#killed and tortured innocent people and helped bring about the end of the world through despair (but not the traitor who he wanted to

[makedamnsvre]

he is risen

[aegor-bamfsteel]

What do you think about Selyse Baratheon? Sometimes she gives me vibes of Cersei and Lysa.

I’m a fan of Stannis, but even I know that he treats her terribly, and he wouldn’t have been better to a “more attractive”, more pleasant, more fecund wife. You thinking of Lysa/Cersei makes sense because she’s an unpleasant person trapped in a loveless marriage, which helps show why Selyse is how she is (this is one of the strengths of the main series, how even minor characters have context for their actions). The difference between Lysa/Cersei is that not only is Selyse never attractive (men go out of their way to mock her facial hair, and she never has a loved one that softens her character), but she doesn’t matter as much. Cersei is queen and Lysa is Hand’s wife, daughters of Lord Paramounts, both of them become regents, both of them have sons they spoil; meanwhile, Selyse is the niece of a Florent, only chosen as a bride because Jon Arryn wanted to curb Tyrell power. Marriage to a king’s brother is supposed to be a great triumph for her…except the king deflowered her cousin in her marriage bed, she’s lady of an inhospitable island with few followers, her husband is more interested in ships and smugglers and can hardly stand to touch her, so the only child she has with him is a daughter, who had greyscale as an infant. She does the opposite of spoil Shireen, snapping at her to not talk about her cousin to Val, sending her to her room, kissing her on her unscarred cheek, Shireen wears her hood in her presence curled up away from her…It makes sense that she’d be so taken with the Rhllor religion. Suddenly she matters, her husband is the savior of the world rather than an embittered Master of Ships, all that has gone wrong in her life (Edric’s conception, Stannis’ coldness, her lack of children) can be undone by the right magic words and actions (even child burning). Whereas Cersei/Lysa found comfort in lovers (or pretend lovers), she found her sense of purpose in Rhllor, and thus will hold on to him to the end. She’s a lot more than “crazy lady with fetuses in jars” like the show depicted.

She actually has similarities to Stannis in their uncompromising attitudes and stiffness with people. However, just like Cersei/Lysa, she’s drawn much less sympathetically/impressively than her male counterpart. Petyr is one of the most formidable threats to House Stark in the series with little but his wits/money-making; Lysa is emotionally unstable, easily manipulated, and he kills her halfway through the series once she’s no longer useful to him. Tyrion and Jaime are hailed as two of the best characters in the series because of their complexity, and both are capable of bravery and even some kindness; contrast Cersei, who enables torture, murdered at a young age, is also vain and easily manipulated, runs her regency into the ground in less than a year, etc. GRRM says that Stannis is a righteous man for going North, he believes in meritocracy, and he has the most known victories of any commander in Westeros; Selyse…can you think of any redeeming traits for her? She mocks Cressen, advocates burning a child, wants to let the Hardhome wildlings die (so much for saving humanity), is classist and willfully misunderstands wildling culture, and she brings in the Florents who are incompetent (Imry) or cruel (Axell) leaders. Jon comments that she is always disappointing him. She has none of Shireen’s innocent openness, Stannis’ accomplishments and vision, Davos’ honesty and loyalty, or even Melisandre’s powers and showmanship. She’s repeatedly demeaned for her looks (as Lysa and later Cersei are), and I don’t think she’s made a sensible political decision in the series. But she doesn’t even have the “must protect my child at all costs” motivation of Lysa and Cersei, who do love their kids as more than just heirs to a seat, and took desperate actions to defend them. Maybe some of the ASOIAF theorists are right and she will show some love for Shireen at the end, giving her life trying to protect or avenge her, in a somewhat positive character twist.

[askcharaandfriends]

I'm not sure the analogy fully holds up. Not killing someone doesn't mean there are no consequences. If a trial is so important, you can't forget that those end with punishments. AFAC has a history of characters getting off free. Gaster tortured inmates and children and was not punished. Asriel killed people and wasn't punished. Chara did the stuff they did and were not punished. Asgore turned himself in and his allies got the punishment removed. Unless things changed, it should be the same here

Goldy: Ahh, I love philosophical quandaries within Undertale! Brings me back to when I used them to make Grade-A research papers! Mia's given me the honor of responding to these.

WARNING: TEXT WALL AND SPOILERS FOR AFAC/POTENTIALLY FOR ACAF BELOW!

I'm really glad you've brought up the issue of consequences, because that's actually the answer to the questions you're raising about mercy here. Instead of "Why are they not punished," let's ask "Why CAN'T they be punished?"

Let's start with Gaster. Humoring what would happen if he were punished for his crimes, the fact that some of the kids were tortured would be an angle that wasn't brought up when the world's attention was on Asgore over the kids' fate in the Underground. That, on top of the fact that Gaster was Asgore's employee, would've led to people and officials to believe that Asgore knew about it and withheld information. Asgore would be tried for perjury, there'd be no plea deal this time, and the sovereign status of Monster Town would be imperiled, along with Monsters' legal status. Frisk would suffer the most; at the very least, they'd never see their found family again, and at worst, they'd fall back into Susan's clutches.

And I'm glad you brought up the kids too. It IS worth noting that in AFAC, we haven't seen any resolution YET. Which was honestly, IMO, a mistake on TQ's part in regards to proceeding with the story. We really should've focused immediately on the emotional fallout with the kids coming back and the fact that did so many bad things, instead of... proceeding to a wrestling match over a petty conflict that seems insignificant by comparison.

...Plus, there's no real way to punish the kids that doesn't seem too cruel, or doesn't match the magnitude of their crimes. What would work? Disowning them and leaving them out in the cold to die? How would that sit with Frisk, given what they've been through? Or... Imagine Chara and Azzy going up to everyone they hurt and going like "Hi, I murdered you ala-Saw, I'm sorry." At best, it would be treated as crazy BS, and at worst, it could cause them to recall it all like you've pointed out. It's just better to reform them and help them come to terms, trust issues be damned. After all... "restorative justice," right?

Finally, it's worth noting that practically NO ONE in Undertale is completely innocent. Papyrus threatening Frisk with death traps. Toriel doing literally nothing when she could've done SO MUCH to stop the war effort, or even just destroy the Door to Snowdin long before the second kid fell down. Sans doing absolutely nothing to honor his promise to Toriel. MTT exploiting his workers and abandoning his family. Alphys committing fraud and unethical experiments of her own; come to think of it, we forgave Alphys, so why not Gaster?

And finally, the fact is, every single Monster is more than happy to live on the Surface, enjoying a freedom that was bought with six counts of infanticide. Undertale is a metafiction that makes the player question our justice, and when we imagine the aftermath, we realize that not only is it not perfect, but that pursuing it can even lead to unjust ends.

Imagine that for a moment. Justice being a bad thing. Something that would necessitate an "escape clause" to knowingly subvert, pervert, or even avert its course. The ends do not justify the means, they simply outweigh them. Which is why I am inclined to say "So what?" to the myriad crimes we see before us in the story, callous as it may seem.

And that's why I love this game so much. I live for this. In the end, there is no justice. Only endings, and the resolutions we seek.

Hope this answers your question. TLDR: Justice itself would've been the biggest antagonist of all if we hadn't stepped in and swept it all under the rug.

[legaciestolda]

@everythingheard​ (enzo)

seattle had been ripe with new discoveries, a new world presented to her for while the dark-haired college student had been aware of the eldritch world that existed within what seemed to be a mundane one, this city was no forks. the inception of a system which partook in a delicate truce had been in existence far before she had even been bore into this world. factions controlled the city, a surprising number of beings living and working alongside humans. factions which now found themselves in chaos as accusations were thrown and victoria continued her war upon innocent people out of some psychotic need for revenge. here there were allies. here bella could call one of her father’s deputies to deal with the body of a vampire. here people were actively attempting to stop victoria’s plans. plans bella had been left exposed to when one family which had entered her life and become so engrained within it had decided to simply throw away the things they had once promised. while she could not be thankful for being left to endure victoria and her horrors, bella could be thankful that through the experience of loss she had built herself back up. that through the events which had followed, she had learned about her family, learned about what she was capable of. learned to protect herself because she refused to stand by and be prey. refused to stand by and let people get hurt in some game a vampire decided to thrust her into because victoria couldn’t accept that james had wrought his fate unto himself. he made the choice to target her. and that choice had spelled his end. 

what bella had not intended for in-between her classes and quest to hunt down victoria and her fledglings was to be thrust into the inner-workings of a secret society with ill intensions. horrific discoveries uncovered once she had allowed herself to be brought into their ranks. she had not corrected their assumptions of her attitude toward vampires though was unsettled that professor maxfield had somehow known the fate which had befallen her mother and step-father. perhaps it was ironic, that she had activ;ely sought to dispatch certain vampires and yet could still be disgusted by the treatment of others at the hands of the augustine society. once discovered, bella no more had the ability to stand by and allow their actions to continue than she could go without water. maybe if vampires didn’t have a choice in their actions she could accept it, though, even then bella was hard-pressed to ever believe she could condone torture and medical experiments upon a living or undead creature. they were still people, still felt pain, still deserved common decency and the simple fact was: they had a choice in their actions, or most which had not succumbed to a ripper-like state did. how professor maxfield who seemed so normal and respected by his students could justify what he was doing was beyond bella and prompted her to bring her father into play. 

it’s two weeks and a few more blood bags later when she finally gathers enough evidence that her father would be able to use to make some arrests. it might not be enough to take down the society as a whole, the theft of chemicals and supplies from campus to conduct off-the-books experiments but it was a start. it was something tangible. she uploads files and pictures to her dropbox, sending a text to her father and then makes her way to the cells in the basement. she knows she doesn’t have a lot of time and it does not help that she doesn’t have a solid plan in place for his escape. but maxfield wasn’t in the house. there was a small window. she could release enzo, they could get out before he came back. perhaps it was a risk, to place trust in a vampire who had been terrorized by a society for decades. he could kill her. she knew what some vampires were capable of. and yet, she chooses to have faith. they had a choice and she had never, in the short time they’d interacted, shown him unkindness unless forced to make comments in front of maxfield which were directly contradicted by her actions toward enzo in private-- or at least as private as could be when a camera was down there, her seeming to scribble notes in a notebook as a show. 

everything goes to hell, however, once she gets the cell open because, while she had managed to disable to camera, maxfield had been able to jump into action far quicker than she’d expected. a wooden bullet is sent hurling toward enzo, getting him in the shoulder and forcing him backward and when bella takes action to try and fight she finds herself with a bloody gash on the side of her face and thrust into the cell too. she tells maxfield he isn’t going to get away with this yet he barely acknowledges her, seemingly distressed by this course of events though not enough to remove her from the cell with a vampire when she was bleeding. he leaves them like that, blaming her for what fate he believes will befall her.

 bella was getting really tired of people justifying murder. 

he wasn’t any better than the vampires he seemed to hate so much. the only silver lining to this whole situation was that if her father didn’t have enough to take them down before, he certainly would once he’d be able to charge them with kidnapping and attempted murder of a student. 

“are you okay?” she questions enzo. there isn’t fear in her voice, at least not for herself, but there is concern for him. “uh-- we got to get that bullet out of you so you can start to heal and, uh, i guess i can give you some of my blood and then.. then we’ll figure out a next step.” she’s only half-talking to him really, trying to talk out  some sort of plan. one thing at a time. 

[sortasirius]

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do.  I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism.  I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless.  I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done.  I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay.  I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be.  I break everything I touch.  All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me.  I am broken.  I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is.  I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing.  I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative? 

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain.  I met an angel, he’s not like I thought.  He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see.  He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me.  He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes.  I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough.  My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it.  The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it.  I think I should consider him a friend.  Lucifer rises anyway. 

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should.  I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people.  Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then.  The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it.  But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them. 

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else.  I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure.  My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him.  I feel guilty.  We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul.  The angel is back, but he’s no real help.  I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons. 

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies.  Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes?  I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look.  I’m not sure why.  The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven.  Why does everyone leave me?  The Leviathan are out there, a new threat.  At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car.  I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain.  I feel like I’m spinning out of control.  My brother loses his mind.  The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts.  When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do. 

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel.  We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me?  We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind.  It turns out my brother didn’t look for me.  Why am I so dispensable?  The vampire is the only one I can trust now.  I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him.  I feel like I can’t save anyone these days.  I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy?  But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him?  I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here.  My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him.  We find a place to call home.  I’ve never had my own bedroom before.  The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him.  He doesn’t answer my prayers.  He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me.  I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too.  He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again.  I wish I was lovable.  I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got.  The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright. 

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him.  My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly.  I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother.  I feel guilty about that.  I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother.  I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him.  I use humor to hide how much I miss him.  My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me.  Well, I deserve it this time.  I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad.  I start to lose my grip on myself.  My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late.  I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes.  I don’t care about anyone, anything.  There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough.  My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me.  I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water.  For a while, I feel loved.  But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it.  I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know.  The angel tries to stop me.  I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over.  But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel.  Death tells me I have to kill my brother.  I almost do it.  But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again.  Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness.  It scares the hell out of me.  I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it.  Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness?  Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad?  I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late?  Why would he leave me like this?  Will I ever get him back?  My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him.  I just wish I could get through to him.  Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half.  We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it?  God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness.  I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it.  The Darkness doesn’t kill me.  She thanks me.

My mother is alive.  It’s everything I’ve always wanted.  I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought.  That’s hard.  Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid.  How will we kill someone innocent?  I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to.   The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him?  We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it?  The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us.  I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away.  The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me.  Why does everyone run from me?  We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer.  He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real.  My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is...  I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back.  You owe me this, please bring him back.  He doesn’t listen.  I’m alone.  We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once.  I hate the kid, this is his fault.  I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time.  I can’t take it anymore.  Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be?  How much more can I take?  It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened.  I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there.  Maybe this time.  We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom.  I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him.  Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it.  I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it.  I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever.  I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule?  I’ll take the ocean every time.  The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words.  The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late.  My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier.  I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more.  I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger.  Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head.  God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along.  Typical.  He kills our kid.  I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real.  How can I believe that?  Is everything I am just a story?  Have I ever chosen anything?  Does the angel really care about me?  Do I really care about him?  Another one of our friends dies.  I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real.  I meet up with someone I loved.  He’s a monster now, I have to kill him.  He dies holding me.  I wish I was dead sometimes too.  My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God.  I’m spinning in circles.  Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again.  He gets taken from me.  I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him.  I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother.  How will I choose?  Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel.  I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me.  He must know.  He doesn’t want me, no one wants me.  Why would they?  Chuck has taken everything from me.  I have to kill him, no matter the cost.  The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death.  I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long.  I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom.  My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him.  He talks me down, he’s the only one that can.  I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage.  I take the angel and we find her, she chases us.  Another trap.  I realize that I’ve trapped us both.  Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me.  He smiles.  He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him.  How can I tell him how he changed me.  He tells me he’ll die for loving me.  Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life.  Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me.  He tells me he loves me.  I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late.  He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now.  I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Broken trust, pt.3

Part one // Part two  

Summary: Meeting with his Sun Summoner again, the Darkling has a choice to make. 

