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icy-watch · 1 month ago

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That mother flipper ate Morro. I am beyond mad rn.

Altho, he did say "In the afterlife, anything is possible." So, it's entirely possible that Morro can come back at some point. I really hope so bc he does not deserve to go out that way. It'd just be terrible writing.

Rogue confirmed that Arin's parent are still alive, and he knows where there are. It has something to do with the weird cemetery. I think I mentioned in a response to someone or in a reblog, but I'm thinking that they've probably lost their memory and are being kept somewhere.

Also, on Rogue, I wrote something up on my main account a while back. It's about how his mind was shattered and how there might be a way to fix it. But his mind will never be the same again. It's all based on kintsugi, which is this art form and a way to repair pieces of broken pottery. If they ever do manage to cure his shattered soul, I do believe he will never quite be the Jay we all once knew and love. Bits of him will shine thru, absolutely, but there will always be pieces of him that will never quite be whole.

I don't know if they'll go that route with him - or if he'll ever truly be Jay again - but for me, personally, it'd be a very interesting way to kill of the old Jay and bring in the new Jay. If all of that makes sense.

And Arin. I'm am going to say this loudly, with my whole chest here: All of this feels like it's setting up Arin to be the next Green Ninja. It really feels like with him going off and wandering around with an antagonist and being a part of releasing an ancient being that can create mass destruction and death, they're setting it up for Arin to eventually take on Lloyd's mantel of the Green Ninja.

Stories, especially in Ninjago, are circular. Like a snake biting its tail. Things have a habit of repeating themselves in odd ways. And just from what I've particularly seen in this season - especially towards the end - it really does feel like it.

Ok, there are a few more days left to vote on the poll for the next series for me to reblog. If you haven't already, vote here. If you're unsure of what to vote for, I made a randomized wheel here. I'll y'all in a few days with the final results. Until then!

Correct and incorrect predictions below the cut.

Correct

The Fab 5 will free Thunderfang before the end of the season. I mean, it was pretty obvious.

Sora is def going to be the 1 who reunites with Arin. Hi. Hello. Ouch. I'm still crying.

We'll see Morro again in the Spectral Lands. We did!

Rogue will try and stop Arin and Ras from reaching the Temple of the Dragon Cores. And there will be this whole big fight. And he did! Well, try, that is. They still got there, in spite of him.

Arin and Sora will have a conversation in ep8. They did! Not the conversation I expected them to have, but they did converse. Which means Ras got to keep the rest of his fur.

Arin is going to go back to Ras, and Sora's going to join them. I was right!

Incorrect

Pixal will have more information about Wu, but it's going to take her some time to sort it all out. This really would have been a good way to hint about what's been going on with him.

The prismatic blade with Ras and Arin will be the last 1 the Fab 5 go after. Technically, Drix got a 2 for 1 deal by going after that 1 and the 1 Lloyd had. While it was the last blade gathered, it wasn't really the last 1 they went after.

Arin will be the 1 to cut the last chain and free Thunderfang. Thankfully, no.

The prismatic blades do something weird to spinjitsu. Actually, that would have been cool.

1 of the ninja will manage to track down Arin, Ras, and Rogue and participate in the fight. Sadly, nobody did.

Zarkt will try and make a comeback. He will stay as a failman for the rest of his life.

They'll that Rogue is Jay in ep7. RIP.

Drix and the Draconians grabbed Ras and the hamer for something with Thunderfang. Lol. Nope. For a fight with Nokt.

Lloyd is obviously going to be the 1 to take down Thunderfang. And Arin's going to be a part of it. RIP to Icy. Lloyd died. It was aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall Arin.

Partial

Nya, Kai, and Wyldfyre will find Jay. I mean, they were all there at the arcade, and at the very end. But it was really just Nya who truly found him.

Nya, Kai, and Wyldfyre are going to find Jay in an arcade. Sort of. They did go to an arcade, Kai beat Jay's high score, and Jay beat Kai's high score without even having to be in the room.

Zane's going to stumble across Pixal, altho her memory's going to be a little scrambled. He did, but her memory wasn't scrambled. She was powered down for over 6 years.

Unconfirmed

The Fab 5 have a connection with the Oni. I'm getting the feeling this is incorrect, but it was never confirmed in canon.

Ras's master is Thunderfang. Nothing has been confirmed or denied about this. Yet.

Roby looks ok, but he's still sick internally. Most likely incorrect, but I'm getting the feeling that he's still not fully cured.

Something in the Spectral Lands will cure Roby. Goes along with the previous.

#liveblogging #ninjago dragons rising #dragons rising #season 3 #episode 10 #the shatter dragon #ndr s03e10 #ndr predictions

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ljz002-world · 10 months ago

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Revenge, Part 4 NSFW

SMUT AHEAD

“So? You’ll shoot me?”, Y/N asked and Thomas just shook his head, “I won’t shoot you. I want you to tell me the real reason you cam here. To Birmingham, to Small Heath.” “I told you before Mr. Shelby”, Y/N began, hoping the little shaking in her voice wouldn’t be noticeable, “I cam here from Germany because here is good work, over in Germany I found no work. My mother knew some people here, but they never returned from the war. I didn’t know that until I was here. I read the paper, saw you were in need of a translator and came here. Thought I’d ask about my father while I’m at it. That’s all.” “Really?”, Thomas asked, taking a puff off his cigarette all while holding eye-contact with the girl. “Yes.” “No other reason?” “No other reason.”

“Then how come you look at me all the time? When you think I’m not looking.”

“Why do you think?” “I think, that you’ve fallen for me. You’re translating wrong so that I’ll let you go, so it wouldn’t be unprofessional, right?” Y/N was caught off guard by this. How full off himself was this man? Thinking that she’d fallen in love with him over these past few months. How ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

But this gave her a good option, “Am I that transparent?” “To me, you are.” “And? Now that you know, what now?” “What now?”, Thomas repeated her words calmly while looking at the young woman with sultry eyes, “Now that I know, I was going to tell you that once this meeting is over, I’d take you home, but I’d take you to my place. There we’d have a drink or two, I’d have convinced you to try some alcohol. And then we’d have fucked.” “Do you think I’m that easily convinced?”, Y/N asked as she leant closer to Tommy, her hands now over his larger hands as the two were dangerously close to one another. “I’m a man with great persuasion skills.”

“Well I’m a german, we’re quite thick-headed. Would take a lot of persuading for me to fuck you.” “Is that a challenge?” “Maybe it’s a promise. Depends on what you plan to do to me.”

“Oh I plan to do lots of things to you, love”, Thomas spoke almost softly as one of his hands reached up to cup Y/N’s cheek, pulling her head closer to his until their foreheads were almost touching. “Really?” “Yes. Things no boy has ever done to you.” “Now I’m curious Mr. Shelby…” “Drop the Mr. Shelby thing, keep it for office hours. Out of office, call me Thomas or Tommy.” “As you say… Tommy…” “Say it again, I like the way my name sounds on your lips.” “Tommy”, Y/N breathed out again before Thomas pulled her in for a surprisingly soft kiss. She had imagined for a man like him to be a lot rougher, a lot less … gentle and loving. He kissed her like he loved her, like they were man and wife.

“And? Has any boy ever kissed you like that?”, Tommy asked as the two parted ways, a small thread of saliva hanging from both their lips, still connected. Y/N’s cheeks were a bit flushed as she looked away with a small smile on her lips, maybe she could have some fun with Thomas Shelby before killing him. “I’m still Thomas fucking Shelby, I want an answer”, he said, still soft but harsher than before as he made Y/N look at him, having pulled her chin to face him with his thumb and index finger. Those icy-blue eyes piercing Y/N’s soul as she shook her head, “No…”

“And I can do a lot more than just kiss, love.”

“Oh really?”, Y/N asked, giving Tommy those mischievous eyes that he had grown to like quite a lot. “Really love, so what d you say? My place?” “For drinks? Or?” “For drinks and more.”

With that Thomas took Y/N by the hand as he lead her out of the Garrison and to his house. Inside it was nicer but still not as luxurious as Y/N had expected it to be. It looked like a family-home, which made sense considering that he now lived all alone here, Ada was in London, Poll was in her house, Jon and Esme had their own home and Arthur spent most of his nights at the pub in the upper rooms. “Drinks?”, Y/N asked a bit shyly as she sat by the couch while Thomas had taken his jacket off, exposing his vest and the gun strapped to his side. He had grabbed two glasses before walking to the liquor cabinet. “What do you want?” “Whatever you’ll have.” “So hard whiskey? Brave girl”, Thomas said with a chuckle as he grabbed his favorite whiskey before filling their glasses a bit as he took a seat across the girl on the large armchair that stood there. “Drunk whiskey before?”, Thomas asked as he saw how Y/N was just looking at the copper colored liquid, he had already taken a sip. “I don’t usually drink whiskey. But I have had it before.” “Liked the taste?” “Depends”, the girl said taking a sip while holding eye contact with the man she wanted to kill, well at the moment she wanted to have sex with him and kill him afterwards. “On?” “With whom I drink.”

Tommy actually smiled at that as he put his glass down and approached Y/N, stopping in front of her and tilting her head upwards with one of his free hands, “Tell me, love. Have you ever fucked a man like me before?” “No”, Y/N breathed out, leaning back against the backrest of the couch as the dark haired man leaned down, supporting himself by placing his hands against the top of the backrest as he leant down to kiss Y/N again, an opening she tried to use to grab onto the gun, but both of her wrists were caught easily by Thomas’ larger hand as he held them above her head.

“Trying to steal me gun, eh?”

“Just wanted to hold it. Never held a gun before.” “Well you can ask. Don’t take a man’s gun away, you never know if it’s loaded or not”, Thomas spoke as he pressed his lips against Y/N’s before pulling her up by her wrists as his other hand grabbed her behind, kneading it almost painfully as his dick grew harder and harder each second.

Within seconds the two were in Tommy’s bedroom and most of their clothes discarded. He had hastily undone the button’s of Y/N’s dress, just enough to let it drop to the ground and let her step out of it so he could undo her bra and take off her knickers, pushing her naked body down onto his bed as he undid the rest of his shirt which Y/N had already partially opened, his vest discarded somewhere in the living room. Within seconds Tommy was just as naked as Y/N, the girl gulping at his manhood. She had sex before, yes, but never with someone like Tommy Shelby.

“You don’t got anything, eh?” “No”, the girl muttered as she pulled the man closer to herself before indulging in another kiss. A kiss the man gladly returned as one hand travelled down to her folds, which he parted with his fingers before rubbing his tip teasingly against her opening. Y/N let out a little hiss against Tommy’s mouth, “Stop fucking teasing.” The man just smiled against her lips as he entered the girl, drawing a little scream from the young woman at the sudden intrusion. Thomas watched how his cock entered her, deeper and deeper while Y/N just threw her head back at the sudden pleasure and pain she felt, her eyes rolling back as she clawed at the man’s back, pain he welcomed.

“How much is there?”, she breathed out before Thomas Shelby captured her lips once again, letting her get used to his size before he started moving. Ever time his hips snapped against hers she felt him reaching a spot that made her see stars.

“Fuck”, he breathed out, “When was the last time you had a cock in you? Fucking tight.” “Some time ago”, Y/N answered, trying her best to relax and get used to the sudden pleasure, her hands toying with Tommy’s hair as he slowly but steadily sped up, her back arching as he got quicker and quicker. “Good god”, Y/N called out as she held onto Thomas, feeling a knot forming in her lower belly, “I think…-I think I’m close.” “Good”, Thomas said, keeping his steady pace until he pushed Y/N over the edge, feeling her tightening around him as he felt his own dick start to twitch, leading his thrusts to become sloppier and harder until he grabbed onto Y/N’s hips as his hips snaped against her one more time before he came as well.

Both were trying to catch their breath as Thomas laid down besides Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against his chest as he lit himself a cigarette.

“Still want to kill me?”

#tommy shelby #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelby smut #peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinders x reader

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dogwoodclangen · 3 months ago

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🍀 for everyone but especially Hawthorntail, 🌌for Dusty, and 🙀 for Swarmwatcher (hopefully that's not too many!) Also, a little late, I think, but I'd totally be interested in prechaos couples

definitely not too many! and excellent choices

for prechaos couples i was thinking about doing drawings of the parents of our current four cats, but maybe i'll put up a poll of some other random ones too!

🍀What is a secret they’re hiding? hawthorn: my beloved hawthorn my favorite char of the og cast <33 hawthorn isn't stupid. she knows that both swarm and frost know things that they aren't telling her. she doesn't know why they won't despite her repeated attempts to let them know they can tell her. hawthorn is not the kind of cat who feels bitter toward others, but she has been doing everything in her power to keep the other three alive and healthy since the disaster. she can't face the fact that she's angry at them, so she's pushed it down so deep that she's convinced herself that she isn't. as confused as she was by frost's decision not to mentor dusty, she is glad that she is mentoring him. it's a full-time job and leaves her little time to dwell on things

swarm: swarm hates and distrusts starclan. he had been receiving omens and signs warning about the flood since he was an apprentice- so about a year and a half prior to the disaster. they were always violent omens that ended with someone getting hurt or dying. starclan was not present at his naming ceremony and he never had any direct contact with them, which has shaped his anger and distrust toward them. he sees them as cruel and uncaring, but he cannot let the others know because he is their healer and (supposed) connection to the stars

frost: frost has been able to see souls trapped in the "prison" ever since he was a kit. because of this, he was apprenticed to a cat named elderpond because his father, gamblestar, was concerned about it and elderpond also was able to see the souls. nobody truly understood what the souls were, so frost learned that overall, the souls were harmless and not to pay them much mind. now, however, frost is wondering if they were wrong about that and is worried that the souls are there to harm them. he refuses to speak with them and has not told any of the other three that he can see them

dusty: as a child, dusty doesn't have a lot of deep secrets, but something he tries to keep under wraps is just how lonely he is. he's heard stories about his parents and the rest of the clan, but they don't really exist for him. they're as real as a character from a storybook. because of this, he is extremely attached to the other three, but particularly frost because frost has been his primary caretaker for as long as he can remember. we'll see this manifesting more over the next few moons!

🌌 What is their relationship with Starclan like? dusty isn't sure that starclan exists. he doesn't think that where he met the dogwood was starclan, and shiveringleaf told him that the dark area wasn't starclan. however, hawthorn has such a strong faith in them and often tells him stories about starclan. he thinks it sounds nice and he hopes that maybe it does exist

🙀 What do they fear the most? swarm knows on some level that the timing of gamblestar's death and creekstar's leader ceremony is suspicious. like frost said, they all knew that creek was going to die of redcough and that gamblestar had almost all of his lives left. swarm tells himself that it was starclan that killed gamblestar for an omen, but frost's vision challenges that in a way that swarm cannot face. canopyholly was a great mentor and a good cat. he would not have killed another cat. swarm clings to this and fears that the truth may be different

#thank you for the ask! it really made me happy to get ^^#dwcasks #ask meme

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malectober · 2 years ago

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Happy Valentine's folks!!

Or, more accurately, happy Malectine's!!! (I propose changing the official name to Malectine's Day. What's better, naming a holiday for romantic love after a hateful bigot who got none anyways or after Mr. Lovey-Doveys?)((By hateful bigot, I mean Valentine Morgenstern ofc. I'm sure St. Valentines was a delight))

Ehem. Anyway. I have decided to host a teeny tiny little Malec event this Valentines. Sponsored by a lil bit of time from my finals study sessions.

(I'm getting paid in sanity, not money btw)

((please help me NOT lose my sanity during finals, which, funnily, start the day after Valentines))

(((My only date for Valentines is, unfortunately, biochemistry. I'd really appreciate seeing some proper lovely chemistry that day instead of the kind that sucks my soul dry)))

((((okay I'll stop rambling now))))

Anyways. *clears throat* *dramatic flourish which Magnus would approve of*

Introducing the Malectine's Roulette Challenge!!

In this challenge, you're gonna spin a (virtual)

Now, here's how you can participate:

Step 1: Have a tumblr account (Ao3 account is optional)

Step 2: Spin the virtual roulette here to get a prompt!! There’s 7 prompts, each of which is from the Valentine’s week list thingy.

Step 3: Take your prompt and go wild with it!!

Step 4: On Valentine’s Day, post whatever you created here on tumblr (and if it’s a fic, in the Ao3 collection which I’ll link below) and tag @malectober so I can reblog it here!!

Now, before you go all spinning about, here’s a few ground rules and other information:

Please don’t spin more than once 🥺👉👈 The whole point of the challenge is to, well, challenge yourself. Make the best of what prompt you get. It wouldn’t really be a challenge if you kept spinning till you got the prompt you wanted. (However, if you’re racking your brain and still unable to come up with a good idea, you may have a second spin behind my back). Now, I won’t know if anyone spins multiple times, of course, that’s between you and your internet, buuut that also means it’s up to you to keep the challenge authentic.

You can do anything!! Art, fic, edits, playlists, you name it!!

Interested in the challenge but not really a malec fan? That’s fine! Take a spin anyway and go for it, but you don’t have to tag me.

Nsfw content is allowed, as long as it is put under a cut (Read more)

Speaking of which, any and all content is allowed!! Even if it’s the goriest darkest whumpiest content a human can possibly make. Just make sure to add any appropriate TWs to the beginning, and in case of particularly graphic/triggering content, put it under a cut!

For fic, there’s no word count limits, minimum or maximum. You could submit in one single word for a fic and I’ll still accept it!!

You may tag your work with “#malectine’s day” and “#malectine’s 2023”. But do tag this account within the post so I can notice it and reblog!!

I know I’m calling it a challenge, but there’s no reward or winners or anything. The true treasure is the malec content y’all will create, plus some of that sweet sweet validation.

Most importantly, do not, I repeat, DO NOT hate on any of the participants or content submitted.

That said, enjoy the challenge!!

