#spy line tracker

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Reverse engineers bust sleazy gig work platform

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/11/23/hack-the-class-war/#robo-boss

A COMPUTER CAN NEVER BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE

THEREFORE A COMPUTER MUST NEVER MAKE A MANAGEMENT DECISION

Supposedly, these lines were included in a 1979 internal presentation at IBM; screenshots of them routinely go viral:

https://twitter.com/SwiftOnSecurity/status/1385565737167724545?lang=en

The reason for their newfound popularity is obvious: the rise and rise of algorithmic management tools, in which your boss is an app. That IBM slide is right: turning an app into your boss allows your actual boss to create an "accountability sink" in which there is no obvious way to blame a human or even a company for your maltreatment:

https://profilebooks.com/work/the-unaccountability-machine/

App-based management-by-bossware treats the bug identified by the unknown author of that IBM slide into a feature. When an app is your boss, it can force you to scab:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/30/computer-says-scab/#instawork

Or it can steal your wages:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

But tech giveth and tech taketh away. Digital technology is infinitely flexible: the program that spies on you can be defeated by another program that defeats spying. Every time your algorithmic boss hacks you, you can hack your boss back:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/02/not-what-it-does/#who-it-does-it-to

Technologists and labor organizers need one another. Even the most precarious and abused workers can team up with hackers to disenshittify their robo-bosses:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/07/08/tuyul-apps/#gojek

For every abuse technology brings to the workplace, there is a liberating use of technology that workers unleash by seizing the means of computation:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/13/solidarity-forever/#tech-unions

One tech-savvy group on the cutting edge of dismantling the Torment Nexus is Algorithms Exposed, a tiny, scrappy group of EU hacker/academics who recruit volunteers to reverse engineer and modify the algorithms that rule our lives as workers and as customers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/10/e2e/#the-censors-pen

Algorithms Exposed have an admirable supply of seemingly boundless energy. Every time I check in with them, I learn that they've spun out yet another special-purpose subgroup. Today, I learned about Reversing Works, a hacking team that reverse engineers gig work apps, revealing corporate wrongdoing that leads to multimillion euro fines for especially sleazy companies.

One such company is Foodinho, an Italian subsidiary of the Spanish food delivery company Glovo. Foodinho/Glovo has been in the crosshairs of Italian labor enforcers since before the pandemic, racking up millions in fines – first for failing to file the proper privacy paperwork disclosing the nature of the data processing in the app that Foodinho riders use to book jobs. Then, after the Italian data commission investigated Foodinho, the company attracted new, much larger fines for its out-of-control surveillance conduct.

As all of this was underway, Reversing Works was conducting its own research into Glovo/Foodinho's app, running it on a simulated Android handset inside a PC so they could peer into app's data collection and processing. They discovered a nightmarish world of pervasive, illegal worker surveillance, and published their findings a year ago in November, 2023:

https://www.etui.org/sites/default/files/2023-10/Exercising%20workers%20rights%20in%20algorithmic%20management%20systems_Lessons%20learned%20from%20the%20Glovo-Foodinho%20digital%20labour%20platform%20case_2023.pdf

That report reveals all kinds of extremely illegal behavior. Glovo/Foodinho makes its riders' data accessible across national borders, so Glovo managers outside of Italy can access fine-grained surveillance information and sensitive personal information – a major data protection no-no.

Worse, Glovo's app embeds trackers from a huge number of other tech platforms (for chat, analytics, and more), making it impossible for the company to account for all the ways that its riders' data is collected – again, a requirement under Italian and EU data protection law.

All this data collection continues even when riders have clocked out for the day – its as though your boss followed you home after quitting time and spied on you.

The research also revealed evidence of a secretive worker scoring system that ranked workers based on undisclosed criteria and reserved the best jobs for workers with high scores. This kind of thing is pervasive in algorithmic management, from gig work to Youtube and Tiktok, where performers' videos are routinely suppressed because they crossed some undisclosed line. When an app is your boss, your every paycheck is docked because you violated a policy you're not allowed to know about, because if you knew why your boss was giving you shitty jobs, or refusing to show the video you spent thousands of dollars making to the subscribers who asked to see it, then maybe you could figure out how to keep your boss from detecting your rulebreaking next time.

All this data-collection and processing is bad enough, but what makes it all a thousand times worse is Glovo's data retention policy – they're storing this data on their workers for four years after the worker leaves their employ. That means that mountains of sensitive, potentially ruinous data on gig workers is just lying around, waiting to be stolen by the next hacker that breaks into the company's servers.

Reversing Works's report made quite a splash. A year after its publication, the Italian data protection agency fined Glovo another 5 million euros and ordered them to cut this shit out:

https://reversing.works/posts/2024/11/press-release-reversing.works-investigation-exposes-glovos-data-privacy-violations-marking-a-milestone-for-worker-rights-and-technology-accountability/

As the report points out, Italy is extremely well set up to defend workers' rights from this kind of bossware abuse. Not only do Italian enforcers have all the privacy tools created by the GDPR, the EU's flagship privacy regulation – they also have the benefit of Italy's 1970 Workers' Statute. The Workers Statute is a visionary piece of legislation that protects workers from automated management practices. Combined with later privacy regulation, it gave Italy's data regulators sweeping powers to defend Italian workers, like Glovo's riders.

Italy is also a leader in recognizing gig workers as de facto employees, despite the tissue-thin pretense that adding an app to your employment means that you aren't entitled to any labor protections. In the case of Glovo, the fine-grained surveillance and reputation scoring were deemed proof that Glovo was employer to its riders.

Reversing Works' report is a fascinating read, especially the sections detailing how the researchers recruited a Glovo rider who allowed them to log in to Glovo's platform on their account.

As Reversing Works points out, this bottom-up approach – where apps are subjected to technical analysis – has real potential for labor organizations seeking to protect workers. Their report established multiple grounds on which a union could seek to hold an abusive employer to account.

But this bottom-up approach also holds out the potential for developing direct-action tools that let workers flex their power, by modifying apps, or coordinating their actions to wring concessions out of their bosses.

After all, the whole reason for the gig economy is to slash wage-bills, by transforming workers into contractors, and by eliminating managers in favor of algorithms. This leaves companies extremely vulnerable, because when workers come together to exercise power, their employer can't rely on middle managers to pressure workers, deal with irate customers, or step in to fill the gap themselves:

https://projects.itforchange.net/state-of-big-tech/changing-dynamics-of-labor-and-capital/

Only by seizing the means of computation, workers and organized labor can turn the tables on bossware – both by directly altering the conditions of their employment, and by producing the evidence and tools that regulators can use to force employers to make those alterations permanent.

Image: EFF (modified) https://www.eff.org/files/issues/eu-flag-11_1.png

CC BY 3.0 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/us/

[yumeka-sxf]

2-year anniversary post

My blog is now 2-years old~!

After my last anniversary post, I had quite a list of projects planned; in addition to making posts for all the upcoming SxF content, like the movie, season 2, and the video game, I had other personal projects in mind as well. I wanted to start on my Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family series, which I was able to write five posts for as of now! (I've currently exhausted all the topics I wanted to discuss for that, but I may come up with more ideas later on). There was also the Spy x Family Character Tracker, which took me a while to get motivated to do, but once I did, I'm proud of how it turned out 😃 I also made a lot of scan posts this year too, like the workbooks and my series of miscellaneous collab scans.

But compared to my last anniversary, which was at a time when there was a lot of new SxF content on the horizon, we've been in a bit of a dry spell the past several months. Hype for the aforementioned movie, game, and anime season have died down, and merch and collabs have slowed as well, since there hasn't been new anime content to promote. But I consider it the calm before the storm, lol.

This is also why my posts have gotten a little less frequent lately - there hasn't been as much new SxF content in general besides the manga chapters, and as mentioned previously, I was able to check off the projects I had wanted to do. So as of now, I don't have much new content planned in the coming year besides continuing my Chronological Analysis on Twilight and Yor series when season 3 airs (still no release date yet, but I'm betting on spring of 2025). I'll also make posts for each anime episode like I did with season 2. And of course, I'll continue my manga chapter reviews, and make merch and scan posts when I can.

I've always tried to maintain a "quality over quantity," "only write when I have something to say," mentality for the blog. I don't want to force myself to write when I'm not motivated (this is also why I don't take part in community writing projects and the like). I also have other hobbies besides SxF, so I like to focus my limited free time on those when there isn't much going on in the SxF fandom. Occasionally I think to myself, "Hm, I haven't posted on Tumblr in a while," but if there isn't anything I feel like writing about at the time, it's better if I hold off rather than force myself to churn out something uninspiring.

But as I said, I feel like we're in a calm before the storm. Season 3 will already be exciting enough, but there's a good chance more content will follow. The next Jump Festa is scheduled for late December, and as usual, SxF will have a dedicated panel with the four Forger voice actors in attendance!

The movie and season 2 were announced at this event in 2022, so there's a good chance we'll get more juicy announcements this year! Even if not another movie, I'd be happy with more artbooks, collabs, and other things down the line! There's also a good chance an idea for another SxF project will inspire me and I'll start working on that. Who knows. But I do know SxF is still a popular series with many more years of content to produce! And I look forward to seeing, and blogging about, it all 😁

[gabriellerudessa]

There has been some things in my mind regarding The Ghoul scene with Sorel and I just rewatched his scenes with Lucy to make sure.

First: Unless he states otherwise, the reason he took on the guilt for the Super Duper Mart wasn't out of the goodness of his heart or humanity or even dignity, it was pure pragmatism. If he told about Lucy, and she was alive and managed to get the head, Sorel could go after her and would discover she had or knew where to find Wilzig's head. And The Ghoul really didn't want that, he wanted the head and it's bounty for himself.