Warnings: angst, fluff

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

It’s been a long time since Y/N saw her Darkling. Some would say time passes quickly, but it dragged on so painfully slow that every second marked her with more doubt. Aleksander was her safe haven, the one she’d run to whenever she wanted to lift the weight off her shoulders but that wasn’t an option anymore.

She had reunited with Mal, but he couldn’t understand. If anything, he seemed cross with her for being a Grisha, for staying in Little palace for so long. He wasn’t shy to state how disgusted he is with who she became, to insult the kefta she wore when they first saw each other.

“The way you talk, the way you walk, even the way you look! I can hardly look at you, he’s all over you.”

She doesn’t wear that kefta anymore, the black contrasting the golden embroidery representing the light she was meant to be. A part of her ached for Aleksander, while the other part of her resented him. He made her love him, but how can she love what was built on a lie?

Somber, she shivered in the cold. Her arms wrapped around her knees which were tucked close to her chest and under her chin. The majestic stag Mal had taken her to find, the one she had a chance to kill but refused to, was now gone. She made sure it would retreat deeper into the woods after laying her hand on him.

None of it was important now when her troubled mind returned to the beginning.

She looked at him with a bashful smile, a flush creeping across her cheeks. He didn’t notice her yet, buttoning his shirt slowly while she began to sweat, unsure about coming into his room uninvited now. Clearing her throat, she sat at the foot of his bed, noticing him tense up before turning to her.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you”, she bites her lower lip, her voice shaky but not nearly as much as her heart.

A breathless chuckle passes his lips, his eyes instantly light up as he comes closer, a few buttons remaining unbuttoned at the top. It gave her a perfect view of his chest and she couldn’t help but realize this is the most skin she had seen on him since they met. A kefta left everything up to ones imagination and it may have served as a neat way to hide from the others, but she was grateful he didn’t wear one now.

“I’m merely surprised to find you so boldly perched on my bed”, Aleksander raises his eyebrows, amused as he comes closer.

Shrugging, she looks up at him through her thick eyelashes, picture perfect innocence etched in her angelic smile. “You seemed tense today”, she pushes herself further back on his bed, far enough to rest her back against the headboard.

Pursing his lips, he knits his eyebrows together, “Did I now?”

Nodding, she taps her thighs, “I’ll help you unwind. Come on.”

“How?” Aleksander’s lips part as she rolls her eyes playfully.

"Here! Lay down in my lap." She taps her lap two times exactly, seemingly unaware of Aleksander's eyebrows furrowing.

"Excuse me?"

Tilting her head to the right, she gave him a pointed look. “Lay down in my lap so I can run my fingers through your hair.”

“Can I –“, Aleksander tries, but she’s quicker.

“Not negotiable.”

With a sigh, Aleksander clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why he was allowing her to speak to him in such a manner, much less why he was crawling over the bed to rest his head on her thighs. Yet he found himself on his back, his head securely in her lap and his gaze is on her and the self-satisfied smirk on her lips that had made his heart flutter.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she watched him intently. It was hard to accept just how handsome he is, how unique the black skies reflecting in his eyes are. She’d see an occasional star when he’d look at her, a twinkle in the darkness she peered into fearlessly day in and day out.

“Isn’t it funny how I can’t even remember the first time I heard your name?” She spoke softly, her thumb grazing his forehead. “You’d think we’d remember something that will make such a huge difference in your life.”

Aleksander licks his lips, “What matters is you’re here. Wherever you go in life, remember this moment, Sunshine”, he smiles in disbelief, “When you had a general putty in your hands for a night.”

She couldn’t help but grin, “I’m not leaving you. Not now”, leaning in, she whispers, “Not ever.”

Leaving a kiss upon his forehead, Y/N started to pull away.

“Wait”, he blurted out. “Don’t pull away. Not yet.”

“I won’t”, she beams at him, “We have all night.”

Scoffing, she shakes her head. In the end, she lied too. How can a man capable of doing such terrible things be so gentle with her? Were they cursed from the start?

That’s when she felt it once more – her airway closed, her eyes widened. She gasps for air in panic, clutching her throat when she feels the pressure in her chest become too much. She wanted to call for Mal who left to pee a little while ago, but she couldn’t.

And then it stopped.

Gasping, she falls to her hands and knees, drawing in quick, shallow breath of cold air that soothes the burning sensation in her lungs.

“Are you alright?”

The familiarity of his voice brought shivers down her spine, her eyes widening as she turns around so quickly she nearly topples to her side.

“I didn’t realize they’d be so harsh, I’ll have to reprimand them later.” Aleksander frowns at his heartrenders, nodding at them to leave them alone.

She shot him a cold look, "Did you kill him?"

Looking away, Aleksander lets out a heavy sigh.

Her voice thickens, choked with emotion, "Tell me the truth for once in your life."

"I love you", he snaps, "That’s a truth!"

Too often had Y/N spoke of love with Aleksander before, too often had she given pieces of herself away by telling him how she feels, but he never uttered the words before. She wondered if he was capable of loving her, if his admission of love was just a way to control her.

She stands, her heart beating so loudly she feared he could hear it too. Never before had the Darkling bared his soul as he did now, but taking him on his word would be unwise. And she wanted to believe him, saints, she wanted to believe every single word, but he’s supposed to be the bad guy and he wasn’t showing signs of remorse.

"Did it ever occur to you that you're hurting me too?" His voice cracks as she averts her gaze, the sight of him breaking her heart.

His eyes are brimming with tears, his hand reached out for her to take and for the first time since they’ve met, Y/N notices his fingers are shaking and not with the cold.

"With everything to win, the only thing I lose is you. How is that fair?" He uttered, drawing his lower lip between his teeth.

She turned her gaze away, jaw clenched, pity and anger gripping her in equal measure.

He comes before her, his lower lip trembling, "I would not be unkind to you", Aleksander persists. Cupping her face, thumb stroking her jaw, "I would never hurt you." He caressed her cheek, running his fingers down her vulnerable throat.

Pressing her lips together, she shakes her head slightly in order to resist the urge to look back at him or allow herself to quiver under his touch. Straightening her back, she looks him straight in the eye, refusing to break apart.

“But you did hurt me. I don’t even know who you are”, her voice is dark and low.

He leans down, his forehead resting on hers, “But you know me. All of me. You know the real Aleksander…Aleksander Morozova.”

Scoffing, she pulls away, “Wonderful!” Rubbing her forehead where she could still feel him, she turns to him with an incredulous look, “You lied about your name too!”

“Only my last name”, he states and she rolls her eyes at him.

“Because that makes it so much better.”

Sighing, Aleksander reaches for her hand and this time, Y/N doesn’t recoil from his touch and he can’t help but smile, encouraged to lightly tug, bringing her closer.

“Please come back with me. I know what it feels to be alone, to always feel empty on the inside. It's the only thing I know when I'm without you.” His free hand rests on her hip, bringing unexpected warmth along with it.

Y/N understood what he meant, being without him had ravished her. With him she was sunshine, the Sun summoner and a light in the darkness, but without him? She learned even the Sun can be eclipsed.

“Will you help me destroy the fold?” She asks, lifting her head up to meet his gaze. She loved the way he watched her with a longing smile and an oddly gentle look in his eye.

“It’s not that simple”, Aleksander replies, noticing her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth, tortured as she nibbles on it. He wanted to do that so badly, to bruise her lips as they molded with his.

It felt like going through the motions as he spoke, her mind focusing on all he’s done. He killed people, he did it for her too. Is that his idea of commitment? Is killing in someone’s name a way to say I love you in his world?

“It is”, she swallows thickly. She trembles and shivers, then looks at him with pleading eyes. “You’ll either help be destroy the fold and the danger it holds or you’ll lose me. Is that what you want?”

Releasing her hand, his lips part. Aleksander takes a step back, his eyes narrowing. "They say I'm a traitor. They call me the black heretic. Maybe I am. All I know is that I did what I had to do to protect the Grisha from certain doom.” His voice is heavy, laced with anger and frustration Y/N had carried as well.

For a long time, she wondered if she was just the same as him, if he had dimmed her light, but she wasn’t. Never once had he looked into the mirror of his own soul and asked what different choices he could make, not for his own sake, but for the sake of others. In his story, he’s not the bad guy and if she could deny who she is, maybe he wouldn’t be a villain in hers either. But she can’t.  

“Aleksander, please”, her hand rests on his left cheek, cold to the touch unlike the warmth he was used from her. “We will protect them together. The fold had killed plenty of Grisha for us to react too.”

His jaw clenches, “But their death can mean something. I made a necessary sacrifice, so if that makes me evil, fine!” His nostrils flare as he pulls her hand off his face, “Make me your villain."

Swallowing thickly, she turns away from him. “You’ll have to kill me if that’s your plan. Because I will destroy that fold, with or without you there to hold my hand.”

Nodding, he comes closer. His breath on the back of her neck is enough to make her hold hers, awaiting for his next move. She waits, giving him a fair shot now because he’ll never be given another one. But nothing happens. There’s no darkness engulfing her, he had not cut her in half.

When she turns around, this time he’s the one that’s gone. Covering her mouth to stifle a heart-wrenching sob, Y/N’s tears flood her eyes, falling like waterfalls.

Aleksander had walked away, his loyal Grisha following after.

“You did the right thing. She was holding you back”, Ivan states, further fanning the flames of Aleksander’s wrath.

Too quickly did Ivan find himself pinned to a tree with a hand wrapped around his neck tightly enough for his vision to blur, hearing his general’s words.

“You will never know the depth of what I just lost.”

PART 4

[scorpionyx9621]

Do you think Jason Todd fandom is kinda toxic? Because it seems like NO MATTER what DC do, there'll always be complains. Forget the bad adaptation like Titans. Even Judd Winick cannot escape the criticism with how he potrayed Robin!Jason. They just never satisfied.

SORRY, IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO RESPOND TO THIS. I just moved from Washington D.C. to Seattle, which, for my non-American friends, that's 4442km away. And I DROVE THERE ALL BY MYSELF. And now I'm trying to find new work in a new city and trying to stay mentally healthy and positive. Life is exciting but hard and scary.

*sighs*

As someone who was a fandom elder with V*ltr*n. I've seen some of the worst when it comes to fandom behavior. I'm talking people baking food with shaving razors and trying to give them to the showrunners. I'm talking leaking major plot details and refusing to take it down unless they make their ship canon (I am looking at you, Kl*nce stans) For the most part, DC Comics has had a decades-long reputation of treating their fans like trash and not caring what they think so from what I've seen, we all just grumble and complain in our corners of the internet about how we don't like how X comic portrays Jason Todd.

The challenge with Jason Todd is that he's your clinical anti-hero, the batfamily's Draco in Leather Pants, he's a jerkass woobie, and on top of all of that, he's a Tumblr sexyman. It's a perfect storm for a very fun but frustrating character to be a fan of. It doesn't help that every writer decides to re-invent the wheel every time Jason comes up so his canon lore is confusing at best and inconsistent as a standard.

I guess starting with a general brief on who Jason is and what is uniform about him with every instance he's appeared in comics/media.

Grew up in a poor family in Gotham with a dad who was a petty-mid-level criminal, and a mother who dies of a drug overdose.

Survives on the street on his own by committing petty crimes and potentially even engaging in sexual acts to keep himself alive.

Is cornered by Batman and taken in after Dick Grayson quits/is fired

Becomes the second Robin, but is known for being the harsher, more brutal Robin.

Is killed by Joker after being tortured, but somehow comes back to life and regains senses through the Lazarus Pit

Resolves himself to be better than Batman by basically being Batman but kills people.

Where there has been a lot of conflict in the fandom is the fact that Jason Todd is not a character that is written consistently. DC Comics loves to go with the narrative that Jason was "bad from the start" and was the "bad robin" when, yes, he has trouble controlling his anger, but he also still is just as invested in seeing the best of Gotham City and trying to be a positive change for the world as any other DC Comics hero.

Where I get frustrated with the fandom is its ability to knit-pick every detail of a comic they don't like while completely disregarding everything that makes the comics great and worth it to read. My example being Urban Legends. To which most people had pretty mixed reactions to. I was critical of the comic at first but as it went along I ended up really liking it. I have a feeling DC Comics went to Chip Zdarsky and told him he had 6 issues to bring Jason back into the Bat Family, and honestly he didn't do a bad job. Did it feel rushed? Absolutely. I wish there was more development of Jason and Bruce's characters and their dynamic as a whole. However, where I see a lot of people being angry and upset with Urban Legends is that they feel Zdarsky needlessly wrote Jason as an incompetent fool who needs Bruce to save him.

Whether or not that was the intention of Zdarsky is up to debate. However, and this may be controversial, but I don't think he wrote Jason Todd out of character at all. For as fearsome, intimidating, and awesome as Red Hood is. Jason is a character who is absolutely driven by his emotions. Why do you think he donned the role of Red Hood? As a response to his anger towards The Joker for killing him, and towards Bruce for not taking action against The Joker and for seemingly replacing him so quickly after he died. Jason didn't care about being the murderous Robin Hood or for being the bloody hammer of justice against N*zi's and P*d*ph*les. He only cared originally about making The Joker and Bruce pay. It wasn't until he trained under the best assassins in the world and realized most of them were horrific criminals who trafficked children and were p*dos that Talia began to realize that the teachers that she sent Jason to train under started dying horrific and painful deaths.

The entire story of the Cheer story in Batman Urban Legends was started because it finally forced some consequences upon Jason. Tyler, aka Blue Hood's father was a drug dealer who gave his supply to his wife and kids. And when Tyler's father admitted he gave the drugs to Tyler, it immediately made him fall within the self-imposed philosophical kill-list of Jason Todd. And Jason, well, he proceeds to kill Tyler's father. When this happens, Jason is in shock. Tyler's dad fit the bill to easily and justifiably be killed by Jason. We've never seen Jason having to deal with the consequences of being a murderous vigilante on a micro-level. When Jason realizes what he's done in that he's murdered Tyler's dad, he's shocked. He tells Babs the truth. He does a rational thing because he's in shock. He doesn't know what to do, he never has had to face the consequences of his actions as Red Hood and now the gravity of befriending a child as a vigilante hero who kills people just set in when he killed the father of the same child he was just introduced to.

(Oh here's a little aside because it had to be said, Jason would not have been a good father or a good mentor to Tyler and absolutely should not have been his new Robin. Jason is a man who is in his early 20's (not saying men in their early 20's can't be good fathers at all) who is a brutal serial killer using the guise of a vigilante anti-hero to let him escape most of the law. the complications of having the man who murdered your father adopt you and make you his sidekick are way too numerous for me to explain in a long-winded already heavy Tumblr essay post. There's a reason why we don't advocate for a story where Joe Chill adopted Bruce Wayne or one where Tony Zucco took in Dick Grayson.)