Again, here’s the link to the roulette (Please let me know in case either of the links don’t work)

And here’s the link to the Ao3 Collection

Lastly, just for funsies, here’s a poll

#Malectine’s day #Malectine’s 2023 #Malectine’s day 2023 #malec #tsc #tmi #tec #shadowhunters #shtv

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soundlesslament · 2 years ago

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So I wrote the scene of the final conversation between Revan and the Exile after Malachor. This option tied with "both" in the poll, so I decided to honor that by writing this one first, but also the other one afterwards. I love democracy. I have also gone back and given titles to the previous stories, and all these posts are now tagged 'KOTOR Story' to make them easier to find.

Note: The story is written from the Exile’s (Lysia) point of view.

» This Is Goodbye

“Are you awake?”

I turn my head at the sound, a sting to my eyes as I force them open. The lights of the medbay burn. Colors and shadows melt into each other, ambient sounds mixing with sight, the entirety of the room taking too long to come into focus.

Standing by the door, opposite my bed, is Revan. She leans back against the wall, arms crossed, having foregone the customary armor in favor of simpler dark-colored robes. My muddled thoughts make me question if she is a hallucination - I do not feel her presence. The energy that always gathers around her, flaring like a beacon, is nowhere to be seen.

“Awake? I think so.” I do my best to sit up in bed, twisting the covers beneath my fingers as if that would ease the pain spreading across my body. My mind suddenly jolts with recollection. “The battle- Malachor. What happened?”

"It is over,” Revan confirms. She pushes herself from the wall, stepping forward. “You did well. I expect we will have a formal surrender in a few hours."

My shoulders drop in relief. It is over, I repeat to myself. This war will at last come to an end. For a second, I feel at peace.

And a second later, it all breaks apart.

Flashing memories cut through the haze, each stabbing like a blade. Destruction, suffering, death. My comrades falling before my eyes. Darkness.

"No. Something went wrong," I rush out the words. "There was too much damage. Our troops-"

"It went as it should have."

Her matter-of-fact tone shifts my gaze to her. She meets it with an impassive expression. A terrible feeling I cannot describe pushes aside all the pain, and my voice comes out like a trembling whisper, ”Revan, what did you do?”

She tilts her head to one side as if just asked a nonsensical question, before giving into a smirk.

“I won.”

For a moment, I forget how to breathe. I try to better focus on Revan through the blur, the back of my mind clinging to some desperate, foolish hope that this woman is not my old friend.

She stands still and collected, as if guessing my thoughts and waiting my appraisal. Her eyes are pale and colorless - were they not blue before? - but the spirit behind them is the same, cleverness and strength and determination shining through. My thoughts tying themselves into knots, I can only lower my head in defeat.

"We are not done yet." Revan shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest.

"You said-"

"The next target is the Republic. I am sure you agree they have more than proved their inefficiency. It is their time to fall."

All at once, the reality of the situation explodes within me. My vision is overwhelmed by pain and by tears, my body both hurts and feels senseless, my soul aches and yet feels empty.

"This is wrong." My throat burns as I speak. "Why are you- I will not- I cannot allow you to do this!"

"Threats are not so effective when you seem more dead than alive."

"Please, there is still time. Whatever you are planning, don't-'' I nearly choke on my words and my tears. And yet from the corner of my eye, I see Revan only sneers at my pleas. I know she will not listen to me, that she will not give up - when has she ever? My heart clenches. "We should never have come."

Revan scoffs out a laugh. Cold. Cruel. "Are you agreeing with the Council now?"

"Maybe I am. I only wanted to help those who were suffering, and now look at what we have done," I tell her. "Look at you."

"Crawl back to your masters and beg for forgiveness, then," she says, with a voice so disdainful I can hardly recognize it. There is a finality in her tone that crushes whatever is left of me. "Goodbye, Lysia."

Like a broken, listless doll, I say nothing as she turns and walks away, throwing her last words without looking back.

"Let us hope we do not meet again."

#Blogger Laments #Star Wars #KOTOR #KOTOR Story #Revan #Darth Revan #Jedi Exile #(Revan's evil posturing is very fun to write.)

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five-rivers · 5 years ago

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Darkness/Poison

This is part of the ‘Doorways’ series (aka Danny is an eldritch abomination and Jack and Maddie have no normal friends so they decide to go on a road trip to make sure none of their friends from college have become semi-satanic soul-eating holes in reality AU).

AO3 link to series.

The Fenton Ghost Assault Vehicle did not have the smoothest ride in the world, but Danny was used to it. Also, he had driven the Specter Speeder through the Carnivorous Canyon and ridden in Johnny 13’s sidecar.

Point being, if his parents didn’t want him to fall asleep, they should have told him. Or, at least, not dragged him out of bed at four thirty in the morning (both to get an early start and to avoid the reporters and other undesirables who had taken to circling Fentonworks like vultures).

Look. Danny might have been an unspeakable eldritch horror, a superhero, and one of the richest human beings on the face of the Earth, but he was also a teenager. Not to mention sleep deprived.

Besides, Mom and Dad had said their next Paranormal Research Club friend was miles and miles away. They wouldn’t reach his town until much later in the day. Danny had plenty of time to sleep safely.

Which is why he was so disgruntled when Dad shook him awake with a cheery “We’re here!”

“Where’s here?” asked Danny, rubbing his eyes and noting sadly how far away his portal back in Amity Park was.

“Breakfast,” said Jazz, voice heavy with sleep. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one trying to take advantage.

“’Kay,” said Danny, briefly wrestling with the seatbelt. He caught Mom staring as he opened the door. “What?” he asked frowning.

“Nothing,” she said, unconvincingly.

Whatever. Danny could figure it out later, when he was more awake. He jumped to the ground.

“I think you guys will really like it here!” said Dad, waving at the building. “The food’s great! An old friend owns the place. Your mom and I used to come here all the time before you were born, when we were commuting between Amity and Chicago.”

Danny nodded along, staring up at the neon sign that read ‘Red Flower Dinner.’ Then his brain caught up, and he slowly turned his head to look at Dad.

“’Old friend,’” he said. “What do you mean old friend?”

Dad blinked at him, uncomprehending. Jazz came to his rescue.

“Dad, we’re doing this whole trip because all of your old friends are lunatics,” she explained.

“They’re not!” said Dad, defensively. “Besides, Marianne was never part of our club. She didn’t even go to U of M.”

“She was a waitress at our favorite hangout,” explained Mom. “She got enough saved to buy this restaurant around the time we graduated. She’s few years older than us.”

“Saved? I thought a relative died, and she got an inheritance?” asked Dad.

Danny groaned. “Do you not see how suspicious that is?”

“Come on, Danno! We can have normal friends.”

“No, you can’t. If a normal thing ever interacts with our family in any way, it immediately becomes abnormal simply because of how unlikely it is for anything like that to happen.” He dug the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw stars.

“He’s got a point,” said Jazz. “Maybe we could go to a different dinner?”

“But,” said Dad, “she makes the best breakfast. And she really is normal. She wasn’t involved in any ghost stuff.”

“Are you really telling me you never talked to her about ghost stuff at all?” asked Danny, suspiciously.

“Well, we did,” said Dad. “But we talk to everyone about ghost stuff.”

“Dad…”

Dad inhaled and heaved a huge sigh, shoulders sagging. “Alright, Danno. I get what you’re saying. We can go somewhere else… Even if it won’t be as good.”

Okay. Now Danny felt bad.

Unfair.

“Well,” he said. “I guess we could check and make sure she’s not, you know, haunted or anything. That’s why we’re doing this, I guess.”

Dad brightened immediately, and Danny had to grab the back of his shirt to keep him from running in.

“But remember, if I say we have to go, we have to go. That’s the deal.”

Dad nodded. Danny let go. He sighed as Dad disappeared into the building.

“Is the food really that good?” asked Danny.

“Marianne grows a lot of her own herbs,” offered Mom with a shrug. “Everything she makes is at least decent. But, well,” she grimaced as she held the door open for her children. “The reason we liked her so much was that she always seemed interested in our research. We liked talking to someone who took us seriously.”

“Wonderful,” deadpanned Jazz.

The décor inside the dinner was bright red and floral. The seats and benches were upholstered in shiny, dyed leather. A long glass counter displayed pies and other desserts under bright lights. The air was warm and smelled faintly of cherries. A radio station played quietly in the background, blurring the chatter of the other guests.

Danny rubbed his eyes again. Ugh. He was tired. Sleeping in a moving vehicle was a special kind of unrestful. Heh. Unrestful dead. More like unrested dead. That was him.

(Someday, he was going to track down the first person to say, ‘I’ll sleep when I’m dead,’ and give them a stern talking to.)

“Marianne!” boomed Dad, waving at someone in the kitchen behind the order window.

There was a gasp. “Jack Fenton! Is that you?” A woman with greying brown curls leaned out, then ducked away briefly before reappearing through a door. “I haven’t seen you in years!” She threw her arms out, hugging first Dad and then Mom.

Danny bristled at the perceived threat to his parents but managed to control himself. This was nothing. Everything was fine. Just because every one of his parents’ friends so far had something weird and potentially fatal going on so far, it didn’t give him the right to police their every interaction with other human beings.

“Are these your kids?” asked Marianne, excitedly. “Oh, my goodness, you must be Jazz, and you’re Danny? I’ve only seen you in pictures, but you’ve grown so much. You’ll be as tall as your dad in no time.”

“Hope so,” said Danny, knowing there was no chance of that happening whatsoever.

Not with his human body, anyway.

“I hope we’ll get a chance to talk,” she continued, “but I have things on the stove. Why don’t you go ahead and find a seat? We’ll get to you soon.”

“Looking forward to it, Marianne!” said Dad, waving again.

“Is she alright?” asked Mom quietly as they slid into a corner booth.

Danny wound up in between Mom and Jazz, which was good, because Dad tended to elbow whoever he was sitting by. In this case, Mom, who could take it.

“I think so?” He rubbed his eyes. “But I can’t just sense everything. Don’t forget that.”

“Stop rubbing your eyes,” said Mom.

“They’re itchy,” said Danny. “I think I got some sleep sand in them or something.”

Mom’s expression softened. Danny blinked at it and wondered when he’d gotten so used to seeing an edge of suspicion on her face.

“It could be allergies,” she said. “It’s that time of year. Or it could be that you keep rubbing them.” She tugged his hands away from his face. “Either way, it isn’t healthy to keep touching your eyes, sweetie.”

It wasn’t that she didn’t have a point, but Danny wasn’t entirely sure he could get sick. Not anymore. Maybe if he was far enough away from Amity Park, spread thin enough between his two major physical manifestations… If his body was human enough… Maybe figuring that out could be a fun family bonding experience. Not.

He yawned. He wanted to go back to sleep. Being in here, with the warm scented air and not-quite-white background noise, only made slumber more inviting.

Still. His family’s ability to protect themselves was lacking. Danny at least had to stay conscious in case Marianne decided to channel the spirit of Locusta or something. Ancients, wouldn’t that be typical?

A waiter came, introduced themself, and handed out menus. Danny failed to process most of the waiter’s prepared speech, and his eyes drifted down to the menu.

It seemed… normal, for lack of a better word. Slightly worn, a couple stains on the paper behind the plastic protector. The pages had a border of blotchy red flowers. The items were all typical breakfast foods. Nothing jumped out at him.

He wasn’t even hungry. Actually, if he thought about it, he was a little nauseated. Sometimes that happened when he didn’t eat for a while, though, so maybe he was hungry, after all?

Why did bodies have to be so complicated?

“What are you getting?” asked Jazz, who was morally unable to make a food order until she’d taken a poll.

“I don’t know,” said Danny, folding his arms on the table and letting his head rest on them. “I’ll probably just get whatever you’re getting.”

Jazz frowned at him and repeated the question to their parents.

The waiter came back after a few minutes.

“I’ll have the Variety Breakfast!” said Dad, excitedly.

“The number five, please,” said Maddie. “Sausage links, not bacon.”

“Um,” said Jazz. “How about the Red Flower Special?”

“Excellent choice,” said the waiter, smiling. “Marianne grows all the seasonings for that herself, and the presentation is lovely.”

“I mean, it’s pancakes, right?” asked Jazz, nervously.

“It is, it is. What would you like for your side?” It took just a few seconds for the waiter to get the rest of Jazz’s order, then they turned to Danny. “And what are you having today?”

“Same as her,” said Danny, waving in Jazz’s general direction.

“Good choice, good choice,” said the waiter. “We’ll be back soon!”

“Thanks!” said Dad. He reached over Mom to pat Danny on the shoulder. “See? This is just a completely normal restaurant.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, dubiously. He’d believe it when he got out of here with his questionably mortal coil and squishy, murderable human family intact.

Okay. Maybe he was being a bit overdramatic, now. Was it because he was too far from the Amity portal? He’d been sure it wouldn’t significantly affect him, though. It wasn’t as if physical distance meant much in this context. Sure, he wasn’t on his home turf, but still…

Of course, he was a teenager. Teenagers were supposed to be overdramatic. At least, that’s what he’d heard. Being a teenager didn’t come with a manual any more than being a half-ghost superhero did, quirky TV shows about middle school notwithstanding.

Yeah. That sounded reasonable. He was a teenager who’d been woken early, and it was still early, and that meant the world was terrible. Excellent math.

He sipped at the water the waiter had left him, pleased with himself.

Which is when his and Jazz’s orders arrived. Danny caught a glimpse of red on him plate, abruptly recognized the prickling feeling in his eyes, expelled the water he was drinking from his nose, and propelled himself sideways across Mom and Dad and out of the booth.

“Ah!” he said, pointing at the red-tinted pancakes and the pretty little flowers on top.

The plating really was nice. Just like the waiter said.

The whole dinner was staring at him.

“He’s got allergies,” explained Jazz, her voice just a little too high pitched. “Just—Really horrible allergies. To flowers like this.”

“Blood blossoms,” said Danny. He was reasonably certain the things wouldn’t kill him, he wasn’t sure that anything short of something like Gula could kill him, but every encounter he had with them had been painful beyond belief, and he doubted that their being cooked would help very much with that.

“Right. Blood blossoms. The name always slips by me… Haha.”

“Oh my gosh,” said Marianne, rushing out of the kitchen. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know anyone was allergic to them! It’s just, you guys always talked about how they were lucky, and they got rid of bad spirits, so I thought I’d incorporate them, and they’re red, which is also lucky, and they taste so good—”

“Marianne,” said Mom, poking at one of the flowers, “where did you even get these? I thought they were extinct.”

“Oh,” said Marianne, “my uncle, the one who died, well I guess they’re all dead, now, but… The one who left me enough to buy the dinner? He worked in seed conservation. I got his personal collection.” She sniffed, apparently on the edge of tears.

“Ah,” said Mom, glancing at Danny. “That’s interesting. Um.” She slid out of the booth. “I’m really sorry, Marianne, but,” she gestured in Danny’s direction. “Food allergies.”

“He’s had breakouts just from being around them, before,” added Jazz, helpfully.

“Oh, no, no, I understand. Um. One second, let me give you my number, I don’t want to fall out of contact again, oh, dear. Tracy! Give me your notepad!”

It took several more minutes for all the Fentons to make their way back outside, most of which Danny spent staring into the dinner through the large front windows, keeping an eye on his family. Maybe he didn’t have ‘allergies’ in the typical sense but being around blood blossoms was making his skin itch and prickle unpleasantly.

Eventually, however, after Dad had shoved most of his order down his throat in a single go, they all got back into the GAV.

“Oh. My. Gosh,” said Jazz. “You two have no normal friends.”

#danny phantom #ectober week #ectober #ectober 2020 #ectober week 2020

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theliberaltony · 4 years ago

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Welcome to FiveThirtyEight’s politics chat. The transcript below has been lightly edited.

sarah (Sarah Frostenson, politics editor): Georgia’s new voting law has captured headlines for all the ways in which it makes voting harder. It’s also not the only state considering these kinds of laws; there are nearly 20 states in which voting restrictions have already passed at least one step of the legislative process. More than 300 voting restriction bills, according to an analysis by FiveThirtyEight, have been introduced in state legislatures this year following months of fraudulent claims from former President Trump and his supporters that the 2020 presidential election was rigged. (Sixty percent of Republican voters still say the election “was stolen” from Trump.)

But understanding the effects of laws like Georgia’s is complicated. There’s not really solid evidence one way or the other that this law will hurt Democrats or help Republicans. It’s also a point that elides a more fundamental one: If one party increasingly supports anti-democratic measures, does anything else outweigh that?

Public opinion on voting laws isn’t clear-cut either — provisions like a ban on giving voters food and water (something the Georgia law did) are unpopular, but voter ID laws are broadly popular. So let’s address the politics, public opinion and research on voting laws to better understand the contours of this debate, tackling this chat in two parts:

First, how much does it matter that Republicans’ election security push is precipitated on a lie? That is, as there has been no evidence the 2020 election actually experienced wide-scale fraud, does that undermine Republicans’ argument?

And second, how much do Americans care about voting rights as an issue?

OK, first up — The argument from Republicans supporting these new laws. What do they want in the push for more “election security”? And how much does it matter, at this point, that there wasn’t actually wide-scale voter fraud in 2020?

nrakich (Nathaniel Rakich, elections analyst): IMO, the “Big Lie” is the key to understanding Republicans’ motivations. Everyone can agree that elections should be secure. But …

… the specific methods of voting being targeted by Republicans (almost half of the voting restrictions that have been introduced regulate absentee voting), the states in which they are targeting them (disproportionately swing states), and the timing of that targeting (after Republicans lost the 2020 election) all suggest that they are only passing these restrictions because they think they will help the GOP win future elections.

alex (Alex Samuels, politics reporter): But to your second question, Sarah, this is the narrative conservative lawmakers and many of their voters have bought into, right? That the 2020 election was supposedly stolen from Trump?

There was never — and still is no — evidence of massive voter fraud that Trump and his allies stated as fact. But because it was repeated so many times and with such certainty, large parts of the GOP electorate came to believe it.