Second: Unless I missed some line or The Ghoul asked Ma June but it wasn't shown (I doubt), he DOESN'T KNOW that Lucy is taking the head to Moldaver. She only said, during the bait scene, that she needs the head because the raiders took her father. She doesn't tell Moldaver's name to The Ghoul. (if there's a specific scene that Lucy tells The Ghoul Moldaver's name, please send me the episode number and approximated time stamp, I really tried to find if she did but didn't managed to)

Third: The moment he starts to get out after his convo with Sorel, he totally intended to get back to find the Gulper and get the head, and considering Lucy's level of radiation, I wouldn't find it surprising if he expected to find her dead from radiation sickness by the lake, after all, he doesn't know she put a tracker in the head, so he absolutely doesn't know that it would be best to try and track Lucy directly from the start, nor that she found someone that gave Lucy Radaway (Maximus doing right by his deals, hell yeah). It's only when The Ghoul sees WILLIAMS portrait in the Wanted board that he stops and reconsider: this is Williams, he knew her before the bombs, how is she here and looking like herself? Asks who she is, discovers she goes by the name Moldaver. (This also tells us that Williams appeared and took on the name Moldaver probably during the time he was buried, unless Moldaver wasn't a known name whenever he had been before)

Fourth: The Ghoul, as I said in the second point, DIDN'T KNOW that Lucy was going for Moldaver. He still changed plans, because at that moment, considering his talk with Sorel and revelation that he has been searching for Janey and possibly Barb for 200 years, Moldaver WAS HIS BEST BET. Fuck the Bounty, Moldaver/Williams is the one he has to talk to. And, like, I think even if Lucy did mentioned Moldaver... There was no guarantee that she would arrive with the Bounty, because of the already mentioned high radiation, but the point that Moldaver was a pre-war woman that didn't look like a ghoul remained and she seemed like the best bet of good info at the moment.

Fifth: He probably would have arrived before Lucy... If he hadn't needed to track the family of the guy he killed to ask the other brother where Moldaver was. And THIS is, more likely, when he discovers or at least rationalize that Lucy is going after Moldaver, because the letter says "pay a courier for the safe transport of an Enclave defector", meaning, Wilzig, meaning, the head Lucy was taking for "raiders" to rescue her father. Until this point, I think, The Ghoul really didn't know to whom Lucy was taking the head and there were A BUNCH of bounties on Wilzig.

Sixth: He probably arrived as the BoS was approaching, and knew that he had to be smart in how to find Moldaver; I think he probably planned to wait her by the that main room where Lucy was taken, or maybe even expected her to be there, purely coordinating things - the Williams he knew was a proper woman that sent other people to do her spy work, that talked to make people doubt, not one that fought on the frontlines. We already know that he didn't expect Hank to be alive, probably expected to find Moldaver, some whatever kidnapped Overseer from a Vault for whatever reason and, if alive, Lucy.

Seventh: When he arrived, it was all way better than just Moldaver: the woman he dragged around to trade for drugs just discovered her dad lied to her, and Hank wasn't against Vault Tec like Moldaver is, Hank will have more info than Moldaver - specially if we can assume that Janey and Barb were taken by Vault Tec and The Ghoul knows. The Ghoul made a gamble that Lucy wouldn't shoot on his back and called her to go after Hank... Rightly assuming that she will want answers, and possibly expecting that her presence may help destabilize Hank, because he was once a father and undoubtedly knows the effects that kids may have on their parents. Maybe even allow him to better track Hank, because Lucy has been living and knowing her father for all her life and in recent years, while Coop knew Hank for a brief point in time before the bombs.

Eight: In the end, while I can see Lucy and The Ghoul eventually seeing eye to eye and building mutual trust and working well alongside each other... At this point in time, I saw way more pragmatism in how he behaved towards her.

[marinahavik]

No Yandere Simulator!Au by @quartztwst

This au is super interesting so I had to participate in it here is Yumi

Yumi's information in this AU

It appears to be harmless, but it is completely lethal

She most likely won't be a rival to Quartz, as she has some disagreements with Azul.

Unlike other types of Yandere, Yumi does not kill everyone who approaches Jamil, only those who are real threats.

He approached Kalim to get information about Jamil and planned to kill him, but ended up becoming attached to Kalim and changed his mind.

a top-notch hacker, getting information any way she can, and breaking into any type of system with ease

Yumi is always aware of any gossip or rumor, as she usually stalks anything when she is bored, especially if it is somehow related to Jamil.

Yumi follows a very simple line of thought which is: I won't interfere in your business if you don't interfere in mine, in other words she won't care about anything you do Yandere or not, unless it involves her affairs.

has martial arts training

Despite her pretty face and cute style, she is completely bloodthirsty, most of the time her Yandere instincts are turned off, but when they activate, she will be completely covered in blood.

has a private cleaning team, who usually act after Yumi gets rid of someone, to eliminate evidence

Kalim has already realized that there might be something wrong with Yumi sometimes, but he thinks it's all in his head, while Jamil strangely hasn't noticed anything.

perhaps it could be an ally, or somewhat neutral in relation to quartz, but only time will tell.

Yumi is super friendly and gets along with a lot of people, but if you irritate her or get involved in her business, no one will ever see you again.

She is not someone who shares, but depending on the person, she may not be too bothered to share her Target.

Here is the drawing with better quality so you can see the drawing better

things you have in your bag:

knives, gun, needles (like Yor's from Spy family), poison, cell phone, tracker, candy, makeup, clip phone, to contact the cleaning staff

method of eliminating rivals: chasing, hunting, poisoning

There was a small problem yesterday in the post, I ended up posting it without wanting to, it wasn't finished, sorry about that

the hand and skirt were picked up from a base in Ibis Paint

reblogs and likes are much appreciated and what did you think?

[phoebepheebsphibs]

Double-Mutated Mikey

Chapter 40: Biofilm

Continued from the short story written by @boots-with-the-fur-club

Prev || Next

Donatello races down the hallway, checking his trackers every few minutes to make sure everything is going smoothly with the others. After this is over, he's thinking of adding hidden cameras to their masks as well, so he can also see where they are, not just know their longitude and latitude. What good is knowing where a person is if you can't know what's going on?

Donnie started getting into the trackers phase when they'd first come up against the Foot Clan, and Raph had accidentally eaten a tracker meant for a salami paper stack. That had been the inspiration to start tagging his family. He'd installed the subdermal trackers sometime after then, working on different updates and methods of inserting them under the skin or under their shells when they weren't looking or conscious or aware or -- well, you get the idea.

But as time went on, he'd started thinking maybe adding a visual or audio aspect to the tracers was a good idea. It was starting to annoy him that his brothers and father would go places alone for long periods of time and he wouldn't know why or what was happening. Donnie would never consider himself 'clingy'. Or at least, he'd never admit that he was. Donnie was just... concerned for their well-being. And it always seemed like their well-being was coming into question whenever he was not with them. He should have added the video/audio feed to the trackers a long time ago.

He'd have known what was taking Leo so long to get them back after they'd been portaled to Tahiti.

He'd have known what Leo and Papa were doing with Big Mama while they dealt with the Shredder.

He'd have known where the Shredder and the Foot Lieutenant and Foot Brute and Cassandra took Splinter and Barry when they attacked their old lair.

He'd have known what the Krang were doing with Raphael when he was captured.

He'd have known what happened to Leo in the Prison Dimension.

He'd have known about Mikey's captivity and recapture.

He'd have known how to be the genius they all needed him to be.

He'd have known how to be a better brother...

Donnie swallows the thoughts and keeps on moving. He turns a corner and sees a strange laboratory, filled with machines and mechanisms and lasers and weird gadgets that Donnie would be more than happy to take home with him... But it also has what looks like a few medical devices stored in there as well. A CT scanner, an X-ray machine, other devices that Donatello recognizes from science-fiction films and spy movies that definitely won't be found in any normal hospital.

This looks like the kind of place that a man specialized in engineering and robotics would be hiding in...

Donnie sneaks over to the room, not caring about dodging cameras. The building's been evacuated, and even if it hadn't been, everybody already knows that they're here.

The door was left open by a careless employee trying to leave in a hurry. Perfect! Donnie's ninpo can create all kinds of stuff, but making small items to hack into things like security systems takes a lot of brainpower. And -- you didn't hear it from him -- it's difficult. His ninpo works like his mind, building the items piece by piece, engineering the weapons or defense mechs however he sees it in his head. And while he is a genius, even geniuses have trouble keeping track of hundreds of thousands of lines of programming. Even a small item like the USB flash drive he gave April earlier would take a lot of internal interfacing and coding... it's exhausting. But not impossible.

But fortunately, it isn't necessary.

Donatello sneaks in cautiously. It's strange how the room is a Frankenstein mashup between a doctor's office and a robotics lab. Secretly, Donnie is taking mental notes on how to incorporate some of these ideas and designs into his own lab.

There are desks covered with tools and blueprints. Cabinets with vials and liters of mysterious multi-coloured liquids. Tables with a few unpacked boxes stuffed with strange items and labels scribbled messily onto the cardboard. On one said table is a crate. Poking out of said crate, Donatello can see a wooden staff with purple wraps, two familiar blue hilts for what he can assume are twin katanas, and the edges of a battleshell.

"Our stuff!" he whispers to himself. They definitely need to get those back...

Donnie rushes to the box and starts rummaging through it. Yep, it's all here... Dee's gear, Leo's swords, Raph's sai. He reaches in and retrieves the weapons, looking them over for anything like tags or trackers that the TCRI or EPF would have placed on them. They look fine...

"My goggles!" Dee cheers, grabbing them quickly and placing them over his eyes to inspect the software. "Oh, thank God they didn't mess with my babies..."

"Don't thank Him just yet!" a voice cries out from behind him.

Donnie yipes before ducking, narrowly avoiding a swing from a madman behind him. He doesn't look like a guard, but instead wears a standard white lab coat. His hair is wild and unkempt, dark eyebags sag on his face, his chin is stubbled with untended scruff. By the looks of it, his only diet is caffeine and the suffering of others. He must be a scientist, then. His voice sounds familiar; Donnie's sure he's seen or heard him before...

"You were on the video files from the previous building!" he realizes, quickly grabbing his bō from the box and readying himself. "You made Mikey fight monsters in the Interaction room..."

"I see someone's been doing some research!" the man chuckles, his eyes wide and firey. "I'm flattered you recognized me. The name's Dr. Rod Timothy, not that you'll have much of a mind to recall that after I finish with you!!"

Donnie dodges as Dr. Timothy grabs a futuristic weapon from the table and fires it at him. Burning red blasts of light fly through the air. Dee ducks quickly, jumping to the side as he tries to come up with a weapon of his own. His mind always goes straight to the extreme -- 'go big or go home,' 'more bang for your buck', etc. Typically, the villains he fights are durable and super-strong mutants, they require bigger weapons like missiles and giant drills or hammers, etc. Humans are small, easy to break, but fierce and determined. They're harder to gauge, and Donnie has to search his mind for a weapon he can use against him without actually causing too much damage. Not just to the human, but also to the building itself. So missiles are off the menu.

Donnie's palm fills with parts and pieces that instantly grow together and attach in method and order, creating a mini grenade. He taps a button and sends the round object flying towards the scientist. It lands just a few feet in front of him and -- BOOM -- the flash grenade goes off, blinding the man as Dee uses his goggles to guide him through the room and find a place to hide.