The next biggest argument is that they feel that Jason is giving up his guns as a means to just be invited back into the Bat-Family. To which I will tell anyone who has that argument to go actually read Urban Legends. Already have and still have that argument? Please re-read it. Don't want to? That's okay, I will paste the images from the comic where Jason specifically says that he doesn't want to give up his weapons for Bruce and his real reasoning down below since the comic isn't exactly readily accessible.

Jason gave up the guns because he felt the gravity of what he had done and knows how it'll effect Tyler. Thankfully his mom is alive and in recovery. But Tyler doesn't have a father anymore. And Jason killed Tyler's father. It may have been in accordance to Jason's philosophy, but it was a case where it blurred the lines. Jason Todd isn't a black and white character, just very dark gray. He doesn't kill aimlessly like the Joker. If you are on Jason's list you probably have done something pretty horrific, and also just in general, being in his way or being a threat to him. Mind you, in early days of Red Hood and the Outlaws (Image below) Jason almost killed 10 innocent civilians in a town in Colorado all because they saw him kill a monster. That being said, Jason isn't aimless in his kills.

(Also can we just take a moment to appreciate Kenneth Rocafort's art? DC Comics said we need to rehabilitate Jason Todd's image and Kenneth Rocafort said hold my beer: It's so SO GOOD)

That being said, the key emphasis in the story of Cheer asides from trying to introduce Jason Todd back into the Bat Family and give an actual purpose for him being there, other than him just kind of being there ala Bowser every time he shows up for Go Kart racing, Tennis, Golf, Soccer, and the Olympic games when Mario invites him, is that Jason and Bruce ultimately both want the same thing. Jason wants to be welcomed back into the family and to be loved and appreciated. Bruce want's Jason back as his son and wants to love and protect Jason. Both of these visions are shown in the last chapter of Cheer while under the effect of the Cheer Gas. It's ultimately this love and appreciation they both have for each other that helps them overcome their challenge and win.

Jason Todd is a character who, just like Bruce, has been through so much pain and so much hate in his life. The two are meant to parallel each other. While Bruce chose to see the best in everyone, giving every rogue in his gallery the option to be helped and give them a second chance, hence why he never kills, Jason has a similar view on wanting to protect the public, but he understands that some crimes are so heinous they cannot be forgiven, or that some habitual criminals are due to stay habitual criminals, and need to be put down. But at the end of the day, the two of them both try to protect people in their own ways.

I am aware that through the writings of various DC Comics authors such as Scott Lobdell and Judd Winick, the two have had a very tumultuous relationship. And rightfully so, I am by no means saying that Scott Lobdell writing an arc where Bruce literally beats Jason to within an inch of his life in Red Hood and the Outlaws, nor Judd Winick's interpretation of Under the Red Hood where Bruce throws the Batarang at Jason's neck, slicing his throat and leaving him ambiguously for dead at the end of the comic is appropriate considering DC Comics seems to be trying everything they can to integrate Jason back into the family. That being said, a lot of these writings have shaped the narrative of Jason and Bruce's relationship and have an integral effect on the way the fandom views the two. It doesn't help that Zdarsky acknowledged Lobdell's life-beating of Jason by Bruce at the very end of Cheer by having Bruce give Jason his old outfit back as a means of mending the fence between the two of them. That does complicate a lot of things in terms of how they are viewed by the fandom and helps to cause an even greater divide between the two.

Regardless, I want to emphasize the fact that Jason Todd is a part of the family of his own accord. Yes, he's quite snarky and deadpan in almost every encounter. However, Jason is absolutely a part of the family and has been for a while of his own will. There's a great moment in Detective Comics that emphasizes this. Jason cares about his family because it is his found family. Yes, they may be warry about him and use him as a punching back and/or heckle him. At the end of the day, we're debating the family dynamics of a fictional playboy billionaire vigilante whose kleptomania took the form of adopting troubled children and turning them into vigilante heroes. Jason Todd wants a family that will love and support him. This is a key definition of his character at its most basic. This was proven during the events of Cheer and is being reenforced by DC Comics every time they get the opportunity to do so.

Now, none of this is to say that I hate Judd Winick. I do not, I don't like the fact that in all of his writings of Jason, he just writes him as a dangerous psychopath, and Winick himself admits to seeing Jason as nothing much more than a psychopath. Yet Winick is the one who the majority of the fandom clings to as the one true good writer of Jason Todd because 'Jason was competent, dangerous, smart' Listen, friends, Jason is all of that and I will never deny it. However, what I love about Jason isn't that he's dangerously smart of that writers either write him as angsty angry Tumblr sexyman bait or that they write him as an infantile man child with a gun. There's a large contention of this fandom that has an obsession with Jason Todd being this vigilante gunman who is hot and sexy and while I definitely get the appeal. It is very creepy and downright disturbing that all of you hyperfixate on his use of guns and ability to be a murderer. It is creepy and I'm not necessarily here for it.

What I love about Jason Todd is that despite all of the pain, all of the heartache, all of the betrayal, and bullying, and death, and anguish. Jason Todd is one of the most loving and supportive characters in all of DC Comics. Jason has been through so much in his life, but he still chooses to love. He still chooses to see the bright side in people. Yes, he takes a utilitarian approach and chooses to kill certain villains, but at the end of the day he wants to see a better world, and he wants to be loved. It takes so much courage and so much heart to learn to love again after one has been abused or traumatized. I would not blame Jason at all if he said fuck it and just went full solo and vigilante evil. He has every right to, but he still chooses to be with the Bat Family of his own accord. That's something that I see a lot of in myself. I have been through a lot of trauma and yet I try to be a better person myself in any way that I can. It is extremely admirable of Jason to allow love back into his heart when he really doesn't need to. He kills and he protects because he has this love of society. It may have been shaped by anger and hatred, but Jason has found his place amongst people who love him and value him. I think Ducra, from Red Hood and the Outlaws put it best in the image given below.

To end this tangent, I love Jason Todd and all of his sexy dangerousness, but it's far more than that. As much as Jason may be dangerous and snarky, he loves his family without a shadow of a doubt. I look up to Jason Todd because despite all of his pain and all of his trauma, he still choses to love. Jason Todd is a character who is someone I love because despite all of his flaws and having a very toxic fandom, he still serves as a character filled with so much heart and so much passion. I wish more writers would understand that. But for now I will live with what I have. Even though the fandom may be vocal about it's hatred for his characterization, I choose to love Jason regardless because he is a character who chooses love and acceptance regardless of his pain. Jason Todd is by no means a good person in any sense of the word. He has easily killed upwards of 100 people by now. He is a character who is flawed and complex but ultimately is one who powers forwards and finds love and heart in a place from so much pain and anguish. That is what I love about Jason Todd. After all, to quote a famous undead robot superhero, "What is grief, if not love persevering?" Jason Todd chooses to love despite all of the trauma and pain and grief. Yes, he is hardened in his exterior, but inside there is a man with a lot of love to give and someone who deserves the world in my eyes.

[earnestly-endlessly]

I love your fic recs! Do you have any with Protective!Erik?

Protective! Erik is one of my favourite tropes so I have a TON of fics to share with you. I hope you enjoy them as much as I do.

Protective! Erik fic recs

Erik Lehnsherr's Guide to Saving the Universe By Meeting Your Soul-Mate and Falling in Love in Less than 72 Hours – madneto, Pangea

Summary: Army Pilot Erik Lehnsherr is just trying to enjoy his day off when a mostly naked person crashes through the roof of his car. Even more alarming, the strange falling naked person—who goes by Charles Xavier when he's not speaking an ancient dead language—brings tidings of the apparent potential end of the world, and begs Erik to help him put a stop to it.

Well. His mother has been nagging at him to go out and meet new people.

In Sound and Silence – endingthemes

Summary: Erik is assigned to care for the special patient in room 301.

How Not To Meet Your Future Boyfriend – ikeracity

Summary: Erik punches Charles in the face the first time they meet. There isn't anywhere their relationship can go from there but up.

Forgotten – FuryRed

Summary: Charles is having a really bad day. Not only has he woken up in the middle of the afternoon with no idea where he is or how he got there, but when he returns home he’s confronted by a stranger with intense eyes, who insists that he knows Charles rather more intimately than Charles remembers…

Thou Shalt Not Eat Stones – valancysnaith

Summary: Two months after Washington, Raven found Erik in a skeevy motel off the Florida interstate.

“They have Charles, Erik,” she said.

The bedframe shrieked. In the bathroom, the showerhead snapped in half and clattered into the tub.

Demoted – JayPendragon

Summary: Erik Lehnsherr is a detective-specialist with the NYPD Mutant Tactical Unit, ready to help out where his skills are needed. Or he would be, if he and his partner hadn’t been demoted. For the next four months, he is patrolling the Lenox Hill precinct with Azazel – if he doesn’t die of boredom first. One night they are called in to investigate a potential case of domestic violence, yet the tenant assures them he is both alone and unharmed. However, there is something about this Charles Xavier that compels Erik to follow up.

Warning: Sensitive material, domestic abuse and dubious consent

Watch Your Back – swoopswoop

Summary: Bodyguard AU where Erik is overly protective and things aren't as simple as they seem.

If We Met Differently – swoopswoop

Summary: Erik wasn't the only mutant 'taken in' by Shaw, Erik learns this the hard way when a new mutant is dropped into his cell. They manage to escape together, but things aren't all roses after that. Erik has a score to settle and needs to make sure Charles is safe.

The Color of Love (Character Swap Remix) – BadLuckBlueEyes

Summary: Nobody sees in color until they meet their soulmates. When your soulmate dies, your vision returns to black and white. What happens when your soulmate only dies for a few minutes?

Omega Online – miss_aphelion

Summary: Newly imprinted Charles is having trouble dealing with his overly protective alpha—so in desperation he seeks advice in an omega chat room. Emma Frost is more than happy to help, Raven isn't helping at all, and Erik can't stand to be out of touch with Charles for more than five minutes at a time.

Cannot be Contained in Words – wallhaditcoming (uvcatastrophe) 

Summary: Crime syndicate head Erik Lehnsherr travels to London on business, where he meets oxford student Charles Xavier. Their liaison spawns into a years long transatlantic affair, kept apart by Erik's work and Charles' studies,which Erik chronicles in photographs. When distance ceases to be an issue after four long years, the overlap between Charles' past and Erik's work create a whole new set of complications.

A Pertinent Reminder – ikeracity, Pangea

Summary: Sometimes it's easy to forget that getting involved in Erik's mob business isn't all fine dining and sex on yachts. There's nothing like taking a couple of bullets to remind Charles of the reality.

Part 3 of the Associates series

A Dangerous Game – ikeracity, pangea

Summary: When a familiar enemy of Erik's returns to the city for some old-fashioned revenge, Charles is sucked deeper into the world of the mob than ever before.

Part 6 of the Associates series

You don’t choose the thug life (except when you do) – Anonymous

Summary: Charles is kidnapped and discovers that Erik, the Alpha he has been dating for the past few months and is head-over-heels for, is not just a wealthy businessman but actually the head of a syndicate.

He is rather unhappy about this discovery and Erik gets an earful for lying to him. Then Charles is kidnapped again and really, he hopes mating Erik won't result in weekly kidnapping because he has a thesis to finish and papers to grade.

Marrying a Mob – Ook

Summary: Charles is a teacher at a very exclusive school. When armed men burst in on the trail of two children, of course he stands up to them and gets hurt. The children are Erik Lehnsherr's children (of course); a "prominent businessman" or, less politely, "mobster".

Erik is grateful to Charles for saving his children's lives at the cost of his kneecap. So very grateful.

Naturally he tries to reward Charles for his actions. Equally naturally, Charles will be having none of that.

Azazel finds the whole thing unspeakably hilarious. Naturally.

Rumor Has It – blueink3

Summary: "Did I hear the doorbell earlier?"

"Yeah, but I'd steer clear if I were you. It seemed a little tense. I don't know what's going on, but there's a kid out there who looks freakily like the prof."

Nearly six months after Cuba, Charles' life is turned upside down for the second time. Though he's slowly learning to adapt to the first, he's not sure he can handle the second. Luckily for him, there are a few people out there more than willing to help.

Forward Momentum – AsYouWish

Summary: Six months after Cuba, Charles and Erik find themselves thrown fifty years into the future, where they meet their older selves, the Avengers, and a world that's very different from their own. Faced with the pieces of their broken relationship, an unparalleled adversary, and dealing with Tony Stark on a daily basis, Charles and Erik do their best to adapt while trying to find a way back home -- and to each other.

Runs in the Family – Anonysquirrel (chibirisuchan)

Summary: Alex knew his own reputation. Hell, he'd started some of his own reputation, because it kept some of the smarter thugs off his back. Everyone knew Alex's reputation. There was no way Hank didn't know his reputation, but he'd brought Alex into a house with some really expensive things and a lot of innocent little kids and his too-friendly, too-harmless dad.

But clearly Hank hadn't told his family anything about Alex, just like he hadn't told Alex anything about his family. At least, not about the brain-breaking parts of his family.

"I didn't know where to start," Hank said, for the dozenth time.

Featuring mpreg!Charles in a Kiss The Cook apron, overprotective!Erik in wet black leather, and baked goods. Lots and lots of baked goods.

Round the Corner Waiting – swoopswoop

Summary: When things go so spectacularly wrong during a relationship, Charles - now a single dad - almost makes a big mistake, only to be stopped by a mysterious man who just might turn his life back around.

Hide Your Fires – swoopswoop

Summary: As the sole heir, Prince Charles, had no problem with the roles and responsibility that would come with ruling a kingdom. Though he was the only one who did not see a problem. After years of being shuttled back and forth between kingdoms, his Regent hoping he would find a match more suitable to being King, he is finally sent to Genosha. Though the path has never been less clear than the one to a foreign kingdom with no ties to his native land.

Shaw’s Captive – swoopswoop

Summary: Magneto killed Shaw, it had to be done for the sake of mutant-kind but what he wasn't expecting to find hidden deep with Shaw's complex was a man held captive, obviously tortured, that somehow made Magneto turn into Erik.

Erik now has a potential human in his citadel as he continues the war with the human's.

Mind’s Eye Blind – Sperare 

Summary: As far as Erik is concerned, if you want to scare a person into talking, you have to present him with something more compelling than what he stands to lose...

And there is nothing in the world more compelling than Charles.

Chipped – Rosawyn 

Summary: Magneto's fledgling Brotherhood find Charles Xavier in a mutations research lab as an apparently willing subject for an experimental suppression device.

Okay, I Feel Better Now – Harleydoll

Summary: The AU in which Erik is sent to a mental health facility after being convicted for Shaw's murder and pleads insanity, and Charles is his paranoid schizophrenic of a roommate. Powers, Hellfire conspiracies, protective!Erik, and of course the inevitable angst.

Five Nights in Nuremberg – FuryRed

Summary: When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Notes: Unfinished but an excellent read. Highly recommend it.

Stolen – ishipitsobad

Summary: Erik is a miserable, grumpy, cantankerous bastard, and he has every fucking right to be. He drew the short end of the stick when he got the Underworld as his domain, and there isn't very much fun to be had in judging and governing dead souls who would rather be anywhere else but with Erik in the depths of Hell.

