#without it the culture would die too

[necronomeconomicism]

Ok gotta talk about it.

As a Jewish historian, I fucking hate Israel in ways most probably will never be able to comprehend. I'm going to try and explain it anyways. The central creation myth of Israel is that it is Jewish, and then consequently, that Israel is a part of Jewishness. Its easy to simply state this is false, but fully comprehending this and putting it into practice in thought and deed seems rare to me.

The evil at the heart of this violence predates the recent acceleration of genocide. Israel is a colony, and more than that, an antisemitic fraud itself. After WW2, when Israel was being founded, the Jews of Europe generally did not wave goodbye to their neighbors and head to the promised land. Many were expelled from their homes. Zionism itself, as an action, was a false choice at the time. A mere excuse to place an ally in the middle east, and an excuse to complete the expulsion and destruction of the European Jew. The Zionist Jew is more than complicit in this, they actively seek the destruction and assimilation of all other Jews.

Many fail to realize, and largely because of Israel, that Jews are not inherently white, Ashkenazi, European-descended people. Our faith and culture has an immense variety that is spread all across the globe. Jewishness, in population and volume of culture, exists more so outside of Israel than within it. Israel is for a very specific kind of Jew. The kind that lets Yiddish die, that attaches themselves to European things, that makes themselves and their practices as white as possible.

And they have the nerve, the fucking belligerent GALL, to frame themselves as the necessary saviors of our people. To the Zionist, questioning Israel is to question Jewishness itself. They bake adoration for the colonial machine into their very prayers, and push them on us even as children. To *not* oppress, to *not* kill, to *not* genocide, is to invite death. This is the core of fascistic thought, of course. "Kill them before they kill us." And they KNOW this too, they really do. The truth of that irony does not matter, because as is true for all fascists, the truth itself does not matter to them. They wanted this, they wanted this even before the British saw it in their best interest to give them the land. Any excuse to RETVRN, as the neo-nazis say of Rome, or the German Empire, or whatever the fuck stupid country they want to poorly animate the corpse of. Some select Zionists even *sided with the fucking Nazis* in agreement they should abandon Europe to colonize Palestine. (Haavara Agreement)

My people have proved time and time and time again you don't need a nation state to have an enduring culture. We have protected ourselves for thousands of years without the help of these spiteful, doom-saying maniacs. I was going to post something like this on Passover, but that would be hypocritical. The state of Israel doesn't actually have shit to do with Jewishness. Hear Israel (the state and supporters, Israel the icon) I should outlive it long enough to bury it. (old yiddish curse)

Free Palestine. Donate what you can, they need it right now.

[obeymeluv]

In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

[the-devil-less-known]

Something — delightfully warm and kind blooms where its soul would sit if it held such a thing, floating there and watching with clasped hands resting on its chest. It builds up and overflows, spreading through like magic itself if it was emotion. It felt — good. Amazing. Like being alive, simple joy pushing down the passive acceptance of being inherently temporary.

Who cares if it decides to be selfish? The shadow, neither shadow, would mind if it was.

Even if it was going to disappear, and had no way of fully communicating its feelings and thoughts, it could enjoy this moment and make something beautiful to be remembered too. There was something so infectous about watching Alastor’s shadow galavant around, leaping up high and squealing so, that made it want to join in and share in that innocent joy. Focusing, a pair of legs and a little fluffy tail are formed, height dropping down to stand for only a brief moment — before it is off! Bounding over and grabbing a hand to tug, literally grabbing the shade’s excitable attention to pull it into a new game of chase. Its free hand boops the other’s nose with a fit of silent giggles, and lets go, turning to zip down the hallway.

If one were to mention that it was heading further away from the lobby and the growing chaos building there, only an innocent shrug would be given in answer. Completely understandable mistake, you know, they would need to get all the zoomies out first, wouldn’t they? It could blame its own rising deer instincts on this one, but really, it simply, genuinely, wanted to play with Alastor’s shadow and share in its happiness. Bounding down the corridor, with backwards glances and flashing of a fluffy dark tail, the occasional petal drifting down in a trail to mark where it had skipped away.

‘Catch me’, it seemed to say, ‘I want to play too’.

The Hotel could stand to have a little more innocent excitement and laughter after everything they endured.

The shadow leans its head when prompted, permitting the other to begin lacing the stems and flowers through the points of its antlers with delight. A visible silhouette of a tail wags happily once Lucifer's shadow is done and sports a crown to match, lifting its head once again to proudly display its new additional decorations. It wants to leap and prance with enthusiasm - but the other shadow's gentle pull down to nudge their noses together and touch its face has it settling with a deep, contented sound as it leans into each of those touches.

Thankfully, it is not so bereft of a mouth that it cannot act, reaching with its own hands to try and touch and feel those ears gently, down to Lucifer's shadow's face which it takes in those hands.

And it happily presses a litany of kisses in as many places as possible. To the other's forehead, its cheeks, its nose, its non-existent mouth. Though there's only so much of that it can take before the shadow is pulling back to essentially have its own version of zoomies. It hopped and trotted and leapt around the hall with clear happiness - an excitable young deer in the presence of something so phenomenal. Maybe being just a touch more noisy than it should be, given that it is trying to be somewhat discrete, but it can't help it.

It zips back around, briefly pausing to press another kiss to the other shadow's face before moving away again to leap around with excitement.

Too much enthusiastic energy. It cannot remember ever being happier.

[sithextant]

Everything about Maul makes a lot more sense when you realize that despite being an extraordinarily powerful and deeply talented force user, he is still extremely insecure + fear motivated.

Not only is he from a culture that inherently devalues him, but he grew up being told he was good for very little. Maul, at his core, is unchanged from the little boy who was given away by his mother. How would that not inform a core aspect of your thought process? That you are worth less than ehat you were traded for even by your own mother? He spends a great deal of the series still trying to prove himself, to Sidious, to Talzin, even to Obi-Wan, that he is worth something (not that he believes that himself).

He expresses the fawn trauma response when Sidious comes to collect, saying that he did this for him, he built this empire for Sidious, and when that doesn't work, he finally gives in and defends himself. Crucially, this is not true. He built that empire to defend himself because Sidious frightens him so much. He uses the defensive Soresu. I know people say that his fight against Sidious is one of thr biggest beatdowns in the show and he spends the runtime getting mollywopped, but I disagree. He puts up (in my opinion) a damn good fight against Sidious. I don't think he loses because Sidious is necessarily the better duellist, I think he loses because ensured that Maul specifically would never be able to surpass him. Maul couldn't have won that fight, because he was terrified.

When he's captured by Ahsoka, him begging to die is one of his most enlightening scenes. Death is preferable to being handed over to his master - maybe because he knows nobody will be coming for him this time.

He is desperate for People, but the only metric by which he knows to have a relationship is through that of master and apprentice. Everything else is out of the question because he was repeatedly punished for having friendships. He doesn't know how to be anything else. Not a brother, not a son. Maybe an ally.

I don't actually think power is his biggest motivator. He already is powerful. From the moment he's introduced in TCW, he displays a masterful grasp of the Force. His manipulation and control of physic matter is probably among the most impressive out of all the characters. He builds his body and uses the Force to ambulate, he throws starships around without breaking a sweat, all that preeminent duelling talent comes out in full force even without a lightsaber, and he holds the record for the strongest Force push in the show. He's one of his generations premier duelists (even if his arrogance costs him). And what does he do with all that skill? Fucks off to work from the shadows. Lets Dryden Vos take most of the credit.

He's already learned what being too open about power will cost him, and he already knows that nothing he can throw at Sidious will stop him, but amassing power is literally all he knows. It's what he's been taught since he was a child, despite the fact that that philosophy is actually damaging to his needs and desires. He's just using power as security. He has bodies to throw at his problems. If he needs to make a quick getaway, he can send some goons out to take care of it and leave, biding his time until he gets lucky enough to die.

At his heart, Maul is still the scared boy being handed over to Sidious.

[soldiersgirl]

— 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝟏-𝟖𝟎𝟎-𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐦𝐞 .ᐟ

summary — ben isn't willing to learn a lot about new, modern society and it's "made-up" words, but when it comes to you? he wants to finally give it a go.

cw — fem!reader x soldier boy, 18+ smut (mdni / wrap it up), phone/facetime sex, masturbation (f & m), fingering, jerking off, dirty talk, degradation, name calling (slut, whore, good girl, sweetheart, love, angel), daddy kink, self-tasting, swearing.

word count — 2,580 words

during your time babysitting the infamous supe, who had also somehow become your boyfriend, you had fallen into a comfortable routine of teaching each other things about your eras. his lectures talked about the high-roller parties and the actresses he got into scandals with, the golden age of cinema (aka the movies he starred in) and the high passion of a war-torn america. however his lectures soon progressed into how to properly enjoy a good aged whiskey and an assortment of pills.

whilst you diligently spent your time trying to educate and update him on everything he had missed over the past 40 years, or so, in the company of the russians. everything from slang, fashion and popular culture to the most important; how to use the phone and internet. no modern man could function without that and despite how stubborn soldier boy was, to his dismay, you were more. and no matter how much he denied loving it, he really did.

after weeks of pestering him, begging him to let you give him a crash course, he finally agreed. or rather yelled that "if it got you off his fucking case, then he would." so, you started off gently with a flip phone, which you thought couldn't be easier to use. no one breaks a flip phone. except for ben. he grunts and curses as he presses the keys multiple times, his attempt at typing before swiftly breaking the phone in two and chucking it into the corner of his living room with precision.

"the buttons were too fucking small." he defends himself before settling back into the couch and stared at the tv, ignoring the dumbfounded look painted across your face. the next day you skip into the living room with a new gift and smile widely at him as he rips open the packaging and scowls at you as he pulls out the newest smartphone.

"the fuck is this? portable tv? can't watch shit on this fuckin' thing! where would i put in the vhs?" he mumbles as he examines the device before haphazardly throwing it on the kitchen table, where you scramble after it. good thing you had gotten that deal on screen protector and hunters green phone cover, matching ben's suit.

"adapt or die, grandpa." you scoff. "this thing is gonna become your life after i've shown you how to use it." you wave it in his unimpressed face. "you can stream shit on netflix, watch your movie clips on youtube, listen to that awful shit you called music on spotify and, most importantly, order anything right to your door with amazon and uber eats." you pat his head and he swats your hand away before grabbing the phone and frowning at it. he sighs and looks up at you with those puppy eyes that harden under your hopeful grin.

"i don't know fuck about shit or shit about fuck, but what i do know is that those are all made up words." he lowly chuckles, brushing away his bangs.

"oh beeeen..." you sigh and sit down next to him. "listen, you'll be able to call or text me whenever you want." you flutter your eyelashes at him. "send videos... pictures." you trail off, tracing your finger over his veiny arms, hoping he'd get the message. but as he always does, he understands it at face value and just grimaces at you.