"AGH!" Timothy screams, covering his watering eyes as he staggers around. "Y-you... you see, this is exactly why I was hoping you'd come here..."

Donnie peeks out from behind a giant scanner, watching as the mad scientist stumbles around chuckling.

"You creatures always have such a strange tolerance... it's superhuman...!"

The man looks up and looks around, pupils dilating like crazy as he frantically flails his arms and hands, feeling for something.

"And soon, I will be too..."

He really is insane, Donnie thinks to himself.

"If you're so keen on mutants, why'd you experiment on my brother?!" Donnie snarls.

Dr. Timothy reels around and stares blindly in Dee's direction, trying to listen as Donnie ninjas away to a new location to watch Timothy... and lure him into a trap.

"Oh, yes," Timothy laughs, the tears from his watering eyes streaming down his face. "You're brother was loads of fun. I enjoyed our little exercises and examinations thoroughly... Such a fun little plaything, a wonderful puzzle to take apart and put back together."

"Anyone ever tell you to get psychiatric help?" Donnie growls.

"More often than you'd think," Timothy cackles. "But they don't see the necessity of my methods! The vision! They're all sniveling, spineless, mindless plebeians who cannot understand the future..."

"What future is that?" Donnie asks, purposefully directing the man towards the far back of the room.

"Oh, one that you'd approve of!" Timothy laughs, blinking quickly, eyes darting back and forth. "A future free of humans. A future of mutants."

"What are you talking about?" Donnie asks, genuinely confused. "Chaplin wants to eradicate the mutants, why --"

"Oh, he's nothing more than a COWARD!!" Timothy bellows, fist pounding on the side of the table and sending small items flying. "He's a pathetic hatemonger who can't see that the only way for humanity to advance is to literally advance as a species and evolve! He thinks that what we need is to take out the competition!"

Dr. Timothy smiles so wide, his face contorts as though it's made of flabby plastic.

"I say we need to switch flags."

Donnie purposely knocks over small rolling cart of supplies, causing Dr. Timothy to stagger towards the sound.

"Chaplin is a visionary, though. And a golden goose. I never would have been able to pursue my research without his funding..."

"Well, the golden goose won't be laying anymore eggs for you psychopaths," Donnie huffs. "Chaplin's dead."

Timothy grunts at the news. Donnie can't tell if he's laughing, or making strange sad noises. The deranged fiend turns to stare blankly at the table, almost wistfully, reminiscing his fellow evil scientist.

"Well... he was a very significant man. Powerful, resourceful, determined... but I can't say that I'm not a little glad that he's gone."

"Oh?" Donnie chuckles. "No love lost between coworkers?"

"I had respect for the man, it's true," Timothy grumbles, reaching across the table strewn with supplies as he feels his way around. His fingers curl over a few of the objects laid before him as he moves forwards. "But his values and ideals were misguided and foolish. Only the strong come out on top."

"I'd like to think the smart ones have a pretty good chance, too..." Donnie remarks, stepping into a side room and waiting for Dr. Timothy to tag along.

"Oh, I agree!" he laughs, following Donnie's voice into the dark room. "Which is why I hate to see you die."

Timothy grips one of the items pulled from the table and clicks a button. A long laser-weapon activates, and he laughs as he runs in after the softshell.

"Nice sword-axe-laser-combo," Donnie smirks. "Where'd you get it? Hollywood Studios in Florida?"

"Do you like it?" Dr. Timothy grins sarcastically. "It's just one of the few things I thought to bring with me for this climactic stand-off..."

He presses a button and the door behind him slams shut with a mechanical hiss. Dr. Rod Timothy brandishes the weapon casually at the mutant teen who cooly holds his bō staff out at the man as well, ready for a duel.

"Does this room look familiar?" Timothy cackles. "If you really did the research, then it should. It's the same as the one your sweet little science experiment of a sibling was made to fight in! Only right we made another one for the experiments to follow... And I can't wait to see what happens to you in it."

Donatello smiles.

"You want me to fight you? The same way you made my baby brother fight your mutant monsters?"

"Oh, you can fight one of my monsters too if you want!" Timothy shrieks with laughter, holding up a small remote control. "With a push of a button, they can come pouring in. But for now, I want to see what you can do. See what parts of you to keep and what to... scrap."

Donnie sneers.

"So this is an assessment, then."

"I suppose so," Dr. Timothy shrugs. "But we'll see who wins."

Timothy charges, laser weapon at the ready. Donatello grips his bō staff and swings it, blocking Timothy's attack. A purple shield forms and pushes him back. Timothy grunts with effort as his feet skid across the tiles. He laughs hysterically, eyes growing ever wider.

He charges again, swinging the battleaxe around before striking again. Donnie's battleshell opens up and reveals a small jetpack, which takes him up into the air. He launches over Timothy and lands behind him, clicking a hidden button on the shoulder pad and activating a wire that wraps around the mad scientist. Dee launches again and prepares to strap the man from the ceiling and literally leave him hanging.

Dr. Timothy squirms about and manages to pull an arm out, fumbling with the laser device and cutting the line. As Timothy freefalls, Donnie's jetpack crashes him into the ceiling as it attempts and fails to compensate for the sudden loss of weight. Timothy pulls another device he'd taken from the table and points it at Donnie. A small gun, almost like a pistol, which fires out a sudden blue blast at Dee's jetpack. The rotors freeze, ice covers the exhaust ports, and the whole jetpack itself malfunctions and sends Dee crashing to the ground.

"Your brother showed a severe aversion to cold, so in order to keep him in line we created a series of ice-generating weapons like this handy little prototype," Timothy boasts, twirling the pistol around like it's a toy.

Donnie growls in fury. Timothy fires a few more shots, blasting the turtle in the arm and leg as he tries to get back up from the fall. Donnie yells in pain as his limbs suffer from ice burn and start to turn red and swollen from the cold blasts. Shards of frost and ice crystals form on the skin. Donnie gasps from the pain and starts rubbing his limbs, careful not to let the injuries turn into frostbite. Timothy fires another shot, but this time Donnie is careful to dodge it, jumping out of the way despite the pain. Timothy fires again. Dee swings his bō at the man, creating shield that blocks the blast. He swings again, dissolving the shield and reforming it to create a replica pistol that fires directly at the weapon, clogging the barrel of Timothy's gun with ice.

"That was good!" Timothy laughs, dropping the gun before his fingers freeze to the metal. "Nice deflection! And it's clear that I could not defeat you physically. Your mutant genetics must have enhanced your bone structure and muscle mass, yes?"

"That's one theory," Donnie snarks at him. "Or you could just be a weak old guy with a pathetic toy gun."

Dr. Timothy laughs again.

"I'm technically not old, I'm 36."

"That's old, dude."

"Kids these days..." Dr. Timothy sighs. "If brawn cannot win, then perhaps brains shall..."

Dr. Timothy starts clicking buttons on the remote, setting off a few movement-tracking firearms. Donnie recognizes the sleek black metal machine guns from some of Mikey's recorded sessions in the Interaction Room. Dee creates another shield and avoids the torrent of bullets and darts that fly as Dr. Timothy advances again.

"Let's see how you fare against two threats at once!"

Donnie ducks back, hand and staff flying forward as he thinks up a quick weapon to make for his defense. A purple ninpo hologram forms over the wood, creating an imitation of his old tech-bo. A giant mechanical fist ignites at one end, and Dr. Timothy and Donatello exchange blow for blow, guarding and attacking as the two simultaneously dodge bullets from above.

"Where do you come up with these weapon ideas? Jupiter Jim's 19th Return to the Moon?"

"Two distractions at once, and he still finds the mental capacity for a rib!" Timothy laughs. "I should spar with my creations more often..."

"I am not your creation!" Donnie yells. "AND NEITHER IS MY BROTHER!!!"

Donnie suddenly snaps, kicking Dr. Timothy in the chest and sending him back into the wall. Timothy's weapon knocked from his hand, Donnie grabs it and flings the laser cutter towards the turrets, tearing them in half and destroying them completely.

"Very well done!" Timothy chuckles nervously, as he half-struggles to get up. "Well done indeed! You are quite the adversary. But, I would wonder how well you'd fare after I become one of YOU!"

Donnie watches in confusion as the scientist pulls a syringe from his pocket. It's glowing green.

"This is a mutation formula that I've reverse-engineered from some samples I found over the years. Your brother is one of them, true... but the majority of the formula comes from a few mosquitos we found buzzing around..."

"Draxum's ooze," Donnie gapes, his voice a horrified hush. "You're going to mutate yourself?!"

"It's about time I evolved into the higher species!" Timothy cackles madly, his mind fully gone. "And now with Chaplin out of the way, there's no stopping me!!"

"Wait!" Donnie tries to warn. "You don't know what that will do to you!!"

"I know exactly what will happen!" Timothy screams back. "I will finally be the apex predator!! Now watch as I become a random creature of mass destruction!!"

Timothy stabs the syringe into his arm, the re-created ooze seeping into his veins.

"Random?" Donnie questions. "No, you'll just turn into the last biological organism you came into contact with."

"Wait, what?" Timothy questions, sobering for one second. "What do you mean, the last thing biological organism?"

"The ooze combines your DNA with that of whatever you touched last. Didn't you know that?"

"No! How would I know that?!" Timothy screeches, gripping his sides in pain as the ooze starts to recreate him.

"Looks like somebody didn't do their homework after all..."

"What am I going to become?!" Timothy shrieks, his whole frame shaking.

"Well, what did you touch last?"

"YOU!"

"No, you never actually touched me," Donnie clarifies. "You're wearing gloves, and your weapons hit mine, but we never came into actual contact -- details matter in science, you know..."

"W-WHAT'S HAPPENING TO M-M-MEEEEEE?!?!" Timothy screams, his voice fluctuating and gargling as he begins to sweat profusely.

It's not sweat.

His skin is melting.

Donnie watches with a sickened expression as Dr. Timothy's body begins to turn into a sludge, the skin tone changing into a slimy fungus-green, every part of him slowly dissolving and gooping together in a way that turns Donnie's stomach. He looks away, and forces himself to keep away even as the man screams and pleads for mercy and help. His voice is literally drowned out as his vocal chords liquify along with the rest of him.

It goes quiet. Donnie shakily turns to see what has become of the poor deranged man. Nothing remains but a puddle of gelatinous ooze wobbling on the floor several feet ahead of him.