So when he meets Charles, brilliant and lovely Charles who is more popularly known amongst the mortals as Persephone, and feels the promise of something wonderful that could make his eternally doomed existence infinitely more bearable... you can bet all your drachmas Erik's not going to let Charles go any fucking time soon.

My Barbaric Darling – baehj2915

Summary: Erik is revivified caveman. Charles is the anthropologist(?) taking care of him. This is as ridiculous as it sounds. Romcom misunderstandings and prehistoric wooing ensues.

Swimming with Sharks – Not_You

Summary: Erik used to be a shark. Now he's not, and has to figure out how to be a good human father to his twins. Charles is willing to help.

Eucalyptus leaf of my soul - kageillusionz, ourgirlfriday

Summary: Zookeeper Raven at Taronga Zoo keeps having ideas on how to capitalize on interest in the zoo mascots, Koala Charles and Drop Bear Erik (the only drop bear in captivity!), who have captured the hearts and minds of the public. First it was to introduce prospective mates (It’ll generate attention, Hank. People are perverts. They’d love to see koala porn.). This idea was not effective the first through fifth attempts, as Erik and Charles seemed to show at best polite interest in the newcomer before resuming whatever marsupial debate they had going. However, the resulting lesbian koala orgies did indeed generate interest. Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Koala program, which was successful, as the public showed great interest in hugging Charles, and Charles seemed to enjoy being hugged.

Then Raven unveiled the Hug-A-Drop Bear program, and Hank, not for the first time, wished he had a flask handy.

Notes: Yes, they’re Koalas, yes they’re adorable, and yes, Erik is super protective even as a Drop Bear.

[allegra-writes]

“The Devil all the time”

Hunter!Tom x Demon!Reader

Supernatural AU

NSFW

Warnings: Smut

"Break the silence, damn the dark

Damn the light..."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac

Forget everything you thought you knew, you had every reason to be afraid of the dark when you were a kid. In this world where monsters are real, the Holland brothers hunt them so normal people can continue to live in the bliss of ignorance.

But when something goes terribly wrong, Tom will do anything to save his brother's life, including selling his soul to the devil. Well... Not exactly the devil, but close enough.

You don't need to watch Supernatural to read this AU

MY MASTERLIST

He knew it was you, even before turning. He knew it as soon as he heard your deceptively delicate footsteps break the supernatural silence that had fallen over the forest the moment he had buried the little metal box in the old crossroad. Tom didn't want to think about what it meant, having such an intimate knowledge of you to be able to recognize you by the cadence of your steps, being so in sync with you that he could tell whenever you were in the vicinity. 

So he used his favorite deflection technique whenever it came to you.

"Y/n? What's a nice girl like you doing in a place like this? Sorry, did I say nice girl? I meant evil skank"

The insult didn't phase you. None ever did. It was hard to take them seriously when you knew how many nights he fell asleep with your name on his lips, after pathetically releasing himself into his own hand, or fucking his boring girl-next-door girlfriend, chasing orgasm over unsatisfactory orgasm that would never completely satiate him. Because it wasn't your face the one contorted in pleasure looking up at him from the mattress.

"You called. I came" You batted your lashes, sweetly. "I always come when you call…" 

He gulped, the innuendo not lost to his ears. It threw him off guard, like it always did. 

"I would have thought this would be… beneath you" Tom cleared his throat, looking away, trying to regain his footing, "collecting a deal, like a vulgar crossroad demon"

There was nothing vulgar about the soul of a Holland. But he didn't need to know that, so you just shrugged,

"Queen Rowena has an interest in you boys. She finds you entertaining. I'm just being a good subdit" 

He scoffed,

"Funny. I would have never peg you for a sub"

You took a step closer to him.

"You don't have what it takes to make me submit, Holland" Your hot breath fanned over his skin, setting his skin on fire. Making his blood boil. You had a way of doing that, of bringing out the worst in him. Of making him lose control. And you thoroughly enjoyed it, poking at the bear until the claws came out, laughing at the carnage.

Another step, and you could physically feel it: The hate, radiating from his every pore, his mind screaming with it. He hated you. He hated your kind. He hated your beauty. He hated the pretty white dress you were wearing, so pure and innocent, glowing like a beacon in the dark. A lure, guiding uncountable men before him into perdition. 

But above all else, he hated that, even then, he couldn't help but to want you. Fervently. Desperately. Irreversibly. 

"I came here to make a deal" He croaked, cursing himself internally for showing weakness. 

"Let's negotiate, then," you replied, stepping away, mercifully letting him breath. 

"My brother-"

"I know" You interrupted, sounding bored already, "Reapers everywhere are going berserk. Who, oh who, will get to reap the soul of a Holland?" 

The wind picked up, making your long dress billow around your legs. You twirled a little, admiring the way it moved. Tom's eyes were glued to you, almost hypnotized. Partly because you were too dangerous to be left unsupervised even for a second, partly because you looked beautiful like that. It had never been more obvious to him that you were an unearthly creature, you didn't belong to this world. There, surrounded by greenery, barefoot, swaying softly under the twilight light, he wondered how could anybody ever mistake you for a human.

"Of course" your apathetic voice took him out of his revery, "being reapers, watching them go wild is rather boring. I swear they are the most uninteresting beings of all creation" 

That made him see red.

"Boring? Boring?!" He knew his voice was rising with every word but he just couldn't help it, "They're waiting for my little brother to die!!"

"Which could happen any minute now," You reminded him, all playfulness gone from your demeanor, "so if you wanna strike a deal, I suggest you start making me an offer worth my time"  

He was taken aback by that.

"I- My soul in exchange of a wish, and you collect it in ten years" He tried and failed not to think about what that implied: vicious, invisible hounds of hell tearing apart his body and dragging his soul to hell, "Isn't that the usual deal?"

You scoffed,

"After all the things you did in your life, what makes you think your soul doesn't belong in hell already? And if your brother dies, that is one less Holland on earth to worry about. You and your brothers have managed to become a big pain in the ass for us…"

He pulled out a knife, a strange one, with runes in the blade. You arched a brow in recognition

"The Winchesters' knife. Are you threatening me, little hunter?" 

Your lack of reaction was another blow. He had hoped you'd be more impressed than that. Nonetheless he turned it in his hands, offering you the handle.

"I'm throwing it into the deal" 

To his surprise, you didn't immediately take it from his hands, choosing instead to pace the clearing, deep in thought. 

The truth was you couldn't care less about the knife, it wasn't more dangerous to you than a toothpick. And while it was true it could certainly damage your queen, she had a far better weapon to protect herself: You.

But it did confirm your suspicions about the Hollands having access to the old Winchester arsenal, which meant they had access to something way more dangerous than that rustic weapon made of steel and bone. A book, made of ancient dark magic and human skin, written in blood. A book that was precious to queen Rowena and by extension to you: the Book of the Damned. 

The Hollands were a family of extremely talented, yes, but old fashioned hunters. The stab first, ask questions later kind. They probably had no idea what they had in their hands… but you did. 

"Very well then," you finally declared, "this is my offer: Your soul and that knife in exchange for sweet Harry's life and one year for you to get all your businesses in order" 

Tom felt all the blood drain from his face. One year. Just 365 more days to live, before an eternity of torture in hell. 

"O-one year?" He breathed.

"One year" You confirmed, "More than enough time to go see the Grand Canyon, eat the world's spiciest burger or whatever you have on your bucket list" 

The disdain in your words only made him hate you harder.

"Not nearly enough to live" He replied through clenched teeth. You rolled your eyes, 

"You're a hunter. You lead short, violent existences, charging head first towards what most humans run away from. Things faster, stronger, more powerful than you, surviving each encounter out of sheer luck. Killing one monster after another, until that luck runs out. Because the monsters? Unlike you who rely on it everyday, they just need. One. Single. Lucky. Strike." You punctuated every word with one step in his direction, until you were face to face again. Until, for the first time ever, you could see the fear, the desperating hopelessness he kept hidden inside, reflected on the warm coffee of his eyes. You knew a lesser man would be already crying and begging for Mercy.

Tom wasn't like other men though, that was the whole point. 

"Or…" You soften your tone and your stance, letting your fingers ghost over the back of his hand, his whole skin erupting in goosebumps. That was the very first time you touched him. Ever. 

And it was as if nobody had ever touched him before, the light caress enough to set every nerve ending, every single one of his cells, alight.

He was so distracted by the sensation and his body's response to it, he almost didn't hear your next words over the sound of his own pounding heart. 

"Or you could keep your little pocket knife, and even have your ten years if…"

"If?" He struggled to focus.

"You let me borrow a book"

His brows furrowed in confusion,

"A book? What book?"

"Any book of my liking, for as long as I want" You shrugged it off, "Do we have a deal?"

There was a catch there, it was obvious. He knew he was going to regret it but, what choice did he have? 

"Deal"

Your smile was blinding, luminous. If he didn't know any better, he would have called it angelical. Now, that was one ridiculous thought.

"What now? We seal it with a kiss?" His eyes fell to your lips, so soft looking and inviting. He wasn't eager to put his mouth on a filthy demon and doom himself. He wasn't. 

You chuckled, but there was no humor behind it.

"Oh no, darling. This is big. This is special" You're special, "A simple kiss just won't cut it…"

No. You couldn't mean… could you? Was there no limits to your hatred for him? Did you really want him so defeated, so humiliated? 

"What do you want?" He spat through gritted teeth.

"The same thing you want" You put your hands on his chest, rising to your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "The same thing you have wanted ever since we first met . The thing that's obsessing you..."

"I don't know what you're talking about"

You smirked,

"You can lie to your family, you can even lie to yourself, little hunter... But you can't lie to me." 

He couldn't hide, you could see every fantasy, hear every single one of his thoughts of you on repeat, like a prayer in your direction. Just like he couldn't hide the way his skin was burning now for you, the way his blood rushed south, the way all logical thought left his brain, his iron grip on his emotions finally breaking as he snapped. 

Lightning fast, in just a blink, he twirled you around, your back hitting the rough bark of a tree, as he towered over you, demon blade to your throat, every inch of his body pressed against yours. His eyes were ablazed with rage, and passion, as he surged forward, striking you with his best hit.

He kissed you. 

Lips vicious against yours, teeth biting and scraping only to soothe the offense seconds later with his tongue, until he was dizzy, light headed with the lack of oxygen and the taste of you. The hand not holding the knife to your neck fell to your breast, squeezing the pliant flesh with enough force to cause pain on a human woman, merely making you moan. He swallowed the sound, letting his fingers trace your waist, your hips, clawing at your dress until he finally, finally, felt skin under his fingertips. 

It was better than anything his mind had conjured in his feverish fantasies in the dead of the night. The skin of your inner thighs velvety soft, as they parted under his touch, the sweetest sounds leaving your lips as his fingers found your naked core. You weren't wearing any underwear, probably never had. The realization that, in all your past encounters and fights you had been standing there, just feet away from him with nothing under that damn dress hit him like a truck, making his head swim. 

He searched between your folds, and suddenly his fingers were inside you. He was inside you, a part of him was buried deep within you, within your silky heat, claiming you as his, if only for the night. 

And you were so wet for him, and only getting wetter as he pumped his fingers in and out of you, scissoring them, opening you up until he was able to slip a third one in, fucking you with his hand in earnest. You were sobbing, clutching at his biceps, head thrown back in pleasure. He took advantage of that to suck bruises on your neck, only to see them fade before his eyes. Your skin tasted clean, smelled like wild flowers and rain. Ozone. Lightning. Like those coursing through his veins with every cry, every delicious gasp you made. 

He found the perfect spot inside you, the one that sent sparks through your nerves with every stroke of his calloused fingers. 

"This what you wanted?" To make him lose it? Lose his mind, himself, in you? "For me to make you come on just my fingers, like the little slut you are?"

The floor disappeared from under his feet as you sent him flying away from you, a searing pain exploding at the back of his head as he landed, sprawled at the feet of an old, dying oak. With blurry eyes, he saw you stalk towards him, all power and cold, controlled fury. 

"Let's get one thing straight, Holland. I'm not one of your sluts" You sneered, "and I'm definitely not your basic bitch of a girlfriend. So you better start showing me a little respect, are we clear?"

He gulped, sitting up. He had to be seriously fucked up in the head, for his cock to be twitching inside his pants at your threatening tone.

"Crystal" 

"Good" You declared, coming to a stop right in front of him, standing between his parted legs, "Now, let's put that mouth of yours to a better use"

He knew that image was going to be forever tattooed on his brain: You standing in front of him, holding the skirt of your dress up, waiting for him to put his mouth on you. Tom took a moment to admire you, before delving in, flattening his tongue over your slit, before drawing tight, precise circles on your clit with the tip. God, you tasted so divine it was messing with his head; something as dark and corrupted and twisted as you, feeling so exquisite, so perfect, so heavenly to his every sense. 

He helped you hook your knee over his shoulder, his other arm snaking around your leg, pulling you even closer. You could feel his smirk against your cunt the moment he realized your legs were shaking, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care, not with his wicked talented mouth devouring you like a last meal, rocking your whole world, making you see stars behind your closed eyelids.

You always knew that man would make the stars fall. 

Tom kept on, penetrating you with his tongue as far as it would go, his whole face moving against you. The slight burn of his scruff felt delicious against your delicate labia, as he used his fingers to open you up like a flower, separating your petals to get to the delectable nectar inside. You were close, he could feel it, the obscene sounds you were making, the waves of sweetness falling on his lips feeding his ego, filling him up with pride. By the time the night was over, you'd be unable to forget him. He would make sure of that. He would make you come, over and over, until the only thoughts left in your brain were of him, the only word your lips knew how to speak was his name. He would mark you, like a bloodstain, like you had done to him. 

Almost there, he almost had you. Your muscles were locking, your walls starting to tremble, when a loud crack resonated over his head, and you stepped away on unstable legs, breathing hard. You didn't even need to breathe, it was just his effect on you. He made you feel human. And it was both exhilarating, and terrifying. 

You took another step back, but he took hold of your ankle, tugging hard enough to make you fall on his lap, white skirt covering the place where his hands were fumbling with his zip, with his boxers, aligning himself with your entrance.

"Fuck!" He cursed, as you sank on his rock hard cock, not giving him any time to get used to the feeling of you around him, before starting to move. 

"How does it feel" You taunted, "fucking a monster? Is it as good as you dreamed of?"

Better. You felt even better. Tom hadn't thought it was possible, but he loathed you even more for it. 

"Shut up" He growled. 

You leaned forwards, breath hot against his ear,

"Cause you feel amazing, Tom. Your cock feels like heaven" 

His hand tangled in your hair, keeping you in place as he crashed his mouth to yours again, the other fumbling for the buttons at the back of your dress, tugging and pulling, tearing at the fabric, in his haste to feel more. More of your skin against his, more of the body that had been his hyper fixation for far too long. 

