Pierre is standing at attention before his desk.]

[Soult, confused]

"What do you mean you’re not going to stay here with me? You’re my aide de camp."

[Pierre]

"That does not mean I have to always sleep under the same roof as you, right? I mean, I will show up for my job, obviously. But Jean, I’d really love to have some time for myself occasionally."

[Soult stares]

[Pierre]

"Look, the only thing that will be different is that I won’t be there for dinner."

[Soult, aghast]:

"You will even eat elsewhere?"

[Pierre]

"You will barely notice! You always invite half of our officers to dinner…"

[Soult]

"For good reason. I want to have my people close by. At least then I know where they are and that they are not committing any excesses or stupidities in town on that evening. Which reminds me: Where precisely do you plan on staying in Bonn?"

[Pierre, a bit embarrassed]

"There’s a house close to the city gate."

[Soult's eyes narrow]

"You would not be talking about the one on the left side of the road? The one with the red paper lanterns in all its windows?"

[Pierre regards a corner of the room with great interest]

[Soult]

"You have to be kidding me!"

[Pierre]

"Look, Jean…"

[Soult]

"That’s general Jean to you, monsieur!"

[Pierre]

"I’m 25, okay? Plus, technically, it’s just another kind of inn. The rooms are clean and comfy, the girls are very nice, the food is excellent …"

[Soult]

"You’re staying at a brothel because of the food? When we have our own cook? Wait until Perrou hears about that!" [stares at Pierre]

[Pierre stares back]

[Soult, exasperated]

"Just so you know, I am appalled! And Perrou will be even more so! Do I really need to explain to you what an impression those good Germans will have when they see one of our sous-lieutenants, who is not only an ADC to the commanding general but also closely related to him, openly stay at a brothel? I do not have words to express my disappointment. This idea is outrageous. You're giving the French army a bad name by such behaviour. Even worse, you're giving me a bad name. You make us look like insatiable womanizers, you're confirming all the prejudice the Germans may have about French vices. How could you even dream about staying at a house of bad reputation?"

[Pierre, matter-of-fact-ly]

"I understand that, as brothels go, it actually has a very good reputation. The girls say that all important town officials are customers. The rooms are incredibly cheap, I'll have one all to myself, unlike when I’m quartered in town and can congratulate myself if I do not have to share the bed with some grenadier. And as a long-term client, I’ll get drinks and services at a discount."

[Soult]

"There’s a discount?"

[Pierre]

"I’m sure I could get my friends and family included into that."

[Soult]

"That does not make it any less outrageous."

[Pierre]

"True. But can I go now?"

[Soult]

"Unfortunately, you’re a grown up. I do not have any legal means to hinder what you do in your freetime."

[Pierre]

"Thank you, you’re the best big brother ever!"

[Soult, grim]:

"I may get back to you about that discount. And if Mum finds out, you’re on your own. I’m not covering up for you!"

[As Pierre turns to leave, the door opens. Soult’s cook Perrou enters the room.]

[Soult]

"Ah, Perrou, good you’re coming. We will be one person less for dinner tonight. And apparently all through the rest of our stay in Bonn. You can rearrange your plans for the meals accordingly."

[Perrou, furious]

"I’m sorry to say, general, but I fear there will not be any meals. At all. The town magistrate has refused to send anything for my kitchen. Am I supposed to conjure up dinner for everybody out of thin air?"

[Soult]

"What du you mean, refused?"

[Perrou]

"They flat out say there is no food in town."

[Soult, glares]

"They are trying to starve us. This means war. - Pierre?"

[Pierre, hastily]

"You already said I could leave for my inn…"

[Soult]

"You can. But make a quick detour. To the town hall."

-.-.-

[CUT to town hall. Kinzinger sitting behind a wooden desk. Pierre Soult standing in front of him. Both are engaged in a discussion that obviously has been going on for a while.]