"why the fuck would i want that? not some snivellin' pussy who needs to talk to his girl all the time." he scoffs. with that, you snatch the phone away, stuff it in your bag and look back at him with a frown. the rest of the evening, unfortunately for ben, was spent with you giving him the silent treatment as he slowly grovels his way back into your good graces and begrudgingly accepting the smartphone all while you snuggle up to him and explain the ins and outs.

despite your best efforts and loudest protests, you were stuck at home as ben had decided for you that you weren't allowed to put yourself in harms way, not now that you were his girl. thankfully, teaching ben how to use a phone significantly eased your heavy heart when he went away on missions, now you didn't have to rely on butcher to tell you whether or not he was alive, and that prick barely checked his phone to begin with.

you lounged around in ben's signature blue new york giants button up alongside your go-to order for sushi and new girl, your favourite comfort show, blaring on your tv before you settled in for another uneventful evening; whilst ben and the boys got to have all the excitement and fun. as the evening dwindled on after watching god-knows how many episodes and doom scrolling on your phone, you found yourself reaching a new height of boredom and loneliness. you had gotten so used to ben that whenever you had a moment alone, your thoughts wandered to him immediately.

his distinctive earthy scent as he towers over you. your fingers graze over your white cotton underwear as you tease yourself. his cocky smirk as you whine and moan underneath him, at his mercy. you push against your bundle of nerves and you can't help but let a small whimper escape you. the way he fills you like no one else and fucks you like his hunger can't be sated. you slip your fingers under your waistband and lose yourself in the feeling of your fingers delicately rubbing over your needy clit. you hum in pleasure as you let your imagination take over and allow your fingers to explore yourself as you bite into your lip to quieten your whimpers when you quickened your pace.

PING!

"fuck." you groan in annoyance as you pull your hand away from your aching pussy and reach out for your phone. you had been waiting to hear how the mission went from ben and finally, it seemed he had a second to spare for you. you scoff inwardly as your eyes glance over his message, as if you hadn't been waiting anxiously for hours to hear from him and this is what you get.

bennie boo<3: wyd

you: why are you texting me like you're a horny teenage boy and not my boyfriend??? you: try again and maybe i'll actually talk to you

as the grey tick turned to blue, indicating that ben had read your message, you can picture the theatrical way he would roll his eyes and huff at your tone of message and you can't help but giggle.

bennie boo <3: my beautiful princess with a disorder bennie boo <3: talk to me, wyd

"asshole." you whisper to yourself as you knew that ben sent that message with a smug smile plastered across his face, anything to get you riled up. you don your own sly grin as you type truth about what you were doing.

you: touching myself and thinking of u, ofc???

"bennie boo <3" flashes across your phone and you laugh out loud, that man never denied himself of any pleasures and you knew he'd be desperate to see you fall apart for him. you let him suffer for a few seconds, keeping him on his toes as you laid down in your bed, readjusting your top so the valley of your breasts peeked out underneath his top and checking your makeup before answering.

"what took you so fuckin' long?" his rough voice floods your ears and your smile automatically widens.

"i miss you too, ben." you sigh.

"yeah, yeah. whatever, you know i miss you. blah blah." he sighs on the other end. you can hear his bed sheets rustle as he gets comfortable in his motel bed, still wearing his supe-suit trousers and his usual white, tight wife-beater. his shield, guns and supe-suit top were strewn around the room and a 6-pack of warm beer stood unattended on his nightstand.

"how did it go?" you sigh as you mindlessly twirl your hair, imagining your big, tough boyfriend lazily lay on his bed, his strong hands wrapped around his phone and the other around him.

"cut the bullshit." his voice was strained. you had him exactly where you wanted him. it was almost too easy. you shook your head and giggled into your shoulder before feigning ignorance.

"what do you mean, babe? i'm just aski–"

"don't fuckin' make me repeat myself." he interrupts. "touchin' yourself without my permission? you're in some fuckin' trouble, you know that, don't ya sweetheart?" you heard the familiar sound of his zip being pulled down and a soft sigh followed swiftly. "what were ya doin', love? huh? touchin' your pretty pussy and thinking of me?" his tone softens as he coaxes your sins out of you like a trained priest at confessional.

"mhm." is all you can manage as ben's shallow breathing is all you can think about.

"yeah? want to show me how, baby?" he chuckles darkly. before you can answer, you hear him swear and furiously tap on the screen before whispering to himself "which fucking button... motherfuckin' technology." you cover your mouth to hide your laughter, but ben hears and breathes out a tirade of curses as he struggles. you press the camera button and there he was. tired, frustrated and as handsome as ever as he lets his eyes glide from your face down to his top that practically swallowed you up and let out a loud groan. "fuuuuck, baby." he runs his hand over his face, freshening himself up.

"i'm wearing those cute panties you got me, you know. the ones with the lil bow on front." you admit as you tilt your phone down and teasingly pull up the top and reveal them to him. so white and so pure; a contrast to the wet patch that was pooling in them as you watched his tortured face. your fingers dance over the top, fiddling with the bow and circling your clothed clit. you keep your eyes focused on him as you notice his composure falter and his phone slightly shake as he slowly jerks himself off.

"take them off. now." he dictates, his tone rough and his voice hushed. you waste no time in peeling them off, pulling them down your legs and revealing a string of cum between your slick folds and damp underwear. ben sighs heavily as his eyes rest on your needy pussy as it begs for your attention, for your touch. "fuckin' touch yourself for me. show me what you did. be a good girl for daddy, c'mon." you lick the tip of your middle finger before connecting it your yearning clit and rub it in swift and quick circles as you watch ben's lip twitch and his eyes widen with desire. he furiously taps his screen again. tap, tap, tap. followed by a harsh whisper of "how the fuck do i turn this shittin' camera around?!" suddenly, a filter appears over ben's face and a groan, that came from a place of utter exasperation, pulls you out of your pleasure. a loud laughter erupts from you as ben's face had been transformed into a dog's and his anger was only escalating by the second.

"babe," you say through gritted teeth to contain your laughter. "press the left button and then the middle one." you calmly explain, only getting a grunt from ben in return before he turns the camera around and you stop in your tracks. his muscular hand wrapped his already-leaking thick cock, each vein prominent and the tip a deep shade of pink. his experienced fingers graze over his tip and he shudders at his own soft touch before he leisurely rubs it and resumes his iron grip at the base.

"yeah, that fuckin' shut you up, didn't it? cock-hungry whore." he sniffs as he jerks himself off, each stroke slow and calculated. "touch your pussy for daddy, baby. wanna see." your fingers return to your clit and in unison, you both let out pained whimpers as you wish it was one another's hands on your bodies. "how does it feel baby, hm? wish it was daddy's hands instead, don't you?" he spoke with a playful lilt before spitting into his hand and continuing his lazy pace as his piercing gaze watches you toying with your swollen clit.

"yes, daddy. i wish you were here, filling me up. fucking me like the good girl i am." you whine as you unconsciously buck your hips and apply more pressure to the frantic pace on your glossy bundle of nerves.

"good girls don't touch themselves." ben states matter-of-factly.

"daddy," you huff. "i was always thinking of you, though." you snivel as your fingers slowly glide down and slide with ease into your weeping cunt. with a loud moan you push them all the way in and curve them to hit the spot. a tirade of curses tumble past your lips at the sensation.

"so fuckin' dirty, oh my god," ben mutters through a soft exhale. "fuck yourself on those fingers, slut." you thrust them into you at a feverish pace, searching for your much-needed release as ben urges you on, encouraging you. "c'mon, show daddy how much you miss him. show me how wet you are, show me." you pull out your fingers and he marvels at them, covered in your slick. "yeah, baby. put them in your mouth, tell daddy how good you taste." you flip the camera and obediently wrap your lips around your glossy digits, batting your eyelashes at the camera as you suck on them, moaning at the taste.

"god, i taste so good, daddy." you hum around your fingers as your tongue dances over them. "wish you were here to taste me." you pout.

"when daddy comes home, he's gonna fuckin' devour you, baby. just you wait, you won't be able to think straight when i'm done with you." a soft groan tumbles past your lips as your fingers find their way to your entrance and massage themselves against your soft, velvet walls. bens pace picks up and all you can both hear on the line is your muffled whimpers and ben's shallow breathing. as your peak finally draws closer, you throw your head back in pleasure and grimace as your muscles tighten and clench.

"i'm so close..!" you whine.

"cum for me, bab–" ben's voice suddenly cuts off and you whip your head up in surprise. you freeze immediately and drop your phone in disbelief. he forgot to charge his fucking phone, again. you curse under your breath, clean yourself up and grumble in frustration as you turn your attention back to your tv show, unsatisfied. ben, on the other hand, had lost his shit, chucked his phone into the wall and sending it through to the neighbouring room. hughie peeked his head sideways and stared through the phone-shaped hole in his wall at a fuming, half-dressed ben.

"give me your cock-suckin' phone!" ben yells as hughie just stares before slowly nodding and handing it to him through the hole with a hidden smirk. "wipe that smirk off yer fuckin' face, asslicker. i swear to god." ben growls before settling into his bed, typing in your number and waiting impatiently for you. finally, after the third ring he hears your soft voice. "let's finish what we started, angel." he murmurs with a shit-eating grin as you giggle on the other end.

a/n: this is kind of the second part to perv!reader x soldier boy that you guys loved so much <3 HUGE shoutout to @emeraldcrs (ily!!) for the idea, i had so much fun with this and enjoyed making it a bit funny too, hehe -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @kayleighwinchester @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @dulcescorderitas @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth (comment or inbox me to be added)

[demonic0angel]

*Crashes into your ask box without warning*

EDA! :33

HAII <33

I have a prompt for you <33

Is it too much to ask if I give you the Omegaverse prompt I made a while back XD I want to see your take on it >:DDD

Danny no Scent in an Omegaverse DCU timeline after escaping near thrice death with the infinimap(?? Forgot the name tbh) with the bats concerned and confused (maybe make Danny cat coded >:DD)

THAT'S ALL!

*Falls through the floor*

-A.E. 👻

(Hmmm, my take on the no scent!Danny in an omegaverse world is a little different bc in my mind, he’s a beta and what’s different is the cultures between both worlds. So here’s my take :))

“Danny, you don’t wear scent patches?” Stephanie suddenly asked.

Danny blinked and turned around. “Sorry, what?”

She gestured to his neck quickly, eyes darting around as if people would suddenly pounce out of the shadows to jump them, even though they were in the cave. However, it was to be expected because in this world, it was a taboo and sensitive subject. “Y-Your neck. You don’t wear scent patches?”

Danny said, “Ohhh… yeah, I don’t need them.”

Stephanie suddenly looked very worried. The few occupants within the cave were not so subtly listening in. Tim asked, “You’re not using scent patches? Then what suppressants are you using? If your scent is this muted, then the suppressants probably aren’t legal.”

Jason frowned and said, “It’s not healthy.” He looked over Danny, his mother hen side showing as he visibly resisted the urge to scent mark Danny for the third time that night.

Danny eyed them all with a raised eyebrow. “I don’t use suppressants either.”

Their eyes all widened. “What?!”