"L-looks like your reverse-engineered formula wasn't complete," Donnie gulps. "Or maybe the ooze really did transform you into the last thing you touched... which would have been the ooze itself. Whatever the solution, I'm not going to stick around for --"

A gurgling scream tears the room apart, as the gelatinous blob starts moving, shifting, and reforming into a sloppy mess of a man.

"Lₒₒₖ wₕₐₜ yₒᵤ'ᵥₑ dₒₙₑ ₜₒ ₘe!" Timothy shrieks, his voice a wobbly, watery mess as he slowly pulls himself together. "I wₐₛ mₑₐₙt ₜₒ ᵇe ₐ fᵢₑᵣcₑ ₘᵤₜaₙt! Nₒₜ ₐ ᵇₗᵤbᵇeᵣᵢₙg … ₜhᵢₙg!!"

The newly transformed Timothy charges at Donnie, his arm elongating and stretching like those slappy hand things Mikey was obsessed with at the age of six. Donnie dodges it at the last second, the hand slinging across the room and sticking to a panel on the wall. It rips the panel straight off, revealing a section of machinery hidden behind it.

"Whoah!" Donnie yells, dodging once again as the arm comes slinging back.

"I dᵢdₙ'ₜ wₐₙₜ ₜhiₛ!" Timothy screeches as he continues his tantrum. "I wₐₛ sᵤpₚₒₛₑd ₜₒ bₑ ₜₕₑ ₐₚeₓ ₚᵣₑdₐₜₒᵣ, ₙoₜ ₛₒₘe ₚₐₜₕₑₜᵢc ₛₗᵤdgₑ fᵣₒₘ ₜₕₑ ᵇoᵗₜₒₘ ₒf ᵗₕₑ fₒₒd cₕaᵢₙ! ᴺᵒᵗ a gˡoʳⁱᶠᵢₑᵈ aₘebₐ! ₙₒₜ ₐ Lᵢvᵢₙg Wₐₗₖᵢₙg MUD PUDDLE!!"

Timothy's body morphs again, his form splattering in twenty different directions and splashing onto several frames and tiles from the walls, ceiling, and floor. He pulls them apart, releasing a robotic arm that reaches down and attempts to attack the two of them. Donnie slides to the side and avoids the robo-arm. Dr. Timothy's tentacle releases from a section of the wall and accidentally tangles around the mechanism, getting stuck inside the gears and causing it to malfunction. The arm swings back and forth, trying to catch Donnie or Dr. Timothy before becoming hopelessly trapped in the glue-like goo that the scientist has become.

"Wₕₐₜ ₕₐᵥₑ yₒᵤ ᵈᵒₙₑ! ᵂₕₐₜ ₕᵃᵛe yoᵤ dₒₙe! Wₕₐₜ ₕₐᵥₑ yᵒu ᵈoₙₑ!" Timothy wails as he flails about the room.

His arms knock loose the devices hanging from the ceiling. They come crashing down, splatting Timothy flat and trapping him momentarily.

"Sorry doc, but this was all you," Donnie states, dodging one of the slimy appendages before tuck and rolling towards the door. "And no offense, but I've had enough slimy tentacle-induced sensory issues for one year, so I'll just see myself out..."

"Yᵒᵤ ₕₐᵥₑ ₜo ₕeˡᵖ ₘₑ!" Timothy screams, reaching out for the ninja in desperation.

"There's nothing I can do for you now, Tim," Donnie scoffs as he picks up the remote from the floor, avoiding Timothy's sludge and slime. "You wanted to be a mutant, so now you're a mutant. Congrats, welcome to the family."

Donnie stares down at the remote and all the little buttons it comes equipped with. He presses one, and the door opens.

"But don't worry. After everything you did to my brother, I won't just leave you here alone to rot..."

Donnie turns to face the mutant man, and gives him a cold smile before pressing every button on the remote.

"You said something about 'monsters flooding in at the push of a button,' right?" Donnie asks, his smile becoming almost like a snarl. "How about I leave you with some company?"

Every trapdoor in the room opens up, and hundreds of glowing red eyes appear from the darkness. The sounds of snarling and growling and howling and yowling starts to fill the enclosure.

"ᴺᵒ… ʸᵒᵘ caₙ'ₜ ₗₑₐᵥₑ ₘe ₗiₖₑ ₜₕiˢ!" Dr. Timothy begs.

"You said you wanted to be a mutant," Donnie sighs, clicking the button to close the door. "You can chill with your own kind now. See how long you last."

"Nᴺᴼ0oₒo0Oᴼ--!!!"

The doors close just as the monsters creep in and pounce for the slime man.

Donnie blinks for a moment before exhaling loudly.

"...Karma... is absolutely insane."

Prev || Next

[loudblonde]

"A Pretty Bird in a Gilded Cage" John Price x Male Reader

summary: (Y/N) Price, aka Birdie, an ex-MI6 intelligence officer turned spy on British soil gets kidnapped by Makarov's men, all his life falls apart as Makarov has him tortured simply to get revenge on his husband.

warnings: torture, violence, allusion to rape(throw away line it doesn't actually happen,) angst with a happy ending

word count: 2,2K

December 10th, the room was freezing cold and damp, water dripped down the walls as mildew and mould alike grew in the corners, being in this abandoned hellhole was sure to make anyone sick. (Y/N) tested the bonds on the wooden plank he was tied to, they were not giving away enough leeway for them to have underestimated him though he didn’t have a guard on him so they obviously only knew the official story. Retired and injured intelligence officer.

Many people meeting (Y/N) for the first time formed 3 opinions, that he was handsome, that he was capable and that he had Captain John Price fully wrapped around his finger. It was no secret that the not-very-hidden, retired intelligence officer for MI6, was the proud and semi-supportive husband of Captain John Price.

Many people around base knew him as “The Only Man Capable of Making the Captain Relax” or rather, househusband, though what many people, including John Price himself, didn’t know, is that (Y/N) is not retired, he is still very much so active, just not in MI6, instead he works close to the ground as a priced horse, waiting to get kidnapped which had happened two times while Price was away, after all, he had many enemies.

Footsteps could be heard coming down the stairway, and the light bulb hanging a meter from his face turned on, blinding him. By the sound of it, 4 people entered the room, 3 heavy sets with boots on, probably soldiers the size of Simon, if not a little smaller, and one person wearing business shoes. (Y/N) turned his head and looked at them through squinted eyes. “Whatever you want, I won’t give it to you,” He said.

(Y/N) sighed in his restraints, clearly, he was going to be here for a while. There was no window that hadn’t been painted over, letting no light in, it was hard to tell what was day and night but he hadn’t been here for long, he had counted 9 hours so far.

Laswell had either yet to notice the tracker being activated or she was in the middle of an operation that required her focus. (Y/N) didn’t doubt that last one, he knew John was on a mission away, he probably wouldn’t be home for another month or so, maybe more.

“Oh, we aren’t the ones with questions, Birdie.” The man’s heavy Russian accent spilt through, causing (Y/N) to roll his eyes. “But we are here to pretty you up for the pictures we are about to take, your husband will want to know what you look like.” (Y/N) felt a fist hit his stomach, and all the air was knocked out of his lungs, he gasped for breath at the same time a wet cloth was thrown over his face followed by water. “We were told to be… creative with the prettying.”

December 11th, everything was sore, bruised and bloodied. His whole body hurt and he was pretty certain he didn’t have any internal bleeding. He was left alone, his stomach growled for food but he held on.

December 15th, he finally got food, but they were on a jet someplace, they didn’t speak to him the entire time. Everything still hurt but he managed to keep calm. Laswell crackled to life in his ear. “Are you alive?”

(Y/N) grunted out once, meaning yes.

“Good, when you land, gather information, we are already decrypting everything the linefeed is sending over.” She said, her voice was a comforting niceness in the last few horrific days of torture. The com crackled again, signalling she had left.

December 18th, a cold and barren winter morning in the middle of the Siberian taiga forest, in one shitty run-down cold shack, (Y/N) was sitting tied to a chair just waiting for his captors to return, he needed to get information out of them, it would ultimately help his husbands team, these were their enemies.

An icy wind was tearing through the shack, threatening frost burnt appendages and pneumonia. The silence of the forest was torn apart by the sound of a helicopter above them. It landed, whipping wind against the shack, like the big bad wolf blowing down the house of the pigs, (Y/N) wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay without risking his husband finding out.

Makarov was a true scumbag. (Y/N) knew in his heart that he wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of (Y/N) as soon as he was bored off him or he had had his fun. (Y/N) didn’t like either of those options. (Y/N) spit down at Makarov’s shoes though it seemed to only further the man's twisted amusement.

The door opened with a creak, it shuttered against the wall, the wood groaned and the metal creaked further. (Y/N) shivered at the frost-ridden air that entered, each set of feet crunching the snow that had blown into the shack through the cracks of the wood. His hood was ripped off, alongside some hair and (Y/N) stood face to face with Vladimir Makarov.

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow, unimpressed with the dramatic entrance of the man. “Doing your dirty work all by yourself?” He knew that he should be scared but he didn’t want a man such as Makarov to see his fear.

“For one such as you, yes.” Makarov grabbed (Y/N)’s face and tilted it painfully up, the bones in his neck groaned and the muscles were pulled dangerously taunt, one quick knife and (Y/N) would be dead. “A pretty songbird in a gilded cage. You have such potential and yet… you fail to use it in any way. You were a world-class intelligence officer and now you are but an ant beneath my boot. Your husband has already noticed that you are here when he and his team rush here…” Makarov smirked.

“You plan on killing them in a trap? Use me as bait, that is cruel even for you.” (Y/N) growled out, he let fake hot anger rise up just enough to heat his skin. “You bastard!” (Y/N) hadn’t been sent undercover as many times as he had, without picking up a thing or two. Tears of disbelief and anger welled in his eyes and froze against his skin as they spilt. Shards of ice fell into his lap.

(Y/N) frowned, he needed to get out, these people were dangerous enough as is, they shouldn’t have a hostage for any more than needed. (Y/N) already had gained as much information from simply being close to them, all agents like him had a device embedded under the skin for long-distance download, it wasn’t the safest of experimental devices but (Y/N) was more than ready to do what he needed to do in order to keep the world safe, much like his husband he was no stranger to war crimes.

Makarov chuckled darkly and shook his head. “No, I plan on breaking your mind after they are dead, there is nothing better than having a pretty bird by my side. It would be the biggest disappointment to the Price legacy.”

He let go of his face, leaving behind red marks that would undoubtedly create bruises, it would be hard but not impossible to hide from Price. Makarov took one last look at him and walked outside the shack, a sickening smirk on his face the entire time. He slammed the door with enough brute force to make it hard to open it, the door locked in place.