[Pierre]

"I truly fail to understand you. A French army is quartered in your town. Of course the magistrate has to provide food for it. How else are the soldiers supposed to be nourished? Do you want them to just run around and grab stuff?"

[Kinzinger, menacingly]:

"Is that a threat?"

[Pierre]

"Actually, it was a question. This is not the first time you have a French army in town. You know how these things work. You have delivered provisions to the generals who used to be here before us, without any problems. So why not this time?"

[Kinzinger]

"Because our means are exhausted, because we are fed up with you guys, and because we have never before encountered such extraordinary demands. This is the first time a general already sent a list of stuff he wanted for dinner before he had even entered the town. What do you think our town of Bonn is? An all-you-can-eat buffet free of charge?"

[Pierre sighs]

"Look, Monsieur Quinzie …"

[Kinzinger, muttering, almost to himself, in the tone of somebody who has repeated himself several times already]

"That’s Kinzinger, actually…"

[Pierre]

"I do not know what the regular demands for the table of a brigadier general are. I’ve only ever served on this staff, so I cannot compare. What I do know: If you want to keep my brother in a good mood, you better keep him fed. And fed well!"

[Kinzinger]

"So you’re saying the general is your brother? - Typical. Greed, gluttony, nepotism."

[Pierre]

"Whatever. Just send him something to eat, or I don’t know what he will do. He’s cranky enough on a full stomach."

[Kinzinger]

"Very well. The town magistrate will provide the extraordinary amount of food stuff the general has demanded. But I let you know that we will send him the bill at the end of the week."

[Pierre]

"Fair enough, you do that. If you excuse me now, I’m off to the Towngate Tavern."

[Kinzinger, exasperated]

"You go where?"

[Pierre, grinning]

"Now don’t be jealous, Monsieur Quinzie. We French have had a long and exhausting campaign. I plan on making the most of my stay in your beautiful town." [mutters] "God knows I’ve deserved it. You, monsieur, only have to deal with my brother now. Can you imagine doing it every day?"

[Kinzinger]

"I admit you do have a point."

-.-.-

[CUT to Soult’s office in Bonn. Soult is sitting behind a desk covered with papers, making notes on some letter, obviously working hard. He picks up another document, studies it. Frowns.]

[Soult]

"Sublieutenant Soult!"

[CUT to anteroom. Pierre Benoit is on duty. Winces visibly at his brother’s call.]

[Pierre]

"Merde." [enters the office] "Mon général?"

[Soult hands him the document]

"What’s this?"

[Pierre]

"Looks like some kind of invoice."

[Soult]

"That much I saw myself. Why is the town magistrate sending me a bill for the food we consumed?"

[Pierre, regarding a corner of the room with great interest]

"Because they kind of expect compensation?"

[Soult glares at him]

[Pierre, exasperated]

"Look, it was the only way to get them to comply. You wanted food, you got the food. But they insisted on sending you a bill at the end of every week."

[Soult]

"So what am I to do with it now? You know we’ve not received any money from Paris in ages. How are we supposed to pay?"

[Pierre, shrugging]

"Maybe, if you explain this to the magistrate …"

[Soult, scoffs]

"Sure. Let’s tell the enemy that we do not even have enough money to pay for food expenses, let alone weapons and equipment. Great strategy, sublieutenant."

[Pierre]

"Then just ignore the bill, for what it’s worth. Who knows if they even expect you to pay? These are town officials, maybe they just needed some document to put a seal on and to file away in their archives. They’ve been difficult enough with all their bureaucracy."

[Soult, still frowning]

"They have?"

[Pierre]

"Sure. Refusing to honour a request because the list was not signed, or not signed by the right person, or not signed in the correct place… I’ve stopped counting how often they sent back one of the lists until we had corrected those mistakes. But in the end they have always played along so far."

[Soult]

"Keep me informed if these magistrates continue to harrass you. Who is the person responsible?"

[Pierre]

"A monsieur Quinzie. Quite a nice guy, actually. But stuffy as hell."