Danny shrugged. “I’ve never needed it. I can control my scent pretty well, so I never needed scent patches and suppressants.” Then he paused and awkwardly added, “Uh. I can’t afford them.”

He winced from the bad lie.

In truth, he had never bought them in his life. Scent patches and suppressants in his world were like bandaids, just an extra measure of protection, not like the life saving medicines they were in this world. Back in his universe, science had mostly focused on studies of omegas, betas, and alphas, and the research had paid off with massive advancements in civil rights, medicine, and general knowledge of secondary genders. As such, people could control their scents and instincts expertly, and every pup learned young how to do so.

Meanwhile, this world was the opposite. All of its resources went straight to making weapons and technology, neglecting secondary gender studies, which meant that the tech was beautiful, sleek, and advanced, but omegas were the bottom rung of the social hierarchy, betas were ignored, and alphas were lorded as superior. It was so bad that suppressants and scent patches were expensive as hell due to demand, and discrimination was rampant despite activists working to change it.

As someone who came to this world to take a vacation and have fun, Danny was very surprised that his way of living in his universe was considered extremely bizarre and even dangerously reckless.

Like now.

“What do you mean you don’t use either?! Are you okay?! Pup, is there something wrong with you? Are you sick??” Jason fretted, his scent souring with fear and concern as he patted over Danny’s body for abnormalities.

Tim was examining his scent glands, looking more and more confused by the second as he realized that Danny was telling the truth.

“Wait, so your scent can be controlled?! Or is this a mutation??”

Dick and Stephanie were also loudly screaming their concerns, frantically checking over him as if he would suddenly explode and die because he could expertly control his scent to hide itself and reveal nothing.

“Are you going to be okay?!”

“I’ve never heard of this before! We should call Dr. Thompson! She’ll know what’s wrong!”

Danny sighed and endured it all, nuzzling his cheeks back into Jason’s palms whenever he reached his face.

If they ever met Jazz, who could control her scent well enough to actually influence other people’s emotions, he was pretty sure they’d all pass out.

[mayoi-inu]

Surprise surprise, this translation is wrong

As many of you already know I’m in a crusade against bad translations. I see this panel going around very often but the translation makes me cringe so bad everytime. I'm sure many people are already aware of the mistranslation but I have never seen it explained anywhere so I decided to do it myself.

Disclaimer, English is not my native language.

Let’s start from the previous panel, because ✨context✨ The order is Japanese -- the fan translation I found -- and the official translation.

I will write down the literal, weird, almost word for word translation for comparison purposes:

判った　答える　答えるから近くに寄らないでくれる？連れだって歩いてると思われたくない

Understood I’ll answer. I’ll answer so, could you not come any closer? I don’t want it to look like we are walking together (I don’t want it be thought we are walking together)

はっ　心配すんな　俺もおもわれたくねえから

Ha, don’t worry. Because I don’t want it either (I also don’t want it be thought)

うふふ　気が合うねえ

ufufu ki ga au nee

Ok first explanation needed. First, the Japanese definition of ki ga au

気が合う -- 考え方や感じ方が通じ合う (kangaekata ya kanjikata ga tsuujiau)

way of thinking and feeling mutually understood.

"Ki" means mind, spirit, "au" means to meet. The English definition in many dictionaries and google is “to get along” and that’s what the fan translation uses (friendly reminder to ALWAYS use a monolingual dictionary once you reach a level high enough), but the "so well" comes from nowhere. The official translation uses "to see eye to eye". IMO it's more accurate in this context than to get along. But the “glad” also comes from nowhere.

Anyway, now you get the feeling of what it means. I think it's more like Dazai commenting how Chuuya shares with him the same feelings about the situation.

“fufu you agree, I see…”

そんな君が大好きだよ

sonna kimi ga daisuki dayo

And we got to the important part.

We have "sonna" that means “such”, “that kind of”. It's a spoken synonym of "sou iu" ("such, like that, that sort of"). As a pre-nominal adjective that goes with kimi, "sonna kimi" it means that you. It has a nuance of surprise when used in sentences like this.

And then "daisukidayo" that of course means I like so much, I love.

What does he loves? "sonna kimi", that is, a specific Chuuya, the Chuuya who is of the same mind that he is about not wanting people to think they were walking together. Or maybe simply the Chuuya that agrees with him, generally speaking.

In both translations the concept is all wrong. It’s presented as if loving Chuuya was the fact and Dazai was explaining the why. But in Japanese, Dazai is singling out the kind of Chuuya he likes/loves if you wish.

Now ask yourselves why specially the official translation chooses to make up the dialogue like that. I'm sure the translators knew enough Japanese to understand it correctly and I don't think it's a matter of cultural adaptation because it never justifies chaging the meaning. The correct answer is fanservice, sales and money 😭

If I had to translate it, I would say “oh I love/like so much that Chuuya!”.

It’s VERY in character for Dazai to say that. And the protest that follows is VERY in character for Chuuya.

うわ……やめろ！気色悪くて死ぬ！

Uwaa… stop it! It’s so disgusting I am going to die!

僕もだ

Me too.

Yes, Dazai sounds crestfallen.

This is getting too long, so my personal non-grammatical opinions under the cut

I have two, even three theories.

First case, Dazai was honest when he said that.

But he didn't register that's not something you go saying around like that, and he was hit with Chuuya's reaction. Because Chuuya had lived with other kids, so he understood social interactions. But Dazai didn't understand.

I've seen infinite analysis about Dazai and ND, mentall illnesses but not even one analyze this scene. So what if he really loved when Chuuya agreed with him, expressed it without any filters and recoiled when he was met with Chuuya's reaction and realized "that was not a normal thing to do". Remember the scene when he shoots the dead soldier? He seemed to be taking notes of what is and isn't normal. This option breaks my heart.

The criticism would be that what Dazai says doesn't sound so honest. This theory would fit better with the English translations but in Japanese he's very clearly informing Chuuya of the kind of Chuuya he likes, which is a twisted thing to say in any language. So maybe Chuuya's reaction is a response to both the nasty observation and the words chosen.

Second option, Dazai knew what he was doing

He used daisuki to provoke Chuuya, to mess with him and make him angry.

That's something 22!Dazai would do easily but I don't know if 15!Dazai was already so good at it. Anyway in this case the surprise would come from the genuine disgust in Chuuya's reaction instead of the expected anger. Chuuya is Chuuya, and he is immune to Dazai's manipulation schemes, except Dazai didn't know it yet. Also once he said it, daisuki was so cringe (and he was 15 😂). Absolutely in character for both of them.

Third option. Dazai said he wanted to make Chuuya his dog.

Dazai was a very messed up kid at that point. The first thing he thinks when he meets another (very powerful) boy his age is to dominate him and make him obbey his orders as his dog. The way he says that to Chuuya can sound very domineering, oh you agree, that's the Chuuya I love. That's a good boy 🐕. And then he felt down when Chuuya rejected that praise with disgust. In the manga it really looks like this option, with a very close and pushing Dazai and an uncomfortable looking Chuuya. I hate that vibe.

Or... possibly it's a bit of all three because after all, nobody knows what's in Dazai's mind 😌

[youryanderedaddy]

Dark Is The Night

Summary: A late night encounter with a patroling soldier changes the trajectory of his life - and, unfortunately, yours too.

tw: female reader, obsessive behavior, non - consensual touching, threats, thoughts of non - con, mention of war, patronizing behavior, slight misogyny, hinted kidnapping

All he could think about was you.

It was a damp linden night, one of the very few old fashioned ones - as if time itself had stopped. The old colonel was laughing in short sharp breathes, skin spotting in red along with his sweaty neck, tearing into a letter he had received this very morning. The young soldiers were all over the tavern - some crying, some cheering over a beer and calling each glass their last, losing themselves in the rich foam that covered their fresh military mustaches. Christoph was alone, though.

He had no wife to write back to - no home to call his own, no friends or family to celebrate his final battle with. He also wasn't a rookie - so he couldn't drink himself blind in the pursuit of ideals, of empty promises of greatness to come. Truth was, his troops had won their fair share of battles, and today they had signed a treaty that would certainly benefit the district - the one he had lost his youth fighting for. He knew the capital would attempt at invasion, those greedy fucks wanted to bite more than they could chew - but that was no longer his problem. Today his contract ended. Today he was a free man.

And yet.

And yet all he could think about was you.

It was funny - he had spent more nights than he could remember wishing he could burn this half - dead village to the ground, all together with the maidens and the elderly still stick fending for themselves after the war. He presumed he'd be doing everyone a favor - he'd rid himself of the memories that haunted his dreams, and they wouldn't have to suffer any longer, not when all that winter would bring once again was even more hunger and decay.

After all, the victory changed nothing. The starving populace wouldn't starve anymore - it would simply die, having lost fathers, sons, daughters, farmers, merchants, healers. Nothing less than the very foundation of society. So maybe it would be far less cruel, far more humane, to burn everything and let them die with dignity.

But then you too would burn with the miserable souls of the damned. The man pictured it all - your beautiful skin still damp from the rain blistering in red and orange, and eventually black, those gems of yours trembling beneath your long eyelashes as the smoke swallowed your last breath.

The thought made Christoph irrationally angry - jealous even. Not only because he just imagined you dying, but because it was someone, something else stealing your final moment from him. Something else bruising your skin and forcing your lips to swell, something else causing you pain and suffering. No, he couldn't let you die. Not like this.

He couldn't help but recall your first meeting two years ago. Unbeknownst to you he had memorized it, citing each line by heart - envisioning it in his memory over and over each time he needed an escape, an outlet. The soldier wasn't one for softness, never one to dream and hope - but deep down he knew that this simple encounter had swayed the bullets. It had made him grip his rifle just a bit closer, made the biting wind just a bit warmer. He was a killing machine undeserving of humanity - yet you had saved him without even realizing it.

It was a cold winter night - quite opposite to this one, in the middle of Hell. The county your village was part of had been surrounded for a few weeks. Food was running low, and even clean water was scarce. All the men had been displaced a long time ago, sent off to fight in the eastern territories. Christoph was stuck at the Iron hills, a region so poor they didn't even bother to send additional armies to. If it lost, it lost. It held no special resources, no cultural or economic significance, no sea or forest roads to profit off of. All in all, no one wanted to serve here. No one but him.

Not that Christoph was too fond of the hills - it was more so that he didn't care where he was going to die. Whether it was on the eastern front, the western or even on the other side of the ocean, it didn't matter. And he had made peace with that fact - but before death took a toll on him, he was going to earn enough buck to buy good cigarettes for once in his miserable life. With real tobacco, none of that cheap imported trash they sold in his hometown.

And that's exactly how fate let him meet you. He was patrolling the border bridge late into the night - a thick cigar in hand (a parting gift from the general Murphy), humming to an old melody he couldn't quite remember the name of. He was alone that night - his friend had been injured so he needed to rest. The man was trying to stay alert, although the fatigue had long settled in between his tired bones and it refused to let go. The lack of sleep and the sheer paranoia was making him jumpy, ready to point his gun at the slightest of sound. He almost shot you that night.