You sat up, still grinding on his cock, letting the tattered dress fall to your waist, watching in satisfaction as his eyes went wide, zeroing on the way your breasts bounced in sync with your hips. 

Reaching up, for a glorious second Tom could feel one perfect pebbled nipple against his palm, the roundness, the weight of your soft flesh on his fingers; before an invisible force pinned his hands to his sides. 

You tsked.

"Still don't get it, do you little hunter? This?" You let yourself fall all the way down his thick cock, hard, tearing twin moans from his mouth and yours, "This isn't about you. This is about me." 

Leaning back, you braced yourself on his strong thighs, changing the angle, changing your movements to a slower rocking against his pelvis. The friction against your clit was perfect, the feeling of his big, throbbing dick so deep inside you, stretching you like no one before, sending electrical pulses through your spine. It was decadent. It was ecstasy.

It was torture. Underneath you, Tom was sobbing, eyes bright with unshed tears, fighting in vain against his bonds. He needed it faster, harder, anything to help tilt him over the edge you were keeping him on, your sweet cunt too tight, too good around him to allow his cock to soften, your rhythm too leisured to let the tensed, strained coil inside him to snap. You were uncaring, using him remorselessly to get yourself off, your little moans getting higher in pitch the closer you came to your climax. Tom felt himself getting higher just by looking at your beautiful pleasure ridden face. You cried out, and suddenly it was happening, you were coming, pulsating around his cock, falling apart on top of him.

And the ground beneath him quaked. The sky above his head bled, the blue twilight torn open by lightning, and thunder, despite the fact that there wasn't a single cloud marring its diaphaneity. You fell forwards, hand braced on the tree, next to his face, ridding the aftershocks of your orgasm until the end. 

"No!" Tom cried when, after a few seconds of catching your breath, you dismounted him, letting his dick slip out of you. 

You arched a brow,

"Something you want, Tommy?" 

He locked his mouth shut, gritting his teeth. You smiled, amused, knuckles stroking his still iron hard cock.

"Do you need more, little hunter?" You enveloped him in your hand, moving it up and down his member, watching the head disappear under his foreskin, "Do you need to come?"

He banged the back of his head against the bark.

"Yes!" He finally admitted, "So badly…"

"Then beg" You commanded, stilling your hand. He snapped open the eyes he hadn't realized he had closed. Oh, if looks could kill…

"Never" He hissed, livid.

"Very well, then" You picked up your pace, pumping him fast, your grip almost too rough. He gasped for air, feeling the telltale tightening of his balls, the coil inside just about to break under the tension. But you must have felt it too, cause your hand let go of him altogether. Too late, he understood what you were doing.

One beat. And then another, and he was coming all over his t-shirt, orgasm completely ruined. 

He cursed, tears escaping through the corner of his eyes, fingers digging into the moist ground under his hands. You chuckled, cruelly, standing up and stepping out of your shredded dress. He could have ganked you with the demon blade in that moment, he really could have, except his hands were still pinned by an invisible force at his sides. 

"Let me go, you bitch," Tom growled, tossing, fighting against his restraints to no avail, "aren't you done?!"

"Not quite." You smiled, mockingly sweet, "Just one more thing before I leave. Don't worry, it will only hurt for a minute…"

He renewed his efforts to escape, as you bended over, reaching for his chest, white hot pain burning through his ribs. He almost cried out, but what he saw stole the voice from his throat, turned his blood into ice inside his veins, leaving him shaking, jaw slack and mouth open in a soundless scream: 

You, naked and gorgeous and terrible. Transfixed, eyes glowing with a supernatural indigo light, the shadow of two massive, bended, broken wings projected on the trees behind you.

Not a demon, he thought. You're not a demon.

You smiled, and it was terrifying.

"No. I'm the thing demons have nightmares about" You replied out loud to the words he had only said in his mind, "And now, little hunter, you belong to me. Mind, body and soul"

[socialjust-ish]

“I mean, I'm against prisons but I don't think that means "close 'em all up with no further plan." Step 1 would be addressing the societal issues that lead to things like murder and rape (poverty, lack of mental health treatment, stigma, etc). Then probably scale prison back from "literal hellholes" to the Nordic model of "isolated from regular society but their right to be a functioning human remains, and they get trades training, counselling, etc."”

Societal problems aren’t totally to blame for violence like rape. There are actual sadists in this world. They enjoy causing pain to others. There is psychological study done with these people. Many grew up bullying and abusing others around them, subtly manipulating others for a sense of personal power (i.e. creating scapegoats while portraying themselves as angels, so that their bullying can be seen as justified by adults), even torturing small animals. They resist any real therapeutic treatment, instead manipulating the therapist with as much charisma as they can, using a false mask-like persona, until they believe the treatment worked…then continue their life the same way, and smarter therapists see through the act and have recorded these deceitful abuse-concealing behaviors. Genuine dyed-in-the-wool abusers and rapists will never change because they actively get off on harming others and will maintain their perceived “right” to do so. Brain scans have been done showing that their neurology is actively different and this leads to the way that they don’t see others around them as human, they’re basically solipsistic and that’s what justifies their abuse in their minds. There is not yet any effective treatment. And that suggests they want it, which only a fraction of these people ever even bother to go to seek help, as most feel righteous in what they do and would never bother.

Changing society won’t stop these people from existing, and they are born in every generation as far as we know.

I'm gonna admit, I had too many edibles tonight and I'm pretty high right now, but how long has it been since I posted this? I checked my blog back to December and couldn't see this post. Was it a reply I made to someone's post? Why are you bringing this up now?

I tried to find the original post to see how it ended, because usually (not always) if the part of the post you're quoting starts with "Step 1 would be..." there is presumably a discussion about Part 2. That part probably commented on this issue, or made it clear that I didn't assume addressing societal issues could address everything.

Again - don't have the original post - but I don't think my wording here suggests the only things that cause rape and murder are societal problems. It says Step 1 is to address those issues that do. E.g. - if Poverty statistically leads to an increase in murder rates, reducing poverty probably reduces murder rates". It won't eliminate them. The goal, as stated in this post, is to get 'em down from "literal hellholes" to "places where dignity remains", as a starting point.

Is your argument based on the assumption that prisons are good, because of the % of people who cannot be "reformed" for a lack of better wording - through addressing societal issues and etc., we are going to catch all of those people who would do harm anyways? Is it not possible that, in having a prison system, we convict some of those people, but also wrongly convict other, innocent people, while the actual criminals escape? I don't think it's fair to be idealistic enough that you can catch all the sadists and none of the non-reformable people, and also be pessimistic enough to say the non-sadists are unreformable and therefore worthy of current prison conditions. Like, that's not an honest position to take.

Love it when people say "studies say" and then don't make any reference. Like, I get it's an ask and so hyperlinks are no good, but could it kill you to cite like, "Johnson et al., 2006, Nature"? This post clearly isn't subject to a character limit.

Just because people enjoy causing pain to others, doesn't mean they will cause pain to others. People can control their urges, in many cases.

Again, the issue is your scale here. Are these "true sadists" like, 10% of the population? 1%? Less than 1%? Less than one percent of one percent? If there are like, six of these guys out there then I'm calling a Spiders georg and saying they shouldn't be factored into this model.

Even if there are people that are going to do bad no matter the circumstances, does that justify locking them up in inhumane conditions? I'm pretty sure I say that the Nordic model of prisons is something I'd prefer over the US system and I say that in the post. Can we not isolate people from the rest of society in humane ways?

Again, this is idealistic, but if we consider "societal issues" to include "society allowing circumstances where someone can commit a rape or murder" as an issue, then solving "societal issues" generally would stop crime, even if sadists are still around - because they can't commit crime. Is that realistic? No. But I don't think my post was meant to be a 1:1 instruction booklet on how to eliminate prisons safely. It was a principle I hold and the initial steps I would like to take to get to that principle. This isn't a fucking parliamentary debate, it's me spitballing.

This is all idealist - I recognize the time/money/coordination/long-term looking government required for this isn't necessarily realistic. But I can be against something in principle and strive to take steps to get as close to that as reasonably possible, can I not?

Seriously, when the fuck did I post this? If it was more than two months ago you can go fuck yourself for bringing this up and not even linking me to it. It's a dick move and a half. I'm eating my salad and you barge in here fucking some dude on the kitchen table.

[demonictales]

May I ask for headcanons with Wei ying, Jiang Cheng and Nie huiashang (if I spelled that right). Where reader was their one of their best friend and a Wen, but soon disappeared when the Wen clan started to take over the other sects. Boys then finding their friend, disabled from their golden core and imprisoned in a remote place where no one could have found them, because they rebelled against the clan leader. Could be more angsty if they lost their hearing or sight, because they were tortured.

oh, i’m excited how this one will turn out. here we go! my heart while writing this went →↑→↑←↑↓↑→↑←↓ also I know you said imprisioned but i got kinda carried away writing this. I'm so sorry okijd

TW: TORTURE, BLINDNESS

GUSU LAN CLAN LECTURES

First of all you were Wen Chao's cousin, unfortunately. However, you pretty much did as you wanted to because who could really control you, so of course you went along to the Lan Clan's lectures alongside Wen Qing and Wen Ning.

Of course you arrived in old fashioned Wen manner and interrupted the ceremony already breaking rules at the entrance. When no one else but Wei Wuxian spoke up. It did indeed amuse you the way he spoke up agains Wen Chao so you carefully watched him.

Excused for the day all three of you eventually went their own way. You had no idea what Wen Qing was up to or Wen Ning, so you eventually walked around the clan, exploring your new home for the few lectures to come. Eventually, in the back hill you bumped into Wei Wuxian who thought Wen Ning to use bow and arrow until that nearly backfired when Wen Qing's voice rang through the air.

"Let's say we are even now that you nearly killed Lady Wen. ---" You were joking obviously, but refering to the earlier incident.

He wasn't quite sure how to deal with you yet but it seemed you made quite the point. Eventually you walked along with him, leaving Wen Ning and Qing to their own.

Meeting Jiang Cheng once more you, indeed did apologize for interrupting his greetings earlier that day. You were quite different than most in the Wen Clan, you did apologize and show manners, though you weren't completely innocent.

As much as you did enjoy art and classics, you were also a little troublemaker, It was a healthy combination of mischief and manners that allowed you to walk the grey zone. So of course you soon bonded with Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huiasang.

You became great friends soon. You learned about Wei Wuxian's mischief, enjoyed his stories of bickering with Lan Zhan, came to know Nie Huiasang's grand taste and love for art and other not so lady like things, as well as his dislike for fighting and of course Jiang Cheng, he was rather complicated but you still enjoyed his presence. You could never quite tell what was on his mind but you knew for sure he deeply cared for his family. He was in fact, someone who seemed to long for his own little happy ending.

Meeting up in secret for a drinking which was strictly forbidden, you had lots of fun until the next morning when you were called for punishment. Even though you were a Wen, you could simply walk away but decided to stay and take the 50 hits. You had made friends for a lifetime during the lectures.

WEN CLAN LECTURES

You'd lie if you say you weren't excited to see your friends again, however, it weren't the best circumstances. You greatly disliked the way it had processed to far yet there they stood, all clans: Nie Clan, Jin Clan, Jiang Clang and eventually Hanguang Jun.

This wasn't much of a lecture, more of Wen Chao showing of his power due to the enormous power the Quishan Wen Clan had gathered. You weren't sure if you were embarrassed or disgusted by your cousin but either way, knowing Wei Wuxian's character you soon had something to laugh. And you were right.

Wen Chao made him recite the Wen Clan rules which ironicially, he didn't even know himself so you nearly busted a lung and earned an angry side eye from your cousin when Wei Wuxian recited the Lan Clan rules.

Of course this would not go without punishment, not for you not for Wei Wuxian and co.

Eventually you helped with the dung being spread, being trapped between Jin Zixuan, Wei Wuxian and Lan Zhan. Fun times. Once more, you apologizes for his behaviour knowing your words could do nothing. The only thing this gave you was the title of Gentle Wen. An embarrassment to your family but in the cultivation world between your friends quite the praise.

You tried getting their swords back but with no luck. You only ended up being grounded in your own room with guards outside.

You weren't able to help your friends out and it did annoy you. It seemed as if you tried harder the more complicated it would get for you to get out of here. It did drive you insane.

When every visitor was suppossed to hunt the monster that roamed through the mountain you once again were by their side, refusing to speak nor act according to your cousin's order.

Which led to quite the argument between you, who stood on your friends side, and Wen Chao and his woman, who for the love of cultivation, wondered where she came from

Either way, you stood between him and Wang Lingjiao when she had ordered to use Mianmian as a sacrifice. You at this point who would believe you, matter of fact, you knew that he was just being abusive. Safe to say it did piss your cousin off and ended up in a fight, eventually were Wei Wuxian would get hurt.

Just like the rest, you got stuck in the cave alongside the rest of the cultivators. Proofing your loyalty to your friends once more. Not so much to the other clans.

This time you helped out Huaisang the most. The poor guy was frightened to death. He was such a soft boy. You felt bad about it and apologzied multiple times while staying by his side, doing your best to help him through the situation. At this point, if you were no traitor to the Wen Clan what else could you possibly be?

You followed Jiang Cheng's introductions to leave the cave through the water, Nie Huaisang by your side.

After all you had made it out word spread proufoundly about you and the Wen Clan. Some said you were a spy, working for the Wen Clan and earning sympathy, others said you were honest about your intentions, later was some encouring words by Nie Huaisang. You truly did appreciate his words.

The moment you stepped foot into Qishan, you were confined to you room until they needed you. They made use of your connections to Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang whenever they needed to. Tricky but smart.

WEN CHAOS HAVOC + SUNHOT CAMPAIGN

It was only when you dumb cousin started to wreak havoc among the clans that you started to see the situation clearly and did not want to have anything to do with it. After cloud recesse had been burned to nearly ashes you spoke up, you were against it. Precious memories were made there and now they had became ashes, quite literally.

If you had known about all the scheming you'd have told Lan Xichen right away, made sure nothing would happen to the Gusu Lan Clan. But being confined barely gave you any choices until one day you fought your way out, meeting your uncle, confronting him about it.

You knew that the Wen Clan was better than that, but the yin iron had taken up to much of his sanity, he instructed Wen Chao to take care of you.

Of course it pained you to see all the chaos and blood being she'd of cour once former friends familie's. There did not a day go by where you begged him to stop. You even tried going against him, but failed miserably.

Wang Lingjiao enjoyed her given power, using it to destroy every piece of hope you still had. Even bringing you along to Lotus Pier to watch the massacre of your closest friends parents.

Daily torture was on your agenda. Being wipped, being burned, being starved or simply kicked and punched by her minions. But you were to prideful to give in just so easily, especially when you head news of Jiang Cheng being captured.

Again, you tried your best to stop him but Wen Chao had enough of your antic and ordered Wen Zuhliu to end it but his woman had a better idea. Get rid of her golden core and blind her. It was her revenge for you spitting the hot soup right into her face, eventually burning her slightly. It was worth it.