[Soult]

"Well, I hope he will remain cooperative. We’re expecting general Lefèbvre and his staff for the next weekend. And I want everything to be top notch for my old commander-in-chief."

-.-.-

[CUT. Town hall, one week later. Kinzinger’s office. Several town officials surrounding Kinzinger’s desk, all talking loudly over each other. A sheet of paper goes from hand to hand. General excitement.]

[Town mayor enters through a side door, regards the chaos for a moment]

[Mayor]

"Please don’t tell me this is Soult’s list again."

[Kinzinger]

"I fear it is."

[Mayor]

"But didn’t I already sign a supply list for French headquarters this morning?"

[Kinzinger]

"That was the regular list. This one is an add-on. For a special occasion. And I must say, we’ve really had to endure a lot from this glutton already. But this time he’s outdone himself. Here, have a look!"

[The mayor grabs the list Kinzinger hands him. We can see his eyes bulge and his jaw drop.]

[Mayor]

"Thirty … thirty bottles of red wine! For one evening! What, does he want to take a bath in it? And additionally two bottles of whisky, thirty bottles of beer, twenty pounds of ox meat, fish, several chicken … all sorts of jam and pastries, fresh and preserved fruits…"

[Kinzinger]

"We’ve heard that the scoundrel-in-chief of the French vanguard, general Lefebvre, and his staff are coming over to visit. That may explain it, but ..."

[Mayor]

"But it does not make the expenses in any way easier to bear, precisely! – Wait, what’s this? Whose name is that on the bottom on the list? Isn’t it usually the general’s brother who signs these demands?"

[Kinzinger]

"Most of the time, indeed. This is a different name. Possibly the cook?"

[Mayor, with grim satisfaction]

"Wonderful. In this case, we will regard this outrageous list as non-existent. The signature of a mere army cook cannot have any meaning for this town magistrate. Send it back, and inform whoever sent it that we will only accept demands through the proper channels. – And now, gentlemen, let us start today’s meeting. Surely we have more important concerns than the bottomless stomachs of our French guests."

-.-.-

[Half an hour later. The council meeting is in full swing. We see several bottles of wine and plates full of delicacies on the table, when the adress of some council member suddenly gets interupted by commotion outside the room. The door swings open, and in stomps Soult’s cook. All council members jump from their seats.]

[Mayor]

"What is this supposed to mean?"

[Perrou]

"That’s what I ask you." [points at Kinzinger] "Or rather you! Aren’t you that Monsieur Quinzie who sends me the supplies for my kitchen?"

[Kinzinger, annoyed]

"That’s 'Kinzinger', actually, and I’m not a grocery supplier but a member of this esteemed town coun…"

[Perrou]

"Don’t you dare deny your responsibility! I’ve sent you a detailed list of everything I need in order to create a true feast for the visit of general Lefebvre! And you? You have refused to send me anything! How dare you? Do you know who I am? I am Perrou, the best cook in the Armée de Sambre-et-Meuse, and I am working for the best general of the whole of France!"

[Kinzinger]

"Well, I do not know if he’s the best general but he surely is the most demanding."

[Perrou]

"Demanding you call him? Demanding you call these poor soldiers, who would be happy to live of nothing but bread and onions for weeks? Demanding? Ha! If you knew, Monsieur Quinzie, what it takes to turn these boys into accomplished gentlemen, to teach them to even appreciate the finer qualities of life, to train their tongue and taste buds enough for them to recognise the true value of a culinary work of art such as I create! Because that’s what I am, an artist! An artist of the kitchen, and you, Monsieur, are hindering the creation of yet another masterpiece!"

[Mayor, annoyed]

"I think we’ve heard quite enough of this madman. Let’s call for the servants to get him out of here."