"Colonel." You had whispered through gritted teeth, slowly raising your hands up as you approached him with a hesitant step. He blinked twice, unsure if he was still awake. Surely there was no way a young woman was out alone so late during wartime. "Colonel!" You repeated, putting a bit more force into your otherwise soft, calm voice. This seemed to snap him out of his trance and he finally raised his head to look at you, his sharp, intense gaze measuring you up from top to bottom. Just like a predator seizing his pray, like a soldier trained to keep his eyes on the target, he knew no other way to introduce himself other than with a silent, unspoken threat.

"A bit young to be calling me that, no?" The man snapped back, voice coming out more raspy than he intended - but it was hardly his fault. He rarely had visitors nowadays - no one wanted to expose themselves to the front lines, to risk becoming smoked meat, which meant he had little opportunity for chatter. So his voice had become rough - almost unnecessary cruel.

"I'm sorry." You mumbled, blurry eyes focused on the weapon resting oh - so snuggly against the soldier's heart as if guarding it. "I'm not familiar with your many titles, sir." You explained with a certain bite. Christoph squinted, growing amused at your little jab, yet the black mask covering his mouth hid it from you. The man knew exactly what you meant. You were not used to so much surveillance on your step - on everyone's step, so many eyes set on you as if you had a massive red target on your back. You were not used to armed forces ghosting around your small homely village with a gun resting at an arm's length just waiting to be loaded.

He wondered if it was your first time running into a soldier since the beginning of the occupation. He wondered if you were scared - if your heart was beating against your chest like it was trying to break through the skin. After all he was indeed intimidating - with heavy combat boots and a black uniform that did little to hide his rough figure, the lineage of lean muscle and battered blistered skin that undoubtedly belonged to a man. A man whose hands were still covered in dirt and blood. He could kill you. He could push you around - get some entertainment out of you. He could shove you down and use you like a cheap village whore - and no one would care because that's just how war is. He was serving his country, he needed an outlet, and you just happened to be there. No one would blame him.

He couldn't bring himself to come closer to you. He didn't trust himself to hold back when faced with something so fragile after months of letting his fists and his teeth do the speaking.

"That's lieutenant to you, miss." He barked in a tone that felt familiar - a tone that used to wake him up every morning at 5 for weeks on end. A tone that he could still hear every time he loaded his rifle and let go of the trigger with shaking fingers.

He couldn't be nice to you. He couldn't be nice to anyone in this bloodshed. And yet he heard himself asking you for your name. It hadn't meant anything - it was a long night and he was bored. Lonely, maybe, he couldn't tell his feelings apart very well. You hesitated for a second too long before you finally gave him a clear answer. It was the most beautiful sound he had heard - not just now, but ever.

"Would you mind explaining why you're here so late, miss?" The man tilted his head, trying to understand your unreadable expression - somehow you looked lost in time, striken by fear and grievance. "I believe the general gave direct orders this morning. No one should be out after ten." He paused to take a long, dramatic puff off his cigar. "It's too dangerous. Especially for a pretty little thing like you to be roaming at night." He knew his boldness was making you uneasy, and that he shouldn't derive such obvious pleasure from your discomfort, but he just couldn't help it. He was lonely. He was sick. And most of all, he was a bastard who had already given up on life. He had nothing to lose.

"Truth be told, if you were mine I wouldn't let you out of sight, miss." He grinned, feeling just a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted to scare you. To creep you out so bad you'd never go out alone again. Why he had got so invested so quickly, he also couldn't tell.

"I... I needed a breath of f-fresh air, l-leutenant." You responded quickly, eager to leave this conversation as soon as possible - completely ignoring anything he said. Your initial confidence had evaporated as the wet cold crept into your thin coat. It didn't fit your frame - it was too big on you and it reeked of a man's first proper cologne. The thought of it filled the soldier with unreasonable, hot -red fury, imagining you next to some nameless brat with his hands wrapped around you.

"That's all?" The corners of his lips stretched mockingly as he let his smoke blow into your face - and you had to fight the urge to immediately wave it off.

"Are you, are you implying something, sir?" You fiddled with your fingers nervously, looking anywhere but at Christoph. He found it pathetically adorable. "Just curious." He took another long puff - his breath coming out frozen - white as it hit the icy air. "You don't seem like the brave type to me." His eyes narrowed to two pitch black slits. He must have looked terrifying to you in that moment, and he loved it. "So just what-" He pulled you in by the collar. "Are you doing here, huh?"

You froze in place as if he had pointed his gun to you yet again. You swallowed loudly, trying to come up with an explanation - but nothing came to mind when you were so obviously scared. The soldier could feel your heartbeat - he could hear the blood pumping to your ears as you looked around hopelessly for help that wouldn't come. And just like that the wolf had the rabbit dancing in its own trap.

"Are you just looking for trouble, hmm?" The man reached in to curl his finger around one of your loose locks. He didn't want to make you feel so awfully small - but everything about this situation, from the tremble of your lips to the sheer panic in your eyes was going straight to his cock. "I'm sure that with a face like that you never lacked attention, no?" He tilted his head with predatory malice. "But now all the men bending over backwards for you are off somewhere, dying as we speak. Poor little you - I can imagine just how lonely you are." He pressed his body closer to yours. "The thing is, I am more than willing to play with you in their pl-"

"Please, lieutenant." You couldn't stand to listen to him any longer, a thousand warm pleas already falling off your desperate lips. "Please let me go." Your eyes softened, trying to hide the first sign of hot wet tears. "I need to go home to my siblings. I need to bring them fo-"

"Why should that matter to me, dollface?" It was his turn to interrupt you - voice full of childish glee as he kept up with his petty torment.

"Because - because," You started off, hands shaking into little fists that you knew, realistically, could do the soldiers no damage were you to push against his chest. "Because you're a good man." You mumbled after a while, looking for the right words to say. "And I know that deep down you're kind and brave. That's why you're here now, fighting for all our lives."

You were such a pretty liar, Christoph thought. He could listen to your sugary sweet fairytales all night long, silently praying that they'd become true if he was only able to capture his own little fairy - his own miracle.

"What if I am not the hero, doll?" The man whispered darkly in response, leaning against you until your back hit the tree behind you, trapping you between his stiff body and the pillar. "What if I am here for all the wrong reasons, huh? Just think about it." He lowered his head so it would match your eye level - you were so quiet he wondered if you had forgotten how to breath.

"We're in the middle of nowhere. I have a weapon and a direct permission to shoot at will. I can do whatever the fuck I want." He made sure you could hear every single word clearly. He wouldn't let you faint before he was through with you. "I can fuck you right here in the open - or I can drag you to the barracks and keep you there for as long as I need to. Do you really think anyone would care about some insignificant girl going missin-"

"Please." You repeated, suddenly getting stirn with your pleading, as if you too had nothing to lose. "Let me go - I'd do anything."

His eyes darkened - then lit up with sick, perverse desire. He wanted to echo your words back to you just like a classical villain would - to really drive the point across that he was out for blood. Anything, you say? Anything at all? But he couldn't contain his excitement enough to voice those sadistically banal thoughts. Besides, he could already feel the adrenaline running through his whole body. His heart was beating rhythmically, pumping and alive for the first time in days, weeks, months. He wanted you more than anything. It was that moment he knew he was going to live - he was going to fight and win, and then come back for you as a hero. As your hero, even if in your eyes he would be more of a villain.

A nightmare you'd try to forget - and just when you think you have erased his fingertips off your waist, your face, your neck, he'd come back to steal you away forever.

"Kiss me." Christoph all but snarled, some unfamiliar, needy - greedy ball of emotion settling into his loins as your delicate face twisted into a petrified grimace. You began trembling in his arms, looking around yet again. It was pitch black, no soul in sight. You inhaled deeply, trying to steady your movement to no avail. "A-alright. I-I..." You whispered with difficulty as if simply saying the words was causing you a great deal of pain. And maybe it was, but the soldier could care less. He already knew you were made for him - made to serve him, made to make him happy. "I'll d-do it."

The man growled in satisfaction, taking a small step back. You looked at him, puzzled - your confused face was just as cute as your scared one. He couldn't wait to explore all your reactions - the way you'd squirm and writhe underneath him as he fucked into you restlessly, filling you up with his love over and over again until you were crying for mercy. But that had to wait, he had a war to fight. For now he could settle for a little taste of you to keep him warm during the cold nights. And just like that he tapped his lips, guiding you silently. You felt your cheeks heat up once you finally understood what he meant by that. He wasn't going to kiss you. He wanted you to put in the work.

Your eyes filled up with tears, and you felt silly for becoming so upset over a little kiss - but this was your first kiss, and you had to give it to a monster. It was certainly better than the alternative, with the alternative being rape in a filthy military cottage, but it still made you feel dirty all over. Yet, you had no choice. You took a step towards the man - you could feel the suffocating warmth radiating off his body towards yours, and if the situation wasn't so grim, you might have been grateful for another human's heat in the freezing cold. But now all you could feel was dread.

You stood on your tip toes, a shaky hand reaching out to cup the stranger's face. Cristoph smirked, complecent at your obedience. You licked your lips and slowly, hesitantly pressed them against his, just barely touching at all.

He groaned, unable to keep his hands to himself any longer. He grabbed you and pulled you in roughly, squeezing you like a plush toy. He deepened the kiss, forcing his tongue deep into your mouth, finding heaven between your soft, sweet lips and broken whimpers. You were so innocent. So lost. He wanted to take you into his arms and never let go. He wanted to keep kissing you until your lips turned blue, until it hurt to speak.

And then you pushed him off just like that, using your own body as a distraction. He tripped backwards, too shocked and lost in sensation to stop you. He smiled at your final act of defiance. It was, of course, adorable and so painfully you, yet it didn't really matter - not in the long run. You had only suceeded in making him want you more.

But that was two years ago. Now the war was finally over. Now he had enough to start a new life. Now he was a free man.

And he was coming back for you.

[revelboo]

Red Alert wouldn't like Final destination franchise it would only fuel his already paranoia to max levels.

😆 why would you want to traumatize that poor, neurotic mech? Cause now, I’m going to traumatize him.

Psst psst if you have a Game Exchange in your area, they’re getting Blokees…

CW: gore mention

Movie Night

IDW Bots

• Glancing at the screen when the chain pops loose on the log truck, you hear Bluestreak’s human whisper ‘oh, ew’ and reach up to cover Bluestreak’s optics with a hand as the logs fall and bounce. And someone else squeaks when the log goes through the windshield and out the back of the police car in a spray of blood. Feel Optimus shudder slightly against you and you level a look at Sideswipe and his human both snickering. Following their stares, because they’re not even watching the carnage they voted for. Oh. Red Alert’s mouth hanging open in horror. They’re just traumatizing that one.