As long as the “Big Lie” continues to be pervasive, we’re going to keep seeing these efforts to get these restrictions passed, as Nathaniel notes.

nrakich: Alex, it’s an interesting question whether these Republican legislators actually believe that rampant voter fraud cost Trump the election or they are just going along with it because it’s politically convenient. But I’m also not sure it matters. Either way, they are making policy based on a conspiracy theory.

sarah: Right, setting aside the question as to what extent Republican politicians buy the “Big Lie,” it is pervasive among Republican voters: In a March 30-31 Reuters poll, 6 in 10 Republicans said they still believed the election “was stolen” from Trump “due to widespread voter fraud.”

nrakich: And rank-and-file Republicans are correspondingly willing to make voting harder in order to get their desired outcome. According to the Pew Research Center, only 28 percent of Republicans now say “everything possible should be done to make it easy for every citizen to vote,” down from 48 percent in 2018.

alex: Republican politicians also seem to acknowledge that it’s likely they won’t win future elections without some sort of changes to the voting system. Sen. Lindsey Graham told Fox News that “mail-in balloting is a nightmare for us,” even though it wasn’t controversial before this past year. I think these changes are more about preserving power than about “voter fraud.”

And to Nathaniel’s earlier point, few Republicans lawmakers are doing anything to stop these bills from passing. Even the ones who don’t necessarily think there was fraud.

julia_azari (Julia Azari, political science professor at Marquette University and FiveThirtyEight contributor): The argument about election security boils down to an argument that people voted who shouldn’t have, right? That there were questionable votes.

And so reforms based on the “Big Lie” hinge on the 2020 election having those kinds of irregularities. People might not come out and say it was because people of the wrong skin color voted — they might say, well, people should have been ineligible because of changes to early voting rules or whatever. But in the context of both the history of disenfranchisement of African Americans and more recent fears about people living in the country illegally voting, the implication is pretty clear. When the solution is to tighten up the voting rules, you have implied that the problem is the wrong people voting.

nrakich: Yeah, Julia, you see this in how surgically targeted some of these provisions are. For example, legislators in Georgia originally proposed banning early voting on Sundays, which would end the “Souls to the Polls” initiatives that are so popular at Black churches. That provision did not end up passing, but one that did — prohibiting food and water be handed to voters in line — will disproportionately affect urban areas, where there are both more lines and more voters of color.

alex: Myrna Pérez from the Brennan Center told us something similar, Julia. The bills we’re seeing now reflect “a real fear over the browning of America, and folks trying to protect what they have and keep the power for themselves.”

sarah: And as you all are saying, sometimes it’s hard to see that this is what these restrictions intend to do, because some of the more draconian measures don’t end up passing and the exact language of the measures that do pass isn’t quite so explicit (i.e., “This voting measure intends to disenfranchise Black Americans.”).

The New York Times’s Jamelle Bouie argued this in his essay on how it’s not an exaggeration to compare the current voting restriction push to the Jim Crow era. That is, a lot of the ramifications and larger purposes behind these bills weren’t immediately clear until all the pieces fell into line. “[T]he thing about Jim Crow is that it wasn’t ‘Jim Crow’ until, one day, it was,” writes Bouie.

At this point, though, do Republicans need the “Big Lie” to push through this agenda?

That is, it feels like there is a shift at play here with Republicans increasingly distancing themselves from the election being stolen in 2020 and more so focusing on scoring points against how Democrats are now characterizing the laws (i.e., Jim Crow 2.0).

In fact, we’ve already seen some of this reframing in how Republican politicians criticized Major League Baseball’s decision to pull its All-Star Game out of Georgia over the new voting law, with Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell warning CEOs to “stay out of politics.”

What’s Republicans’ long-term strategy?

nrakich: Many of the new arguments that Republicans are pushing are in bad faith, though. For example, Georgia Gov. Brian Kemp has claimed that Georgia’s new law actually expands voting rights because it allows for more early voting. But that completely ignores the many more objective restrictions in the law, such as less time to request an absentee ballot and the need for absentee voters to provide voter ID — not to mention arguably the most concerning part of the law, the part that gives the state elections board the ability to remove local election officials.

alex: I agree. Republicans’ motivation, long term, seems to be anti-democratic. Even Trump dismissed proposals to make voting easier last year. So now the post-Trump strategy seems to be focused on how best to win elections, and even though Republicans have maybe not explicitly said they don’t think they can do that without overhauling the current system(s) in place, that seems to be what’s happening.

nrakich: McConnell’s request for corporations to “stay out of politics” is also pretty funny — he sounds like Bernie Sanders! What McConnell means, of course, is that he wants corporations to stop disagreeing with him politically. (Corporations have been intimately involved in politics for hundreds of years.)

sarah: It is a difficult position for a party that is traditionally pro-business to adopt this stance, too.

nrakich: Exactly, Sarah; it’s disingenuous. Republicans have historically wanted corporations to be more involved in politics — e.g., when they’ve defended corporations’ right to give money to political campaigns.

julia_azari: I mean, part of the founding ethos of the Republican Party was about creating a strong national economy based on free (as opposed to slave) labor. Nineteenth-century Republicans saw the purpose of government as being able to help American business grow strong.

So I read McConnell’s statement as “stay out of politics that challenge existing power arrangements.”

alex: Isn’t Republicans’ argument with MLB, though, that it’s overstating what Georgia’s law does?

nrakich: What do you mean, Alex?

alex: Maybe my Texas bias is showing, but Gov. Greg Abbott said yesterday that he wouldn’t throw out the first pitch at the Texas Rangers’ home opener after MLB adopted “what has turned out to be a false narrative about Georgia’s election law reforms.” (That’s straight from his statement.)

sarah: Right, Republicans are now attacking Democrats for overplaying their hand in how they’re describing what the laws actually do. But Nathaniel hit on this earlier — while there might technically be a longer early voting period in Georgia now, there is less time to request an absentee ballot and it’s harder to cast an absentee ballot because a voter must provide voter ID.

julia_azari: The inconsistency of the arguments the GOP has been using to defend their position is wild.

nrakich: Yes, Julia, it’s so bizarre! If you truly believe that “voting shouldn’t be easy” is a defensible position, you should make that argument (e.g., on security grounds).

But instead many Republicans are insisting that they are the party expanding voting rights, which suggests that they agree with the premise that restricting voting is the wrong side of the debate to be on.

julia_azari: I think this reveals a key asymmetry (or at least a potential one). Democrats can overplay their hand by stoking outrage in their supporters and end up being lambasted for being wrong or exaggerating. Republicans, on the other hand, don’t seem to suffer repercussions for changing up the logic of their arguments; instead, they seem to have found a strategy in attacking “cancel culture” whenever under scrutiny.

sarah: What’s also so hard to disentangle in laws like Georgia’s is there are really two things happening at once. First, there are actual changes to the voting process, but then there are also changes that affect how elections are administered, and in the case of Georgia, make it easier for politicians to interfere.

Nathaniel mentioned it earlier, but take the part of Georgia’s law that now allows the Republican-appointed state elections board to remove local election officials and essentially remove the secretary of state’s role in ensuring the election was conducted fairly.

We know that in the 2020 presidential election, Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger refused to kowtow to Trump’s demand that he find “11,780 votes,” but now that guardrail is gone.

A lot of what we’re talking about here is moot, though, if Democrats are able to push through their sweeping voting reform bill, H.R.1.

julia_azari: I’m on team “nothing else matters” once we’ve passed a certain anti-democratic threshold. And the provisions on election administration in Georgia’s law are worthy of a lot of attention — even if it’s not clear what they’ll mean in practice.

The period between the 2020 election and the inauguration featured a lot of attempts to mess with the Electoral College votes. There was real drama over certification in Michigan, for instance. You’re seeing a move — even if it’s slight — toward the direction that people shouldn’t actually get to choose their slate of electors or that state legislatures can have a stronger hand in that process. This is like early 19th century stuff.

sarah: Is voting rights something Americans care about, though?

alex: Considering this is something some people fought for the right to do for decades, I’d say yes. Others might have a different answer, though, because not everyone votes.

nrakich: Historically, voting rights hasn’t been an issue that has motivated many voters; it barely cracks the list of the most important problems facing the country, per Gallup polling. It’s hard to get people worked up about wonky provisions like whether people should be able to register to vote on Election Day or sometime before, or whether there should be one week of early voting versus two.

But I think framing these wonky issues as questions of rights and the health of our democracy has the potential to be very motivating. Especially if some voters (i.e., people of color) feel that their rights are being abridged.

alex: And I think that’s what Democrats have been doing so far: framing what’s happening in Georgia and other states as a “Jim Crow 2.0.”

That’s also probably easier to understand — and more motivating — than explaining the nitty-gritty measures in each individual bill.

nrakich: Look at what happened in North Dakota in 2018. The state passed a law that required voter IDs with residential addresses on them — something many Native Americans who live on reservations didn’t have. But the law appears to have backfired; Native Americans were highly motivated to exercise their right to vote in spite of the law, and Native American turnout skyrocketed.

julia_azari: Yeah, this is a pretty well-documented phenomenon. I want to make sure we clarify, though, that we are using this as an illustration of how important voting rights are to people, and not in the sense of “these laws are OK because there’s always countermobilization!” The latter caused so much angst on Twitter over the weekend in response to The New York Times’s Nate Cohn’s analysis of Georgia’s law.

alex: I’m torn on the countermobilization argument, because I’ve seen the same logic used to talk about Black voters (i.e., efforts to make it harder to vote will motivate more people and backfire against Republicans). But people shouldn’t have to surmount unconstitutional hurdles to vote!

I’m not saying you’re making that argument, Nathaniel, I’m just saying I’ve seen a few people argue that voter suppression isn’t real because a turnout gap didn’t/doesn’t materialize as expected.

nrakich: Agreed 100 percent, with both you and Julia. Even if a law doesn’t deter a single person from voting, it might still be restrictive if it imposes additional hardships on existing voters.

For example, even if people are willing to wait hours in line to make sure their vote gets cast, that inconvenience can have non-voting-related consequences, such as having to pay extra for child care or losing out on wages at your hourly job.

sarah: For sure, the most important thing is that people have the right to vote without it being a burden. But I also want to return to this question of electoral impact, because the research is really mixed on it.

Some studies have suggested that absentee voting didn’t help Democrats’ margin in 2020, or as Cohn’s analysis of Georgia’s law suggests — it’s really hard to know whether this will impact turnout negatively in elections moving forward. But something we found in the research for our 2020 forecast was that if we account for changes in how easy it is to vote in each state based on a cost of voting index researchers have put together, states with higher barriers to voting tend to produce better results for Republican candidates while states with fewer barriers tend to lean more toward Democrats.

nrakich: I think a lot of nuance is called for when attempting to answer this question of electoral impacts. Discussions like these often lump different types of voting restrictions (or expansions) together, but not every voting reform is created equal.

For instance, I am persuaded by the studies that show that changes to absentee voting laws are unlikely to change the outcome of an election. But political scientists have found that things like banning/instituting same-day voter registration actually can have significant effects! This thread from political scientist Charlotte Hill was very instructive in that regard:

The idea that making voting easier *won't* improve turnout is one of political science's worst takes. (And to be clear, many political scientists don't buy it.) In this thread, I'll explain why. Buckle up. https://t.co/NH1HH0YYuZ

— Charlotte Hill (@hill_charlotte) April 3, 2021

sarah: It also seems as if making voting easier is becoming an increasingly polarized issue, with far more Republicans now unwilling to say that “everything possible” should be done to make voting easier.

julia_azari: Yeah, on the question of polarization, this debate isn’t necessarily always going to be directly related to which laws help which parties, but rather how voters understand those laws in relation to their own partisan motivations — what they dislike about the other party, how their own identity motivates their partisanship.

This thread from political psychologist Christopher Federico linking support for restrictions to racial attitudes is also useful.

Been digging into the new 2020 ANES release this week, and I got curious as to what might predict negative attitudes toward increasing ballot access. So, I took a look at the ANES items on early voting, voter ID, and felon disenfranchisement. (1/n)

— Christopher Federico (@ChrisPolPsych) April 2, 2021

sarah: Where do you all think the fight over voting rights heads next?

alex: Whether Democrats can actually agree on something and get H.R. 1 passed is a big open question. But there’s also how many of these restrictive bills actually pass and where that leaves Republicans two years down the line.

If Republicans only pass a few dozen of these bills, do they continue pushing for them in future legislative sessions? (I would bet the answer is yes, but I’m curious to see how this progresses over time.)

julia_azari: A couple of questions I have been thinking about: One is the degree to which Trumpism within the Republican Party is about winning elections without winning majorities of the multiethnic electorate, and another is where standard political hardball ends and being anti-democratic begins.

And at the risk of sounding stupid because I know these things are so intertwined at this point, I also wonder how to think about what’s about partisanship versus what’s about race. A really cynical take would suggest that elite Republicans are taking advantage of the salience of these demographic issues in order to produce institutional changes to consolidate power.

nrakich: I just think voting rights is an extremely nuanced issue that requires people to acknowledge a ton of realities all at once.

Some voting restrictions probably don’t affect turnout or who wins.

But others might.

But backlash/countereffects can scramble that calculus too.

But electoral impacts are only one small part of why these laws matter.

They matter in how they affect the convenience of voting too.

Regardless of impact, intent is important (e.g., it matters that Republicans are pushing voting restrictions shortly after losing a major election and crying “voter fraud” about it).

It matters normatively that it has become the position of one of the two main political parties that it should be harder to vote.

Regardless of impact, context is important (e.g., this is not the first time that a state like Georgia has tried to make it hard for certain people to vote).

It’s important to acknowledge the racial impacts/motivations of these laws.

“Voting restrictions” (or “voting expansions”) is an extremely broad term that encompasses a ton of more specific proposals, which should probably be judged on their own merits because they each have different impacts and are just or unjust to varying degrees.

#IFTTT #Politics – FiveThirtyEight #politics #538 #A FiveThirtyEight Chat

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bringbackwendellvaughn · 4 years ago

Text

Some Light Christmas Fun

i saw a bunch of my posts had been flagged as inappropriate by tumblr and appealed all of them so they now can show up. even the one about my obsession with psylocke. one i couldn’t appeal though (because it was a reblog) was a reply trying to identify all the characters depicted in The Raft as candidates for the Thunderbolts in Thunderbolts #155.

So now I am going to repeat some of what I said, add some more thoughts and try and identify them all.

This is actually one of my favourite past-times working out what stock background space fillers could reasonably be established characters. Let’s be honest, most of these were probably not meant to be anyone and were just people Kev Walker drew to fill up a room. But, within the story itself, they all have to be established super-villains who would be considered as applicants for the Thunderbolts. For identifying these, there are a few things to refer to here - the characters who are ultimately chosen to join the team are probably there, the next issue identifies some of these people who don’t make the cut, there was a poll featuring a vote for who you wanted to join the team (Shocker won, i voted for Madame Masque), some of the characters appear in other issues of Thunderbolts, some star in a preview story in Enter the Heroic Age and then in Heroic Age: Villains, Steve Rogers proposes several inmates of the Raft as potential future recruits for the Thunderbolts - some shown here.

1. Bison (Billy Kitson) or Man-Bull (William Taurens) Bison is a Thunderstrike enemy who later showed up on Crimson Cowl’s Masters of Evil in Kurt Busiek’s run on Thunderbolts. What we can see here is that it is an orange furred man, but the face cannot be seen. I am inclined to say that this would be Bison since Steve Rogers recommended him as a potential addition to the Thunderbolts in Heroic Age: Villains. This would be slightly off-model for him and it seems we should see his horns poking out here, but Bison is confirmed as being at The Raft and has that reason for being there. Alternatively it might be Man-Bull who is later shown to be at the Raft in some issues of Hercules. Then there is also Griffin (John Horton) who was a poll choice but like Bison’s horns, we should be able to see his wings, so I am definitively removing him as a possibility here..

2. Shocker (Herman Schultz) Shocker joins the team next issue and is depicted with this hair. I’d lock him in as a definite.

3. ? We don’t have much to go on here besides a sort of faux-hawk hairdo. I’ve ran down the list of who could be there and turned up squat. Maybe in prison, Badd Axe grew a mohawk style. Badd Axe was another of the characters Steve Rogers proposed as a possible team candidate. Blizzard is confirmed as being there next issue - maybe he shaved his head like this to try and look more tough in prison.

4. Bloodshed (Wyndell Dickinson) Bloodshed is a Spider-Man baddie and another member of Crimson Cowl’s Masters of Evil (there’s a lot of them here). He’s apparently grown a goatee but I’d be confident to lock him in as another definite here. He was another of Steve’s candidates from Heroic Age: Villains.

5. Grizzly (Max Markham) I am a bit obsessed with shoving Grizzly into the background of this run. It’s not without precedent, he is depicted in Enter The Heroic Age as being at the Raft, Steve Rogers nominates him as a team member and before this run he was a full-fledged member of the team. This character design mostly suits being Grizzly, he’s the right size and has his soul-patch. The one thing stopping me from saying it’s definitely him is he appears to have some form of faceplate on him. Maybe this was an inking or colouring error? Maybe - just maybe - it is bandages from when Ant-Man climbed into his ear and beat up his ear-drums in Thunderbolts #143. That’s really reaching, especially considering Grizzly had appeared since without his ears being wrapped, but I really want to say this is Grizzly.

6. ? This character receives a fair amount of dialogue bullying pre-transformation Mr. Hyde in the next issue. Possibly trying to deflect their own lack of power by bullying Mr. Hyde when he thinks that Mr. Hyde is a weak timid guy worse off than him. We have a very generic black-haired guy who would bully a weakling, so who could it be?

7. Mr. Hyde (Calvin Zabo) This is kind of how he is depicted next issue when he is in his non-Mr. Hyde form. A small man with black hair cropped at the sides. He is also shown in front of 6 in a line and is bullied by him for looking weak and nerdy. Here he is shown stood in front of 6 again, so this would make sense as being Mr. Hyde.

8. Amazon (Katrina van Horn) or Titania (Mary MacPherran) I want to say this is Amazon, formerly Man-Killer, as she is an ex-Thunderbolt who despite only being on the team briefly always kept showing up in the book. She was again recommended as a possible Thunderbolt in Heroic Age: Villains and while her hair has grown a bit longer here, this would make sense as being her. I’d still hazard a bit to say lock this one in though because, alternatively, it could just as easily be Titania who is seen as an inmate in Thunderbolts #144.