[Perrou]

"You want to kick me out like some random beggar? Me, Perrou? Oh, you wait, I’ll show you!" [stabs an index finger at Kinzinger, poking him in the chest] "You give me the food for tomorrow’s feast right now, Monsieur Quinzie, or all hell will break loose! Do you reckon I will feed general Lefebvre nothing but potatoes and cabbage?"

[Kinzinger]

"Hey, stop poking me!"

[He shoves him back. Perrou pushes him, Kinzinger strikes back, Perrou grabs him be the throat. Within a second, there’s a full brawl, with all the honourable council members joining in. Together, they succeed in pushing the enraged cook out of the room and in closing the door behind him]

[Mayor, panting]

"What a day! I wonder of we will get any work done during this meeting…"

-.-.-

[CUT to next scene: Pierre Soult and four soldiers are standing in front of them, ready to arrest Kinzinger.]

[Pierre]

"I’m sorry, it’s an order from my general."

[Mayor]

"You cannot arrest our colleague. He’s a town official, he is not under your general’s jurisdiction!"

[Pierre, shrugging]

"Possibly. But unfortunately, I am. Come on, Monsieur Quinzie, we have a nice room prepared for you, and I’ll see to it that you’ll have some of what Perrou has cooked for the visit of general Lefebvre tomorrow night. That should reconcile you a bit with your fate. I’m sure you’ll be out of prison again in time for christmas."

[Kinzinger, being led away, turning pale]

"You want to lock me up until christmas? Mayor!"

[Mayor, shouting after him]

"Do not worry, Kinzinger! This savage violation of the law will not be tolerated! It is about time to show these insolent French soldiers the limit of what they can do." [Door closes behind the French who march off Kinzinger. The mayor adresses the rest of the council] "And we shall do so by using their own weird laws of their own weird republic."

-.-.-

[Cut to new scene. A rather simply furnished room. The mayor, accompanied by two council members, is adressing Caselli. Who is sitting behind a desk and eagerly takes notes.]

[Mayor]

"So you assure us that you will be able to do something in favour of our friend?"

[Caselli]

"Absolutely. I have come here from Paris to the army as representative of the French people; taking care of such blatant abuse of power is precisely my job!"

[Mayor]

"I'm glad to hear there is some sort of justice under your new form of government. Just imagine: Kinzinger, one of the most respected citizens of our town, arrested! It's unheard of."

[Caselli]

"It is, and I shall put a stop to it. Put all your faith in me, messieurs! I will reign in those rogue generals in no time."

-.-.-

[CUT to next scene: Another day, another council meeting. Kinzinger’s seat is empty. The door is thrown open with such force it hits the wall. Enter Lefebvre and in his wake, somewhat slowlier, possibly a little embarrassed, Soult]

[Lefebvre]

"So these are the bastards who sicced that obnoxious 'representative of the people' on us, eh, boy?"

[Soult]

"Oui, mon général. But I assure you that I will be able to deal with these gentlemen on my own…"

[Lefebvre]

"I do not doubt that. But you will not have to. Because now I am here. [faces the mayor] How dare you give my dear general Soult so much trouble! I will teach you! Sending that idiot paper pusher after us so he writes some report to the other paper pushers in Paris! I will make you regret that idea, I’ll make you wish you’d rather shot yourself! You think prison is too much for one of your kind to bear? I’d have you all hanged, I’d have you all guillotined if you had gone through with the plan to let us starve! My dear Soult here wanted to cut down the trees in one of your alleys as a punishment, I say we’ll do worse, we’ll garrison another regiment in town just so you suckers know what it means to have to feed hungry soldiers! I’ll have you all put in iron and walked to Paris, I’ll…"

[Soult, putting a hand on Lefebvre’s shoulder, silently]

"General, I think they got the message."

[Lefebvre, still furious]

"They better have, or they’ll see how throroughly I can fuck up their pleasant bourgeois existence here!"

[The two French generals leave]

[Mayor]

"What brutes! We need to have another word with this representative Caselli."

-.-.-

[CUT to Caselli’s room. Caselli is busy packing his clothes into a trunk]

[Mayor]

"Monsieur Caselli! Are you leaving?"