You were left in pain, after you felt the power leave your body, the spiritual power who kept healing you in a very slow pace if you needed it but eventually had lost it. The worst was losing your sight, the light of day, not knowing if it was day or night, not being able to navigate on your own.

Treason, that was the reason. You could have had so much more if it wasn't for your weak heart. The words were spoken as hot iron was pushed into your eyes. Your screams were hunting the people who were present. Yet you had lost all of hope and strength in one night, being dumped somewhere on a mountain with nothing but the purpose to die.

After the sunshot campaign people had wondered what happened to you as you were nowhere to be found, yet they all agreed to not search and leave things as they were, the Qishan Wen Clan was extinguished.

PASSING YEARS

Years had passed and you had managed to get yourself back on your feet, even if it wasn't as safe anymore. You learned to live with your blindness.

Deep in the forest in an abandoned little hut. It was perfect for you. You secluded yourself from the world, living in peace. You remembered some tricks your old friend Wei Wuxian had once taught you, and even though your golden core was gone, little tricks like these did do. Obviously you had to renew them every now and then but it was no bother at all.

What you did not know was that the mountain, or rather the forest you lived in belonged to a clan, and possible night hunt had given up your days of silence and years being secluded.

Only when you heard footsteps that did not belong to anything on your small land, you ended up hiding in your small hut, a knife held firmly in your hands.

The voices you could make out seemed familiar but you stayed quiet, perhaps they'd leave.

Of course they did not leave and soon it seemed, three people were standing in your small front yard where chicken where quietly eating and living.

They surely were surprised that someone had managed to live on the mountain of the Jin Clan largest property. That did put you quite in panic. You knew they were your death sentence if they would find you, so you tried to sneak away, but of course Wei Wuxian was one step ahead of you.

" Where do you think you're going ?"

" Wei Wuxian? "

Your voice was hesitant yet filled with surprise but you could definitely make out his voice between a hundred people. A smile almost creeped upon your lips, soley depending on your hearing.

Your attire was still very much simple. A very out worn red hanfu, the logos of the Wen Clan faded but still slightly visible. It was Nie Huaisang that pointed this out. Of course he would notice such details, so he still was alive and breathing. You were deligthed to know this.

However, it was Jiang Cheng who put 1 and 1 together.

" Lady Y/N ? ---"

Silence filled by gasp of Nie Huaisang, as you nodded quietly.

"Guilty."

You were not sure how to feel, happy that you finally met the people you once called friends or scared knowing it could now mean your death.

"I'm glad to hear you are all still well. How have you been all these years? -----"

They would have expected anything but not to meet you. It were raw and mixed feelings. You know you owed Jiang Cheng your live for your family had taken his. You dared not to move your head his way and kept it strictly on the ground.

It was also Wei Wuxians family but it wasn't as deeply rooted.

Nie Huaisang was the first one to approach you, carefully. Asking what had happened to you. So until late night, you told them what happened to you, what your clan did to you, how you ended up here.

You also apologized again, falling to your knees, knowing you could not make up for the loses they had suffered. You started crying, begging for forgiveness.

They explained what had happened on their side, and also admitting they hoped they had not lost you but eventually gave up. You on the other hand did not blame them.

It was a bittersweet reunion after years of forming friendship, betrayal and chaos. Feeling pain and rejoycing again.

[austajunk]

Game of Despair (fic)

Chapter One: Despair Gamer

Summary: Surviving through her massive injuries following the ending of the Despair Arc, Chiaki Nanami has fallen after her fellow classmates have become Remnants of Despair. However, when altercations with a certain Servant brings up the chance to find a special person that she lost once again, Chiaki and the aforementioned problematic Servant have no choice but to traverse the apocalypse to bring Izuru Kamukura back to the light of Hope…maybe!

Rating: Mature (because duh)

Warnings: Gore, death, general manipulation and Remnants of Despair Shenanigans

A/N: Hey there. Originally this was a fan comic on tumblr that I did, but due to the scale of the project, I decided it would work better as a fic. The introduction to this fic is different from the fan comic just so I could keep things fresh to write. Please enjoy! You can also find this fic on AO3 if you prefer to read there. I’ll link later.

Games were supposed to be fun. Anyone could play them and they could be played together. It didn’t matter if it was a bad game or if the person you were playing with had any talent whatsoever. It wasn’t the point. The point was to get closer to another person.

At least, that was the philosophy Chiaki Nanami once went by. Games were something that made her happy, but another thing that chained her down at the same time. By being the Super High School Level Gamer, she was locked to her beloved talent and didn’t see any way to open herself to others. That was until she met Hajime Hinata and her teacher, Chisa Yukizome, had showed the strawberry-haired gamer that it was possible to form all the connections she wanted in her life through her talent. For the first time in her life, she had started to feel complete at Hope’s Peak Academy. She was the Class Representative of a band of Ultimate students who were anything but normal... but she loved them with all her heart.

Until the claws of Despair ripped everything away from her, that was. Chiaki Nanami was now a shell of her former self, but that was okay. With her mind filled with nothing but an urge to induce chaos, she couldn’t feel anything for the person she once was. If she couldn’t remember that person, what were they really worth?

—

The fiery skies poured overhead and mixed with the blackness of the night. There was no possible way to see the stars anymore at this point so deep into the end of the world. The only light that could be seen was from a small Nantendo game screen flickering. A girl with pink hair and discolored pink and red eyes leaned against some wreckage, watching as several people ran from demolished buildings and screamed in anguish for their loved ones. Children, women, and even grown men sobbed as a waterfall of bullets cascaded down on their bodies from above.

“You’re losing, you know?” The gamer sighed, twirling a small finger around some of her peach-tinted hair.

On her game screen, a hoard of bullets were raining down on a mass of zombies, massacring them on her side of the screen. The zombie side was fading pitifully fast, their organs squishing from the onslaught of shots.

Beside Chiaki, a man was trembling with the Nantendo in his hand. Sweat was pouring down the front of his head and his breathing was heavy. It looked as though the pale-faced man was going to pass out at any moment. His eyes were blood shot. He had been at this for hours, all to keep the game going and going and going... but it felt like one big, mad, never-ending spiral. He just wanted to drop the game, but all his hostages and prizes were dying all around him the moment he showed any weakness. A large black collar around his neck was tightening every time a point fell from his score. His throat was so constricted that his lips were starting to get purple.

Oh well, Chiaki thought. She was starting to get bored of this anyways. It was really sad though. For a few sweet moments, she had felt an exhilaration like no other. Her entire body had tensed, heat caking her cheeks. She wanted to drop the game and throw herself at the poor man beside her, to rub her curvaceous body against him until she got off on human contact alone when his score had gotten ahead. But alas, that sort of contact had started to wane on his score... and Chiaki’s interests.

“This is disappointing,” said Chiaki, obliterating the rest of the man’s score. Her side of the screen flashed WINNER in big bright red letters and the man beside her squealed in terror. He started convulsing and screaming, the air in his lungs dissipating fast until he seized over and fell over. His eyes bulged from his skull and his neck was bruised and purple until a satisfying crack sounded from his neck. Well... as satisfying as Chiaki could imagine it anyways.

Watching the man’s corpse go limp, she dropped her handheld game console beside him and simply fished another one from her black and white bear-shaped bag. She tapped the screen to life and began to jab at the buttons as though she wasn’t lying beside someone's corpse on top of a bunch of debris underneath a smoke-encrusted sky of darkness. But that was just the world.

Shrieks and screams of agony littered the sky, joining together to create a chaos-induced despair. It was probably the biggest death count Chiaki had earned so far. Her victim, to his credit, had lasted a total of thirteen hours before his score declined and Chiaki’s interest dropped. It was pleasurable until he waned. Now Chiaki was content to just let the cries in the night be silenced as the conclusion of their game (with real human casualties) and to just get up and leave. She did so, leaving her purple game console with the man’s corpse as memento and something of her personal signature. All the world would know where to find the person who could bring the greatest challenge of a killing game to them and that was what she wanted.

The gamer longed to find someone who could beat her and make her feel alive again. Or to feel anything at all. Even if Chiaki knew that she was nowhere close to feeling anything anymore. “My purpose... is Despair,” she uttered to no one in particular, merely touching her forehead as though to remind herself of that fact. It was foolish to stray, foolish to want or desire anything in such a world. Something like that almost seemed like a spec of Hope was left in her heart... which was impossible once the legendary Junko Enoshima snuffed it out.

Thanks to Junko, all the games in the world would not suffice to bring Chiaki Nanami back. One by one, she had been forced to watch her classmates fall into Despair, to watch them torture, massacre and rape others in Junko’s image. Chained to a wall, she watched for over a year as blood sprayed across a dingy massive screen that Junko had left her to view the carnage. She had been tormented and stuck in Hope’s Peak Academy until the last inch of Hope was executed from her body, until she finally wavered and gave into Despair. With the last specs of good will drained from her, the chains around her neck slipped off and she was allowed to walk free in this ruined world... where it felt entirely purposeless to live. But that was the point.

Everything was ruined. Her life was only good for making everyone else experience her own personal Despair. And Chiaki had set to it.

And as far as she was concerned, games were meant to be shared with everyone. Even the bad ones…

—

On the eastern side of a Towa city, a dingy and caved-in subway had been remodeled into a small chamber for the Despair Gamer. She always returned there to rest or to just recollect herself whenever she was bored or wanted to avoid the other Despairs. A bunch of pillows were tucked together for a makeshift gaming chair that she was slumped over, absorbed in one of her prized Nantendo titles.

Only the soft clinking of chains from behind roused her attention ever so slightly.

“Ah… that guy from before didn’t keep you occupied for long, did he?” Said a carefree voice behind Chiaki as she played. “For a moment, it looked like he was really doing it for you.”

Chiaki tilted her head, sinking back into her cushioned gaming chair. It wasn’t hard to figure out who the other presence in this fortress of death was, so she didn’t bother to look at him as he went to work on disposing of the body. What she didn’t notice however was that her Servant wasn’t empty-handed. He had entered the chamber with a large burlap sack… one that was squirming eerily.

Nagito Komaeda. To say he gave into Despair wasn’t quite so accurate. Hope would always win in the end… but it had to be challenged, cultivated… yes, becoming Despair was only meant to encourage Hope. And that was why he belonged to the other Remnants of Despair. He was theirs to use as they saw fit, but he just could not help returning to her again and again. Chiaki Nanami was like a serial killer by now… one complete with a soft, pudgy face and wide, innocent eyes. Utterly fascinating that one so lovely and gentle could rip apart so many people. Despair really had power over others… an alluring, undeniable, sick and twisted power… all Servant wanted to do was be there to witness Hope shatter the monster before him that Despair had created.

But until that happened… oh, how thoughts of Junko Enoshima made the heat swell through every inch of his body…

As if craving her attention, Servant spoke to her again. She could practically feel the grin etched on his face. “Have you gotten so used to the stench of death, Chiaki? You’re actually letting the corpses decompose around you now…” He nodded his head to rotting cadavers left at the back of the room. Perhaps Chiaki had forgotten they were there?

Chiaki’s lips twitched into a small frown, more so from being interrupted. Servant was a strange one. He had something familiar about him, like someone she should remember but it simply did not occur to her to try and do so. If he caused no reaction in her, then that was all there was to it whether she recalled him or not. The pale-haired boy seemed to follow her about like a puppy-dog, sometimes aiding her in procuring or disposing of victims whenever they met up. Chiaki had considered simply killing him, but something in her intuition told her that playing a Killing Game with the likes of him simply wasn’t a wise choice. And straight up slaughtering him was too kind, too merciful. How was she to invoke Despair in the name of Junko Enoshima if she simply hacked up his body?

And so, Chiaki found herself lifting her head at the jostling of chains behind her, watching the metal links swing side to side from around the Servant’s neck. He had a large grin painted on his face as he always did, taking a seat across from her in her little chair. “I guess the smell of death caught me off guard last time,” she mused thoughtfully to him, uncaring if he was really here for conversation or not. He did as he pleased and proved to be quite the clingy individual. But so long as he did the dirty work, Chiaki didn’t mind occasionally indulging him.

“It made me sick... but... now I don’t smell anything. I wonder if I’ve destroyed my sense of smell. Or my brain simply cares less and less each time...” Chiaki said with sigh, curling up in her chair and reaching for her games again. “Why did you come back?” It was really annoying when Chiaki was content to be left alone with her games for the rest of eternity. Alas victims were hard to come by in the apocalypse. Something about people wanting to salvage their lives. She couldn’t understand that. People were going to be slaughtered en masse either way, so shouldn’t they be trying to find the best way to have fun?

That was what Ultimate Despair Gamer was for. To teach others that life was just one big game and if they weren’t having fun, well... their lives didn’t amount to much, did they?

Servant tilted his head at her, his green eyes holding her emotionless gaze for a moment. “Oh, yes! I actually brought you another gift. I don’t want to be too optimistic, but…” He gestured to the struggling brown sack beside him. “I think this may really be the one. If he can’t satisfy you a little more than your usual prey, then I’ll take full responsibility…”

“Hm?” Chiaki stood up and slowly drifted over to the squirming sack that the Servant had left in the middle of the room. A gift? For her? A light blush crept onto her cheeks as she approached the bag and knelt down to pull it back. As soon as she saw the victim awaiting her, a jolt of electric joy shot through her. She gasped lightly and watched as the person’s light chestnut hair spiked up into her view. This was... No... why was the sight of the person’s hair inspiring such a range of emotions on her face? Her eyes lit up and a shudder ran through her body. She wanted to pull the captive close to her already.

Lightly, she pulled the gag from his lips and let him cough and sputter. He wanted to scramble away from the bizarre Gamer, but she quickly grabbed ahold of his shoulders and urged him closer to her. Her breasts rested against his front and she nuzzled him almost affectionately. Startled by the cute girl’s sudden comforting presence, the man didn’t want to feel at ease, especially with her twisted smile flashing down upon him. But at the same time... she seemed harmless. Perhaps a little deranged? But soft and pretty enough... He shakily steadied her against him, wondering if she was the prisoner of this strange, messed up death chamber just like he was. He barely took notice of the boy behind her with the manic grin and kept his eyes trained on her.

“Wh-Where am I...?” The chestnut-haired student asked her. At least, he appeared to be a student with his plain white uniform and dark trousers. A pair of glasses rested askew on his nose. “Are you a prisoner too?! Did that guy kidnap you?”

Chiaki couldn’t help but to tense at the guy’s caring voice, the way he put concern for her before anything else. Even himself. It felt so familiar and she was melting on the inside. Her face became more twisted, more heated and aroused. This was the one! He had to be the one! He was going to play with her until she could finally lie down and let the cold grip of death eclipse her. A final game where she could be happy, fulfilled, complete—

“What’s your name?” Chiaki asked him lightly, trying to hide the frantic blush on her cheeks. This was so embarrassing. Her heart was fluttering for him.

“Ahhh? Oh... Um, Yusuke?” The man responded, looking around. “Look, why don’t we try to find a way out of here before that guy shows up again? That mastermind!”