9. ? This one has been bugging me for a while. I so know this character. Has black vertical lines on the eyes, right? Or it might be Armadillo (Antonio Rodriguez) which someone seems to have identified as being in this issue on terrible website ComicVine (I think they just confused 11 with Armadillo though). He’d be a good choice to be here though.

10. ? There is a few characters this could be. Next issue depicts a character with a hairless head with a less human face which might have been the intention here but it’s in the back so never required this detail. If we’re going with that one, the guess would be Headlok (Murray Singleton). At the other end, if you want to say he’s wearing a mask and again it’s the result of lack of detailed, Scarecrow (Ebeneezer Laughton) - next issue shows his mask as being biege. He was a poll choice and actually receives dialogue next issue.

11. Blood Brother The survivor of the two Blood Brothers, we saw this character in Enter The Heroic Age and in Thunderbolts #156 he is identified and given dialogue. He is depicted speaking to 6 and Mr. Hyde (7) next issue. There’s no area of debate this isn’t Blood Brother.

12. ? Short guy with long hair. This seems like it could be an easy one but I’m coming up empty. Dare I suggest this could be Grizzly again?

13. ? A tall woman with nice black hair. Possibly Titania again. Otherwise, the best I can think of is that Moonstone acknowledges Black Mamba as being there next issue. It’s maybe a bit too built for her but it’s also the one that looks the most like Black Mamba.

14. ? I’m pulling this one out of nowhere but this could be Asp. The hair matches and she is Black Mamba’s bff, so it’d make sense they’d be near each other.

15. Powderkeg (Frank Skorina) Powderkeg is a real Z-list villain fodder guy. He is confirmed as being a Raft inmate in Avengers Academy #4 (a light crossover issue with Thunderbolts) and I want to say this is definitely him even if it requires a little bit more footwork.

16. Super-Skrull (Kl’rt) Confirmed next issue.

17. Skeleton Ki (Alisher Sham) One of Steve Rogers’ picks and this one is wearing a skeleton face mask so it seems quite evident it is him. Lock in Skeleton Ki as number 17.

18. ? This character is also depicted next issue, stood behind Blood Brother and 6 during the Mr. Hyde bullying scene. Based on that, it’s clear he is a male with long hair.

19. ? Absolutely no idea. Woman with corn-rows.

20. Dark Beast (Hank McCoy) AOA-verse evil version of Beast. Jeff Parker originally wanted this character to join the team but was blocked by the X-offices. Centurius filled his role instead. Dark Beast is shown on the cover to #156, was also one of the poll choices and him being drawn a bit poorly here might have been a last-minute alteration to try and change it to NOT be Dark Beast. This is definitely meant to be Dark Beast though.

21. Poundcakes (Marian Pouncy) Poundcakes is shown as a inmate of the Raft in Thunderbolts #159. The body type is a match and the hair is consistent with how she is shown in #159. Lock her in.

22. Boomerang (Fred Myers) He joins the team next issue. This is another case where this is obviously the character. 100% definite here.

23. Ox (Roland Bloch) Member of the Enforcers (and briefly the Thunderbolts Army). This is how Ox was drawn in Enter The Heroic Age. The colour of his hair has slightly changed but put him in the definite machine.

24. Mandrill (Jerome Beechman) This is Mandrill. Easy.

25. Troll (Gunna Sijurvald) She joins the team. This is undebatably her.

26. Bushwacker (Carl Burbank) Bushwacker is a former Daredevil and Punisher foil. This is definitely him. He was depicted exactly like this in Enter the Heroic Age. Definitely lock him in.

Here’s the bit in issue #156 which features some roll-call with not necessarily the character models depicted.

Of those I can’t identify the first one (Blizzard because she mentions him? Really, any number of other bad guys listed below can fit this design), the next one is either 6 or 7, then up-front in that mask is Scarecrow (confirmed next 2 panels). Next that would b Bloodshed/4, and then possibly a miscoloured Ana Kravinoff, and finally Headlok and Super-Skrull.

Extra notes: - Centurius (Noah Black) is not depicted but joins the team. - Blizzard (Donnie Gill) is confirmed as being there in this room as seen above but I don’t see any character that could really really be him. - Scarecrow (Ebeneezer Laughton) is as well but he’s been speculated all over the place. - Black Mamba (Tanya Sealy) likewise. - The leftover Steve Rogers’ suggestions from Heroic Age: Villains are Absorbing Man (Carl Creel), Answer (Aaron Nicholson), Badd Axe, Hydro-Man (Morris Bench), Lady Stilt-Man (Callie Ryan), Mad Dog (Buzz Baxter), Redeemer (Shep Gunderson), Ruby Thursday (Thursday Rubinstein) and Vector (Simon Utrecht). Some of them like Ruby Thursday are clearly not there. - He also recommended the Young Masters but none of them were ever even arrested. - The cover to issue #156 also features Abomination (Emil Blonsky), Absorbing Man, Batroc (Georges Batroc), Ana Kravinoff and Sandman (William Baker/Flint Marko) - none of these appear to be there and Abomination had been dead for a few years by that point. - I can’t find the poll itself, I can find a link to it but it just redirects to Marvel.com, and other than the winner (Shocker) and who I voted for (Madame Masque), the other choices are sourced from a forum post. Absorbing Man, Batroc, Brother(s?) Grimm, Dark Beast, Doctor Demonicus (Douglas Birely), Griffin, Ana Kravinoff, Living Laser (Arthur Parks), Madame Masque (Whitney Frost), Mr. Hyde, Sandman, Scarecrow, Shocker and Other. Noticeably nearly all the ones on the cover to #156 were listed. Other allowed you to write-in a choice but they shouldn’t really count towards this. Of these ones, Absorbing Man, Doctor Demonicus (deformed face with horns), possibly Griffin, Ana Kravinoff, Living Laser (stuck in energy form), Madame Masque and Sandman are obviously not there. - Some other confirmed Raft inmates at this time from other Thunderbolts issues include Axe (Jerome Hamilton), Corruptor (Jackson Day), Mr. Fear (Alan Fagan), Mo Money, Purple Man (Zebediah Kilgrave) and Titania. #159 gives us 3 previously unseen characters: Big Roy (a Walrus monster man), Man-Mountain Mario (Man-Mountain Marko’s cousin) and Indali (a normal looking woman who is the Queen B of the women’s wing of the prison). In other books we see Basilisk (Basil Elks), Blackout (of the Lilin), Crossfire (William Cross), Griffin, Hecate, Man-Bull, Vermin (Edward Whelan) and probably much much more but those are the ones that come straight to mind from Avengers Academy #4, Hawkeye and Mockingbird and a Hercules story. - While Crossbones (Brock Rumlow), Hyperion, Nuke (Frank Simpson) and Norman Osborn are all being held at The Raft, they are not eligible for the team.

Feel free to contribute or ignore this.

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threadvector · 4 years ago

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The irony is that taxes were intended to lessen social polarity and friction

Moreover, these strata of society were most likely to use tax planning to minimize their tax payments. They wriggled their way around controversial subjects and the result was that every loophole cutting measure brought in its wake a growing host of others. Governments from Germany to the USA are working along the same lines. But they underwent a malignant transformation. In the lunatic fringes there were those who refused to pay taxes and served prison sentences as a result. But there is no way of preventing a tax evader from enjoying tax money paid by others. This way, more tax payers were supposed to be caught in "the net". The situation looked hopeless. Money is transferred from one group of citizens (law abiding taxpayers) - to other groups. It indirectly affects the purchasing power of those not knowledgeable enough, devoid of political clout, or not rich enough to protect themselves.. Suddenly, the fashion was to downsize government, minimize its disruptive involvement in the marketplace and reduce the total tax burden as part of the GNP. All these very dear prices might have been acceptable if taxes were to achieve their primary stated goals. Tax revenues were diverted to pay for urban renewal, to encourage foreign investments through tax breaks and tax incentives, to enhance social equality by evenly redistributing income and so on.

These economic activities went unreported and totally deformed the processes of macroeconomic decision making, supposedly based on complete economic data. So, governments tried the next trick in their bag: they shifted from progressive taxes to regressive ones. This lack of transparency and even-handedness led to the frequent eruption of scandals which unseated governments more often than not. That they failed to do so is what sparked the latest rebellious thinking. At first, the governments of the world tried a few simple recipes: They tried to widen the tax base by better collection, processing, amalgamation and crossing of information. On the other, the number of tax rates and the magnitude of each rate will be pared down. This proved to be a much more efficient measure - albeit with grave social consequences. They began to be used to express social preferences. Monstrous black economies were formed by entrepreneuring souls. This was really a shift from taxes on income to taxes on consumption. The salaries of the lower strata of society are eroded by inflation and this has the exact same effect as a tax would. Regressive taxes were politically and socially costly. Research demonstrated that most tax money benefited the middle classes and the rich, in short: those who need it least. Still, it became so widespread and so socially accepted that no one dared challenge it seriously. The idea is aesthetically appealing: all tax concessions and loopholes will be eliminated, on the one hand. This failed dismally.To tax or not to tax - this question could have never been asked twenty years ago.

They abolished on the one hand - and gave with the other. If they succeed, we may all inherit a better world. Moreover, VAT and other direct taxes on consumption were almost immediately reflected in higher inflation figures. This is why inflation is called the poor man's tax. Taxes are inherently unjust. Thus, governments were reduced to using the final, nuclear-like, weapon in their arsenal: the simplification of the tax system. Moreover, decades of progressive taxation did not reverse the trend of a growing gap between the rich and the poor. As economic theory goes, inflation is a tax. This apparent lack of macroeconomic control creates a second layer of mistrust between the citizen and his government (on top of the one related to the collection of taxes). This entailed conflicts with special interest groups whose interests were duly reflected in the tax loopholes. They are enforced, using state coercion. Progressive taxes resembled Swiss cheese: too many loopholes, not enough substances. Taxes are largely considered to be responsible for the following: They distorted business thinking; Encouraged the misallocation of economic resources; Diverted money to strange tax motivated investments; Absorbed unacceptably large chunks of the GDP; Deterred foreign investment; Morally corrupted the population, encouraging it to engage in massive illegal activities; Adversely influenced macroeconomic parameters such as unemployment, the money supply and interest rates; Deprived the business sector of capital needed for its development by spending it on non productive political ends; Caused the smuggling of capital outside the country;

The formation of strong parallel, black economies and the falsification of economic records thus affecting the proper decision making processes; Facilitated the establishment of big, inefficient bureaucracies for the collection of taxes and data related to income and economic activity; Forced every member of society to - directly or indirectly - pay for professional services related to his tax obligations, or, at least to consume his own resources (time, money and energy) in communicating with authorities dealing with tax collection. The recipients are less savoury: they either do not pay taxes legally (low income populations, children, the elderly) - or avoid paying taxes illegally. They are trying to stem what is in effect a tax rebellion, a major case of civil disobedience. Marginal tax rates will go down considerably and so will the number of tax rates. Income distribution has remained inequitable (ever more so all the time) - despite gigantic unilateral transfers of money from the state to the poorer socio - economic strata of society. VAT rules around the world allow businesses to offset VAT that they paid from VAT that they were supposed to pay to the authorities. Historically, income tax is a novel invention. As long as this is the case, the eternal chase of the citizen by his government will continue. People found ways around this relatively unsophisticated approach and frequent and successive tax campaigns were to no avail. Governments, being political creatures, did a half hearted job. No wonder that tax planning is regarded as the rich man's shot at tax evasion. The government, on its part, will no longer use the tax system to express its (political) preferences. Recent studies clearly indicate that a reverse relationship exists between the growth of the economy and the extent of public spending. If they fail, the very fabric of societies will be affected.

Many of them ended up receiving VAT funds paid the poorer population, to which these tax breaks were, obviously, not available. Knowing the propensities of human beings, the safe bet is that people will still hate to see their money wasted in unaccounted for ways on bizarre, pork barrel, projects. In economies where taxes gobble up to 60% of the GDP (France, Germany, to name a few) - taxes became THE major economic disincentive. When the social consequences of levying regressive taxes became fully evident, governments went back to the drawing board. The natural inclination was to try and plug the holes: disallow allowances, break tax breaks, abolish special preferences, eliminate loopholes, write-offs, reliefs and a host of other, special deductions. The poor subsidized the tax planning of the rich, so that they could pay less taxes.

The irony is that taxes were intended to lessen social polarity and friction - but they achieved exactly the opposite. The same pattern was repeated: the powerful few were provided with legal loopholes. They are an infringement of the human age old right to property. Some of them tried to translate their platforms into political power and established parties, which failed dismally in the polls. As Big Government became more derided - so were taxes perceived to be its instrument and the tide turned. Thousands of laws, tax loopholes, breaks and incentives and seemingly arbitrary decision making, not open to judicial scrutiny eroded the trust that a member of the community should have in its institutions. So, people will feel less like core spun sewing threads Manufacturers cheating and they will spend less resources on the preparation of their tax returns. Why work for the taxman? Why finance the lavish lifestyle of numerous politicians and bloated bureaucracies through tax money? Why be a sucker when the rich and mighty play it safe? The results were socially and morally devastating: an avalanche of illegal activities, all intended to avoid paying taxes. It will propagate a simple, transparent, equitable, fair and non arbitrary system which will generate more income by virtue of these traits. But some of what they said made sense. Originally, taxes were levied to pay for government expenses. They could afford to pay professionals to help them to pay less taxes because their income was augmented by transfers of tax money paid by the less affluent and by the less fortunate

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ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 5 years ago

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Promises Not Kept Part 14

Summary: Tommy Shelby made a promise to Jonah Ward while in the war. A promise he didn't keep. But it comes to haunt him when he tries to drown out his sorrows with a young woman.

Part 14: They lay a good man to rest. Polly gives Leah some good advice.

Tommy remembered the morning after he returned to Small Heath from France. He was home but he merely felt like a ghost of himself. Everything he once knew felt strange and unlike he remembered it. He wasn’t the man he was when he left for the front lines. There was a brief memory of hearing Arthur and John downstairs, talking animatedly to Finn who was just a boy back then. Tommy stared out the window down to Watery Lane. The street he used to run up and down when he was Finn’s age. Now, he was back. A soldier bruised and damaged far deeper than just his skin. But he wasn’t done. The war hadn’t killed him so he wasn’t finished. The world would know the Shelby name whether it liked it or not.

The morning of John’s funeral, Tommy stood at the same window looking down at the same street. People were starting to remember the Shelby name. But the cost had been more severe than Tommy initially anticipated. There was no turning back though. He was in too deep.

With a sigh, Tommy stepped into the steaming bath in the middle of the bedroom. Charlie and Leah were still asleep. The little boy was completely unaware of what was happening around him.

Leah began to stir as Tommy lit a cigarette. She sat up and carefully detached herself from Charlie who was clinging to her in his sleep. It had been a long night. Most of the family was in a shock, unlike anything they’d experienced before. It seemed unfathomable to think John would ever die. He was such a robust figure of the family. Now the previously shattered family was further broken.

But at least they were all together for the first time in ages.

“Tom.” Leah sat up and tried to read his face. His eyes were glazed over, mind obviously elsewhere.

His head twitched slightly in her direction, the only acknowledgment that he’d actually heard her.

Leah sighed softly and stood. She picked up her dressing gown and wrapped it around herself. “How are you feeling today?” She pulled up a small stool up to the bathtub.

Tommy rested his hand on the edge of the tub, his cigarette hanging between his fingers. He stared at the wall in front of him. “I don’t know.” He finally admitted quietly.

Leah’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry.” She whispered and touched his arm, catching on some of the lingering water droplets from the bath water. “I’ve been awful to you for the past few weeks.”

He shook his head subtly. “No. I haven’t been treating you the way you deserve.” Guilt pooled in his stomach, building up with all the rest of it he’d felt for everything he’d done. “I can’t promise it’ll all be easy from here on out.”

“I know.” She absent-mindedly rubbed her thumb over his arm.

There was a knock on the door. “Tommy, they’ve gathered.”

Leah grabbed the towel Tommy had set out for himself. She offered a hand to him as he stood up. “We should let Charlie sleep.” She suggested quietly.

He nodded and stepped out of the bathtub, drying off with the towel. They both began to get dressed, staying quiet so Charlie didn’t wake.

“My family’s downstairs.” He explained. “I want you to be there with me.”

Leah took his outstretched hand. “Okay.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tommy only let go of Leah’s hand so she could stand near Isaiah and Jeremiah. But he stopped her and pulled out a chair for her. Leah paused and looked at him questioningly. Sitting at the table was obviously a status she didn’t think she’d earned yet. Not even Finn was seated.

He cleared his throat and nodded, assuring her without any words. So she sat between Polly and Linda. She caught the gaze of Lizzie who averted her eyes pointedly only a second later.

The atmosphere of the room was somber. All of them mourning the brother and nephew. All of them worried for Michael still fighting for his life in the hospital.

“John is dead,” Tommy spoke in a low but steady voice. His hand was tight around Leah’s, pulling every ounce of support he could from her touch. “Esme has gone on the road with the Lees and she’s taken the kids. Michael is badly wounded. They say it’s sixty-forty in his favor.”

Polly glared at him. “There’s no number, there’s no percentage.” She informed him sternly. “My son’ll live.”

Tommy didn’t argue with her. There was no point. He wanted his cousin to survive just as much as the rest of them did. “Michael and John were shot because we killed someone. Vincente Changretta. His son, Luca, has come to take revenge.” He reported the reasons for the chaos the day before. “Men from New York and Sicily are here in Birmingham. These men will not leave our city until our whole family is dead. That’s how it works.” He looked to each of his family members. All who were left. “It’s called vendetta. An eye for an eye.”

Arthur reached into his pocket. “Yeah, well the bullet’s been written. Says Luca.” He twisted it between his fingers before carefully placing it on the table in front of him.

Leah could see the crude letters scratched into the metal surface of the bullet.

LUCA.

“When the time comes. And it’ll come.” He spoke firmly. “I will put this bullet in his fucking head.”