• Venting in horror as a human on a motorcycle gets thrown to go sliding, slamming into a log and then crushed by his own bike, Optimus swallows a growl. “Humans really splatter like that?” Cliffjumper asks sounding like he’s about to purge his tanks and Optimus shakes his head. There’s no way, you’re fragile, but you can’t be that delicate. When he’d agreed to a movie night in the Ark, he’d wanted it to be a way to learn about humans and their culture. To bridge the gap between your species and invite conversations. This isn’t at all what he expected. Or wanted.

• “There’s no way humans die that easy,” Trailbreaker mutters and Ratchet’s human laughs. ‘Dumbest death I ever saw was a man’s heart exploding from too much Viagra. Guy was nearly ninety.’ And Optimus’s human leans their way. ‘He at least get some first?’ Staring at them in horror as something explodes on the screen, Trailbreaker meets Optimus’s optics. ‘He bit it on top of this girl that wasn’t just young enough to be his daughter, she could have been his granddaughter.’ Shuddering, he shakes his head. How can you all just joke about how fragile you are?

• Keeping a hand over Bluestreak’s optics, because you aren’t dealing with him having more nightmares when he’s already coming out of recharge regularly to curl around you trembling. “Sideswipe’s not allowed to pick the movie anymore,” you call out as Red Alert makes a funny little noise and your eyes narrow. ‘We need to make some safety improvements to the Ark,’ Red Alert groans and you glare at Sideswipe. Because that paranoid mech is bad enough without trying to baby proof everything. You swear he’d wrap all the humans in bubble wrap if anyone would let him. After this, they might just let him have his way.

• “I vote for Saw next,” you say, laughing at the identical looks the rest of the humans level at you as you shift until you’re more comfortable in Sideswipe’s lap. ‘Why are you like this?’ Optimus’s human calls out as a ladder impales someone on screen and Red Alert and Bluestreak both make identical noises, Optimus and Trailbreaker wincing. For a giant race of aliens that have been at war for millennia, they’re certainly fidgety with a little blood. Maybe it’s the reminder of how fragile humans are, though? Which makes you feel a little guilty as Bluestreak seizes his human and bolts with them, door wings trembling. Making you guess his human missed hiding a death scene from him. It’s just a movie.

[femsolid]

My day would not be complete without receiving a message from Ahmed all the way from Gaza begging me to help his family. His son is severely injured in the hospital, he could die any minute, which is why he decided to spend what could be his kid's last hours setting up a Tumblr account to ask a french feminist for money. You might think he's not feeling the urgency of the situation, what with the use of 30 emojis per sentence, but he is. Unfortunately for him, I have no money to spare, as I have already given half of it to Amany who needed my money to save her elderly parents and Mustafa who sent me a poetic message: "The war has stolen our joy and smile, our future has gone with the wind 😭" (He likes to use emojis too, he must know Ahmed! Maybe he can spare him some of the money I sent him!) The other half of my money went to Mohammed who assured me that my donation would make all the difference. He used 83 emojis in the first 2 sentences which made for a colourful message and I do love colours. The emojis must be a cultural thing. Are there emojis in the Quran? I was horrified to learn that Tumblr kept blocking his account for some reason: "🌷My original account has been blocked 😣and that's my new one...🍉🇵🇸" Stay strong Muhammed. As for my savings, I sent it all to Luna a couple of years ago; she's a disabled trans woman of colour. Her cat needed urgent surgery and she also had to pay her rent.

Anyway, I'm broke now so here's my paypal to help me ghet thgourh pls ehelp

[mneiai]

Best and worst parts of the Ikemen Villain (EN) Routes (minor spoilers)

William:

Best: Actual villain. He's the sort of vigilante the other vigilantes would consider a villain and attack on sight. Maybe a little too try-hard at points, but that's because his heart is in it.

Worst: Second-hand embarrassment. The MC joins the William cult in like two days of knowing him and becomes creepily obsessed with him to the point anyone else would have gotten a restraining order on her. If she wasn't going to die first, she'd probably be asking Elbert about taxidermy.

Harrison:

Best: ACAB. No "good" cop can survive where any corruption exists.

Worst: Starter route. This should be the last route before Victor, we should have every route before that making Harry seem sus in ways that make us question how great a guy he seems, but without any answers for ages.

Liam:

Best: Found family. I think out of all the routes, this has the best of the found family vibe. Everyone cares about Liam in their own way (even if it's maybe not the best thing for him).

Worst: No Platonic Option. Liam feels more like someone MC is taking care of than a love interest most of the time and it's honestly a little awkward in parts to suddenly go back to the romance/sex when actually Liam really just needs like a friend who isn't so enabling.

Elbert:

Best: No Bad Ending Needed. A yandere from the start that gets to stay a yandere is pretty rare in media, and he gets even freakier about it in most of the events.

Worst: Animal cruelty. It's already implied by the taxidermied birds, but then you get into the cat and uhhh

Alfons:

Best: ?? I don't know, I quit after the below stuff

Worst: Rape culture. It's bad enough he SAs the MC right off the bat, but then most of the others treat it like a joking matter and more or less slutshame her.

Ellis:

Best: Malewife. Want a hot young thing taking care of you in every way imaginable? Sure, his end goal is codependency, but that's not so bad in the grand scheme of things.

Worst: Copaganda. How do we have MULTIPLE ROUTES showing the police are corrupt and then this guy is like, oh yeah, we just leave shit for the cops to clean up and totally trust them to take care of it in a reasonable and just way.

[jimblejamblewritings]

Pet Soldier | 1

Summary: Bucky's past catches up to him, unlocking painful memories of his time as the winter soldier. The only thing that could make it worse was having to be on a team with a captured HYDRA soldier he wants to see dead. But her healing power is simply too invaluable to let go.

THIS IS A DARK FIC!

Warnings for the Series: 18+ only. Heavy Angst (eventual hurt comfort). Violence. Mentions and depictions of Non-Con and Dub-Con. Psychological Trauma. Not Canon Compliant. Manipulation. Hydra.

Important Warnings for this Part: Non-Con.

Pairing: eventual Stucky x reader, Stucky x hydra!reader

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: the title is pending. I had a strong desire to write for Marvel and specifically Bucky again. Idek dude. But enjoy!

A/N 2: I don't really know if anything about reader's race will be brought up but I like to always note that at the beginning because black readers deserve stories too so if hair or culture does start to get brought up, it doesn't just come out of nowhere.

Series Masterlist

Despite all the fronts he put up, deep down Bucky is grateful. Grateful that Steve doesn’t ever give up on him, that Sam took a leap of faith to help save him, that Tony had a change of heart, that the UN agreed to work with SHIELD instead of forcing SHIELD under them, and for a host of other things that would take him too long to name. He is grateful for his freedom back, a chance at normalcy. 

Of course, it isn’t without conditions. He has to be an Avenger. He had to go through deprogramming in Wakanda to at least eliminate his triggers — the Winter Soldier still makes spontaneous appearances albeit less deadly and usually from nightmares. And he has to help them with cases on HYDRA to the best of his abilities. Bucky considers those conditions to be easy. At least until the morning the team find themselves on the quinjet and heading back to Siberia. 

Zemo’s Sokovian cover story had been almost airtight but he slipped up eventually. He knew too much about HYDRA operations. It became hard for anyone to believe he acquired all the knowledge through research alone. Not that it mattered, whether he was HYDRA or not he had to be found. Only, now Bucky was added to the team in charge of finding their man just in case he was a part of that damned organization. 

“You good?” A voice shakes Bucky from his thoughts. 

Sam sits down next to him, having finally been released from pilot duty while Clint takes over. The man next to him nods stiffly. It had been a long time since Bucky was in Siberia. The last of his Winter Soldier years had found him at the base in D.C. while he was used to take out SHIELD. He had occasionally flown back to Siberia every now and then. It was technically his home while at HYDRA. But still, it had been months. 

“The last time I was here… They said they were bringing something to D.C. for me.” 

“You’re worried it’s still at this facility?” 

“I’m worried whatever it is might kill us or what use Zemo might have made of it.” 

The entire quinjet falls silent at his confession. It had already been decided that with the information he gave them about other winter soldiers, Bucky would be leading the mission. He knows the base, tries to prepare them all.

But steeling their nerves to fight unstable super soldiers is one thing. Trying to anticipate all the random death traps in a hopefully relatively abandoned facility — including something specifically for Bucky — is another thing entirely. 

With precision, the team seamlessly moves through the base. Steve is the first to pause when he sees it. The chambers holding the other winter soldiers are full like Bucky said. But each and every one of them simply stays in place despite the open doors of their cryo units. They watch the Avengers’ every movement. Only their eyes ever move. On the back wall of the room sits Zemo in a safe bunker. 

“If it’s any consolation, they will die quickly after this. A single bullet each. Self-inflicted. They’ve already been commanded to do so,” Zemo mutters. 

“Why are you doing this?” Steve’s questioning is firm. 

Part of him wants to know, the other part is just buying time for the others to assess how to get Zemo out of the containment unit. SHIELD wants the man alive. The Avengers feel obligated to try and deliver. 

“Because I never cared for the enhanced. Reckless, unstable, none of them righteous. No one should have ever continued after Captain Rogers. I thought the lot of them were corrupt. Although, I have found one who I may have a different opinion of yet. Soldiers, attack.”  

Despite the fact that he was no longer triggered by the words, a darkness flashed over Bucky as he watched the chamber closest to Zemo finally open. It had been the first thing he noticed when they originally entered the room. How the chamber door was closed despite all the other ones being open. He braced himself for whatever beast was going to come through. 

The team hadn’t seen Barnes in a rampage like this since his deprogramming. Even a nightmare fueled Winter Soldier was not as bad as what they witnessed right now. He didn’t hold back any punches, only using his metal arm. Despite the plethora of weapons on his body, Bucky didn’t use a single one. It was like he wanted the soldier underneath him to feel every ounce of anger in his fight. Like he wanted her to suffer. 

Bucky didn’t register the shouts of his name. The only sound to reach his ears was the sick crunch of your nose under his fist. It took Steve, Tony, and Thor to pull him off of you. Bucky only relented after realizing all the other winter soldiers were dead. You were the only one that could be convinced to surrender and there was a use to you being alive. They could finally have another source on HYDRA besides just him.

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

There were no bars around your cell. That was the first thing you noticed about your new prison. Avengers Tower, you were sure one of the people said as they threw you into this so called interrogation room. You had immediately noted that there were no bars anywhere around your cell. Simply glass that you suspected was a two-way mirror around the whole perimeter of the room. 

On the other side of the glass, Bucky just glared at your seated form. They were interrogating Zemo in the other room and he didn’t care one bit. You were here. Reluctantly, Bucky pulled himself away from watching your figure when Everett Ross called his name.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit through a meeting where he had to explain that he was fully in control of his actions as James Barnes and not the winter soldier in Siberia. Unfortunately, Bucky didn’t get his way. He was given all of one minute to settle himself before they started demanding answers. 

“Y/N L/N. She’s not a winter soldier,” Bucky stated numbly. 

Nick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Barnes, are you telling me that you as you and not that freaky soldier thing harmed a civilian? 

“She was my primary handler.” 