“Hm?” Chiaki crossed her legs. “Oh... him. He doesn’t matter. What matters is... well... do you like games, Yusuke?” Her soft voice almost held a low purr to it.

Suddenly, there was a sense of unease in the air. Yusuke blinked and pushed up his glasses. “Um...games?”

—

A small tear trickled over the pale, dead face of her latest victim. After hours and hours and hours of gaming, Yusuke had simply crumpled over. All throughout the week, he had kept Chiaki occupied. Even when he sobbed to her and begged her to let him go, Chiaki was completely enthralled with him. Not a single one of her victims had been so satisfying. He must have truly adored her to keep up such a unique concentration to whatever game she picked out for them to play. He cared for her... he must have loved her to play with her all this time. But then... it was as though his body simply gave out.

Now Yusuke’s corpse decorated the floor of her room, his body still warm from how hard it had worked to bring her even an ounce of joy. Chiaki lingered beside him, her face twisted with what could truly be called Despair. It wasn’t fair. He loved her. Why did he break under all the gaming? She could go forever...

Servant watched her from the corner of the chambers, a small sigh leaving his lips. Something about her actions had slightly disturbed him. For close to a week, he had watched Chiaki become truly elated. It was like she was a different person. And now the young man he had offered up to her was nothing more than a body getting colder by the moment. She drained every last agonizing bit of life from him. It was so thoughtless, so empty…

“I wonder why you don’t just let them rest…” He said, stepping forward as if to pull Chiaki away from the body. “Oh well. I’ll find you a new toy. That will satisfy you!” What hollow words. There was nothing out there that could satisfy the monster before him. That was probably the most horrifying thing about her… but it made him utterly enthralled with her.

“...It’s never going to be enough...” Chiaki said solemnly as she heard the rustling of chains clinking in the background. She knew Servant was behind her, waiting for the body to be disposed of, but Chiaki didn’t want to let it go.

“This was the... the best one... and he wasn’t even enough. Nowhere close... He was like a barrel of love... and I need an ocean... I...I...” She trembled, stifling a sob. Even as a Remnant of Despair, it wasn’t like she lacked feelings... even if they were only centered on herself and self-preservation.

She sighed a hollow bitter sigh and stood up, giving Yusuke’s body a savage kick with her boots. After watching the dirt from her shoes smear his cheek, she turned around and walked past Servant.

“The person you’re searching for… he doesn’t exist anymore…”

Chiaki suddenly clutched her chest tightly as though she were in pain. There was an unbearable pounding in her head. Make it stop… it had to stop… why couldn’t she ignore it?

“I’m not staying here. I’m... I’m going to leave. I want to find something else...something I lost.” The words left her lips before she even realized it. She could almost envision that person with the same chestnut hair and soft, sincere smile. But she didn’t remember his name... not a bit…

Just as she headed to the entrance of the chamber that Servant was leaning against, a foot suddenly kicked up to block her exit. She stepped back and looked at Servant, a frown working onto her gentle features.

“Ah… I thought we may hit this little snag,” Servant said, his smile fading slightly. “You’ve lost a lot of things. It won’t help you to search for all of them! More than likely, you’ll never find anything!” He put his hands together, pleading. “Let me find you another toy! The next one will satisfy you for sure.”

“What..? I…” Chiaki blinked and rubbed her eyes. Those words were making her feel just a tad woozy.

“There, there,” Servant cooed, entwining his arm with hers to lead her away from the door. “Won’t you stay here with me, Chiaki? Just for today… don’t look for what you can’t find. Just stay here today.” Forever. He intended to keep her as long as he could. Hope had to be protected.

And the person she wanted… that same person lit up his entire world as well. The thoughts of that person…

“Chiaki, just stay here… ah, I know,” said Servant behind her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, “let’s play a game together. You and me. If you win—“

“Then I leave,” muttered Chiaki. Then she blinked again in realization.

The smell of this chamber was starting to get to her. Perhaps it was because the last toy truly was something she did like. She couldn’t stop playing with him until he broke. But Chiaki wasn’t looking at the remnants of her beloved toy anymore. Instead, she peered at the filthy walls and floors of her game chamber. Decayed bits of body parts were strewn about across the floor and the stench was starting to become invasive again.

How long had she been in these chambers? She couldn’t remember when she had first entered, only that soon after, the Servant had appeared. He would scavenge for food and toys for her, to keep her occupied and “satisfied” with any new playthings he happened to procure. Chiaki groaned, her head feeling a bit heavy. “Ungh...” She clutched her face, trying to ignore the stench of death wafting in the air. Something about the charming spell of this place was starting to wear off fast and she quite despised it.

Chiaki shook her head, trying to brush off the sickening realization that she just didn’t know how long she had been in a chamber like this, playing games with toy after toy after toy. How many had she killed? Well... they existed to please her, so it didn’t matter. But... when had she last stepped outside? When had she tried to leave? Every time she had risen from her chair to peer out into the world, the Servant would give her a friendly wave and insist that he would go out to bring her food or more toys. It was all just too irksome.

She turned back to Servant. “I want to leave.”

“Of course. If you’re ready, you’ll win,” said Servant cheerfully, waving his obscured hand. “But if I win… hmm… how about this? For every game you lose against me, I’ll alter your appearance just a little…”

“Alter my appearance…?”

Servant nodded, motioning for her to take a seat back in her Gamer chair.

“That’s right. For every game you fail,” he said, letting his voice trail off just a bit, “I’ll remodel you to look a bit more like Lady Junko Enoshima each time.”

“Of course, are you really sure you want to play?”

[seragamble]

Season 12 of SPN but Better

This is my rewrite of s12 in which the main changes are after Lucifer knocks up Kelly he fucks off back to the cage, the BMOL are actually scary, and the narrative finally interrogates how people who aren’t human are treated. Note: I use monster and non-human interchangeably here. (Thank you @autisticandroids for your help with this post.)

The season starts off the same. Sam is perhaps a little more suicidal during his kidnapping, having just lost Dean and fresh off of having to be around Lucifer.

Sam’s myriad of mental health issues pop up here and there throughout the season, after Lucifer and dealing with what Lady Bevell did to him. He does his best to make sure none of this is seen by his family, but Dean eventually figures it out.

At least two episodes where the A Plot is Cas and Crowley investigating a case.

“American Nightmare” is just the start of a theme we see throughout the season of Sam bonding with monsters/non-humans/the ‘other’. He becomes a resource for them and in turn connecting with them helps him feel better about himself.

Cutting the Hitler episode because that was seriously just… :l

Instead Aaron comes back and it’s just a fun episode

Samantha Smith is amazing as Mary but please just take a moment to imagine “Celebrating the Life of Asa Fox” if Mary’s actor was actually ~28

At the end of “LOTUS” Lucifer goes back in the cage 

The events of First Blood take place over two episodes so we can gets stuff like: 

Cas and Mary hunting together

Cas and Mary (separately and together) threatening people they think can help them find Sam and Dean

Dean and Sam (Sam especially) losing their grip on reality whilst in confinement 

Instead of the American hunters largely rejecting the BMOL many of them embrace them. Mostly thanks to the weapons they freely provide. The BMOL also import their idea of “Hey shouldn’t ALL monsters be dead actually.” This becomes a serious issue as we get to see that there are plenty of monsters who aren’t hurting anyone, but are now being hunted.

At the end of “The Raid” we get our first foreshadowing of what else the BMOL are doing when that hunter, who betrayed them to the vampires, is taken to an onsite facility full of various monsters in cages.

The boys have a case that ends up being hunters who fucked around by going after innocent monsters, and found out. It’s a not at all subtle allegory about two monster siblings, where the older sister killed a pair of hunters to protect her little brother. This is the tipping point where Dean finally has a major mental shift in how he views and treats monsters.

There’s also a case where they look into weird supernatural phenomena and it turns out to be the result of hunters disrupting completely (super)natural stuff. It’s an episode about a supernatural creature that has zero interest in killing humans, they’re just strange and otherworldly, and hunters persecuting them has caused a major local disruption in the world.

Instead of the BMOL having their students fight one another to death, they have them kill monster children. We get a flashback of Mick killing a crying werewolf boy.

After Mick has his change of mind about what the BMOL are doing they don’t kill him. Instead he is taken to the facility (seen previously at the end of “The Raid”). This is where the BMOL experiment on monsters, as well as dispose of humans by using them as test subjects. There’s a scene where we see that hunter from before get injected with something, go through a weird mutation, and dies.

The timeline has to be shifted around a little, but instead of Cas being off in heaven trying to find something to find Kelly (which lead nothing to the narrative and went nowhere) the BMOL just make it seem like that’s what he did, while really they have him locked up.

Their reasoning being that if a nephilim is going to be born they want to know all they can about angels, but also they just genuinely don’t see anyone who isn’t human as a person so why not experiment on them. The whole experience is really dehumanizing.

Ketch is there, and I would like to remind everyone about the line, “I do enjoy an angel,” which is a) haunting, and b) implies Ketch has dealt with angels before.

Remember how in “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” Cas can immediately identify that angel blade as being Benjamin’s? Ketch has a few and taunts Cas about what he may or may not have done to their owners.

They torture Cas/do a lot of medical experimentation. The torture is “extremely horny for no reason, shave your chest father of two it’s fanservice time”-y (thank u autisticandroids).

On the brighter side, Mick and Cas bond during their captivity because Cas deserves to have a friend who isn’t a Winchester. Also go ask @autisticandroids about this.

We see Mick question his long held beliefs about monsters and grow more as a character. He also gets turned into something, perhaps a Shapeshifter.

During this time we get to know various other monsters being held and undergoing experimentation.

Instead of Mary finding out Mick is dead she finds out about the facility. Same thing happens as in canon where they brainwash her. This time she’s just killing hunters who won’t fall in line with the BMOL, instead of all American hunters (which I feel made no sense).

Garth comes back at some point because of course he does. Why have an entire season about people who want to eradicate all monsters and then not bring back their one friend who would be most affected by this? His whole family and community are at risk of death if the BMOL have their way.

“Twigs and Twines and Tasha Banes” happens next season because I want Max and Alicia to be part of the attack on the BMOL and it’s better for their narrative if they disappear for a while before coming back after that episode. Instead they show up in a standard motw episode to drive home the fact that it’s fucked up to automatically consider witches to be evil.

One of the narrative points would be how the BMOL tolerance of witches is extremely conditional on them only using their magic for them, and the presence of the BMOL in America has led to an increasingly hostile environment for the Banes family.

The people the Winchesters recruit to help them attack the BMOL facility are a mix of monsters they’ve helped out, and hunters who respect them/didn’t fall in line/have noticed their friends getting murdered. 

The end result is the beginning of a new relationship between hunters and non-humans.

It might be odd after a season long narrative about not demonizing people just because they’re not human, to have the Winchesters still be all “Let’s forcibly abort this fetus,” but, with the added element of Sam dealing with his Lucifer trauma all season, I think it would make sense to have Dean be in extra Protective Mode™. That combined with Cas, fresh off of having to be rescued and feeling even worse about himself, decides to take the Kline issue into his own hands. The narrative follows along with canon. Since Lucifer isn’t around it’s AU!Michael who kills Cas and Mary tackles back through the rip.

Alternatively if you hate that and want something more domestic you can picture the following: with their newfound POV TFW rescues Kelly and takes her back to the bunker, promising they’ll take care of her child.

[moonlayl]

Thoughts on ScarletVision?

You mean WendySiri? Just kidding, just kidding. (sorry for the late reply). I assume you’re talking about the show ‘WandaVision’ but since I’m not sure I’ll also share my thoughts on the actual ship. 

 (long and negative rant)

Okay so throughout the entire show, I was kind of conflicted. Marvel did a really good job with all the clues and the suspense, and also the whole sitcom-through -the-decades kind of thing, and I applaud them for that. it honestly was really good and interesting and I really loved it. The show had so much potential, but that’s where things went wrong. 

A part of it is on me for assuming, or more accurately, wanting, but I was waiting for the reveal that Wanda was being controlled or manipulated. Obviously that didn’t happen, and it just ruined the character for me. This show literally took everything that I liked about Wanda, and everything that made me sympathize with her or even defend her, and then changed it for the worst. I was a fan but not anymore. Wanda’s character through the other movies was someone who tried to do better. Like she joined the avengers to fix her mistakes and to help people. She hurt people in civil war and was guilty over it. She killed Vision to try and save the world and stop Thanos. WandaVision took a big dump on all of that. 

I know many will use the “she’s grieving” card, and while it’s important to note, does it really excuse torturing and mindcontrolling a whole town? “But it was an accident. She didn’t mean to.” Yeah, at first. She discovered what she’d done way back in episodes 2/3 and decided to keep it. “She didn’t know she was hurting them.” But she knew she was violating them and keeping them captive. She knew they were actual people. And she still went with it. She didn’t care.

Fake Pietro says he admires what she’s done and she goes “you don’t think it’s wrong” Like she is literally self-aware. Vision, the man she loves is literally scared and confused and she goes “can’t I?” when he says she can’t control him. Broooooo. Wtf was that? Like she literally admitted to wanting to control him, or at least doing it, and wasn’t even ashamed? And in one of the episodes, despite literally dying and being in pain, he still tries to escape Westview so that he could fix her problems. So that he cold get away from her. So she brought him back, and had children, and just decided that she gets to control them along with the whole town??? I’m sorry but the show literally made her a terrible partner, mom, and avenger. And here’s the thing. I don’t think she’s evil, and I sympathized a lot with her. But she just got worse. 

So not only did she willingly keep a whole town hostage (where everyone was suffering and separated from their families and children literally stayed asleep which means they were in a constant state of seeing her nightmares) but this woman got scared and angry when Agatha freed them. She’s like “I kept you safe.” Wanda literally would’ve kept them in that prison if Aatha had never arrived. She wouldn’t have cared about them. Like Agnes said, heroes don’t do that. 

And then there’s her treatment of Monica. Wanda literally tried to kill her multiple times, and Monica only tried to help. Then she doesn’t even apologize in the end. I hated how this show wrote Monica or how they included her. From the Wanda only starts to use her powers when she sees Monica (when literally everyone else is pointing a gun) to how she automatically grabs her and tries to kill her, and then later has the audacity to say “don’t make me hurt you.” And Monica basically being ignored and used just to defend Wanda and prop her up. Like it was just bullshit. The way they treated their only black character. They even had her say she’d do the same. wtf? Even Jimmy Woo, their asian character, was more of a sidekick to Darcy in those episodes and ended up not contributing much. It sucks. 

And as a person who criticizes Tony Stark, it’s really weird how a lot of his haters use the same arguments as his stans when they try to defend Wanda. ‘She has mental illness” “she paid for her mistakes.” No, giving up her family that only existed because of the torture of innocent people doesn’t win you any points. It’s the least she SHOULD’VE done.  

And the thing that bothered me the most is that she never even learned her lesson? Like she took the darkhold and is trying to find a way to bring her kids back. mf, didn’t the entire show and mess start because she accidentally brought back vision? She literally didn’t learn a thing. What grief did she process if she’s just going to go and try to use dark magic to bring them again? 