Tommy rested his hands on the table and looked exhausted. “There’s been some bad blood between us.”

Polly laughed sarcastically and shook her head. The tension between the two was almost visible and the rest of the room remained silent.

Still, he persisted. “Until this business is settled, we say together. And we stay here. Small Heath, Bordesley, Hay Mills, down to Greet.” He instructed.

“Daddy?”

Leah turned when she heard Charlie’s voice coming from the top of the stairs. She met eyes with Tommy. “I’ll get him.” She said quietly and stood.

Charlie was standing on the stairs, a pout on his face. “Wanted daddy.” He repeated again, clearly disappointed that Tommy hadn’t come running to retrieve him.

“He’s busy right now, poppet, I’m here though.” She said softly and held her arms out to him.

The little boy smiled and trotted down the steps into her arms, still dressed in his pajamas. “Breakfast?” He inquired.

�� “Not right now. Everyone’s talking in the kitchen.” Leah rested him on her hip. “Hopefully they’ll be done soon.” She bit her lip and looked towards the door. Part of her didn’t want to know what else they were talking about.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

One of the girls from the betting shop would watch Karl, Charlie, and Billy while the rest of them were at the funeral. Leah walked arm in arm with Tommy down Watery Lane, the rest of the family following close behind. There were heavily armed men standing by on each corner, some even up on the rooftops.

Leah tugged Tommy closer to her, afraid that they would still be attacked even with the battalion of men ready to fight for them.

Tommy kissed her temple. “S’alright.” He murmured. “Everything will be alright.”

In the field right outside the city, the vardos were already camped out, ready to give John Shelby a fitting farewell.

Leah quietly placed a bundle of flowers among the pyre. She softly spoke her words of goodbye and thanked him for keeping Jonah’s memory alive. She returned to the group, standing beside Ada.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed the ring.” Tommy’s sister said in a voice low enough that those around them wouldn’t hear.

“I let it be Tommy’s responsibility to tell everyone. Now’s not the right time.” She replied.

“None of this is scaring you away?” Ada wondered.

Leah stared ahead. Of course, she was scared. Tommy spoke of a war. A war like the one she’d lost her husband to. They would be in the trenches, fighting a war of vengeance. There was no telling who else they’d lose. “I lost my soul a long time ago.” She spoke steadily. “Tommy’s the only person who ever managed to lead me back to who I used to be. If I must fight beside him then I will.”

“You might die for him, Leah. What then?” Ada questioned. “You have no stake in this fight. What would you be dying for other than your loyalty?”

“All this family has right now is loyalty. All we have is each other.”

Tommy began to speak, disrupting any chance Ada had to try and convince Leah to get out while she could. His fiancee listened to him speak about France. His blue eyes met hers a few times as he spoke. His voice never wavering as he tried to remain strong and keep his family together.

“You remembered that God spared you,” Polly spoke up after Tommy paused for a brief second. The older woman stared daggers at her nephew with tears in her eyes. “But what did you do with that extra time he gave you? Aye, Thomas?”

“Poll.” Ada touched her aunt’s shoulder to both stop her from continuing and to comfort her.

Arthur decided to step in before they argued and lit a match. The family stood silently and watched as the pyre lit and began to envelop the vardo in flames. Snaking its way up the woodwork and setting the canvas cover ablaze.

Leah stepped toward Tommy and took his hand in hers. He kept his eyes straight ahead. Waiting.

Suddenly, the funeral was interrupted by a gunshot only yards away. Leah’s heart seized in her chest and she froze. Ada was quicker on her feet and dragged her to the ground for cover.

“At ease!” Tommy shouted. Along with Arthur, he was the only one still standing. The rest of the Blinders had dropped the instant they heard the gunshot. All of them thought it was their time and the funeral had made them into sitting ducks.

Leah raised her head when she heard Tommy yelling. “Do not return fire! The men doing the firing are on our side.” He held out a hand to his fiancee to help her stand.

She flinched when a second gunshot rang out across the field. “What’s going on?” Her eyes were wide with fear.

“I took the trouble of giving an invitation to Aberama Gold.”

The name was unfamiliar to Leah. But Johnny Dogs gave her some insight. “Oh fuck, now it’s begun.”

Leah began to feel dizzy and she reached out for Tommy’s arm. “I feel sick.” She whispered.

“You used John’s funeral fire as a fucking beacon,” Polly exclaimed in a ragged voice. The disbelief clear on her face.

“We were never in any danger, Poll,” Arthur said.

“You used us as fucking bait!”

Leah’s breathing became shallower and soon Tommy wasn’t enough to hold her up. Her knees began to buckle. “Tommy…” She gripped his arm tight.

“Finn!” He called out for his youngest brother. “Get a boat

In the distance, a group of men and horses began approaching the vardos. Leah’s stomach turned again when she saw the limp arm of someone slumped over one of the horses. Visible blood was dripping from the fingertips “Who’s dead?” She asked.

Tommy ignored her but Polly jumped on the question as well. “Who’s dead?” The woman demanded.

Leah’s vision began to blur and every word spoken was starting to blur together. Ada looked concerned when she saw how pale the young woman’s face had gone. “Sit, come and sit.” She had to pry Leah off her brother to get her to sit down.

“Anyone who wants no more part in this, ‘cause this is how it’s gonna be!” Tommy shouted, piercing Leah’s ears before she lost consciousness.

~~~~~~~~~

Everything about John’s funeral was dramatic. It was something he might’ve actually enjoyed. He always reveled in a little bit of chaos. But things calmed down once Leah was brought to the hospital and the Italian’s bodies were shipped off.

Tommy’s fiancee was placed in the same room as Michael so the men protecting him could also keep a close eye on her. She’d come to when they were still in the field beside the burning vardo. Polly knelt down next to her, propping her head up on the dew-covered grass while Ada and Tommy stood over her arguing.

“The first person they’re going to go after is your fiancee, Tommy, they already killed Grace!” The Shelby woman shouted.

With frayed nerves, Tommy was more than happy to oblige his sister and yelled back at her. “Don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about!”

“Right because I’m just a stupid woman. Stupid Ada who knows nothing. I know that Grace was killed by Italians. What’s stopping them from killing Leah too?”

“They’re trying to fucking kill all of us, Ada!”

Leah’s head still spun, her hand reaching for Tommy, trying to calm him down. Instead, Polly gently took her lifted hand and pressed a cold cloth to her forehead.

“Stop bickering and help me get her to the car.” Polly snapped at her niece and nephew.

Tommy huffed and stooped to scoop Leah up in his arms. Bringing her to the car, he assured her nothing would happen and not to listen to Ada. She simply pressed her face into his shoulder and closed her eyes. She didn’t know who to listen to anymore.

~~~~~~~

Michael was still out cold when Leah felt well enough to sit up. She was glad to see the young man was properly stitched up. She didn’t know much about medicine but he appeared to have a good chance of surviving.

After she sat up, Polly came into the room. She scolded the men slacking off by the door and confiscated their flasks before sending them out to the hall.

“How are you feeling?” The older woman asked as she slipped off her coat and draped it over Michael’s legs.

“Better, thank you. I just think it was shock.” She admitted. “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”

Polly frowned as she sat down. None of them were but maybe they should’ve gotten used to Tommy’s surprise tactics. It would make life a lot easier. “Have you been ill?” She wondered.

Leah shook her head. “No, I’ve been fine. Maybe just a little…” She sighed and shrugged. “It’s been a difficult few months. I mean, nothing like what you went through, I’m sure.”

She didn’t want to talk about her time in prison and how Tommy was the one to put her there. “You’re not pregnant, right?”

Her eyes widened a little in shock. She wasn’t expecting the question. “No, I uh…I bled last week.” She explained shyly.

“Good.” Polly nodded firmly. Now was not the time to have a baby. Not in the state they were in. A war.

Leah nodded absent-mindedly and ran her fingers through her hair to fix it. She found a few pieces of grass that had tangled in her blonde curls after lying on the ground. “Tommy and I…I feel like we haven’t even slept in the same bed in ages.” She whispered. Shame settled deep in her bones. How pathetic it was to spend such little time with her fiancee, to be so cold towards each other.

“My nephew is a complicated man.” Polly agreed and pulled the chair up closer to Leah. Her face had softened since the funeral. It appeared her aggression was only directed towards Tommy and didn’t include his fiancee. If anything she felt bad for the young woman. Anyone who fell for such a man was in for a surprise, and not necessarily anything good. She loved Tommy but he was a huge pain in the ass.

“Am I making a mistake, Poll?” Leah asked quietly. “I mean am I just being thick?” Her eyes lowered to the ring on her finger.

“Some people will tell you to be smart and look out for yourself and yourself only. Others will tell you to follow your heart blindly.” Polly rested a hand on hers. “But listen here, despite what people say, women are not meant to be put aside in the corner.”

She sniffled and let out a little tearful laugh. “Could’ve convinced me otherwise.” Leah thought about all the years she spent being submissive. Forcing herself to be quiet and complacent in order to pay rent and groceries. For a long while, she adopted the personality into her everyday life. If a man cut her in line at the butchers, she never spoke up. She grew a staggering amount of patience for the world around her and its inhabitants. She thought it was a good quality to have but sometimes it led to her being walked over.

A woman like Polly was something of an enigma to her. A strong person who ran the Shelby company while her nephews were off at war. Took shit from no one and announced her presence wherever she went to make sure people didn’t cross her.

Still, both women were damaged. That was clear if you pulled back the curtain. They were surviving in a man’s world. Doing the best they could while embroiled in a war they didn’t start.

“Speak your mind sometimes.” Polly encouraged in a soft voice. “If you keep it all inside then you’re the only one to suffer. A relationship, romantic or not, is a two-way street. The other person should have to listen as much as they talk. If they don’t want to listen then they should just get a fucking parrot. That way they’ll have someone to talk to and someone to agree with everything they say.”

Leah smiled and felt a little relieved that she wasn’t alone. “I do love him.”

“I know.” She nodded and squeezed Leah’s hand. “And he loves you. I know he’ll listen, he’s just stubborn sometimes.”

“Now’s really not the time to talk his ear off ‘bout petty things though.”

Polly frowned. “If he’s got time to fuck about with the Golds then he has time to listen to his wife-to-be.” She asserted. “Don’t make excuses.”

Leah nodded. “Alright, I won’t.” She promised. Her eyes moved to Michael’s bed when she heard him stirring.

Polly hurried over to speak to him for the first time since he awoke from his surgery. “Sh, sh, don’t move.” She soothed softly and touched his shoulder to keep him still.

As she spoke gently to her son, Leah mindlessly ran her hands through her hair, thinking about all the things she wanted to say to Tommy. It wouldn’t be easy, but Polly was right. She was only suffering by keeping her silence.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few days after the funeral, Leah went to find Tommy at the car factory offices. There was always a good deal of chaos there as it was a working factory, but when she entered, the air was filled with electricity. Something had clearly happened that had riled everyone up.

It wasn’t long before she found her fiancee speaking with his brother on the first floor. They were standing next to what appeared to be a makeshift boxing ring set up with ropes.

“Tommy,” She called out his name above the loud atmosphere.

He turned from talking quietly to Arthur. “Come to surprise me?” He smiled. Things after the funeral had been stuck in a strange stage between the two. They weren’t as cold to each other because there simply wasn’t time to argue or fight. Tommy’s mind was elsewhere but he seemed conscious enough to realize he had to be pleasant towards Leah to keep her spirits up. Especially now that the rest of the family knew about the engagement. All he wanted was to get rid of the Americans and get back to the good relationship he had with Leah. It was a tall order but Tommy was never one to shy away from a challenge.

She smiled back, hoping they could keep up the positivity, especially since she went to the factory to talk. There were things that needed to be said. Things that she’d been holding onto for some time, especially after her talk with Polly at the hospital.

“Missed a good fight, Leah,” Arthur told her joyfully. “We’ll make sure you don’t miss the next one.”

“As long as you tell me who to bet for.” She laughed softly and touched Tommy’s arm. “Can we talk upstairs? I’ve brought lunch, Ada and I made it, put a bit of Linda’s cake in there as well.”

“I’ve got a meeting, actually.” Tommy wrapped an arm around her waist and began walking towards the stairs with her.

“You didn’t eat breakfast, I’m sure your meeting can wait.” She insisted hopefully.

“She’s not a patient person, and I’m already running behind schedule. But you can stay in my office, we’ll have lunch after, aye?”

Leah nodded slowly. “Okay, I can wait.” She’d waited this long, what was another half an hour?

When noon struck, Leah was still in Tommy’s office. She was smoking a cigarette when she heard a commotion downstairs. Shouts and movement lured her back outside to the promenade that overlooked the first floor.

Tommy came out of the conference room with a stern expression. He stood at the railing watching the factory workers all walking out of the building.

“Tom,” She attempted to reach out to him but he simply turned to walk into his office.

He tugged viciously at his tie, pulling it off and tossing it to his desk. Leah could see every muscle in his back was taut when he shrugged off his coat as well. “Close the door.” His voice was firm and he turned to flip the blinds, blocking out the sun.

She listened and shut the office door behind her. “What happened? Where’s everyone going?”

Nothing. He simply began to unbutton his waistcoat and carelessly tearing off his cufflinks.

“Tommy.” She walked over to him and touched his arm. “Talk to me.”

He turned around abruptly and cradled her cheeks. Before she could react he kissed her fiercely. All of his anger and grief funneled into the kiss. He dropped his hand to her hip and guided her back against his desk.

Leah’s thighs hit against the edge of the desk. She grimaced and she pressed her hands against his chest to push him back. “Tommy, please, I wanted to talk.” She whispered, reminding him of the reason she’d come to the office.

His breathing was off-kilter and he touched his forehead to hers. “I can’t think right now.” He muttered.

“Just a moment…”

“Leah, please.” He stepped away from her and dragged a hand through his hair. “Now’s not the time.”

Leah perched hesitantly on the edge of his desk. “Will there ever be a time?” Her eyes lifted and she tried to listen to Polly’s previous advice and not just give in. She wasn’t going to let him just bend her over the desk to release his frustrations. Not if he wasn’t going to listen to her.

Tommy slipped off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “When I get home, yeah?” His words were hollow, his mind was clearly somewhere far from the room.

Leah swallowed and stood. Holding her purse close, she went for the door. She paused before reaching for the handle. “Before I go, I just want you to know that I love you. Enough to weather any storm.”

“Lee…”

“But if you’re tired of me, then please tell me now. If I’m not worth anything to you anymore, then cut me loose. Because I don’t know how much more I can handle.” Something in her throat stuck but she did everything she could to keep from crying.

Tommy reached out to take her hand. “Things right now will get better. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. I’m doing everything I can to keep this family together.” His eyes were firm on her. “I love you, we’ll talk when I come home.”

There was a knock on the door and Leah decided to take her leave. Her hand slipped from his and she opened the door.

“Oh, pardon me.” The man waiting for Tommy apologized. “Mr. Shelby, a delegate from the European Council for Trade is here. He’s here to talk about the import of car parts.” He explained.

Leah passed through the doorway and went to leave. As she did, she noticed a dark-haired stranger lingering around the second floor. His eyes met hers and a smug smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He was well dressed and Leah noticed the cross tattoo peeking out from his crisp collar.

She didn’t know who he was, but he gave her a bad feeling. If only she knew it was the man trying to kill them all.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby x oc #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders fanfiction #fanfiction #ofc #oc #polly gray #michael gray #john shelby #arthur shelby #ada shelby #ada thorne #luca changretta

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papermoonloveslucy · 5 years ago

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SEPTEMBER 11

Since 2001, the date September 11th has been a date associated with the life-changing terrorist attacks on America. But previously, the date was one of the busiest in the Lucille Ball calendar, with memorable performances of her three hit sitcoms in three decades. Lucille Ball’s mission in life was to make us laugh - even in our darkest moments. So while we remember the events of 2001, let’s take a quick tour through the date in the life of Lucille Ball.

1960

The September 11, 1960 issue of Parade Magazine (which was inserted into Sunday newspapers nationwide) featured a unique and colorful portrait of Lucille Ball. The article inside was “Lucille Ball: Life Without Desi”. The couple formally divorced in April 1960, five months earlier. This coincided with her last appearance as Lucy Ricardo. Although this would be the first September since 1951 that she wasn’t on series television, she was still working; promoting her new film with Bob Hope called Critic’s Choice. Toward that end, two weeks later, she appeared on “The Garry Moore Show.”

1937

On September 11, 1937 Hollywood columnist Jimmy Starr of the LA Evening Herald Express, rated the film Stage Door as ‘Outstanding’ stating that “smaller roles were excellently portrayed by Lucille Ball and others.”

1943

The Hollywood Bond Cavalcade, a 16-city, two week railroad tour of American by a dozen Hollywood celebrities, comes to New York City on September 11, 1943 for a gala performance at Madison Square Garden designed to sell war bonds to defray the debt incurred by the USA during World War II. Desi Arnaz had gone on a similar tour the year before - but 1943 was Lucy’s turn. Much of America was still reeling financially and emotionally from the effects of the War.

1953

Perhaps the most dramatic September 11th in Lucille Ball’s life came in 1953, when she was accused of being a Communist by the House Un-American Activities Committee (HUAC).

The news broke on the very same night that “The Girls Go Into Business” (ILL S3;E2) went before the cameras in Desilu’s brand new studio. Needless to say, the news could not be ignored, and prompted Desi’s now famous remarks in his pre-show welcome:

“Lucy has always had a clear conscience about this. She has never been a Communist, and what’s more, she hates every Communist in Hollywood. The only thing red about Lucy is her hair, and even that is not legitimate.”

1955

On Sunday, September 11, 1955, CBS airs the 22nd of 25 repeats of early episodes of “I Love Lucy” under the umbrella title of “The Sunday Lucy Show”. Under the impression that few viewers had a TV set when the series first began,CBS polled viewers to decide which episodes to air in their early Sunday evening time slot (6pm). This week’s entry is “New Neighbors” (ILL S1;E21) from 1952.