Everyone’s mouths dropped open in shock. The only thing Bucky could muster was a dry laugh. 

“You picked the right one to save. She was there for all of it. Almost every torturous minute I spent in their clutches was thanks to her. If anyone knows anything about all of HYDRA’s sick plans then it would be her. Karpov’s right hand. Pierce’s left. The worst handler I’ve ever had.” 

“Was she there since you were taken?” 

For once, Natasha was hesitant to ask about his past. Bucky had gotten used to the jokes. He actually sort of liked them. It made him feel like a normal member of the team. But from the way he almost killed you earlier and this sudden confession, it left Nat concerned for her friend. 

Bucky shook his head. “Around the seventies, I think. Maybe a bit earlier or later. I don’t quite remember but she wasn’t there in the beginning.” 

“She looks a bit young then.” 

“She insisted on going into cryo every time I was put back under.” 

Ross’ eyes nearly bulged out his head. “I’m sorry, she willingly went into cryo? Barnes, if you don’t want to be here anymore then you don’t have to. But L/N might be the most valuable prisoner we’ve gotten from these missions. We can’t let you kill her yet and we can’t risk her escape without us at least having a chance to get her back. She’s staying at the tower for now. Just until her and Zemo are of no use anymore.” 

“As long as I’m not one of her guard dogs.” 

“Never,” Steve answered without hesitation. 

As if it pained him, Bucky stood from the table and walked back to the residents’ area of the tower. He’d watch your interrogation another day. But right now, he needed a lot of space. He didn’t want to even hear about what you discussed, telling the team such when he only asked about Zemo. It was a boundary they tried to respect. Unfortunately, the line had to be crossed a few weeks later. Fury stood in front of the Avengers trying to enjoy their breakfast.

“She refuses to talk. Zemo is willing to provide the location of HYDRA documents stored at the Siberian base and we have agents going there now. But he will only let them know if Bucky agrees to view the evidence with everyone else. It’s a fairly obvious ploy to ruin your recovery process but, for once, we don’t have the upper hand. He knows that and he knows he doesn’t have to be subtle.” 

“Fine,” Bucky said with a sharp voice.  

“I have to say, he already gave us one very important document as a sign of trust so to speak.” 

“And?” Steve asked. 

“The room she stayed in was a nice one for the higher ups. Dr. Myers believes it would be best to either gain her trust or make her think she has the upper hand.” 

Everyone noticed how Bucky tensed up at the mention of his therapist’s name. You couldn’t give him anything sacred to just himself. You had to take everything from him. Dr. Myers had been the best therapist he’s gotten so far. The first to truly help Bucky find coping methods that were healthy but also effective for him. He tried to take deep, slow breaths. 

“What does that entail?” 

“That she be allowed in the residence area. I’ve already agreed.” 

“Nick!” the entire team screamed at once. 

“We need whatever information she can give. We’re talking a potential end to HYDRA. I’ll put her far away from Barnes if needed. Almost everything can be restricted from her at first. She’ll have an ankle monitor or whatever tracking device you want on her. Hell, you can even give her a schedule so she never crosses Bucky’s path. But we need this inform—” 

“I want her room between Sam and ours.” Bucky looked over at his boyfriend, watching for a change in Steve’s face. “If that’s okay with you?” 

“Forget what I want. Are you okay to have her that close, Buck?” 

He nodded. “I’d feel better if I’m aware of her at every moment if she’s going to be up here.” 

“Thank you, Barnes,” Nick said with a nod. “Seriously.” 

“Just get what you need from her and then get her as far from my home as possible.” 

“It won’t be a few simple days.” 

“I’ve spent decades with that monster. As long as this takes less than that, I don’t care. Get what you need and then I want her to pay for what she’s done to me.” 

✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭✭

You stared down as Tony fitted an ankle monitor on you. Everyone decided that now was the best time to let you move into the resident area. They’d be reviewing the Zemo documents retrieved by intel while you had a chance to get used to your new space. While the team understood it needed to be done, they weren’t happy about the changes to their space.

Anything dangerous had locks that could only be opened through fingerprints or FRIDAY’s voice commands so you couldn’t have access. They now had to wait for the elevator’s facial recognition to light up all the buttons for them because you only had access to about four floors in total at the moment. And cameras were everywhere that you were allowed to be. Small inconveniences for the information they were about to uncover but annoyances nonetheless. 

You listened intently as Tony explained the new rules to you. He expected a sneer or rude response but you still said nothing. You simply left your cell and finally tested the elevator. The first button you pressed took you straight to the living room. The place was nice. Although, with a billionaire footing the bill, you expected such. The kitchen was nice and big. Better than any of your previous apartments at HYDRA.

You’d enjoy cooking there, already making plans for a nice dinner. You didn’t even care that you could only open about half the drawers. You were basically told that you could get food whenever you wanted, sleep for as long or as little as you wanted, and take all the hot showers in the world. The least amount of work you’ve ever had to do in your life and the only caveats were strangers for roommates and eventually having to drip feed information. A trade you could reason with for now.  

In one of the meeting rooms downstairs, the Avengers and important players in SHIELD passed out cups of coffee while FRIDAY sorted through the videos they recovered thanks to Zemo. The AI was attempting to put them in chronological order and focus on just you and Bucky’s moments. They expected it to be a long day and a meeting that might have to take place over several. 

Zemo, handcuffed to the table, thanked Sharon for the cup of tea. Her face of disgust didn’t deter him one bit. Not when he was about to revel in the potential destruction of the winter soldier. He had seen every soldier’s tapes. He knew all of their handlers, their weaknesses, their documented missions. And Zemo knew that your interactions were some of the worst in his opinion. HYDRA had a talent for cruelty, he’d give them that. 

Steve looked over at his boyfriend, grabbing Bucky’s metal hand after he clenched and unclenched it for the fifth time in a row. Everyone knew that the nightmares were only a fragment of his memory and for the most part he had blocked everything else out. It wasn’t exactly as comforting as Bucky thought to get those bits of him back. 

“Whenever you’re ready, Buck.” 

“Just play the damn tapes. You’ll probably need subtitles. There was always a lot of Russian, French, and German.” 

“I will provide whatever subtitles may be needed, Sergeant,” FRIDAY responded before starting the first bit of footage: 

Bucky was pushed back into the mind wiping machine. You sat in a very nice chair, just off to the side so the scientists could do their work. It was frightening how unmoved you were by his screams. You simply continued to read out loud, asking every now and then if Bucky knew who he was. 

“Bucky Barnes,” he gritted out. 

Your eyes casted downward as you flipped the page. You began reading again while the machine went for a fifth time. Sweat clung to Bucky’s skin as the machine slowly quieted down. You grabbed the bookmark from your lap and tucked it into the book, closing it before looking the man across from you in the eye. 

“Who are you?” 

“Sergeant Barnes.” 

Karpov’s hand appeared on your shoulder. “That’s good enough for now. You may take him.”  

Various bits of cctv footage popped up on the screen, showing you leading Bucky through all the hallways of the facility. He stiffly walked behind you. You walked with determination to the garage. Without a second thought, you slipped into the passenger seat of a car that looked like it came from the 40s. Bucky closed your door before getting into the driver’s seat. It wasn’t a long drive. And the cctv never stopped, not even when they reached your apartment. 

“When you comply, you can stay with me, Sergeant.” You unlocked the door to a very nice apartment. “This is much nicer than your cell, isn’t it?” 

Wanda swallowed uncomfortably as you took off the soldier’s boots and directed him to the dining room. “Was she always this nice?” 

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “It was the game she liked to play. If I complied then she was kind. Even a simple mistake would earn her other side.” 

“For once, I’ll make dinner,” you told him. “But you know I hate cooking, Sergeant. You’re lucky the day has been hard on you. Otherwise, we’d both be eating sandwiches.” 

Dinner was a quiet affair. Without needing to be told, Bucky did the dishes while you enjoyed your evening in front of the television. It was a practiced routine, something expected of him. 

✭✭

You scowled as you leaned against the guard rails of your apartment balcony. It was a different apartment than the last videos, on a lower floor but with a bigger porch. The heavy rain soaked through the dress you wore. 

“It’s getting rusty.” 

Bucky looked down at his metal arm.

“If I have to replace it, you will get another punishment.” 

Bucky ran a finger over the plates and you just sighed. 

“Let’s go inside and I’ll work on you instead of Karpov.” 

That seemed to wake the soldier up. Like the guard dog he was trained to be, he opened the door for you and waited patiently for you to come inside. You weren’t the one to work on him despite your promise. The moment you reached the HYDRA base, Bucky was taken by guards and beaten before being returned to his cryo chamber. You continued past his cell until you reached Karpov’s office. 

“May I have a few days off?” 

Karpov chuckled. “The Asset is giving you trouble? I heard you put him back in cryo.” 

“I’m tired from all the healing. I cannot wield my powers effectively with constant use. If he is truly hurt and I am weak then I cannot heal him. He can’t keep coming to me for every cut or scrape without some time off.” 

“You’re right. We’ll grant you use of the chamber. You get a week. He is needed in Budapest in ten days.” 

You nodded before returning to Bucky’s cell. A second cryo chamber sat next to his. The scientists gave you all the necessary pills and prep work needed before guiding you into the cryo chamber. 

Fury sat up straighter. “She’s a mutant?” 

“Best healer in HYDRA. I think that’s why she was assigned to me. If the serum took two days to patch me up, she could get it done in ten hours. I was more effective because of her, had more work and missions that I could go on.” 

✭✭

Karpov stood in front of a board room, other HYDRA officials waiting eagerly for him to start. 

“L/N is perfect for the Asset in all forms. He is more efficient. The rampages have severely diminished. He’s scared when he can’t see her or doesn’t know of her whereabouts. The constant waiting for the worst case scenario only to be brought to her with a book in hand resets his mind better than a mind wipe and a week in cryo. I believe under L/N’s hold, he will only need to be on ice as a matter of life extension.” 

Smiles spread amongst the crowd. 

✭✭

Bucky was allowed a hot shower. Although, with the vastness of the shower rooms, an occasional chill still swiped at his skin. But still, the shower was hot and he had the room to himself. His eyes fluttered open at the sound of heels clicking against the tile. 

“If I want to admire you, soldier, I can,” you said as you leaned against one of the shower dividers. 

The cctv cut back to the one focused intently on Bucky’s shower. He said nothing, going back to washing the shampoo out of his hair. He looked down when two hands wrapped around him, tracing up and down his abs. 

“You’ve been holding out on me, Sarge.” 

Your right hand drifted lower and lower with a gentle touch. Bucky stiffened up slightly when you wrapped your hand around his cock. He paid you no mind, continuing to stare at the shower wall. You began moving your hand up and down his length, face and body mostly concealed by his broad shoulders and back. Little grunts came from Bucky as you pumped him faster.

“Maybe they should send you on more of these hard missions so I can come see you. I didn’t know you were so well endowed. I shall make myself more acquainted with this endowment tonight. I think I’ll enjoy it.”    