A small voice in his ear crackled to light. “Need rescue?” It was Laswell’s voice. (Y/N) whispered a no close to his chest and leaned back in his restraints, the sound of a helicopter flying away signalled that Makarov went away again. (Y/N) counted every second until an hour went by, being sure to prepare himself enough. “Don’t attract attention when you leave, we don’t want them chasing you. We are trying to find an extraction point.”

(Y/N) undid the handcuffs with ease, getting out wasn’t as hard as one would think and untied himself. He glanced around outside the windows before snaking his way under the wood in the back. He escaped into the forest safely and didn’t stop running for an hour.

His lungs were on fire, and everything was bruised, beaten and hurt, he was expecting to at least come out of this with hypothermia and that was if he was lucky.

“Laswell, do I have an extraction point?”

“Yes.” A voice cackled in his ear, a much deeper voice that didn’t belong to a woman he considered his sister. It was Price. (Y/N) sighed with a groan. “Two more miles and we are ready to pick you up.” Price sounded pissed though also worried.

“Hello dear.” (Y/N) said, his voice wavering a bit. “I didn’t realise you were in the country.”

“I didn’t realise you have a habit of getting kidnapped in the middle of me being away on a mission.” Price said, considerably less angry.

(Y/N) held his ribs as he chuckled, it sent jabs of pain coursing through him, though he had had worse. “I try not to make it a habit but it’s hard when your husband has enemies. May as well take advantage of the fact I am capable of getting myself unkidnapped.” (Y/N) said as he made his way through the snow-filled area.

“Do you need a medic?” Price asked.

“Not immediately, I may have broken my ribs but other than that I hadn’t been tortured badly enough for me to be in any danger.” (Y/N) replied, his voice somewhat strained. “I can run without killing myself.”

“Yes, I saw that. When were you going to tell me that you hadn’t retired?” Price sounded hurt, clearly at the lack of trust.

(Y/N) sighed, his feet dragging in the snow. “Honey, you and I both know my security clearance will always be higher than yours, I was told to never tell anyone, not even you, ordered. Laswell is barely allowed to know and that is on the basis of her knowing you intimately.”

“Does this happen often?” He asked.

(Y/N) shook his head before realising his husband couldn’t see it. “No, not often. I think this is my third time. Though the hazard pay bump is to die for.” (Y/N) chuckled at his own joke, his husband didn’t.

“How much further?” Price asked, ignoring the dark joke, he was more worried about his husband surviving than laughing at a joke.

“A mile. I will contact you when I get near.” (Y/N) said and they both went silent.

A very brief reunion happened before John almost had an aneurysm. “We need a medic as soon as we land!” He said into a long-distance communicator. “Not hurt my ass!” He hauled (Y/N) into the yet and it took off. (Y/N) sighed in relief as he sank into comfortable seats.

“How long?” John asked as he brought over something to clean the cuts and blood away from him.

“Hm? What date is it?” (Y/N) asked, he was tired, starving and thirsty.

John sighed and started cleaning the wounds. “18th, but I meant, how long have you been doing this?”

“Ahhh, hmm, maybe 8 years now, since I recovered from my injury, mostly I just fuck around in Britain, spying on people there, making certain we aren’t going to succumb to infighting, fucking Tories are making my life a living hell though, all of them are so blatantly willing to become traitors if it meant keeping their wealth.” (Y/N) said. “But I was taken for 8 days this time. I don’t remember how much I have eaten.”

“We will get you checked over and then get you back on food… how have you been able to hide all of this from me?” John asked.

“Honestly, most of the time I am only there for 3 days, minimal torture and bruising, but without the support and with Laswell not present, I couldn’t risk escaping early on, they had no reason to kill me, Makarov wanted you dead and me as a glorified whore.”

John growled out in barely contained anger, his body tensed up at the thought of it. “I will kill him myself.”

(Y/N) placed a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t you worry your head about it, I am back, safe and your mission is already to kill him.”

“My mission doesn’t matter when he attacks my husband-“ John started, “-who is a very accomplished field agent who despite his career-ending injury still managed to end up being a total badass and escape one of the most dangerous groups of international terrorists right now.” (Y/N) ended, making John smile softly.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, old man.”

It took a total of 5 days before (Y/N) was allowed to leave the medical ward and another 3 for his husband to stop fussing but (Y/N) fully knew that only happened because he had been called out on a mission and when John returned near dead, (Y/N) was now the one fussing over him and making sure he was healed up nicely after the whole Makarov situation.

While John stayed employed for several years after this, the two eventually both retired, including (Y/N) properly this time, to a small homestead in the Scottish countryside, close to where McTavish and Riley retired too but far enough away to have peace and quiet.

And in the end, their last remaining family members buried them side by side where they would forever rest.

The End. 

[sahisan]

just my silly random thoughts on how chuuya would be if he was a father and why he wouldn't want to be one as a chuuya kinnie and a person with generalized anxiety disorder. maybe ooc. tw for overprotection, excessive control, obsessive thoughts, anxiety.

please remember that i am not talking for the character, in this case chuuya, i'm just stating my thoughts on why it could be like this. i do not pretend for my thoughts to be taken as canon.

what i would like to start with is, of course, chuuya's line of work. he's a mafioso, an executive on top of that, and because of that, i think he would worry a bit too much about the people close to him, let alone his family and a kid. he'd lost more people that he'd ever want to that he loved, and thus, i think he would absolutely hate the idea of his own child being hurt, or worse—dying—the same way it happened to the people close to him in his past.

that's where i'd propose chuuya would absolutely be an overprotective typa dad: regular calls regarding his child's location if they go out, more simple calls to confirm they're alright, occasional texts about something random to see if they'll answer quick enough (will call if they don't (again, to know if everything's good)), maybe some location tracker(s) device in their phone/on their clothes etc. he would want to know and control. not because he's a stalker, but because he's worried.

the reason for the latter comes in next—worry, anxiety and obsessive thoughts. maybe i'm projecting, maybe, but i think chuuya wouldn't be able to calm his thoughts and shut them up like. ever. especially thoughts regarding his child. again, with his line of work, everything could happen: he'd always think of enemies or rivalry organizations spying on his kid/them both when they go out, sniping at his kid when he leaves for work (it would absolutely get worse tenfold with long overseas missions), and, yes, while he'd be prepared for all kinds of things (his car's windows would be tinted to the maximum, he'd have cameras all over the apartment complex where he lives and in the apartment itself, security guards at the door (maybe a sniper or two at the top of the building) and he'd personally invest in improving the complex security), chuuya would still think and the thoughts wouldn't be able to leave his head, because— he knows he'll never be able to control everything, and that's exactly what he hates the most. what if something will happen that he didn't predict? couldn't have predicted? could've predicted but forgot? the what if's would plague him day and night.

that also means no information about his work for his kid. none. chuuya would hide all the available documents around the apartment, take some more important ones with him, close the door to his home office with a key each time he'd leave for work, exit the room and close the door when receiving work calls, and would do everything in his power for them (the kid) to not know about literally anything regarding what he does. maybe he'd tell them when they're older, but not before 18-20 that's for sure. yes, it would be hard to keep all that away from them especially once they'd get older, but he would really only want the best for them and their safety.

all of the above may sound like i really am just projecting, but after reading some of chuuya's backstory and stuff, that's just how i personally see it so yup.

another point. absolutely only private schools/other private institutions for his kid. maybe even homeschooling, depending on whether they would be willing, but i think the homeschooling variant would fall off immediately because he would want the kid to actuay have friends and socialize and live a normal life (and then there's a little something in chuuya's mind, like his thoughts, telling him that, with a father like him, they wouldn't ever be able to live like a normal person). so that leaves only a private school. even like that, he would still spend hours with a laptop in his lap and a phone between his shoulder and his ear, picking out the best private school in all of the yokohama and personally calling them to assess everything to the smallest details. i think he'd even make a personal visit to the few he'd liked best and choose only after that. after choosing the one, there's a possibility chuuya would add/alter some rules after talking with the headmaster and the teachers to ensure that his kid's safety would be absolutely like, top-tier. no loopholes or concessions.

back to the "why he wouldn't want to be a father" point, i think chuuya would greatly understand that what he'd be like wouldn't be okay in the slightest, even more so, his work takes up almost all of his free time, and because of that he'd understand that he can't spend, like, almost any time with his kid, while a parent is supposed to be present in the child's life every moment. that's it.

[yanpotatowriter]

Then can you do Yandere Headcanons for Kidou,Gouenji,Afuro who fallen in love of a rival darling from a other soccer team

Kidou:

It depends on if we are talking about Taikoku Kidou or if we are talking about Raimon Kidou, because Taikoku Kidou will do everything in his power to make sure that he will beat his obsession in soccer and that their soccer cub gets forcefully disbanded after they lost to his team so that he could start to mess with their minds and get them to try and go to Taikoku so that they could join the soccer club there.

He will insult his obsession and really gets into their mind, saying that while they are weak now they could become more powerful and a force of nature if they just go ahead and join Teikoku and its soccer team, of course he does not mention that he wants them to join the team just so that he could keep an extra eye on them and figure out his feelings and his need for his obsessions approval and admiration.

Now Raimon Kidou will go about it in a more strategic yet friendlier way, by befriending their friends and trying to compliment their skills after a match.  Stating ways they could improve if they were to join Raimon but also if they don’t want to that he would not force them.  He does give them his contact info so that he could keep tabs on them and later down the line install trackers and spy apps through the messages on his obsessions phone so that he will be able to know more about his obsession without having to be glued at their side 24/7

Gouenji:

He does not know what to do with the information that he has fallen for a rival but soon comes to term with it, trying to seek them out to get contact information, stating that he wants to do a 1 v 1 because he is interested in their skills (and them as well, but he won’t outright state it.) 

He does often do things with his obsession stating them to be for another purpose while he is actually just using it to be around them and learn more about them without having to stalk them and hide in the shadows.

He will also try to get them to leave their club and join his instead, but he is someone who will accept a no and move on, or at least that is what he makes it seem like, as he will sometimes just mention something that happened at the club that is positive or light-hearted and never mentions it if something negative has happened as he wants his obsession to only have a positive view of Raimon.

Aphrodi:

Zeus Aphrodi will do everything in his power to get his obsession to quit playing soccer in their own team and to join the team of gods, stating how pitiful they are currently due to them being a mere mortal but how joining a team of gods will make them more powerful and is only beneficial towards them.