1961

On September 11, 1961 CBS aired the fourth and final re-run of "I Love Lucy” to fill a month-long scheduling gap. This is the last prime-time airing of the series in a regular time slot.

1967

On September 11, 1967, Lucille Ball kicks off the sixth and final season of “The Lucy Show” with Milton and Ruth Berle playing themselves.

This was one of many appearances by Milton Berle, who appeared on all of Lucille Ball’s CBS sitcoms, despite being the reigning king of NBC. While all was hysterical on screen, there was a lot of life-changing activity going on for Lucille Ball.

This is the last episode directed by Maury Thompson, who had started working for Desilu in 1956. Ball heard that Thompson wanted a raise and decided to dismiss him and bring back the show’s original director, Jack Donohue.

Having made Desilu profitable again, Ball had just agreed to take the big step of selling Desilu to Paramount, dissolving the company by the end of 1967 and starting up her own Lucille Ball Productions (LBP) to produce a new sitcom, “Here’s Lucy,” rather than work for Paramount. This was perhaps the biggest business decision that Executive Lucy would make in her entire career.

1972

After season 4 of “Here’s Lucy” wrapped, Lucille Ball experienced a run of bad luck. First, the final episode of the season was designed as a pilot for a spin-off series starring Lucie Arnaz, but CBS declined to pick-up the show for production. At the same time, Vivian Vance, who was being eyed as a reliable sidekick for Lucy should Lucie get her own show, was diagnosed with breast cancer. Finally, in January 1972 on a ski trip to her condo in Snowmass, Colorado, Lucille Ball broke her leg. Instead of canceling the series, Ball had the injury written into the scripts, so that Lucy Carter would also have a broken leg. Almost all of this season’s scripts had to be quickly rewritten or postponed. The injury meant that Ball would have to limit her physical comedy and musical numbers and re-think the show’s overall dynamics. It also meant that her plans to start filming the musical film Mame would be put on hold until her injuries healed. The September 11, 1972 episode that kicked off this extended plot-line was titled “Lucy’s Big Break” (HL S5;E1).

To add to that, earlier in the day on September 11, 1972 Ball made her first appearance on Dinah Shore’s syndicated talk show “Dinah’s Place”. Lucy makes Irish coffee and tells Dinah how she broke her leg.

The night before this episode aired (September 10, 1972), Lucille Ball had appeared on “A Salute to Television’s 25th Anniversary” on ABC, getting an award alongside Bob Hope. Quite a busy 24 hours for Lucy fans!

1984

The week of September 11, 1984, Lucille Ball, now 73 years old, begins a week of appearances on the pantomime game show “Body Language” playing against Charles Nelson Reilly and hosted by Tom Kennedy. She returned to the show over Christmas week in 1984. Lucy was also depicted on the box cover of the board game of Body Language, as well as doing TV commercials for the game. The show managed only a fraction of the audience of other daytime games and CBS canceled the game in late 1985 after only one season on the air.

Through the years, many of Lucille Ball’s co-stars passed away on September 11:

1959 ~ Paul Douglas died at age 52. He played himself in “Lucy Wants A Career” (LDCH E9) which aired just five months before his death.

1970 ~ Chester Morris died at age 69. He appeared in Five Came Back (1939, above) and The Marines Fly High (1940) with Lucille Ball.

1987 ~ Lorne Green died at age 72. The star of NBC’s “Bonanza” from 1959 to 1973. He appeared with Lucille Ball on “Dean Martin’s 1968 Christmas Show,” “Dinah Shore’s Like Hep!”, “Swing Out Sweet Land,” and “Zenith’s A Salute to TV’s 25th Anniversary.”

1994 ~ Jessica Tandy died at age 85. Tandy and Lucille Ball were both recipients of “The Kennedy Center Honors” in December 1986. The ceremony was televised on CBS on Boxing Day 1986.

1998 ~ Dane Clark died at age 86. He was the star of Desilu’s “Wire Service” (1956-57), did two episode of Desilu’s “The Untouchables” (1962-63) and appeared with Desi Arnaz Jr. in “Police Story” in 1976.

2003 ~ John Ritter died at age 54. Lucille Ball was an outspoken fan of John Ritter, hosting a ‘best of’ special for his hit sitcom “Three’s Company” in 1982. Ritter guest-starred as himself on her final sitcom, “Life With Lucy” (1986).

2004 ~ Fred Ebb died at age 76. Ebb produced and wrote the Shirley MacLaine TV special “Gypsy in My Soul” (1976) that co-starred Lucille Ball.

THE GREATEST TRIBUTE

#September 11th #September 11 #Lucille Ball #Lucy #John Ritter #Dane Clark #Here's Lucy #The Lucy Show #I Love Lucy #Dinah's Place #Lorne Greene #Chester Morris #Paul Douglas #Charles Nelson Reilly #Body Language #Maury Thompson #Milton Berle #Ruth Cosgrove

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 5 years ago

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We Could Be Heroes Ch. 5

There is a little bit of smut in this chapter

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

Rayla and Callum awoke at eight in the morning; both of their phones chiming with text and email notifications. Rayla groaned as she snuggled into his neck a little more. “Why didn’t we turn the sound off last night?”

“We must have forgot. I was too busy not proposing,” was Callum’s grumbled answer.

Rayla nudged his back a bit with her knee. “You proposed; no takebacks.” They lay in silence as their phones continued to make their presence known. “If you go through my phone, I’ll go through yours.”

“Don’t wanna see the texts from your friends?” Rayla had more friends than Callum did, so he had thought Rayla would want to check in if any of them had said anything.

“If they can’t accept us or even try, they’re not my friends. I just thought it would be easier.”

“OK. Let me go get them.” Callum pried Rayla’s arm off of him and got their phones off his dresser. Both lockscreens showed a large number of messages and missed calls. Lots of them from unknown numbers. When Callum got back to the bed he unlocked Rayla’s phone as she did the same with his. “This must be why we exchanged passcodes months ago.”

“Your passcode is my birthday. Don’t try to act like you saw into the future when you suggested this.”

“I have the power to use the Sky arcanum and I am on my way to using more. How do you know I can’t?” Rayla leveled a stare at him, raising her white brow. “Fine, I can’t see into the future.” Callum gave a quick look at the number of unread messages. “I’m going to drive myself crazy going through all this.”

“Ten minutes, tops, then we stop. If it’s really that important, they’ll find a way to contact us again. Ready?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Ten minutes.” Callum scrolled through the mass of texts first. Unknown number after unknown number calling Rayla everything from a traitor to a whore. There was a mass of inappropriate images and crude language. Callum deleted every one after blocking the numbers. Every once in a while, Callum came across a text with a name in her contacts. Most of them were ‘congratulations’ or ‘I knew it’. Some of them were just repeating what the majority had. The strangest text came from Bandlr, who stated that he told his dormmates at midnight but never gave out Rayla’s number to anyone. ‘Must be covering his own ass. Enough people know our numbers, so he wouldn’t have been the only candidate either way.’

The emails were mostly from photographers or journalists who Callum’s family had gotten in touch with. It seemed like Rayla’s email was still relatively private. “There’s a couple offers already for you to be interviewed by the Katolis Sun, the Capital Times, and Pentarchy Monthly. Ezran’s favorite photograph, Gustin, has offered to come up here in a couple days and take a few pictures. If you’re more comfortable, he’s alright with doing everything in the apartment. Everyone seems OK with coming to the apartment. They just want to talk to you.”

“I’ll worry about it later. Delete anything in my texts that isn’t from a contact.”

“Already on it. I’m assuming I can trust you to do the same?”

A forced laugh. “Some girl sent you a picture of her breasts. You can bet I deleted that.”

“Haven’t gotten one of those in weeks.” Callum’s eyes went wide as he just realized what he said. Rayla turned to face him with such murder in her eyes; Callum wasn’t sure if he was going to make it out of this intact. He slowly put his hand up and subtly backed away a bit. “Ray, I’m a prince. It’s not just girls that send me things like. I don’t go around giving my number to random people.”

“You have gotten texts like this from other people since we’ve been dating?” Her voice was deceptively calm as she began to inch towards him while he continued to inch back. “You have been getting nudes from people this whole time?”

Callum could feel himself breakout into a cold sweat. The only reason he had never told Rayla was because it had become so much a part of his daily life, he had kind of assumed she knew it was a possibility. “Once again, never asked for them. Don’t know who they are, usually. I just delete them after blocking the number.”

Wrong thing. “But sometimes you do know them? How are they getting your number?”

“I will meet them in passing and they’ll say where they met me. That’s it. I have never in my life asked for those pictures. From anyone. I don’t know who keeps finding out what my number is, but I change it every few months. You know that. I’ve had to text you my new number how many times since we started dating?” Callum needed the air to thin out because he felt like he was being constricted. He could hear the shakiness in his voice as he had to explain to his girlfriend about those stupid photos. The first one he ever got was when he was fifteen, shortly after he started dating Claudia. It became open-season after their break-up went public and Callum had had to get a new number every three months since.

Rayla bit the inside of her cheek, taking a moment to think. “Fine. You’re too awkward to ask for them anyway.”

“Exactly. I’m too—I am not that awkward.”

A raised brow and a tiny smirk were directed at him. “Do you want me to send you one? I can wear my bra with the front clasp. I could also ask Zaras to get me something like she usually wears. All lacy and tiny.” Rayla leaned forward again, nose almost touching his as she directed her eyes to his lips. “I could wear something as green as your eyes.” Callum coughed as the air around them suddenly became even thicker. Rayla leaned back, a satisfied smirk was full-blown on those teasing lips. “No way you asked for them. We need to get you a new phone number. I could get Runaan to get you a burner phone and send it here.”

“Yeah.” He was going to have whiplash at this point. Callum went back to Rayla’s phone, noticing a new text from Zaras. All it had was a link. “Zaras sent a link. Should I press it?”

Rayla shrugged. “It’s Zaras. It could be a video of a winged horse doing a stupid trick or it could be something actually related to us. The only thing you can trust is that it’s not a nude. Her speed is more ‘I’ll seduce you into thinking I’m the sweetest thing ever and then make you realize you fell for a hot nerd.’”

“That sounds like Zaras.”

“I know. Isn’t she the best?”

Callum thought about it for a few moments. Rayla was right; you never really knew with Zaras. Zaras was also on their side and wouldn’t send them something that she believed would hurt them. He gulped and opened the link. It was their school’s paper’s webpage. There was already a poll asking people what they thought of Callum and Rayla’s relationship. Dubbed ‘Rayllum’ already, probably curtesy of Zaras, there were a lot more in favor than Callum would have thought. The majority was still in the negative…wait, it was moving more towards in favor? “Rayla.”

“What? I found five more nudes and three different people asked you how sex with an elf that can turn invisible is.” Rayla paused for a moment before looking at him, genuinely confused. “Why haven’t we tried that yet?”

“Haven’t thought of it. Zaras sent a poll. It’s on the school paper’s webpage. Ray, it’s in real time.”

“What’s it saying?” came Rayla’s nervous response.

“Right this second, it’s 40% for and 60% against.”

“That’s a lot higher than I thought it would be.”

“Me, too.” Callum gulped as it suddenly tipped towards the negative again. “I’m turning this off. I can’t look at it anymore.” Rayla hummed, handing Callum’s phone back to him. “No more pics?”

A quick glare followed by a frustrated huff. “I just found out that there will probably always be pics. I either keep looking through your stupid phone and find more, driving me into a rage, or I give it to you and stop for the day.”

Callum got up to put both of their phones back on the nightstand. “Do you think, and this is a stupid question, I know, but…do you think that this would have been better if…maybe we had-”

Rayla shook her head. “Callum, I don’t think us making-out next to your mother’s statue the day after we became exclusive would have made a difference. This is what was going to happen. You’re…well, you’re a human prince and I’m a nobody.”

Callum scrunched his nose, vehemently shaking his head. “You’re not nobody, Ray.” Rayla scoffed. “You’re not! Both of your parents are in the Dragon Guard. That’s huge! You are the toughest, most clever, and bravest girl I’ve ever met.” Callum sat down to rest his forehead against her’s. “I look at you and I see my future.”

Rayla nuzzled the tip of her nose against his. “Was that the proposal?”

“I know you’re OK because you keep making jokes.”

“I’m serious. Was that the proposal?”

“No.” Callum gently kissed her lips once, twice. “The ring has to be made first.”

“What if I say ‘no’? Then you would have had a custom ring you can’t do anything with.” Her eyelids were lowering along with her voice.

“Would you say ‘no’?”

Callum looked down at her as she slowly laid back down on the bed. Rayla bit her bottom lip as she looked back up at him. “Depends.”

He leaned down to press his lips to her neck. “What if I promised you forever?”

Rayla’s breath hitched. “I’ll live longer than you. I’m the one that would be promising forever.”

Callum kissed downwards, slowly reaching the very top of her cleavage revealed by her night shirt. “I’ll give you my heart.”

“Already have it. You aren’t getting it back.” She ran a calloused hand through his hair, while lifting her leg slightly. She gently hooked her foot around his knee, running her toes up and down his calf. “You can’t promise something that isn’t your’s to give, can you?”

“You’re right, I can’t.” Callum ran a ran down her side before grasping the hem of her shirt. “What about my soul? My devotion? My erring loyalty?”

Rayla hummed, pushing herself up so Callum could relieve her of her shirt. “All nice things. But I was thinking of something else.”

“What’s that?” Rayla helped him take off his shirt before bringing him down to lay their half-naked bodies together. She languidly kissed him, taking control of what he had started. Rayla was a woman of action, but she was also prone to trying to think things through as thoroughly as possible. Callum had hoped that he would be able to get her mind off of the outside world for just a moment, and it seemed to be working.

Rayla pulled away, a soft smile making it’s way on her lips. He loved that smile even more than her cocky smirks. “You promise me that no matter what happens, no matter who tries to get involved, this relationship will always be ours. Only you and I will get to decide if we break-up. Only you and I get to decide if we have kids. Only you and I decide what we tell the world.” Callum nodded and was about to reconnect their lips. Rayla kept a strong hold on him and looked him square in the eyes. “I’m serious. I will not have a repeat of last night. I don’t want anyone making those decisions for us. I’m in the same boat as you,” a stray tear made it’s way down the side of her face. “You are my future and I was taught to not let anyone mess with my future.”

“Good. Because I have no plans on running away if it gets too hard. You told my family last night that you plan to stay with me through all this chaos. You’re stuck with me until the day I die, now.” Callum kissed her soundly, reaching to run a hand over one of her horns. “That was the proposal.”

Rayla moaned, pushing Callum onto his back so she could rest on his lap. “I thought you needed the ring first.” She slowly moved her hands up and down his chest, leaning down to nibble at his chin. Callum shivered when she went up to his ear. Rayla had this fascination with his ears and he was not complaining. “Unless you already have it made.”

“I started looking at jewelers in both Katolis and Xadian last night. It will take months to do the research and get the materials. But, a drawing’s the same, right?” She chuckled a bit. Truthfully, Callum wasn’t sure why he was veering so far from his original plan, but it felt right. Rayla hadn’t run away when she saw the drawings he made last night and she kept bringing it up. If Rayla was really opposed to it, she would have either avoided the subject or would have told him that they weren’t ready. Hell, she might have just told him to never bring it up again. “Will you marry me, Rayla? Not today, and not tomorrow, but when some of this chaos has died down and we’re both ready.”

“Aye. Took you long enough.” They laughed before she took his lips back. They helped relieve each other of their underwear, Callum flipping them over so he was on top. The laugh was interrupted by their soft groans when he entered her. Usually, their lovemaking was hurried and full of a need to relieve stress. Today, Callum wanted to take his time with the love of his life. “What’s so funny?”

Callum hadn’t even realized he’d laughed. He put his forehead against her’s again. “I called you the love of my life in my head. I hadn’t realized just how good it would feel to admit that. Even if it was just to myself.” She called him a dork. He expected her to push him onto his back and take over, but she made herself comfortable beneath him. Her hands moved to pierce her fingernails in his shoulders. He slowly thrust into her sheath; mouth making its way back down her neck. She felt so warm and soft, walls fluttering as he moved in and out. Rayla groaned. Callum felt her grab his fingers and move them to her little button. He never got tired of her telling him exactly what she wanted.

He lightly thumbed her nub while latching on to one of her dusky nipples. “Ah~” One of her hands dragged her nails from his shoulders down his back. Callum hissed. It hurt but felt so good. They had always had to be so careful with marks before that neither one of them had ever had so much as a hickey during their relationship. Now, Callum wanted Rayla to mark him up however she saw fit. He gave her nipple a light nip. Slowly moving back up, his lips found their way to her collar bone. He sucked and nibbled at her skin, his hand pressing harder on the center of her pleasure. Her other hand made its way down his back, digging her nails in the whole way.

Callum used his other hand to grab Rayla’s thigh, resting it in the crook of his elbow so she was spread wider. He began to move faster in her. He was stunned by how strong his need for her was beginning to burn him. It was even stronger than when they first started their relationship. Back then, it had been like a dam holding back all of their desires and feelings for each other had burst and couldn’t be repaired. Now, it was as if all of that had been a precursor to this moment. He had thought she was completely uninhibited with him before, but he had clearly been wrong. She was moaning his name while thrashing under him. Her nails were scratching at his arms and sides.

Rayla finally grabbed his face and yanked him up to kiss her. She stuck her tongue down his throat, demanding his come out to play with her. He acquiesced. Callum could feel her orgasm coming fast. Her walls were clenching tight on him while her breath was coming in shorter pants. He released her mouth and pulled back a bit to watch her peak and come down from her high. Her eyes went wide before going to half-mast, mouth open in a silent scream. She began trembling, hands grabbing on to hold him tight to her. He could feel her shake as he refused to let up from stroking her. Rayla quickly came again, actually screaming his name this time.

He would have gone for a third, except Rayla was beginning to squeeze her fluttering walls around him. She was demanding he reach his end, too, and he would happily follow her orders. As he finally came, Rayla let her grip on him loosen. A bright light burst behind his eyes as he started to come down. Rayla had pushed him to lay next to her on the bed. Callum slowly turned to lay on his side. He stroked Rayla’s cheek with his index finger in awe over just how soft she looked. “I want to paint you like this.”