[Caselli, smiling]

"Why, yes. My position here was always only temporarily."

[Mayor]

"Really? To me it seems you are running from Soult and Lefebvre?

[Caselli]

"What? How could anybody think that? Though I have to admit that I found these two generals rather unwilling to accept my authority. And also rather ... impolite. Rude. Almost threatening. You could have warned me about their character. But still, my departure has absolutely nothing to do with them. There have been some political changes in our government – well, to be fair, there are always certain changes in our government, and people like me need to make sure they are on the right side of events."

[Mayor]

"But what about our problems? You promised to help us?"

[Caselli]

"Oh, don’t you worry, Monsieur. My report must reach authorities in Paris within a week. I’m sure it will have dire consequences for the future careers of these two generals."

[Mayor, exasperated]

"I don’t care shit about Soult’s or Lefebvre’s military career. I want Kinzinger out of prison, and I don’t want to pay for these generals’ daily feasts anymore!"

[Caselli]

"You know how things are, Monsieur. You’ve lost the war, you pay the price. Be happy you only have to feed these men and don’t have to suffer them plundering your beautiful town, too. They do keep their men in check, right?"

[Mayor]

"Yes, but…"

[Caselli]

"There you have it. Isn’t that the most important point? And as to Monsieur Kinzinger, I understand that general Soult at least is quite aware he has overstepped his boundaries there. In his initial anger, he got carried away, and then felt he could not go back on his words. But once he feels he has saved face, he surely will release your friend. I’m convinced it’s only a matter of days. - Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to find some servants to get my luggage into the carriage."

-.-.-

[CUT to – epilogue. A rather dark corridor. Pierre Soult is leading Kinzinger out of prison.]

[Pierre]

"See? I told you you would be free before christmas."

[Kinzinger]

"Am I supposed to be grateful for that now?"

[Pierre]

"Oh, come on, we did treat you well enough, didn’t we. I even arranged for some … private visit from one of my Towngate Tavern ladyfriends, didn't I? And you have to admit that Perrou’s cooking alone would have been worth it."

[Kinzinger gives him a sullen look but starts nodding]

"He really seems to be a master of his craft, I’ll give him that. Truth be told, it may be hard for me to get back to my wife’s cooking after having been spoilt all these days…"

[Pierre, beaming]

"See? And that’s why Perrou told me to give you this. [He grabs a large package wrapped in paper from a table near the exit and hands it to Kinzinger.] Some leftover meat pies and pastries, to share with your family. With my brother’s blessings. It’s not as if he apologizes, mind you, it’s just… well, we do not want to end our stay in Bonn on such a bad note. [He sighs.] Unfortunately, we will not be able to enjoy this town’s hospitality much longer. We’ve received orders to move."

[Kinzinger]

"I hope you don’t expect me to fake tears about this change of events. May I ask where you will be going?"

[Pierre]

"Seems we’ll cross the Rhine. A town named Solingen, where we shall have our winter quarters. I hope we will not have any similar disagreements there. But most likely, in such a small country town, nothing of importance will happen..."

[the-phoenix-heart]

Sorting Hat Chats - A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

Heeeey I'm back again. Hunger Games is one of my recent hyperfixations, so I'm doing a sorting of the latest book/film. I'll only be sorting Coriolanus Snow and Lucy-Gray Baird in this post. And Dr. Gaul oops.

An explanation of the system I am using can be found here. (Credit: @wisteria-lodge )

SPOILERS FOR A BALLAD OF SONGBIRDS AND SNAKES BOOK AND FILM

LUCY-GRAY BAIRD is a thriving, healthy Snake secondary through and through. She loves performing, she loves playing coy, and she clearly relishes in getting one up on her enemies. This is a woman who turn her death sentence into a concert. Her plan to defeat Reaper, someone larger and deadlier than her, is to piss him off and give him the run around until he dies of exhaustion (or drinks from a poisoned puddle). To get one up on Mayfair when her name is called Lucy-Gray puts a snake in her dress to freak her out and subsequently humiliate her on live TV. No punches held back.