He cannot accept that he has a weakness that is not directly tied to his team so they better listen to him and join his soccer team already, it is really not that hard of a decision.

Raimon Aphrodi will be more gentle with his approach to convince/manipulate his obsession into becoming an ally instead of a rival, he does so by hanging out with them, buying them small gifts that he thought they might like etc.   Anything he can do in order to convince his obsession to join Raimon or at least support the team in any way they can, he will do it.

[blightoath]

if i were to tweak feyn's history/verse for inquisition and veilguard to be a fen'harel double agent...

because they traveled together some during the blight, leliana knows that feyn is an excellent hunter and tracker, and if anyone has a hope of finding the hof, it would be him. she reaches out to him about the wardens and asks in his help searching for the hof and the wardens in general. having been mentored by the hof in amaranthine, feyn has some ideas on where to go or what to do, and takes off to deliver the messages leliana needs.

by the time feyn gets back, he's set his sights on continuing the scouting, spying, delivery work with leliana--he spends literally 100% of his time in the field, getting things to or from leliana (or charter or others) via dead drops and pass offs to middlemen or other agents

(at this point, he's awol from the wardens. most assumed he died at adamant, which suits him just fine)

by the time of trespasser, no one thing can be contributed to feyn, he's made nearly no big moves himself nor been given anything of huge import, but his loyalty to the inquisition is known, and that's key

regardless of whether the inquisition is disbanded or given to the chantry, the current spy roster has to be shaken up to faces unfamiliar--so feyn gets brought in from the field to take on bigger and more influential work

eventually they decide they need a man on the inside and feyn, with his years of independent work, excellent memory, charm, tracking knowledge, dalish background, and warden improvements, makes a fine agent

feyn heads immediately to tevinter to start a long undercover mission. gets himself captured, enslaved, and put to work in a shipyard and storage warehouse, moving goods around

assists a fen'harel agent, who frees him in return and recruits him to the cause

after doing a few odd jobs here and there, it's revealed he has a talent as a tracker and is put to work to find various components needed in some of solas' rituals

his identity is discovered once during a mission. during the mission, one of the other agents in their three person squad had died in the line of duty, and rather than risk his time as a double agent coming to light, he killed the second agent. feyn was regarded suspiciously for a time since he was the only survivor to return, but eventually his skills as a tracker were needed

he is the agent who finds the lead on the red lyrium idol and tracks it to the auction house in llomerryn. part of his ability to find the lyrium idol is by tapping into his warden ability to sense darkspawn by focusing on the call of the blight within the lyrium. when asked, however, he just says he has a lucky streak and a good gut for guessing

feyn is one of the agents tasked with protecting solas during the evanuris prison transfer. while he's at the temple, he positions himself in such a way that he can kill solas with an arrow to the heart. he fully intends on doing so until varric appears and messes with his aim--the shot goes wide and in a stroke of incalculable bad luck, shatters some of the scaffolding holding up the statues

unsure if his cover is blown or not, feyn books it down to the center platform to at least steal away the lyrium dagger. two outcomes can occur:

1) rook makes it to varric first, gets ko'd, and feyn helps neve and harding escape to the lighthouse. until anyone knows any wiser, feyn keeps to his cover as an agent of fen'harel. saving rook, harding, and neve then was a choice made by him, showing that solas was actually interested in minimizing casualties, as he figured other agents in the area would fend for themselves after seeing solas shoved into the fade.

2) feyn makes it to the dagger but cuts his palm trying to get it and varric away from the emerging evanuris. neve and harding rush out to help and catch varric's last exclaimed word as "rook"--feyn's codename amongst leliana's reports. feyn then takes the place as rook, though he's torn between loyalties and ideologies

[peachymilkandcream]

Her Biggest Fan|Levi x Evelyn AU

Request: Hello, could you do a chapter of Evelyn being an idol and having Levi as her obsessive fan?

(A/N: AO3 request, very interesting and I'm so excited for this one, enjoy!)

WARNINGS: noncon/dubcon, graphic descriptions of violence, domestic violence, manipulation, mind breaking, yandere behaviour/themes, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, wishing rape upon someone, misogyny, mentions of child abuse, blackmail, revenge porn, murder, second chance, stalking, etc.

================================================

Levi waited his turn in line patiently, this wasn't the first time that he had seen her in person, but each time was just as exciting as the last. Evelyn had been a previously struggling icon when Levi had come across her music. He was always finding new content to help him go through the day, and her more hardcore style was something he looked for.

At first, she had very minimal followers. And that's how Levi liked it. He enjoyed being one of the only people to get a kick out of her music. It was something intimate that only they shared, he felt like he was the only one that cared for her and was interested in helping her music.

When she started gaining popularity the more he didn't like it. Levi was one of her only dedicated fans, and now she had many men and women fawning over her, her pick of men right there for the taking.

It drove him crazy.

He scoured her social media for any hint of a significant other. All shadows and any special items in a room that would mean that there was another man in her life. Thankfully nothing of the sort had been seen so far, but that didn't mean it would be that way forever. One of his reasons for purchasing yet another VIP pass to her most recent show.

Now that it was his turn he approached the love of his life once more. As usual Evelyn smiled and gave him a hug. each time a thing that he utterly reveled in. The feel of her against him, her scent, her skin. It was addictive. What he wouldn't give to make sure that he was the only one that go to do this with her for the rest of her life.

"Do you remember me?" Was his first question.

"Of course, Levi. You've come to all of my concerts, always a VIP pass, and buying merch. I appreciate all of your support."

"Mm. I always want to help smaller creators, but now that you've grown I suppose you don't need it anymore."

"Aw, of course not. I love all my fans."

The word love, despite being used generally set his heart ablaze. Such a sweet word being used to describe him was such a euphoric feeling that he couldn't get over. He had to do something about this, he couldn't live with this feeling forever, he had to do something about it before she went crazy.

As Levi was gestured to go so that the next paying attendee could have their time with her. He complied, not wanting to start a scene, but as he started to walk away he noticed her bag sitting near the door. Without effort he dropped a small tracking device in it, knowing that after tonight this would be the last show she preformed for anyone but him.

================================================

That night, Levi checked the tracker app on his phone. Following it after the show had ended.

It led him to a hotel where she was staying. Thankfully her being in a strange city would make it harder for her to find her surroundings, so when he finished his plan she would be utterly helpless.

Without much hassle Levi found her room number and obtained a master key. He'd been practicing this now for weeks. Going to each of her shows and spying on her while she slept. Now that she was in his home town, he could finally complete his mission.

Levi opened the door and let himself in. She was asleep, in her bed. He snuck over to her, picking up a heavy lamp and holding it high above her head so that as she woke up to the sound of him, like she did now, the lamp landing on her forehead knocked her out.

As Evelyn went limp Levi smirked in satisfaction, now he could finally get everything he wanted.

With skill, he took everything out of her suit case and stuffed her in. He'd have to hurry or she'd suffocate, but he had no plan on letting her die like this.

She was his.

================================================

When Evelyn woke up she was bound to a bed in a small apartment. Posters and merch of herself covering every surface. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't be free.

"No need to struggle, I won't hurt you."

[dandorime]

Another section from this fic.

"Haaaaaang on."

"Agent, you're going to fall!"

"Am not, just haaaaaang on..."

Agent Phoenix was practically dangling upside-down from his swing like an awkward trapeze artist, straining to reach his arm under the center drawer of the massive wooden desk that dominated the room. How annoying, he thought to himself, that he couldn't TK a target he couldn't see.

He patted around desperately to find the small metal screw that would release a spring. He knew it was there.

It was there last time.

"What are you even trying to do?" Reginald Crane hissed, nervously gripping the edge of the open skylight with both hands as he peered down from above.

The half moon overhead didn't provide enough light for either spy to see one another clearly, but the swinging and creaking of the metal cables holding Phoenix's seat didn't give his handler any sense of confidence in his agent's actions.

Phoenix, likewise, couldn't see the look on his handler's face, but he could tell from the anxiety in his voice that Crane wasn't going to be patient with his acrobatics for much longer.

"I'm trying to find the... there might be a switch or something," Phoenix hissed back.

*click*

Crane didn't know about the metal screw under the desk, of course.

Every drawer on the desk gently popped open at once, mercifully without any explosions. The ornamented cabinet containing his target, a mask that could mimic the faces and voices of four powerful world leaders, opened its door wide with a flourish as if to welcome him. 

"I'll be damned," the agent heard Crane whisper from above, "how did you know?"

Phoenix grinned in the dark. It had taken him more than a few deaths to play his way through the Fabricator's desk of traps. He'd spent hours here, dangling from an uncomfortably small swing on cables in the dark with only a flashlight and his handler's advice to pick apart dozens of defensive mechanisms.

Well, hours from his point of view, anyway. To Crane and the rest of the world, it had still only been two minutes.

He was finally in. Security was still five minutes away, none of the room's defenses had been sprung, and the mimic mask seemed to smile at him.

Surely the Fabricator wasn't patient enough to disarm everything one-by-one every time she sat at her own desk, was she? Even Dr. Zor had shortcuts through their security, if you had the right code or a key card, or an awkwardly-placed ornamental orb. Heck, the Fabricator was probably responsible for building those, too...

That line of thought sent Phoenix's hunting for a workaround to the convoluted series of dials and secret compartments, and after much more trial and error, this was the payoff. 

"Install this tracking device somewhere discreet," Crane whispered, lowering a tiny suitcase on a line containing an even tinier chip, "and then close everything up tight."

Phoenix plucked the chip off the line, just like he'd done the last dozen times. The second of these, he'd dropped the tracker, lost it in the thick carpeting on the floor, and ended up patting around for it on his hands and knees like a half-blind man hunting an errant contact lens.

The sting of shame was still fresh in his mind.

Then again, this was the hardest mission he'd had in a long time, Phoenix reasoned to himself as he popped the mask open, careful not to jostle it loose from its stand. He supposed Crane must've known it would be tricky if he brought along extra tech like a winching swing and a tracking device. It was probably why he'd come along as the support agent himself, instead of sending Phoenix in alone with an earpiece. But if anything, that decision had made it worse.

Dying in front of a helpless friend was a thousand times worse than dying alone.

As he clipped wires and soldered the tracker into place for the fourth (or was it fifth?) time, Phoenix let his mind replay the worst of it.

Dying alone meant Phoenix could tear off his microphone and swear his frustrations to his last poisoned breath, or shorten the wait with a bullet to the skull. He could trigger a bomb and experience some catharsis in his final seconds, watching Zor's plans and property go up in smoke.