Rayla raised a brow. “Sweaty and satisfied?” She chuckled. “Hmm, if I had known you could do that, I would have let you take the lead months ago.”

Callum felt his chest puff up a bit in pride. Rayla had been the only person he had ever been with and it felt good to know he had pleased her. “Soft and free. Like the world has melted away.”

“You’re the only person that would ever see it.”

“Deal.” Callum leaned to kiss her nose. “I swear, you’re even more beautiful than when I first met you.”

Rayla closed her eyes and released a happy sigh. “Of course. We Moonshadow elves only get better with age. By the time we’re seventy, I’ll be the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen,” she teased.

“Can’t wait.” Callum felt too hot and sweaty to try to hold Rayla, so he settled for stroking her cheek. They basked in their afterglow for so long Callum forgot about the fact that they hadn’t even eaten yet. Rayla’s stomach growled to remind them. “I got plenty of eggs and pancake mix. I even got orange juice with the pulp for you. How you can drink that, I have no idea.”

Rayla pushed his shoulder as she rolled her eyes. “You what sounds really good? Eating breakfast on your sofa while watching a violent movie.”

“You want to stroke your bloodlust this early in the morning?” Callum smiled back at Rayla. He got out of bed to go make them breakfast, stretching his arms above his head. He heard a pop and groaned.

“My bloodlust is satiated by those movies, thank you very much.” She followed him out of bed and into the kitchen. Callum got to starting the pancakes, handing Rayla the eggs to crack. Instead, Rayla wrapped her arms around his waist from behind and rested herself against him. Callum shook his head and kept making them breakfast. They stood in silence for a bit longer, Callum only moving a bit here and there to keep breakfast going.

“You don’t want eggs? I’ve also got bacon and sausage in the fridge.”

“I just want to hold you. Where did you learn that move anyways?”

Callum looked back with a raised brow. “What move?”

“The one where you hooked my knee. You’ve never done that before.”

“You’ve always been on top or in charge.”

“You’ve never complained.”

Callum heard a slightly confused edge in her voice, but also one laced with genuine curiosity. “I’ve been reading some stuff. Trust me, I’m not complaining. You’ve always been more sure of yourself in this department and you always know exactly what you want. It’s nice.” ‘Nice’ was an understatement. He and Claudia hadn’t even gotten beyond making-out before they broke-up, so he had been completely clueless when Rayla had told him she was ready for that next step. It had been a relief that she wasn’t shy about her own sexuality and that she had had some experience.

“You have my ex-girlfriend to thank for that. She was very much into the idea that we need to be explicit with our wants and needs. If we keep quiet or expect our partner to just know, then how can we expect to get what we need?”

“I’ll be sure to thank her in person if I ever meet her. Do I need to thank your ex-boyfriend while I’m at it?”

Rayla snorted. “In terms of kissing? Probably. In terms of sex? No. He was never interested in going that far physically. The most we ever did was make-out.” Rayla sighed as she adjusted herself a bit, putting her chin on his shoulder. “He's asexual and his wants and needs were on a more emotional level than I could give at the time. Also, he was very mature for his age and I couldn’t keep up. He had matured faster than the rest of our class and he needed someone who could balance him out better than my immature 'I'm gonna kick your ass if you don't shut up' self could.”

“Where is he now?” Callum’s curiosity was definitely piqued. Rayla almost never talked about her exes. Callum would have expected to be full of jealousy or frustration, but he didn’t feel any of that. Mostly, he felt like he wanted to know more about this part of her past she had kept quiet.

“Well, he was originally going to go to the University. He had had plans to come and study, maybe become a mage himself or an ambassador. Instead, he got called up to be a member of an exclusive team belonging to King Azymondias. It’s a type of council and is an even more coveted position than the Dragon Guard. Last I heard, he was dating a spitfire of an Oceanheart elf whose grandfather runs the library in the capital.” Rayla paused before pushing herself on her tiptoes a bit. “You’re taking me talking about my old flames pretty well. Some people freak out and don’t want to hear it.”

Callum shrugged. “You’ve met my ex. I’m still friends with her and her brother and she’s probably going to be in my life until the day I die. I can handle you talking about yours.”

Rayla hummed, swaying lightly. “Good to know you realize that you have to take as good as you give.”

“Of course. Breakfast is almost ready. You still want to watch a movie or do you want to listen to the radio?” Rayla let go of Callum’s waist and wandered off. Callum heard her booting up her computer; probably trying to find a station or playlist with as little news as possible. Callum turned off the stove and got to work setting the table. Neither he nor Rayla were really into cooking, but there was something relaxing about being in their little kitchen together.

I'm not perfect

But I swear I'm perfect for you

And there's no guarantee

That this will be easy

It's not a miracle you need

Believe me

Yeah, I'm no angel, I'm just me

But I will love you endlessly

Wings aren't what you need

You need me

Callum looked over at Rayla. She looked just as shocked as he did. He cleared his throat a bit. “You remember the first time we heard this song?”

Rayla nodded. “Yeah. You were joking that you couldn’t be seen with me if I didn’t know how to slow dance. Even though we had no plans on going public at the time.”

“Ray,” Callum looked down at his hands for a moment before looking back up. “I had plans to introduce you to my family when I said that.”

Rayla cocked a brow. “You do remember that you were the one who suggested we keep quiet when all this started, right? You were the one who said ‘no one has to know.’ I feel like I’m going crazy every time you mention how much you’ve wanted to tell everyone because I remember that us being a secret was all your idea.” She punctuated her statement by pointing right at him.

Callum walked over to her, grasping her hands. “I know and I’m sorry that you feel that way. You shouldn’t feel like you’re going crazy. I said that we should be a secret and I don’t regret saying it. Because, if I hadn’t, I’m not sure we would be here right now. I regret our circumstances, but I wouldn’t take back giving us a shot for anything. If I hadn’t suggested it, would you have agreed to trying?”

Rayla squeezed his hands. “I don’t know. But I don’t regret it either.” Callum kissed her forehead, threading their fingers together. Rayla slowly started to sway her hips. “Dance with me?”

“Need some practice?”

“Tons.” They let their pancakes get cold as they swayed together. It was far more an excuse to hold each other than it was to actually practice dancing. Callum had pulled her far closer than decorum would deem appropriate and her feet kept stepping on his toes. “Am I any better?”

“You’re perfect. Everyone will be in awe of the mysterious Ms. Rayla’s dancing skills.” Rayla gave out such a joyful laugh it was startling. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that in what felt like forever. Now that she had promised him forever, well, he was going to have forever to make sure she laughed like that every day.

#rayllum #rayllum fanfic #the dragon prince #we could be heroes #au #lemon #moonbase fanfics

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yourfaveisyanderematic · 6 years ago

Text

The Cornered Mouse

so remember how I did that poll a while ago about who to get a continuation for? Donutboy won, and I combined that with the prompt of the SO acquiring their Stand. This was supposed to prototype for a fight scene I wanted to do for a side project, and GOD it turned out to be REALLY FUCKING LONG lmao.

You can read the first installment here. If you wanted to do that.

Anyway. Here it is. Warning for...getting punched. And also someone gets stabbed a bunch, watch out for that, but it’s not described in detail.

Don’t touch me.

“What would you like for lunch?” Giorno asked as he brushed his hand against yours, tucking the coffee cup into your grasp, “I have work, but I’ll make time to eat with you. I’d hate for you to get lonely.” He gave you one of his rare but dazzling smiles as he tucked a blond lock behind his ear, the kind that made your heart flutter once upon a time but now only turned your stomach.

You bit your lip and turned your head. The villa he kept you in had an abundance of oil paintings lining the walls, which were useful if you wanted a distraction when he tried to talk to you. You stared at the nearest one—Mallow In Bloom—and mentally counted the brushstrokes as he talked.

He frowned slightly at your response; you didn’t see it, but you could tell in the shift of his posture as he tried again.

“I really would take you out like you asked, but things are dangerous right now. I can’t let anyone think you’re someone to target, so try to be patient while I make things safe for you again. Please?”

You turned slowly, deliberately, to look him in the face again. The late morning sunlight streamed through the nearby window to warm you both, illuminating the gold threads in your bright clothing and the ornate patterning of Giorno’s suit. Even your wheelchair couldn’t detract from the immaculate scene; it was custom-made and beautiful and perfectly in its place. Just like you.

“Things were safe for me, Giorno,” you replied quietly, even though you wanted nothing more than to scream, “I was safe until you decided you wanted me.”

How different this conversation was, compared to that memorable afternoon with another sun, another cup of coffee. Back then, neither of you knew what the other was capable of. Now, there was nothing you could hide from him.

He leaned forward to rest his hand on your shoulder, heavy with the ornate ring that signified his position in Passione, the mafia you now knew far too much about. You knew the insignia well; it was repeated throughout all your clothes. Giorno liked to call it his symbol of protection. You knew it for what it was: a symbol of ownership.

Don’t touch me don’t touch me I’ll kill you don’t touch me I’ll kill you I’LL KILL YOU—

“I won’t apologize for that,” Giorno said quietly, obliterating the thunder of your own thoughts, “I won’t apologize for falling in love with you. I’ve made it my mission to give you the best life you possibly could have. You will never fear anything as long as I live, nor will you want for anything. I—”

“I want to walk.” Your hands gripped the armrests of your wheelchair until your knuckles turned white. You hated how your voice cracked on the word, hated more how your eyes burned with unshed tears at a declaration that sounded somehow childish. How had it come to this? How could you have been brought so low, to beg for something so fundamental that had been taken from you?

His frown deepened as he pulled back his hand. “This again? You know you’d just try to run if I did that. You’ll get yourself hurt, like last time.”

You’ll get yourself hurt again. Like it was your fault you were in this chair, even though the both of you knew better, that he had a power that you didn’t understand. The sensation of his gentle hands hovering over your ribs was still burned into your memory, the ease with which he healed them, was just another level of insult to injury. He could let you out of this chair any time he wanted, but keeping you paralyzed was a more effective set of chains than the strongest manacles.

“It’s not out of the question forever, you know. There are places I want to take you, things I want to do…just not now. Not while you’re still…adjusting.”

“Not while I still want to get away from you, you mean.”

A sigh. Giorno took a sip from his own cup, eyes never leaving yours. “Your coffee’s getting cold,” was all he would say in reply.

The two of you finished your drinks in silence. Finally, he adjusted his tie once more and put on his shoes, obviously leaving to manage his criminal empire and…eat babies or something. Whatever it was mafioso did while their crippled hostage waited for them to come back.

You turned your head as Giorno approached you to plant a soft good-bye kiss on your temple. It would have been better if you’d felt a hit instead of lips against your skin; more than anything, you hated how gentle he acted. How he refused to acknowledge, really acknowledge the brutality of what he had done to you.

“If you get bored while I’m away, I’ve left some books and the newspaper by your bed. Remember to lie down if you feel tired, please don’t make me pick you up from the floor again.”

“Whatever. I can breathe easier while you’re gone, anyway.” you mumbled, though there wasn’t any real venom behind it anymore. Giorno chuckled as he took your empty cup to the sink.

He gave you one last, lingering look as he walked away. “I love you, Tesoro. I’ll be back in four hours.”

You watched him leave, shutting each and every door and lock between you and freedom. Silence reigned as the last bolt slid into place, leaving you completely alone.

It wasn’t until you registered the heaviness in your heart, the hopeful way you glanced at the clock every few minutes, that you realized that despite your best efforts—despite your resentment and hate, despite your kicking and screaming—you were becoming more used to things. Giorno, who never once raised his voice or hurt you again since that awful night he first took you, was breaking you down, bit by bit.

Giorno was winning.

—

Don’t touch me.

Someone was repeating those words inside your head, every time Giorno touched you, every time he looked at you, and it wasn’t you.

You had become aware of it only gradually, when you realized the mantra continued even though you consciously tried to think about other things. It was loudest when you were alone, when Giorno was away, which seemed to only highlight that you were well and truly going insane.

Right now, for instance, you were hearing it as if it was actually speaking. You had been reading, against all inclination to the contrary, when the voice started up again, unbidden, making you freeze in your seat as the newspaper tumbled to the floor.

“Don’t touch me. I’ll kill you. I don’t care who you are. I’ll kill anyone who touches me…” the voice had a strange quality to it, flat and emotionless but somehow brimming with hatred. It was a voice that spoke with the thinnest thread of restraint, as if it was only a breath away from exploding into violence, and it was coming from just behind your ear.

You didn’t want to turn your head. You didn’t. Whatever was talking to you—an intruder that somehow broke in, one of Giorno’s stranger underlings keeping guard over you, an actual demon even—could very well interpret mere eye contact as aggression, and do…something.

“This is what you desire most, hidden in the depths of your wounded soul, isn’t it? These are the words you leave unspoken whenever he comes near.” the words sent a thrill of fear through you; how could they know? “He thinks he’s safe because you can’t run from him anymore, and you want to hurt him for that. You want to hurt him more than anything. I’m right, aren’t I?”

“What are you?” Something wet dripped onto the back of your neck, sliding down and soaking into the collar of your shirt, and a heavy hand rested on your shoulder, tipped with what could only be claws. You shivered in disgust, feeling the points dig through your shirt into your skin, but still couldn’t bring yourself to look.

You had the feeling that if you did, you would see something awful.

“Don’t turn your face from me,” the thing said in the wheedling whine of a child demanding attention from their parent, “I am the shield you created. If the light of his love is unbearable, take refuge in the darkness of your hate. You don’t want him to touch you—I’ll kill anyone who does, even if God Himself tried. You want to run but can’t? Stand with me! Let me become your legs.”

It had teeth. You could feel them against your neck as whatever-it-was nuzzled into your neck like an affectionate cat, sharp and long and thick as your finger. It leaned into you as if the hard back of your wheelchair didn’t even exist, further enveloping you in an embrace unlike anything you’d ever felt before.

At long, long last, you turned your head. Even with the monstrous forms you’d been imagining, the sight of the thing hovering next to you was difficult to process, more like the shadow of a nightmare than any real creature.

It had a humanoid shape, but it didn’t look human—its flesh was black and glossy, like oil but capable of holding its form—and it moved with a fluid grace impossible for any living being to manage. Thick golden stakes stabbed into its waist and continued up its chest, like a macabre belt, separating its twisted but solid-looking legs from its more fluid upper half. What held your attention most of all, however, was its head, only a few inches away from your own.

The only constant about the thing’s face were its teeth and massive, round blue eyes that were utterly incongruous with the rest of it, as if someone had taken apart a giant doll and stolen its eyes for the world’s most deranged craft project. You couldn’t help but stare as they wheeled around, fixed in a head like something out of a nightmare. Iridescent tears leaked from its eyes, dripping onto your shirt, but you didn’t have it in you to try to shove this thing away. There was something desperately lonely in the way it clung to you, more afraid of your rejection than you possibly could be of it, that made the action seem unimaginably cruel, even if its claws did get a little uncomfortable as it gripped your shoulders.

“Hey,” your voice cracked with the hesitation, so you cleared your throat and tried again. “Hey. What do I…what’s your name?”

One of its eyes lolled to stare at you. You couldn’t help but hold your breath for the torturous few seconds it took to answer, gazing at your own reflection in its massive pupil.

“I am the darkness you harbor in your heart, the darkness that will consume everything in your path for your sake. Because of that, call me Paint It Black.”

“Paint It Black…” the monster stared at you, somehow conveying an expression of hopeful anticipation with its impassive face, “a strange name, but maybe that’s appropriate for a monster like you. What’s that you said about being able to help me walk? What do you mean? Is your power like Giorno’s?”

Paint It Black purred, a hum that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. Its arms encircled your body, and without warning it pulled, lifting you to your feet and holding you to its waist.

“Whoa—!” you couldn’t help but cry out, not at the sudden motion but what happened next. Paint It Black moved, stepping into you, and you could actually see the flesh under your skin darken as it flowed into your body. The whole thing felt strange, like stepping into lukewarm water, and that startled you most of all—you hadn’t felt anything in your legs since that night.

You were standing on your own, for the first time in months, swaying slightly but upright all the same. You took an experimental step forward, expecting the strength to leave your body and send you crashing to the floor, but your weight held.

You could walk. You couldn’t feel anything in your legs but Paint It Black’s presence, but you could walk.

What was left of Paint It Black’s body curled behind you, rippling as the golden spikes in its body migrated upward until they were poking out of its fists like an expensive set of brass knuckles.

“Something like this has been in my soul, all this time?” you said, more to yourself than the monster. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“I can’t wait to see the look on his face.”

—

Paint It Black could do more than help you walk, it turned out. You watched with unbridled glee as it forced open your way to freedom, pulling apart locks and even breaking the doors apart when it had to.

“This is your power,” it told you as it tore through yet another barrier in a shower of twisting metal and wood, “I do this because you want to. Let’s break everything…I want to destroy everything…every wound he’s given you, I will avenge!”

There was a thrum of something wild, something dangerous under your skin where you and Paint It Black joined, but you’d worry about it later. It was only a matter of time before your captor returned, and too much of Paint It Black’s power was untested for you to want to take him in a straight fight. You needed to leave while you still had distance…

“This is unexpected. So you had the potential to become a Stand user, all along?”

You paused. Paint It Black pulled tight, draping itself over your shoulders as you fixated on the speaker.

Giorno frowned as he approached, giving Paint It Black an appraising stare as something gold and sleek and humanoid appeared next to him. The same power, you knew instantly. This was what his power looked like. You just couldn’t see it before.

“It certainly looks dangerous. Maybe a close-range power type. And you can move your legs with it supporting you…fascinating. Is that because you wished to walk more than anything else?”

Paint It Black gnashed its teeth in an inarticulate display of fury. You felt its anger—your anger, this was all you—pulse through your head. It took a moment for you to realize that you were salivating for this chance to put him in his place, to wound him as badly as he wounded you.