She's described by her actress as "a performer in a hunt," and she is. She always gives off the impression that she is always acting and always authentic in every moment. Snow certainly can never tell if she's lying or not and for all his faults he is smart.

CORIOLANUS SNOW meanwhile is a Bird secondary (I know, oh the irony) and the two secondaries slot in well together. In ABOSAS we see how he is always calculating in every interaction how he can leverage this for the most gain. He wears a carefully manufactured mask playing up whatever trait he has to to get what he wants from the person he is talking to. That's the Actor Bird in him, he can't just become someone like Lucy-Gray can. Which is why Snow works so well as a mentor for her. He can make all the plans he wants and give her every advantage to win, and she can immediately go along with it without skipping a beat.

We also see his Bird secondary on full display when he starts to come into power. He immediately starts making plans for the 11th Hunger Games when he comes back to the Capitol. His signature method for killing people is poison, and in sixty years that never changes. It's a risky plan that always works so why would he change it? And of course we know after he becomes president just how much effort he puts into controlling Katniss with more and more plans.

As for their primaries, well, that's why they constantly misunderstand each other. Coriolanus and Lucy-Gray look at each other and they both see a Snake primary, but those aren't their true sortings. Lucy-Gray is wearing a Snake primary model, and Coriolanus is wearing a Snake primary performance, not even a model.

Lucy-Gray loves the Covey, but at the end of the day when Mayor Lipp wants her dead Lucy-Gray doesn't need to think twice about running away. She knows they can take care of themselves, and she values her own freedom above anything else. It's apparent also in how she treats Billy-Taupe. She loved him once, but the moment he cheated on her she immediately cut him out of her life and doesn't seem to regret that decision. "Without trust you might as well be dead to me."

Lucy-Gray is a Lion primary, and like her secondary it's healthy. Her mantra is "Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping." She's another example of the Jack Sparrow style of Lion primary, the Fae lion. Freedom is good and control is bad. It's also why when she leaves Snow she makes it a whole production where she sings him "The Hanging Tree" and runs around him as a way to fuck with him. She knows that Corio isn't the man she thought he was and she wants to show him she knows.

Lucy-Gray is the Yin to Katniss's Yang. Katniss is a famous Snake Lion, and Lucy-Gray is the inverse of that, a Lion Snake. That quote about Lucy-Gray being a performer in a hunt is followed by Katniss being "a hunter in a performance." The revolution in a small way begins with Lucy-Gray and is ended by Katniss. Lucy-Gray loves freedom before all else, and that means she is never going to fight the Capitol like Katniss would, "it's too early for [K]atniss," she says. But Katniss is that Snake primary who loves so deeply and devastatingly that of COURSE she would end up fighting the Capitol.

But I think Lucy-Gray likes Snake primaries. I think she likes how much the value freedom, but also the way they value their people. That's what she sees when she sees Snow, a man who will do anything to protect the people he loves over himself. But that's just a performance Snow puts on, because he knows that looks much more nobler than what he actually is.

Snow actually primary matches Lucy-Gray. When we see him he's a young lion. The impression I get from Snow is entitlement. He thinks because of the way he was born that he just inherently deserves to have what is owed to him. But after it's found out that he cheated to help Lucy-Gray win, he is stripped of what little he had and sent to be a peacekeeper. He doesn't know what he wants anymore, because he can't have what he truly wants, so he convinces himself what he wants is Lucy-Gray. Except, the moment he realizes he can absolutely still get that power he turns on her immediately.

His goals never change, in the end Snow does indeed land on top, as he achieves those goals. He becomes president, and then it becomes all about maintaining power and control. And that's the real crux of his Lion primary. Like Lucy-Gray he is a Fae Lion, but on the opposite end of the spectrum. Power and control are good, and he should have that over everyone else in the world. I also see his primary in his method of choice for killing people. He willingly poisons himself so no one catches on, that is some lion devotion to his cause of control.