But no, each time he died in the Fabricator's studio, he had to bite his tongue and bleed out quietly, all the while knowing his handler was perched on the roof with no cover, watching him die. 

---

Crane, ever vigilant, had picked up on the guard's approach along the overhead walkway as his agent was still stupidly bumbling around looking for the tracking device on the floor.

Phoenix had long since surrendered his own situational awareness to focus on finding the tracking device. He wasn't even listening for forgets when he finally heard the urgent, whispered shout of warning:

"AGENT, HIDE!"

Paralyzed with surprise, Phoenix did not hide. He inexplicably froze as the beam of a flashlight from the walkway around the upper floor of the room raked across his back.

Zero cover, out in the open, caught red-handed.

God, I'm a fool.

Damnit.

He heard both shots and felt the bullets bite through him, slamming him into the floor like they had nailed him there. Effectively, they had. A lung shot, let alone two, was more than enough to sap away 99% of whatever stamina he may otherwise have had to fight back or make a break for it.

He was dying.

Then there was a third shot.

A quiet, pained cry sounded above. Broken glass rained down over everything, and Phoenix felt a heavy thud, somewhere close, on the floor next to him.

Oh god.

He blindly reached for the body that he knew lay somewhere to his right, grasping desperately with weakening fingers, but never managed to make contact.

Rapidly bleeding out, the agent found he didn't have the strength to even lift his head and look. In truth, he didn't want to.

Reggie.

The security guard was talking fast and loud on his radio: "Two intruders! I shot 'em... I think they're both dead..."

Both dead.

Those words gave him a pang of guilt like nothing he'd ever felt on a mission before. Worse than an arrow, worse than a bullet.

Fuck, I'm sorry...

A last bloody cough escaped from his chest, and everything faded away.

In the brief dark interlude that always came after death, Phoenix caught himself actually looking around for Crane through his closed eyes. He knew it was stupid; writhing around alone in the absolute blackness, but the urge to apologize to his friend was overwhelming. What would he say, if he actually found Crane there? Christ, what could he say? 

I'm so sorry, I got you killed. I got us both killed. I usually only get me killed...

Consumed with guilt and anger, he hardly noticed the physical pain ebbing away. A familiar lightness, a floating sense of stasis soon took hold.

The lights flicked on.

Agent Phoenix was back in the Room. 

Goddamnit.

[shakertwelve]

2, 6, 8, 33 and 34 for Vixen with the ask game thing 🫶

i'm so glad we're talking about vixen now. why were we spending any time on vinny at all

2. what sort of music would they like? have you thought about what genres or bands do they lean towards? do they have a favorite song?

i'm woefully uninformed about music outside of my own very narrow interest range so i asked my associate @nonplatonicsubtext and got back "she was designed in a lab to be the target audience for Joanna Newsom's music". i don't even know who that is but i trust tally

6. how do they wear their hair? do they care a lot how their hair looks?

it's about chin length and i think she has bangs probably.. she dyed it brown for a while and it hasn't totally faded out of the ends. and yeah it's important to her because she had short hair for most of her life and she likes that she can do more with it now

8. do they have a nickname? who gave it to them? if it's not derived from their real name, what's the story behind it?

people call her vix or vixie sometimes :)

33. if applicable, how would your other characters describe them? i mean specifically the people around them.

assuming "people around them" applies to the other vics. victor would think she rules and is an infinitely better "girl version of him" than vicky (because they agree on almost everything), vicky would meet her and become aware of the gender discomfort she's repressing and get weird at her for it instead of thinking about why she feels that way, and vinny would find her secondhand embarrassing and also get weird at her for it instead of thinking about why he feels that way

34. how would your character describe themselves? it doesn't have to line up with how they really are.

well she's a vic so before everything goes wrong she mostly defines herself by her family and team and as a cape, and after gold morning she's still trying to figure out who she is outside of that. oh and the thing she's overconfident about are her skills as a tracker/spy, like how vicky is overconfident about her cape science knowledge

bonus vicrews (vic picrews) from here and here for reading to the end

[spaceytingz]

youre a femme fatal secret agent stealing the most prized gem in the world from its restong spot... set the scene and the soundtrack!

Elusive Finnish billionaire Eerik Holmen might be the most secretive person on the planet. Operating exclusively from a chain of remote islands, owned by shell companies, you'd need to call in thirty favors just to find someone who knows someone who knows rumors about the possible location of one of them. And don't even think about trying to get an invitation to his revered annual masquerade ball - an event with tighter security than a presidental inauguration. 

Good thing I don't need one.

Thirty favors are not an easy thing to accumulate so I'm careful. The guests are just beginning to arrive, so the security does not pay that much attention to the skies, and before anyone knows it, camouflage glider retracted into my catsuit, I'm making my way through halls of invisible lasers, conveniently glitching cameras and an actual pit trap. Don't knock it if you haven't tried it. Great cardio. And while you're at it, you'd be wise to install remotely activated bombs in the walls. It might help later.

One thing spy movies don't get right? You know that part where the protagonist lifts the diamond and quickly manages to put something of a similar weight in its place as to avoid activating the alarm? Yeah, that doesn't happen. The truth is, there's no way to avoid the alarm. You just gotta avoid the walls of the trap room it's inevitably placed in that shoot out to crush you in under 0.3 seconds. Good thing I don't go out without my trusty titanium grappling hook. And now, of course, the alarm is blaring and the whole shithole is going into lockdown. So, I run. I don't go far, there's armed security everywhere. Of course, the guns mean nothing if you get the jump on them. You don't need to deal with them all, obviously, but you do need to get to a safe room where you apply your cosmetic modifications, transform your catsuit into a short black dress, and slip inside the panicking crowd. These rich people value their lives a lot for some reason.

The diamond is not on my person, obviously. Hidden in plain sight, the many trackers on it can discern its general location but they have no clue on which floor it is and no one expects it to be in the majestic indoor fountain boasting a statue of Poseidon in the middle. My earring begins beeping, indicating my ride is here. Final part of the plan. Not even after three beeps, a series of explosions shakes up the building and smoke and ashes fill the room. Panic, screams, hell, even a gunshot rings out but that's of no importance. The fountain water has already disabled half of the trackers on the diamond but no signal can get to the contents of the handbag in my hand, lined on the inside with pure silver. The screams of the guests and the further explosions make it very easy for me to slip out of a newly made hole in the wall. Jungle ain't fun to run through but the second I'm in the ocean, I've made it. Now to find the camouflaged submarine that has been waiting here for four months.

[aitchnkay]

Jiang Gunian Made A Change Part 7

“You weren’t joking about that talisman,” Jin ZiXuan grumbled. He and his disciples were the last group to reach what was hopefully going to be their safe haven for the next few months. “Luo QingYang activated her talisman while we were discussing logistics. I looked away because my horse nudged me, and she was gone.”

Wei WuXian grinned, unrepentant. “I did say it was imperceptible to every spiritual tracker I know of. You thought I would leave the ability for someone to just... follow you by watching you? How stupid do you think I am? You did still see her, you know. Your brain just... sort of... was told to ignore what it was seeing or something. There’s no way I wanted anyone from your families or a Wen spy to be able to track us.” Jiang YanLi sadly noted that her brother did not consider himself a part of the ‘your’ in ‘your families’. For a long moment, anger at her mother and father burned deep in her chest. It would have been so easy to make Wei WuXian a legal part of her family without disinheriting her other brother.

“You mean we could have used our swords and flown here?” Lan XiChen didn’t shout, but he spoke in a tone that dictated one should perceive it as such.

“I never said you had to walk, Lan Gongzi,” Wei WuXian looked insulted.

“Enough,” Jiang YanLi tried to soothe her brother’s and the Lan’s hurts. “We’re all here now. Jin Gongzi, you and your cohort will be over there.” She pointed to a series of houses with the Jin flag already waving from the roofs. “Please take care of the spaces as we’re renting them from the locals.”

“Renting?” Jin ZiXuan had a look of distaste on his face.

“You may try to purchase them if you would prefer.” Jiang YanLi retorted. “Please excuse me,” she said in a gentler tone. “I have to see about dinner.”

She didn’t. Not yet. They would be having fish again, as they would probably be having fish as their main source of meat for a long time. And fish didn’t take long to marinate or to cook. Instead of walking to the kitchen, she detoured to the beach and let the sand and wind and waves wash over her and release her tension. Well, the sound of the waves; she stayed well behind the tide line.

A few days later, a Lotus Pier disciple flew in to the camp. “Jiang Guniang, Jiang Gongzi... the letter arrived.” He handed over a piece of paper. “I was able to make a copy before I activated the talisman.”

Jiang YanLi read it, almost dispassionately, then handed it to her younger brother. “I assume the other sects are receiving the same message,” she sighed.

Lan XiChen read the letter next, then Jin ZiXuan. “I honestly thought....” the latter sputtered. “I honestly thought this whole....” he waved a hand at the small coastal town now bursting with cultivators, and let his voice trail off. “I didn’t think the threat was real.”

“It’s very real,” Jiang YanLi kept her gaze steady. “Lan Gongzi? I assume you also left someone to report back to you?”

“Of course I did,” the sect heir replied. “Assurance that your warning was real, and that Cloud Recesses is as protected as we could make it. The library contents and major artifacts were moved to a new, heavily protected, location along with everyone who isn’t a fighter. Cloud Recesses may burn as you said it would. Our people will survive.”

It would be another week before a Lan Cultivator stumbled into the village. “Lan ZongZhu... Cloud Recesses has been destroyed. Fifteen senior disciples were captured and take for indoctrination. Forty-three disciples were killed, including your father. Lan Qiren remains safe with the rest of the sect. Fifty-one disciples were allowed to live and rebuild after swearing allegiance to QishanWen.”

“Forty-three,” the newest sect leader sighed. “More than I hoped for, but less than I feared. Who led the attack?”

“Wen Xu.”

Lan XiChen looked at Jiang YanLi, who raised her chin and looked right back. “The fifteen who were taken?” he asked his disciple.

“They did not take their own swords with them to the indoctrination center, as you requested. We exchanged their swords with ones from the dead.”

“Excellent.” He bowed slightly. “Please excuse me. I wish to mourn my... our dead.”

Nie HuaiSang cocked his head as the Lan sect leader disappeared into one of the houses. “It appears we are at war.”

“It appears so, Nie Gongzi,” Jiang YanLi agreed.