Giorno took a step forward. Nervousness fluttered in your gut; you hadn’t actually tested all of Paint It Black’s power, and your opponent was likely someone who had fought many Stand users before you, but what choice did you have? Not only couldn’t you run, you didn’t want to run.

It was him and you, alone in the Italian countryside, and you weren’t going anywhere until you got blood. You looked Giorno in the face, and saw by the subtle widening of his eyes that he knew exactly what you were thinking.

“Gold Experience!” The other Stand moved with a dancer’s grace, darting close, fist raised to strike.

Paint It Black surged forward, carrying you with it in its eagerness to attack, swiping with its own arms to counter. Its movements weren’t as effortlessly coordinated, but it was just as quick, forcing Gold Experience to sidestep and weave through the attacks, seeking an opening…

It found one. You realized your mistake in the instant before the Stand’s fist connected with your physical body, striking you in the ribcage and sending you reeling back.

Things were happening too slowly. Things were happening too quickly. As if watching it happen to another person, you watched your body stumble and sink to one knee, Gold Experience’s fist still connected with your side…

“Maybe I’ll explain what happened when you’re secure again,” Giorno said, ignoring you in favor of speaking to your body, still in a half-kneel. Gold Experience pulled its arm back to hit you again, this time in the head—

And stopped. Its fist seemed stuck, held fast by the flow of Paint It Black’s tarry body as it moved outward again. Your body didn’t fall to one knee just because you weren’t controlling it, it fell because your Stand moved. Paint It Black laughed, a shrill and derisive sound, as its spike-laden fist found Gold Experience’s face in a wild haymaker. Its head snapped back with the force of the blow as it fell away—was it more frail than Paint It Black?—and you felt yourself come back to your body with a surge of satisfaction as you watched Giorno’s own body jolt backward, sending him into the tall grasses and muddying up his suit.

Users get hurt if their Stands get hurt. You make a note of what happened, grateful that Paint It Black happened to have a counter.

“You know something, Giorno? I can live without knowing.” Paint It Black’s body diminished slightly as it poured itself back into you, forcing yourself to your feet again. You didn’t like the feeling of Giorno’s eyes on you as he noticed this, mentally cataloguing your powers, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it. You had to get away from him somehow.

He wiped the blood from his split lip as he sat up with the sleeve of his suit, a surprisingly unrefined gesture. “You’re only able to use about half your Stand’s volume, since you need the rest of it to walk…even so, that was quite a hit. I can’t help but wonder what you’d be capable of if you could move on your own. What else can that Stand of yours do?”

You circled each other with measured steps. The tension was palpable; Paint It Black’s body was coiled so tightly you could barely breathe, and Gold Experience was almost walking on its toes.

“I know you’re excited about your new power, but nothing about the situation has changed. You’re not going to defeat me here; I can already tell that Gold Experience’s range is greater than yours, and your movements are too uncoordinated. You’re barely in control of your Stand. That’s not even taking into account our difference in experience; I’m—“

“Oh my fucking god, do you ever shut up?” Paint It Black snarled, voicing your thoughts the moment they occurred to you. Giorno frowned again, his Stand mimicking his disapproval.

“I certainly hope that’s not supposed to have come from you. Maybe we’ll work on refining your manners when this is over.” He hadn’t even finished speaking before Gold Experience moved again—not into your range, but to pick up a twig and twirl it around in its hand. You watched the shape distort and squirm as fear welled up in you.

It’s happening again it’s happening again—

How could you fight that? Paint It Black almost wailed in response, rippling its body to put more of the golden spikes into its fists.

Gold Experience wound the snake around its wrists like a magician completing an act as Giorno studied your face closely. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because the snake flowed down to the ground and began to make its way towards you as Gold Experience reached for another one…

Hey. Paint It Black’s voice resonated in your ears. I can protect you from harm, or I can fight back, but I can’t do both.

“Save—“ you gasped, watching as another snake joined the first, rippling forward, “no…! The user is the enemy! If we defeat the user, we’ve won! Nothing else matters!”

Giorno watched you make your decision, first impassively but then with faint surprise as you lurched forward, falling onto the ground as Paint It Black left your body entirely to stand on its own. It seemed less steady on its own, somehow; it tended to lean into a strange half-crouch, in contrast to Gold Experience’s proud poise, and its pearly tears were flowing in earnest, splattering against the ground.

“What a disturbing Stand,” he murmured with a faint smile, “but I wouldn’t expect you to have a power that was anything less than exciting. You’ll be quite the asset if I can just get you to behave yourself.”

“Gold Exper—“ It was in that moment that your Stand, once again, did something exciting. In the same moment you felt a thrill of unadulterated terror flow through you as the first of the snakes finally touched you, Paint It Black reacted, dropping its form altogether to become a puddle underfoot. Gold Experience, still moving to strike, carried itself overhead…and was immediately impaled as Paint It Black reformed into a dozen needle-sharp spikes, piercing its body through-and through.

Giorno choked, first in surprise and then in pain and then on blood as red bloomed at several spots on his suit, falling forward until he was on his hands and knees. You squirmed toward your Stand as Gold Experience immediately knelt next to its user, resting its hand over one of the points of injury.

“I hope one of those hit your spine,” you spat with savage vitriol as Paint It Black flowed into your legs, positioning them under yourself to get up, “I hope you know how it fucking feels. I hope you know how lucky you are, that you can fix it right away.”

He coughed, struggling to his knees as you finally stood on shaky feet, Paint It Black grabbing for a nearby tree branch to steady you. Anger fueled your Stand, but fear seemed to destabilize it… and the second you realized this, looking over at Giorno, you knew that he knew too.

“You haven’t won,” Giorno said quietly. You heard the conviction in his voice and knew he was right.

“You just surprised me, but all you’ve done is slow me down. You can’t kill me, even with that needle ability of yours. All you can do is run. Even then…you don’t really think you can get away from me for long, do you?”

Paint It Black coils nervously as your legs continue to tremble. You haven’t quite calmed down from that scare, and it’s affecting your ability to stand.

“Today’s been full of surprises. And frankly, if just now is anything to go by...” you say at last, turning to walk away—you spot Giorno’s still-running car not too far away, where he must have jumped out when he saw you leave the villa.

“If I were you, I’d watch where you step.”

#by me #yandere giorno #really just a self indulgent excuse to try my hand at stand fights #uhhhhh what other tags should I put here #yandere x reader #I GUESS #the real main character of this is a Stand

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gaymalereadersheaven · 6 years ago

Text

Prince Tom Holland X Male Reader

Chapter 7

Summary: your parents made a political arrangement for your younger sister to get married to a prince from a neighbouring country, but what happens when you start to fall for his older brother?

Previous Chapter: in masterlist

Warnings⚠️: slight offense language

“Alright,” I said, calming her down. “You know how parliament works, right?” I asked. “Yeah, we have to know,” said in a matter of fact tone. “Well, we can fight the law that makes it illegal to be attracted to members of the same sex,” I said. “How?” She asked. “You didn’t let me finish,” I continued, “our parliament doesn’t have absolute parliament, which means if we get enough people to vote in our favour, we can overrule parliament’s decision and we wouldn’t even need the King and Queen.” “Ok, but how would we get the people on our side?” Sylvia asked. “By asking around and seeing where they stand. We’d be able to see if we should go straight to parliament or if we need to get more people on our side,” I told her. “Again, how do we get the people on our side?” She asked again. “I have my ways,” I smirked. “You are a very convincing man,” she said. “I am indeed,” I confirmed. “What If mom and dad, or Kind Dominic and Queen Nicola try and stop us?” She asked. “They wouldn’t be able to,” I assured her, “No one would be able to.” “Good, I don’t want to marry Prince Sam,” she said. “I know,” I said as I pulled her in to a hug. “Thank you,” She said softly. “You know I love you,” I said. “I know,” she said quietly. We sat there for a good chunk of time until Sylvia decided that she wanted to forget about wedding in general for a while.

We decided to practice our swordsmanship, like we did when we were children. I’ve always loved sword fighting, and Sylvia liked to play pirates, just like we had read about in books. Sylvia and I are best friends, we didn’t really have any other friends, only eachother. We had a very few royal friends, and we hardly ever got to see them. We would mostly play with eachother, sometimes we got to play with the srevants’ children, but not much. We practically did everything together, practiced playing instruments, read, ride horses, learn how to properly act like royalty, ...etc. When I heard that Sylvia was going to have to get married and leave I was a a little more bit saddened, but it would happen eventually. I always thought I would be the first to get married, being the oldest and all.

Eventually, we got tired out and went to prepare for dinner. I got out of my sweaty clothes as fast as I could, and I washed up. As I did, I thought about all the things I did today, I prayed my archery skills, I read a bit, promised to teach Gorge to read, I got to catch up with Sylvia, and practice sword fighting, it was an overall good day, except for learning that I’m most likely going to have to try and change the law all so Sylvia doesn’t have to marry Prince Sam, but it’s for the better, for Sylvia’s happiness and for people like me. It’s going to be hard, but it will be worth it. I finished up and changed and started heading to Sylvia’s chambers to escort her to dinner.

“How was your day?” Thomas asked. “My day was pretty good, what about yours?” I replied. “Good,” he answered. “What did you do today?” He asked. “Well, I practiced archery and sword fighting, I read a little, and caught up with Sylvia, not particularly in that order. And you?” I told. “I just had a meeting with Haz about trade between our countries,” he said. “Fun,” I said. “Not really,” he corrected me. “Oh,” I said plainly. “Are you ok? It looks like you have something on your mind,” He asked. “I’ll tell you about it later,” I replied rather quickly. “Could I have some ale?” I asked. “Our finest ale for Prince (Y/N)!!!” Thomas shouted. “No! Not your finest, just whatever is fine!” I said. “Are you sure you’re ok?” He asked, “I’ll tell you after dinner,” I said as someone placed a cup of beer in front of me. “Promise?” He asked. “Promise,” I replied. I finished my dinner and downed my beer pretty quickly. Everyone finished soon after.

“You ready?” Thomas grabbed my hand, Sylvia smirked. “Yeah” I said as we headed to my room.

We made it to my room and sat on the bed. “Where should I start?” I said asked. “How about the beginning?” Thomas giggles, I chuckled a bit as well. “First, how much do you know about parliament?” I asked. “Not much,” Thomas said. “Damnit,” I said under my breath. “Ok, neither of our parliaments have absolute sovereignty,” I started. “No offense, but this isn’t all that interesting,” Thomas said. “Well I find it interesting, and in this case useful,” I said. “Of course you would find it interesting,” he replied. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked. “Nothing, I think it’s sorta cute,” he replied. “Of course you would,” I said, he smiled. “Stop distracting me, this is important,” I said, getting us back on topic. “Ok,” he said in mock defense. “Point is Sylvia doesn’t want to marry Sam,” I said. “Neither does Sam,” Thomas said. ‘How convenient,’ I thought. “But we still need for a union between the two royal families,” I went on. “Ok, Promise you won’t get all freaked out on me?” I asked, nervously. “Promise,” Thomas said. “Here we go,” I said under my breath, “I really like you, but I don’t want to rush into things, we only just met not that long ago and Sylvia’s in love with someone else and so I was hoping that we could get married so that she doesn’t have to, but I don’t want to make things awkward between us and I just-” “I’ll do it,” Thomas interrupted. “You will? Thanks you so much,” I wrapped my arms around Thomas. “I get it, I feel the same way,” he said. “But how are we going to do it? Marriage between two members of the same sex is illegal.” He said. “I was trying to tell you how we can make it legal before you told me it was kinda boring,” I explained. “Oh, sorry,” he said. “It’s ok,” I said. “Basically, we just need a bunch of people on our side and we can overrule parliament,” I wanna explained to him. “What If the King and Queen decide they want to stop us?” He asked. “If we have enough people on our side, they won’t be able to,” I said. “Lest start recruiting people tomorrow,” Thomas said. “How about right now?” I asked. “What?” Thomas asked. “I know a ton of people who would be on our side,” I told. “It’s a relatively short horse ride,” I said. I grabbed his and started running to the horse stables.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asked as we approached the stables. I ignored his question and asked one of my own Instead, “can I ride Barnaby?” I asked. “I guess,” Thomas replayed, still obvious confused. I got on Barnaby as fast I as could. “Come In we don’t have to to get out another horse, get on,” I said to Thomas. I helped as much as I could to get on Barnaby. I took off as fast as I could. It felt great, the wind rushing through my hair, Thomas’ arms wrapped around my waist, the adrenaline. After quite a while we made it to our destination. I hopped off and helped Thomas down, and tied Barnaby to a poll.

“Where are we?” asked Thomas. “It will all make sense in a second,” I informed. I approached the door, and did the secret knock, a little slot opened up revealing a pair of eyes. “What’s the password?” The man said. “Leonard, it’s me, (Y/N),” I said. “You still need to say the pas-” “fine, blueberries,” I cut him off. The slot shut and there were a few sounds before the door opened, revealing Leonard. “How are you Leonard?” I asked. “Good and you?” He replied. “I’m good,” I answered, “I have an important announcement, you may get want to come with us,” I said as he licked the door, he just nodded in response. I lead the way down the dark hallway and through a door into a much shorter hallway and finally through the big black curtain, revealing a bunch of my friends. “(Y/N)!!!” Multiple people cheer, at my arrival. “Can I get you anything, (Y/N)?” The bartender asked. “Just the usual, Thanks John,” I replied as placed some money down on the bar. As John was getting my beer, Thomas leaned over and whispered, “those men are dressed like woman,” into my ear. “I know, isn’t it great?” I whispered back, he just gave a confused look. Thomas opened mouth to say something, but was interrupted by John giving my beer. “(Y/N), how you doing?” One of my friend’s Greg said. “Good, but I don’t have time to catch up, I have something important to do,” I said as I got up on a table. “May I have everyone’s attention?” I said loudly, the place got quiet as everyone turned their attention to me. “I need your help. What I’m going to do will be risky, it will be dangerous, but it will be for the greater good,” I motioned for Thomas to get up on the table with me, “Thomas and I plan to get married,” I said as raised his and my intertwined hands above our heads, the room interrupted with cheers. “But as you know it is highly illegal, that’s why we need your help if we can get enough people on our side, we can take it to parliament and even overrule their decision,” I shouted, cheers rang out again. “Tell your friends, especially the guys who aren’t here right now,” I reminded. “Does anyone know where the ‘sodomites’ of Thomas’s kingdom, Bisosal, hangout?” I asked, I hate that that word, “sodomites” it’s so derogatory, but it’s the only word we’ve got. “Yeah,” someone said. I hopped down and got the information I needed from them and grabbed Thomas and headed towards the door. I chugged my beer and placed my cup on the counter and left, saying good bye to Leonard.

Thomas and I got on Barnaby, and took off. “You’re going in the wrong direction,” Thomas said. “We have to make another stop first,” I replied.

We arrived at the bar and repeated the same process as the first one. As we entered the actual bar part, the room fell silent as everyone’s eyes burned through our souls. “It’s okay, we need your help,” I assured. “What could you possibly do that would require our help?” One woman asked. “This man and I plan to get married,” I replied. Once they realized Thomas and I weren’t here to shut down the bar or to lick them up, but that I was one of them, they warmed up to us.”but how do you intend to do that?” She asked. “That’s why were here, if we far enough people to want to make it legal for the union of members if the same sex, we can take it to parliament and make it leave without their intervention,” I explained. “We’re in,” said the woman from before. “We also need a better term for people like us,” said another woman. “I completely agree, the one we have now is highly offensive,” replied. “Could we get you anything to drink?” Asked the same woman from before. “I’m afraid we can’t stay long, we have more troops to rally, but we look forward to working with all of you,” I said. “And by any chance doesn’t anyone know where the people like us in Bisosal?” I asked. “Male or female?” Someone asked. “Female,” I replied. “Yeah, I can tell you,” she replied again. “Thank you so much,” I said. I got the information I needed and we took off for Bisosal.

We made it to the Bisosal bar and when we entered the same thing happened as the bar before that, they weren’t sure if we were one of them or not. We stood there in silence for a while, but Thomas didn’t say anything, so I leaned into whisper in his ear, “I think you should do it this time, it’s your kingdom.” He nodded. “Hi, we want to get married, but we obviously can’t do that because it is illegal and we need your help to fight for our rights.” He looked at me for assurance and I nodded for him to continue, “We need a lot of people on our side so we bring it to parliament and fight them on this, for the right to be ourselves and to not have to hide anymore.” “We’ll help you,” one mad said, a chatter broke out in agreement of all the patrons. “Thank you so much,” Thomas said. I turned to leave, but was interrupted by someone, “stay for a drink, have some fun.” “We have to go, but we will another time, I promise,” I said and we headed out.

“One more, you ready?” I asked Thomas as we got on Barnaby. “Yeah,” He smiles as we headed off.

We arrived, knocked on the door, and the slot opened up revealing eyes. “Password,” the woman said. I looked at Thomas, but he just looked at me back with an I don’t remember either look. “Crap, what did Simone say it was again?” I asked myself. “You know Simone?” The woman asked. “Yeah, She sent me here,” I told her. “Come on in,” She said, unlocking the door and letting us in. The same thing happened as it did in the last two bars. “Simone said you could help us,” I said. “Oh, well if Simone said it,” a brunette woman said. Thomas gabe the whole spiel and we stayed for a drink before heading back to Thomas’s castle.

We put barnaby back in his stable and walked back into the castle. As we were walking, Thomas grabbed my hand and intertwined his fingers with mine, I smiled. It was pretty late out and no one would be able to see us in the dark. We talked more strategy before arriving at my room. “Can I sleep with you for tonight?” Asked Thomas. “I suppose,” I replied as I got the sleep wear from the wardrobe. “We’re going to get married, might as get used to it,” he replied. I let out a light chuckle and smiled, before changing into my sleep wear. When I finished I handed Thomas a pair. As he removed his clothes, I folded them and placed them on top the dresser. I got under the cover and waited for him to do the same before blowing out the candle by my bed. “Goodnight Thomas,” I said. “Goodnight (Y/N).”

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Thank you for reading, sorry for taking for ever, and thank you for your patience. Love you all -Matthew

Next Chapter : coming soon

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