Bucky stood up abruptly, needing fresh air. Zemo be damned, he couldn’t relive it. Not memories like those. No one tried to stop him or Steve who followed him out. 

“Are you alright?” Steve tentatively asked his boyfriend. 

A soft grunt escaped his lips when Bucky didn’t say anything but merely crashed into his arms and silently begged for a hug. He and Steve stayed out in the hall until the first meeting ended. Pity wasn’t something Bucky handled well. Yet, every single person gave him a pitiful glance as they exited. Even Zemo couldn’t help but give him a look as he was escorted back to his cell. 

You sat on the kitchen counter, legs crossed and sipping someone’s premade smoothie that you weren’t sure what the flavor was. But you were hungry and the potato soup you were making needed time on the stove to cook some more.

It was demeaning that you only had access to baby knives and your potatoes took way longer to cut than necessary but you were going to get that soup you wanted. In the meantime, the smoothie that read property of Bucky on the side of the cup would satisfy you. 

The elevator dinged, alerting you of a new presence. One by one, the Avengers filed out, staring at the ankle monitor dangling on your ankle as you bobbed one leg up and down before meeting your eyes with a glare. All Natasha could see was red when you brought the straw back to your lips. They all could see the writing on the side of it. Yet, you still obnoxiously slurped up the drink that you’re sure had some raspberry in it. 

Before she could be stopped, Natasha’s hand struck you clear across the face. The little bit of smoothie left hit the floor before you could grab it.  

“Stay the fuck away from Barnes. Don’t you ever touch him again.” 

You stopped focusing on her to stare at the one person you knew in the tower. Bucky’s glare was worse than whatever Nat or the rest of the team could muster up. The timer ringing shook you from your impromptu staring contest. Without a second thought, you pushed past Nat to fix the bowl of potato soup you were craving. The Avengers watched you prepare your food without a care in the world. Your back wasn’t even tense. It’s like they didn’t exist. You set the bowl on the kitchen island. 

“If you’re going to hit me, please do it when I don’t have food in my hand. Those little baby knives add a lot of minutes to my prep time and I wouldn’t appreciate the effort being wasted. Otherwise, I will continue to steal what you’ve made like that smoothie.”  

You nodded when Natasha actually did take you up on the offer, grimacing a bit as you felt some blood trickle down your face. Your nose wasn’t broken despite the sound it made when Bucky had hit it, but it was still fairly bruised and a single slap had it hurting again. Carefully, you wiped away the blood with the back of your hand before grabbing your soup. 

“Sergeant Barnes, you have a new arm. The other one suited you better,” you said after lots of consideration. “They said I was on your floor. Lead the way.” 

Steve pushed the other man behind him, getting dangerously close to your face as he did. “He isn’t your guard dog. You don’t make demands of him. I will be escorting you.” 

“Carry on then.” 

The rest of the team watched as you followed Steve. It was almost like you were unaware that you were a prisoner. You followed behind him in the same manner that they watched you lead Bucky through the halls of the HYDRA facility.  

✭

part 2

[because of the nature of this being a dark fic and the fact that I haven't written for this fandom in so long, I won't automatically put my usual taglist. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in the future]

[lame-cameoliob]

Kallus' motivations are so interesting

I just need to get these thoughts out so I’m throwing this ramble here:

Now, this may totally just be me thinking too much (fork found in kitchen) but I feel like when it comes to how we tend to think about Kallus’ characterization, the implications of Kallus’ experience on Onderon are very overlooked. 

So he goes to Onderon with “the boys”-- which, the term “the boys” has its own set of implications about how Kallus must have really cared for those troopers under his command but I digress– and on a patrol they’re attacked, yada yada, we all know the story. 

But Kallus becomes fully paralyzed. He doesn’t describe the extent of his paralyzation but given that he had to watch as his squad was “finished off one by one” it’s pretty fair to assume that he could not move whatsoever. The fear that any person would experience in that situation is completely indescribable, that is genuinely some shit straight out of a night terror. 

He is– as we know– spared (albeit we don’t get exact details (did the merc try to kill him but reinforcements arrived before he could? Did the merc think that Kallus was already dead? Secret 3rd option?)) and he makes a full physical recovery, but there is no way in hell that he is not coming out of that encounter with some crazy PTSD. 

There’s not a whole lot of info on Imperial mental health services but I don’t think it’s a longshot to assume that they are probably close to nonexistent.

So the empire now has… an ISB agent with field experience… with untreated PTSD… where said PTSDs inciting incident pertained to a Lasat… and they’re looking to make an example out of Lasan……….. Are you picking up what I'm putting down here…...?

If you aren’t; it is BY NO MEANS a wild assumption to say that the Empire– essentially– weaponized Kallus’ PTSD, given that he would be less likely to question the moral atrocities happening on Lasan since he was already biased against Lasat as a whole. 

Now, we don’t really have a solid grasp on what Kallus’ exact role in Lasan was since he’s  kiiiiinnnd of an unreliable narrator– I mean we’re given the line in Droids in Distress where he takes credit for giving orders during the siege, but Kallus routinely just runs his mf mouth whenever he’s throwing hands so it’s like…  that could either be the truth or a crazy exaggeration, we as viewers have literally no idea what’s going on there– but it goes without saying that Kallus is obviously not excused from his participation just because of (likely) untreated mental illness, but that is literally like the whole point of his character so like we all knew that

Now, after Lasan, Kallus does something really bizarre for an imperial to do; he accepts the borifle given to him through the Boosan Keerah, and even though he doesn’t know about the cultural significance of that, he still takes it upon himself to learn how to use this weapon. I think that literally any other imperial would have tossed that shit out on sight, so I think it does kind of imply that Kallus did have a good deal of respect for Lasat culture.

Now we can all recall how Kallus is so annoying and also batshit insane whenever he fights Zeb for the first season and a half of rebels, and ME THINKS that this is because he wants to prove to himself that if he were not paralyzed on Onderon, he could have saved the members of his squad. He had to sit by and watch them die, and I think that he just wants the vindication; now you may be thinking, But Emma, he beat the Lasat who gave him his borifle, why would he still be obsessing over this– say it with me now– he is mentally ill. No victory will ever be enough to prove this to himself. Point blank period. 

(edit:) He is for sure operating from a place of extreme predjudice and bias but I think it's worth noting that he’s not operating under the usual xenophobic imperial mindset that other species are automaticaly lesser than. (end edit) This weird obsession that he has in seasons 1 and 2 deels like it's mostly there because he wants to outwit and outfight Zeb (and the rest of the Ghost crew… but especially Zeb) (edit: Though it is 100% influenced by Xenophobia-- his mental illness and xenopobia DO coexist!!)

And after the Honorable Ones???? It’s literally never brought up again. He chills tf out so hard after that it is high key uncanny. And like, yes duh that is because– for writing purposes– that’s the beginning of his redemption and they want viewers to root for him as fulcrum, but it also implies that after finding common ground with Zeb, and understanding where he’s coming from and who Zeb is as a person, he realizes that he’s been CRASHING TF OUT for basically no reason. 

And he is SO QUICK to switch sides?? Like, he is fulcrum at least a decent time before the beginning of season three. The whole point is that the second he asks questions and delves deeper into what the Empires motivations are he is disgusted enough that he doesn’t just drop everything and disappear, no, he became a spy for the rebels because he wants to help. I feel like that just goes to show that, at his core, Kallus is a good person. A deeply confused, and hurt, and misguided person, but a good one. 

I dunno, this is just a really long winded way of saying that Kallus is the perfect example of an imperial pawn. Like the Empire is an incredibly effecient indoctrination machine that exploits people at every turn, especially their own soldiers, and I think that Kallus’ relationship with that indoctrination along with his own motivations is just super super interesting and I think about it literally all the time

[whereserpentswalk]

People don't realize how liminal it is to be a time traveler. How you don't ever really feel like you're in the time you are. Even when you're in your own time, everything is off, your coat was something you bought in interwar France, the book you're reading on the train is from a bookstore you had to visit in Victorian London, even your necklace was given to you by a Neolithic shaman, from a culture the rest of the world can never know. You find yourself acting strange even when in the present, much less in the past you have to work in.

You remember meeting a eunuch in 10th century China, and having him be one of the only people smart and observant enough to realize you were from a diffrent time. You could talk honestly with him, though still you couldn't reveal too much about your time. And it was still so strange hearing him talk casually about work and mention plotting assassinations. You're not allowed to but you still visit him sometimes.

You remember that the few times you were allowed to tell someone everything it was tragic. You knew a young woman who lived in Pompeii, who you had gotten close to, a few days before she would inevitably die. On your last day there you looked into her eyes, knowing soon they'd be stone and ash, that the beauty of her hair would be washed away by burning magma. And you hugged her, and told her that you wanted her to be safe, and told her she was wonderful and that you wanted her to be comfortable and happy. And you let her tongue know the joy of 21st century chocolate, and her eyes see the beauty of animation, knowing she deserved to have those joys, knowing it wouldn't matter soon. And you hugged her the last time, and told her she deserved happiness. And when you left without taking her it was like you were killing her yourself.

You want to take home everyone you're attached to. There's a college student you befriended in eighteen fifties Boston. And you can't help but see him try to solve problems you know humanity is centuries away from solving. And you just want to tell him. And it's not just that, the way he talked about the books and plays he likes, his sense of humor. There's so many people you want him to meet.

You feel the same way about a young woman you met on a viking age longship. She tells stories to her fellow warriors and traders, stories that will never fully get written down, stories that she tells so uniquely and so well. She has so many great ideas. You want so dearly to take her to somewhere she can share her stories, or where she can take classes with other writers, where she can be somewhere safe instead of being out at sea. She'll talk about wanting to be able to do something, or meet people, and you know you're so close to being able to take her, but you never can, unless she accidently finds out way too much then you can't.

You remember the longship that you met that young storyteller on. You were there before, two years ago for you, ten years later for the people on it. The young woman who told you stories wasn't there ten years later, you had been told why then but you only realize now, her uncle, who ran the ship, had been one of the first people to convert to Christianity in his nation. He killed her, either for not converting or for sleeping with women, you're not sure, but he killed her, and bragged about it when you met him ten years later.

You talk to the storyteller on the longship, ask her about the myths you're there to ask her about, the myths that she loves to tell. You look into her eyes knowing it's probably less then a year until her uncle takes her life. You ask her if you think that those who die of murder go to Valhalla. She tells you she hopes not, she doesn't see Valhalla as a gift but as a duty, she hopes for herself to go to Hel, where she wouldn't have to fight anymore. You slip and admit you're talking about her, telling her that you hope that's where she goes when she's killed. You hope to yourself you'll be forced to take her to the twenty first century, you're tempted even to make it worse, you want to have ruined her enough to be able to save her.

[nutmegtales]

Alive Again - Part 6

There didn't seem much point in staying in the sparse room where the summoning circle had been drawn, not now that it was obvious the binding would do nothing to contain what they had summoned. There was a tenuous peace as they settled in a nearby waiting room and the various heroes relayed the details of why they had called upon the Ghost king.