[kari-go]

Hi! Idk if the kwamies are just for fun or what, but I got the curage (and maybe it's fun) to list what my ideas (for my head"cannon" Miraculouses 😁)

Zebra - equalization, can turn things into their opposite

Llama - commitment, can shoot energy-spit and link the user to the target

Snail - syncronization, the user can sync with targets and control their moves, eithet making them mimic his movements or moving them like a hivemind, working to achive a goal. It also works backword, so othets can control the user's movements (this way it can learn techniques the other can do)

Hedgehog - so far, having pocket dimension to hide or trap othets, maybe change it later...

Pidgeon - generalization. The owner can make itself "unrecogniseable", meaning despite being a person in pidgeon costume, you can't recognise it, simply blends in (you only can spot them if you looking for something very-very specific about them)

Antelope - intention. If the user touches you with it's two horned stick you start to do whatever idea you currently head, even if it's crazy or unlikely to have any succes, the target starts it enthusiasticly

Rhino - potential. The user can "suck" the potential energy from things, making them living "object-magnet" atracting everything, even if it means an unpleasant crush... The user also can charge object with it, making them fly

Firefly - transition. Can become living energy, moving thing and even empovering machines. Literal force

Kangaroo - swich. Can swiching placement of object with limited range

Has no red panda (yet!)😅

Capybara - relaxation. The user simply can others feel good, whatever happening to them

Rattlesnake - avareness. Having bracelet with a campus like rattle-pointer which shows where a previously marked object is

Giraffe - exhaltion (stolen, since they modified the tiger to elation😁) choosing any ability, the user becomes the bes-best in it (like being humanly in the Guinise record book for it, and turn it up by Miraculous -holder standards)

Hippo - overprotection/motherly care (something along those line) can create a bubble where the target just sleeps and floats. This bubble saves the target very well, but not all-proof

Sloth - procrestination. Every time the target would like to do something, manipulates fate to do something (like, insted of taking Miraculous away, goes on for personal revenge (also gains litteral weight to arms and legs)

No racoon or beaver yet

Donkey - humblenes. With a whip, can make the target obey instractions of thr user and behave foolish

Coala - influence. Gives power to do whatever you wish, but limited very much how much support and love does the holder has from the sorrunding peaple...

I hope you like them or find some of them funny, there are many more, some of these even have "pairs" (won't grant wish, but opposite concepts, like LB and CN's), but I like these, hope you to, but I gladly reading your feedback on these as well 😁.

Have a nice day!🙂

They are just for fun but I don't think I would mind adding them if I got an idea for the miraculous and a weapon.

I already have a power for the zebra, anyone who sees them would get vertigo.

Ooh, so like a tracker I like that. They would spit on them and the spit would always be visible to the user. It could wear off over time, I really like this power.

That's really interesting, kinda reminds me of Martyr (black cat) and Mimic (wolf).

That sounds pretty similar to the ferret.

Oh, that's cool. Another I thought of was that they can spy with their feathers xd. But I think I like this one better.

So kinda giving them enough confidence to do that? That's cool, my thoughts were super speed but I like this one.

The salamander already has that power (Tag).

Oh, that's interesting. Kinda seems like an extension of the white lion.

That seems very similar to the panda.

I also haven't thought of one for the red panda 😔.

I see where you're coming from and it fits the capybara, but I already have that power (dove).

That seems similar to the llama.

That seems like the rooster but harder to explain to me. I know that I would have issues with that.

I like that! It's like a combination of betta fish and sheep. I like it.

Hmmm, interesting.

My original thought for the racoon was that they can steal powers, like the butterfly now. But that was when the layers didn't exist. For the beaver, I like the power that @randypelow suggested, the holder pulls objects to make a dome (like a knock-off Shellter).

The donkey was one of the oldest kwamis I had, he was made with Inn and I¨m pretty sure he was the only one who had a power from the set xd. The concept was Adaptation (or versatility at first) and the holder could change the suits to fit the situation, basically like the power-ups. But then I gave that power to the octopus and then I removed it xd. What you suggested seems kinda tricky to me I would have to think about it more.

So like the canon eagle or just a big amount of confidence?

I like a lot of these! You always have so many interesting ideas!

[scribble-dribble-writes]

To save a mockingbird (4)

<<<Prev Next>>>

---

Word count: 1300

Warnings: none

I thought the sequels could do with more representation and that Rose shouldn't be the only one. I firmly believe that if General Hux allowed himself to enjoy a Jaleebi, the man would have left the First Order long ago, now that Jaleebi is canon in the Starwars universe based on Visions 2 😆

---

Chapter 4

The house was quaint, his ankle itched. The tracker was strapped to his skin that even when he took a bath, he would not be free of it. While she was given a device, to monitor his location and to make sure he was within bounds. He entered, his nose scrunched up. The ceiling was quite low but it was homely and maybe that’s why he didn’t like it. It was easy to tell that she had a cherished family with how artefacts lined the wall and the space looked lived in. A stark contrast to his quarters, he didn’t even own a pair of favourite slippers or a caf mug. Detached, much like the fleet itself, all this felt new to him. A frail woman sat in a seat as she remained busy with her crochet needles.

“This isn’t much.”, Marjorie chose her words as she turned to him. She felt overprotective of this space, of Aachi. This place was not up for strangers and yet, here he was. It felt like he was evening out the scores, because she had infiltrated his space, he had now chosen to do so.

“But it is my home.”, she told him and he marveled at her as she commanded the room.

As she spoke, the old woman had spotted him and to his surprise she smiled at him. Was everyone in her family mad? He waited and observed as she hobbled into the kitchen, to soon return with a plate full of colourful sweets. What was this custom?

He hated sweets, he preferred his caf without sugar, delicacies often reminded him of his mother or gave life to dormant memories that he would have much preferred to have forgotten now. He spent his early days relating to her like the kitchen maid, never once thinking twice about the love in her eyes. Only when he got to know who she was, he was sent away to the academy, never to return, never to see her again.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had visitors.”, she held the plate to him but his eyes shot to see Majorie and in the brief time he had known her, he saw sadness flicker over her features.

“She’s never brought a man home.”, the lady continued to say with a mischievous smile and Hux wasn’t sure if he should just say something cruel, to kill whatever this was that other people could pick up on his thoughts. Instead he took a step back, unbothered, not wishing to respond.

“He’s a little skinny but that’s an easy fix.”, she continued but he watched as Marjorie enveloped her grandmother in tender care and led her away into a room, explaining that he was only someone from work. Interesting, the spy had a weakness.

He inspected the device on his foot. He took in the space around him again. A week here and he was certain to go insane. The door creaked and she was back in his line of sight.

“I don’t like this, just as much as you don’t.”, Marjorie spoke clearly.

“I apologize on behalf of my grandmother, she’s just been …”, she grew silent and the words bubbled in his mouth.

It wasn’t an issue.

But he stayed quite again, he was never chivalrous or charming and he didn't know why he wanted to show her that he did have a couple manners left within him. He thought of questions but was in a war with himself. He didn’t need to know more, about the sweets or the old lady or the tapestry on the wall or why she was sad?

What was it to him? Collecting information would prove useful later, a thought eased him. He convinced himself that this was a mission and his mouth spit out the words his mind had strung together.

“Anyone else I need to know about?”, he said it without care or concern and watched as her faced twisted slightly.

“My father hasn’t been around since I was a child.”, she answered him still.

“My mother is …”, she met his gaze and there it was, that sadness, that moment causing his heart to twitch for the first time.

“She was on Hosnian Prime.”, she said softly and he looked away. He was certain it was the lack of a breakfast but a void in his heart tore open and all he wanted was to leave, his body craving the untouchable silence of his quarters on the fleet. Her soft gaze now made his skin crawl.

“Her room is the only one that’s vacant. But there’s nothing in it either way, so you do not need to worry.”, she spoke as though she had seen through him.

As he turned to enter the room, he heard her shuffle closer and as he turned, the tip of his nose was an inch away from hers when he spotted she had caught the edge of his shirt, mindful to not touch him in the process but enough to draw his attention.

“I know you plan to escape. I can’t stop you. But if you ever, bring down harm to this house or to my grandmother,”, she paused but he felt the air turn electric.

“Let’s just say that wouldn’t be favourable for you.”, she said calmly but her eyes were a storm, one he was entranced by. Her warning held a deadly note and it only made his blood sparkle.

She let go and turned away. That it was a question which only had one answer. He had to comply to win her over just long enough for the betrayal to hurt. He was an expert at this.

“The door stays open. You show up for meal times, you will help around the house and keep your head down.”, she barked her orders as she pulled out sheets of paper.

“Each week contains tasks for you to complete and at the end of each day, you bestow us with the secrets you know or help with decrypting messages.”, she instructed him.

“You’re working with the mechanics tomorrow.”, she wasn’t sure how good he was with vehicles or anything outside of sitting in powerful places.

His hands looked soft and free of callouses that she could deduce he wasn’t one to have any experience with manual labour. He didn’t respond to her, while he stood there, while his green eyes read her gestures and expression. Arrogance, she never liked it. So instead of letting her mind dwell on his features and mannerisms, she moved on.

“Found these in the 'Lost and Found' department.”, she picked up a box that was next to her and held it out to him. It was full of clothes and objects that would prove useful to him in his stay here.

He took it but never said thank you and she wondered if he even knew the basics of human communication and etiquette.

She lead him into the room but her mind had forgotten him, although there was nothing here, she still felt the coldness and the vacancy. The bed was in the corner, the walls were bare making it devoid of any life. Turning around to see him take in the surroundings, she was certain he was going to keep it in the same state.

“Lunch is an hour’s time. You could start off by helping in the kitchen for today.”, she couldn’t stay another second here or notice the inquisitive look on his face that was washing away all the kindness she had left in herself because now she wanted to yell at him to spit it out. Was he sorry? Or could he ever feel remorse?

She didn’t have anything left to tell him, so she left.

The room was cold and empty, just like she had said. It felt like home, he thought as he took it in, inhaling deeply to catch the faint smell of Marjorie's perfume which was the only attribute he didn’t mind or rather wanted to memorise. Because when something felt like home, that was when the monsters crept to take a hold of him. The box had shirts and pants, none of which he would ever be found in. But it seemed better that the brown jumpsuit so he dropped the box onto the mattress as he took a seat next to it by the corner.

His life had decided to remind him of his past and all his wrongdoing was finally catching up to him. He let his head fall into his hands finally. The kitchen of all places was his first test.

He sat alone and in the quiet, he’ll escape tomorrow, he was sure of it. He will steal an x-wing and before anyone caught on, he will be back as the General to rain hell on this base. The rage burned deep within, there was no redemption for him.