But, despite him trying to appear completely composed at all times, you can see that very emotional Lion primary underneath it all. I mean, he's clearly obsessed with screwing over Katniss's life in particular because he sees both Lucy-Gray and Sejanus in her. Meanwhile everything he does that fucks with Peeta is to fuck with her, despite the fact that he was also part of that suicide threat. He doesn't like that emotional Lion I think. What he wants is to maintain control over everything, and the appear as though he has this carefully constructed worldview/ideology. He has these intelligent/convincing arguments on the power of hope and the purpose of the games. It can look very Bird to people, and I think it is. DR. GAUL is absolutely a Double Bird Mad Scientist, and I think Snow adopted a Bird primary model based off of hers.

So...

Lucy-Gray Baird - Lion primary, Snake model/Snake secondary

Coriolanus Snow - Lion primary, Bird model and Snake performance/Bird secondary

Dr. Gaul - Bird primary/Bird secondary

[afanofmanyhats]

Metru Nui DnD AU: Titan Builds

Inspired by @crystaltoa's burgeoning au, I made the Metru Nui Titan builds. With my own headcanons!

Lhikan is a Half-Elf, a veteran of wars past and the surviving member of a legendary band of adventurers that saved Metru Nui over a century ago. Most folks can hardly remember a time that he hasn't been serving them as the city's champion. He isn't a member of the Vahki City Guard, but the automatons that police the streets only answer to him and Turaga Dume. At least, they did before he disappeared. Mechanics wise he'd either be a Battle Master Fighter, or an Oath of Devotion Paladin. Not sure which. He likely has some fire spells through a feat too.

Turaga Dume is a Dwarf, and the city's mayor. He's been in charge for about as long as Lhikan's been protecting Metru Nui, and his policy in light of the frequent threats has been a harsh police state to keep mercenaries and the Dark Hunters at bay. Only approved adventurers can lodge in the city, which in practice means none at all outside of the Mangai. Mechanically I'm thinking a Forge Cleric, with Mata Nui as his patron deity.

Nidhiki was a Drow from the dangerous depths of the Underdark, but when he sold out the city to an invading guild of mercenaries, Lhikan sent him packing as a traitor. To ensure his loyalty, the Shadowed One contracted a Drow priestess of Lolth named Roodaka to curse Nidhiki, turning him into a Drider. Now a twisted monster, Nidhiki stalks the streets he used to protect in order to get his revenge on Lhikan. Drider get their own statblock as monsters, but prior to getting transformed Nidhiki likely would've been either a Rogue or a Ranger. Maybe a multiclass? I got the Drider design from MinerSigner60Neiner on Reddit.

Krekka is an ogre of some kind. He lost his eye and his arm in a fight with the warlord Gorast, but his new mechanical arm is just as dangerous as his flesh and blood. He is by no means stealthy or smart, but he is incredibly difficult to take down, and serves as a good distraction for Nidhiki. Pretty self-explanatory. I'm really happy with how all of these turned out. I've been playing DnD and working with HeroForge for years now, so being able to cross them over with my favorite arc in BIONICLE has been a joy.

[dcbutinamrev]

How the Jacobs family finds out Jack and Davey are dating 1899 edition:

Davey: Daddy, can you pass me the salt?

Mayer and Jack: *both reaches for the salt container*

The Jacobs siblings: 😐

Esther and Mayer: 👁️👄👁️

Mayor: *slowly gets angry (in a protective way)*

Jack: well…uh…it was uh…nice having breakfast with y’all but I’s betta get down to the lodge..mornin’ bell

Also Jack: *kisses Davey’s lips without hesitation before running out the Jacob’s apartment’s front door*

All of Jacobs family: *turns to Davey*

Davey: …I can explain