A few years ago, two or three (no one could agree on a specific time), children started becoming ill by some unknown cause. Eventually they all started falling into comas and so far never waking up.

It was the youngest at first but as time went on older and older kids started succumbing, even some young adults were now afflicted and it was expected that soon they too would fall asleep and stay that way.

Now the first to fall are beginning to die. Their hearts finally giving up.

No one knows why, they don't know if it's caused by someone or something, if it's an illness or a curse or some supervillains slow acting mega death ray. There's theories but nothing solid to go on.

They have tried Everything they could think of. Magic, science, villain hunting. None of it has helped. And so they had turned to the occult.

They knew that it could come at a great cost, Constantine (the scrungly one apparently) had made sure they were all Well aware of that. But at this point it was a gamble they were willing to take. Most of them anyway.

Danny took it all in, his gut churning. He knew more than most the inevitability of death. He knew that people died, that children, and parents, and cities, and cultures, and even whole world's die eventually. He understood that death had an integral role to play in life. That without death there was no life. He knew. He knew that it was not his place to meddle with the natural order of death. No, his place was just to preside over those who had already passed, to provide them with a place for eternal rest, or a place to call their haunt as a ghost.

But this? Children affected by something that he felt likely wasn't an illness, or a virus. Not an attack. Not a normal ending brought on by some disease or anything. This didn't seem natural.

Maybe it was a villain? It'd been a long time since he'd worn the mantle of a hero. Maybe he couldn't rightfully meddle as The Ghost King.... But maybe, maybe he could try to help as Phantom?

He had duties that would come calling soon enough, attendants that would track him down, an infinite realm that would try to drag him back to his rightful place. It would succeed too, he had nothing tying him down to any one realm anymore, not now that... Now that everyone was gone. And without attachments anchoring him to a realm, the infinite would pull him back to his throne.

An anchor though, could be created, even just temporarily. And as long as he closed the door behind him properly, he could have some time to at least look into things here.

Maybe he could. Maybe it would be selfish of him. Maybe it would help. Maybe it wouldn't.

Well, at least he could try.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

Do you have any headcanons for Wizarding stereotypes and social norms?

I love how your brain works! ❤️❤️

Hi, thank you so much 💓. I'm arriving at this ask a little late, but I have a lot of random, small and large headcanons about wizarding culture (in the uk and the rest of the world), and I have a tag for my HP headcanons in general. Many of these appeared in past posts, but I'll try to summarize like 20 headcanons about wizard culture and social norms in the UK (some of them are very based in canon, and others are just vibes):

1. Fashion. I love historical fashion, and I made posts about wizarding fashion in the uk before (wizard fashion, robes vs muggle-inspired fashion, Hogwarts robes). I believe even when we see wizards in more muggle-style suits/jackets, they are still, more often than not, wizard-made and are made with colors and fabrics that muggles would consider weird to put together.

Like, Dumbledore isn't close to the only one who dresses like an eyesore. Even the twins are described wearing some jackets I don't think would pass anywhere in the Muggle world. And everyone is wearing hats, a lot, all the time, especially older generations.

2. Traditions regarding what you do with your wand once you die change between families/location/time period. Like, during, say, the 13th century in England, everyone got buried with their wands, but in the 18th and 19th centuries it was all the rage to keep a wand display of deceased family members at home. (Talked about a bit here)

3. In the UK, most wizards are culturally Christian. Denominations vary, but I believe they have a sort of magical Anglican denomination, which includes some of their own saints and doesn't place a heavy focus on prayer or going to church, and more about community. (I have a whole series about this subject, with the last entry here and the most quote-based entry here)

Similarly, I believe there used to be a chapel at Hogwarts, but it fell out of use throughout the centuries and has been remodeled into something else. I mean, no large castle from the Middle Ages is complete without a private chapel.

4. We know there are a lot of stereotypes regarding wand woods and wand cores ("When his wand’s oak and hers is holly, then to marry would be folly" from pottermore), and I believe there are others.

I'm not the first to note the symbolism between wands and manhood (Lucius losing his wand, short wands associated with a "lacking" character). So, I 100% believe "polishing your wand" is a euphemism for jerking off. Similarly, they probably have sayings like "you know what a long wand means".

Basically, wands are a big deal, and there are a lot of superstitions/stereotypes around them.

5. Because of that, I think some people would boast their wand wood/core, and keeping these facts super secret is seen as you having something to hide. Adding a wand handle to your wand is seen as a way to hide that the wand is actually really short, etc.

6. It's not exactly a headcanon since it's heavily implied by canon, but the first son gets his father's name as a middle name, the first daughter gets the mother's name as a middle name, then younger children get grandparents' names, then aunts, uncles, etc.

7. The legal drinking age is 13 for light alcohol (like butterbeer) or for drinking with parental supervision. For harder alcohol (like Firewhisky), the legal drinking age is 16. (That's the feeling I get)

8. In general, alcohol consumption is seen as healthy and common in the Wizarding World, like it was in the 19th century. The type of alcohol and amount do have social connotations, though. A lot. In terms of class, intelligence, trustworthiness, etc. but drinking in itself is seen as chill and no one really thinks too much of it if it's not extreme (and even then it isn't treated as an addiction). (Talked about here & here)

9. I also think their age of consent is 16 and not 18. (The majority age is 17, so it seems right to me). They could also legally get married at 16, though it's somewhat frowned upon to marry before you graduate. This is a leftover of a time when many wizards didn't stay at Hogwarts for the final 3 years and went on to start with life instead.

10. As I implied, I think it used to be pretty common to drop out of Hogwarts after 5th year. Especially for poorer working-class wizards/witches. This is why you only need 1 passing OWL to keep your wand.

I think NEWTs are treated like higher education of sorts and were/are optional, but like with muggle universities/collages most of the population does study these extra years since many jobs started requir NEWTs in specific fields. Not all jobs, plenty are fine with just OWLS.

It's common to drop many subjects in the final 2 years, like Harry does. He actually keeps more subjects than the average student, who stays with 2-3 subjects for NEWTs at most.

They don't have any universities/academies or that sort of higher education. It's just NEWTS and then apprenticeships/on-the-job training.

11. In general, the number of OWLs the Golden Trio passed is above average. I talked about it here, but the average amount of passing OWLs with grads good enough for the NEWT classes seems to be ~4 per student. Fred and George's 3 each isn't unusual; their brothers are just academically gifted and ambitious. (Bill got 12 OWLs, Charlie is smart, Percy is Percy, and Ron is also really smart. And we don't know anything about Ginny's OWLs, but she must have gotten more than 5).

12. They are very sanitized to violence. We see corporal punishment (Molly chasing Fred and George with a broom) and other violent pranks (F & G melting Ron's tongue with an acid pop, the Mauraders) being seen as normal and acceptable. (Mentioned it a bit here)

In general, their standard for what's considered "bad" violence is different than ours. Anything that is easily reversible with a spell is seen as a little mean but no harm done, or even a little funny. If it's not permanent, it isn't really seen as harmful. When the harm is permanent, that's when it starts being taken more seriously (but even then, it depends on what the damage is, and often it isn't really treated as anything too serious).

13. Also, mental health is not a thing. Trauma is not harm because they don't really consptualise trauma is a thing. They understand when someone's having a "rough time" or if someone's being "overemotional," but they don't have therapy or anything like it. (I always found "mind healers" in fics out of place in their world. The only "mind healers" they'd have are ones for spell damage caused by Obliviate or curses like the Imperius or the Cruciatus). Any emotional/mental health situation is treated by friends/family support if you have good people around you, getting told to "get over it", or alcohol. (Talked about a bit here)

14. The reason Honeydukes has candy for vampires is because vampires are really rare and not seen as savages the way werewolves are. Vampires are seen as exotic, sexy creatures (kinda like veela, just without the magical attraction), and wizards, too, have trashy vampire romance novels. (Talked about this more as well here)

15. It's weird to get a portrait taken when young. Magical portraits are expensive to make since there is like, 1-2 wizards in the UK who do it (I headcanon Dean Thomas grows to paint magical portraits post-series as he is mentioned to draw in the books). So, getting one when you're young means you expect to die soon. It's seen as more extreme than writing a will, and something you don't do without a good reason. It's seen as paranoid and bringing bad luck. As in, getting a magical portrait taken is like asking death to come knock at your door. Hence, why I headcanon Aunt Muriel didn't commission hers yet.

16. Divination as thought at Hogwarts is seen by the majority of the wizarding world as a practice best reserved for wizards/witches who have the talent for it. Like, you have prophecies - seen as rare and mysterious, and you have omens - which is what everyone can learn to do to a degree, but most aren't good at it. There is real magic there (as the centaurs prove) just, not the way Trawlany goes about it. So most wizards treat it as a legitimate field, but one you need a talent for.

17. They're, in general, into astrology. I mean, they study star charts in Astronomy, and the planets' movements is magical in canon (centaurs, certain ingredients need to be harvested in a certain moon phase, etc). So, like, the average wizard could go: "yes, I'm having it tough. You know Mercury is in retrograde," but also, a completely different astrology that is all their own. Like: "When Jupiter is bright, it's a good time for potion making" or something. Along with superstitions that some couples actually take into account when conceiving children, like being born when there is a specific angle between Venus and Mars will make you lucky, or certain plants that predispose you to any Hogwarts house. Like, I'd imagine their birth charts look different from ours, since they pay attention to different things and note them differently. Like, they'd include the angles of various constellations as well, and it'll look different (At least, I'd like to think so).

18. I think they have a lot of little superstitions in general (like seeing a grim). Stuff like, don't propose on a dark moon if you want the marriage to last, seeing a unicorn in the wild is a sign of good luck, professional Quidditch players have lucky underwear they never wash, etc.

19. They aren't prude around nudity. I mean, no one seems to struggle with getting dressed or taking showers with other people in their dorms, even when they aren't used to it (it is something that takes getting used to if you didn't grow up seeing it as normal). There are portraits and talking mirrors that watch you and comment on your appearance in bathrooms and bedrooms, we know many wizards (young Snape, Archie from the Quiddich World Cup) don't wear trousers under their robes (Archie is implied to not be wearing underwear either) and pottermore stated they used to take dumps wherever (though, I think they do have decency around that). Even if we look at the scene before the battle of the 7 Potters, no one considers it weird for them to get dressed in Harry's body. So, it seems nudity or partial nudity around others isn't as taboo or a breach of privacy the way we see it. Especially when it comes to men/boys. (This is part of why no one in-universe sees SWM as SA)

(Which would make sense for a culture stuck in the past. In the Middle Ages, you had bath houses, and families would all sleep in the same room. Sex and nudity weren't as taboo)

20. They think they know about their history way more than they do. I think Hogwarts wasn't built the way they think it was, the timeline of the Peverells and the Founders is all wrong — but no one except a few passionate wizard historians actually know. Everyone else thinks they must know their true history better than muggles because they are wizards (though they don't).

I have a bunch more headcanons that just don't come to mind right now, but I might add them later.