And then there’s all of Sword. First Maria was killed off, and then Sword was introduced as this thing that’s always existed, yet we’ve never heard of it??

And there’s also Agatha. “Agatha All Along” umm. What exactly did Agatha do all along? The show set her up to be this big bad and then Wanda took her down it was not satisfying at all. Wanda, who doesn’t know how to cast spells, managed to learn a spell and use it without Agatha knowing in 5 seconds? As Agatha was taking her powers? BS. And then I hated Wanda’s plan. She decided to take her back to the past for what? Agatha’s own family to kill her? And then  later she traps Agatha into her nosy neighbor counterpart? And I’m supposed to go, “what a hero’? 

Obviously Agatha isn’t a good person, but the entire mess happened because of Wanda. It felt wrong for her to use the same prison on innocent people on another person and it be celebrated. And then there’s the whole “They’ll never know what you sacrificed for them line” i literally lost all sympathy for that character after that. 

And I still don’t understand the romance between Wanda and Vision. I can’t get over the fact that he’s a robot. All in all, there are many aspects of the show that I didn’t like, but the number one reason is that it completely ruined her character. There was so much potential. But no. First they changed her age. “it was never said that she was a teenager.” Hawkeye literally said “if you want to go to high school.” no one says that to a 27 year old. Maybe he meant it as something else but in aou, he was the one to form the closest bonds with her and Pietro and it was the same movie that showed us that he had kids. it would make sense if it was supposed to be like a “he wants to help them because they’re young and he’s a dad so he knows how to deal with young people. And everyone referred to her as kid, so it just all fit. (also the actress looked  a lot younger in aou than in her other works before that movie so the make up department probably tried to make her seem young.) And the way she dressed and acted. 

second, apparently even though aou had us believe that they thought they were signing up to save their country, wandavision literally just went “yeah Wanda knew it was a terrorist organization’ and she didn’t even seem to regret it? 

The show went about the entire situation the wrong way, and really ruined her character. 

[undergrounddweller89]

Pen pals

Killian's in prison, one that belongs to the agency but it's more of a place to help people reform, but that's not the main part of the story , this is just Killian going though the moments he and Walter interacted , thinking about what he'd like to do with him and gets a surprise request later that day.

This is a one shot, so if you want to know what happens next well that's up to your imagination to decide <3

Killian likes to think of Walter...alot.

and I'm just hoping you enjoy this.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Everything followed order, up by seven, breakfast by eight, therapy by ten, lunch by one so on, so forth…

Killian was tired though, he was plagued by nightmares of the past, thankfully not every night, there was respite on the nights he dreamed of one Walter Beckett, his therapist had called these dreams and his emotions a form of rescue romance.

It was yes a reasonable conclusion but at the same time, he was willing to indulge his fantasies for the peace they brought him.

To have been faced with someone so kind, someone willing to save him, he found he could not turn away from the idea of that light after so many years in darkness.

He had to be strapped down when he slept, with the screaming and thrashing they’d said it was for his own good, after the first few times he’d hurt himself and other staff members.

Killian could tell, none of them wanted to admit it, he made them uneasy, he’d nearly destroyed their way of life, he would have succeeded if not for one man he’d greatly underestimated.

Kindness, a better way?

These ideals, ideas had once been a joke to him and yet they were exactly what brought him down and the reason he was alive.

Yes a better way.

Leaning on the cafeteria table, elbow on the surface, chin in palm as he played with the plastic fork, how easily he could crush it between his fingers, turn it into tooth picks between steel claw tips.

It was thanks to Walter Beckett he was here; thanks to him he still had his robotic arm with controlled strength so he couldn’t crush anyone’s skull with it…sadly.

They couldn’t exactly rip out his eye… but then again considering the history of the agency, Killian would not have put it past them, all they would have to do was put him under and have it removed and if they felt kind enough replace it with something plain.

Yes he’d heard about it, agents had even mocked him saying he had a fan in that little nerd, they called Beckett a weirdo for standing up for him, his devices had been disabled so they only functioned as eye and arm, again, that was because of Beckett.

A fascinating creature, unusual…what would it be like if he could sit down and talk with him, properly.

Man to man.

He took a bite of the mashed potatoes on his tray, lip curling, bland as anything.

Oh one more thing Walter had written and appealed to let him have his face mask, his argument had been closer to the truth than he cared to admit.

He did hate seeing it, that ugly reminder of what Lance had done to him, on bad days he couldn’t bare to look at it, the scars felt fresh as the memories would come crashing back…it wasn’t always like that but to have to see them constantly may have caused a genuine decline in his mentality.

Killian did miss having decent hair product and his own hair brush, of course, something he wasn’t allowed, you could easily shove the handle down someone’s throat, gouge an eye out, find a way to whittle the handle and make your own shiv.

You know just the small personal things.

Killian stared at the food; of course it was hard adjusting to what limitations he had but did the food have to be so plain.

Would it kill for a little seasoning, though Killian was sure if he filed a complaint it’d be put through the shredder, it wasn’t as if he was a favoured prisoner after all, his crimes he was sure made the guards act less than favourable, oh nothing that would get them in trouble, just looks, only going to points A and B, no conversation unless it was to get answers or be given orders.

He was grateful to be alive all the same, it meant he could still enjoy the ocean view, to see such vast waters that could lap gently one moment into great thundering storms...some people did not know just how privileged they were to see such things, he’d grown up in a land locked country with next to no time to travel, spending time with those he’d cared about and lost.

Poking at the tasteless food with a sigh, he thought of Beckett’s eyes, some type of god had poured the ocean into them...replaying visuals like a little black box, ones he could only see, he’d often look at Walter and how the light caught them, they were beautiful...his hair fire and copper, pale skin dusted lightly with freckles he wondered if they were also on his shoulders or the back of his neck, the idea of pressing his lips there tenderly was certainly a warming fantasy.

Killian smiled just a little, a fond one, you might just think he was planning revenge and enjoyed the thoughts, he knew others assumed all he was doing was cursing him, thinking up violent ways to tear him apart.

No, he was doing anything but that.

Killian’s days here had been spent reminiscing, going over each moment, ohhh having bionics that could record and store whatever he wanted was truly a wonderful thing.

Of course there was that first moment, where he’d stepped on him, being able to go back over the moments, he could think about how the dirt on his face made his eyes all the bluer, how brave he’d been, to face him, he’d only mildly fascinated him when he’d flipped him over onto his back with his foot, moving his shoe from his pretty face down to his chest.

A fleeting thought of what was someone like him do running around trying to stop him, he should be in someone’s bed surely...perhaps his had it been another time another place.

Walter had been surprisingly calm, but still trying to tell him there was a better way but the moment he’d heard Lance’s name, such pleas were falling on deaf ears, at that moment Killian would do anything, anything to hurt Sterling and a pair of pretty ocean eyes were not going to deter him from his mission.

So simple and yet genius to have escaped using a handful of breadcrumbs, the agency would have sooner murdered him, heh darling sweet Beckett perhaps a little too innocent for this world despite his age, no doubt reality had at least begun to set in even just a little ehhh probably.

Reaching for the salt and pepper in an attempt to bring some flavour to this god awful meal, brow furrowed in thought, recalling the battle, when he’d almost shot Walter when the M9 drones gun had been knocked from his hand, the laser fire just missing him and knocking down the wooden planks hiding his location at the time.

Until that point he’d believed he was dead...because he believed he had killed him in that moment when he’d sent the M9 drones to blow up his submarine, just to get back at Sterling ...well at least he’d tried to make that death quick, he could have taken him in and tortured Beckett right there in front of Lance.

There had been a moment of satisfaction in Lance’s pain, but it was fleeting, after he’d left Sterling to mourn he himself had needed some privacy a stiff drink...a moment to mourn the young life, the ocean had reclaimed that strange creature once more.

Killing was easy, but...that one, Beckett, hadn’t even screamed, kicked, cursed, scratched at him, didn’t even try to dig his fingers into flesh as he was pinned down, he continued to tell him there was a better way right up until the moment where he’d nearly mangled his face, anything he could do to hurt the agent who’d ruined him, he’d been willing to do.

Yes, when he’d seen Walter was alive there was a sense of relief and guilt lifted for that death...after Sterling through the effects of the truth serum exposed Walters plan, he’d briefly thought about incapacitating Walter, but no, he had a chance to let him live this time, instead he’d called a drone to run, Beckett was not a part of his vendetta, something about him was different than the others and despite his rage and pain when he looked at Walter he saw innocence, something similar to how he’d once been before Kyrgyzstan and the events that’d occurred there.

Killian felt a twist in his stomach at the thought of someone killing Walter, guilt at his own attempted, scrubbing a hand down his face; unable to eat he pushed his tray away.

Hearing the guard clear their throat and glance at the tray, Killian rolled his eyes, picking it up he disposed of its contents, he’d lost his appetite anyway and decided he’d feel more at peace in the recreational green house and headed off there.

They’d been given a choice of small jobs here and he’d chosen to work on the maintenance of plants, after all if he ever managed to leave this dammed place, a pleasant little flower store on the corner of Beckett’s Street might be a rather good way to live out his days even to just make sure he was safe.

But there was another reason he’d chosen the greenhouse besides that, entering through the steel and glass door, outside of the windows framed iron, with wooden paneling and seating beside them, you could see you were high up, oh but that view, the ocean vast and wide as if it never ended, all manner of colours during the summer days from blues to emeralds scattered in gold, grey and destructive during storms and rain would hit like mini stones over the glass...beautiful.

He touched over the soft velvet petals of white roses and irises, they were his favourites, stars in the night or perhaps as he looked them over, there was another reason he favoured the contrast, light and darkness could not truly co exist without the other, you could not appreciate much unless you had the opposite to see the difference.

Pulling on a glove for his human hand, he took up the pruning sheers on the table where the tools were set, if he so much as tried to leave the room with these an alarm would go off, they were all tagged and would cause problems for anyone trying to smuggle them out of their correct location.

Tending to the plants, making precise slow cuts, searching for any little weed, the soil was rich and soft, rolling small pieces between gloved finger tips, there was a peace to be found in tending to such beautiful fragile things...he’d tend to Walter if he could.

It had all meant to end in bloodshed.

He thought to himself.

Justice for what happened to the people who’d been innocent, the ones who’d sooner have died themselves than spilt a single drop of blood purposefully.

Killian honestly didn’t give a shit about any of the people he was surrounded by now, he had no ties no reason to, the spies the people of the agency, oh he still hated them, he would gladly see them die and-

He stilled a rose head falling against the dark earth...his bionic eye went from red to blue again, staring down at the flower, a wasted life that had done nothing but simply exist...

Placing the shears down, clearly it wasn’t a good idea for him to he holding sharp instruments right now, instead he picked up the white flower and cupped it in his palm, long metal fingers gently prying off each petal and placing them on the dirt one by one...looking up he knew exactly why white roses....

Beckett’s pale skin and the ocean waves that paled in comparison of his eyes...why did Walter of all beings bring him the same peace of a sunset shore highlighted in warm tones fading into the calming tones of dusty pink as the night sky began to settle in.

Hands empty now he stepped closer to the window, looking up out into the spread of clouds highlighted in the afternoon sun, only now beginning to show signs of the evening.

Killian had depended on that one moment when he’d brought Walter face to face to him, he could have head butted him, he knew exactly how to do that and carried him off, dropped him even, but that moment of fear that showed in his eyes, his first thought was perhaps he could reason with him.

“If you shut them down now you’ll kill us both.”

That look as Walter had turned his head to see just how high they were, he could have used the drone right there at his disposal to shoot him, destroy the device on his wrist, something anything, but the idea of seeing the light gone from those eyes, empty and cold...no he’d had to hope he could change his mind...but then again negotiations had never been his strong point.

“And you’re no killer.”

That was it.

That was all he could think off to say to him!

He could have said

‘I’ll stop the attack if you come with me, I’ll leave, drop this mission if you come with me! ‘

Instead he’d just assumed that Walter wouldn’t dare cause them both to die, with his talk of doing things differently...that moment when he’d said

“No I’m a hugger.”

It had baffled Killian entirely and then...that device separated them, Mcford had tried to reach out, he couldn’t believe it, despite their difference, his naive view on the world, Walter chose to save him.

Seeing him fall, time itself had slowed, he knew what was going to happen to Walter, his despairing gaze only turning when the drone had been deactivated and realized he too was heading back to earth.

Now the question was...would Walter have done the same...if he’d not had the inflatable hug? Indeed that was something to ponder on.

Something told him though his choice would have been the same...but at the price of both their lives, he could settle for losing his own but it grated him, the idea of such wonderful potential almost lost because of his own rage, the idea of Walter being...

Killian glanced over at the scattered white petals...yes just like that.

It was strange...

Killian sat on the window seat, the cushions were thin and in need of a change for new ones, however this was a prison not a five star resort, shoulder pressed to the glass and looking down where the docks were, empty at present, no new arrivals, visitors usually came by helicopter.

How peculiar that a man he barely knew had wormed his way under his skin, into his heart, was it infatuation?

Scratching at his cheek lightly, disrupting his hologram, metal softly grinding on metal.

The thought of Walter being dead, cold, buried in darkness unsettled him, something more like a glass coffin would be more suitable, he should be displayed like a pretty china doll, yes the idea of him being dead that alone could smother out the sun itself.

Killian would never forget that moment he was sitting inside that inflatable ball, defeated, arm inactive, at first stewing in his defeat, the fact that glitter and bubbles had practically put an end to his plans to get the justice he’d for the last ten years had been seeking, that irritating squeak as the waves caused it to gently bounce against the rocks, he remembered feeling exhausted, knowing it had all come to an end and not the one he’d wanted, how his victory had been stolen, he was supposed to die getting that revenge , end all that anger, to have his pain silenced.

Oh it still hurt to think back on the past but as he heard Eye’s voice, that amazement and awe.

“He saved him.”

It soothed something in him, his rage dissipating as he placed a hand on the interior of his plastic prison and asked, even though he knew it was impossible his first response, his first question had been a small yet hopeful thing

“Is he alive?”

Killian had expected the worst but to hear he’d survived, he didn’t care how, Walter was alive and that was all that mattered, his choked sob of relief had left the onlookers baffled but he didn’t care, their opinions didn’t matter to him just Walters.

In a world where violence was met with more violence, death, endless and continuous…his angel had taken the hands that had intended harm and smiled, offering his life for his, not literally of course but the metaphorical substance was there, Beckett could have saved himself and the agency, but those eyes looked up at him and without a word said

'You are worth saving.'

How could he ever thank Walter for that chance to live and start over, Killian didn’t think he could ever repay the mercy he’d been given.

No one had ever done something so selfless, at least not for him, the best he could do was to try to think more like him, even if to show he valued Walters ideals and respected him, he’d been reminded that violence was not the only solution, but learning to forgive, to try and move on was a start, it would be a long and arduous that much was clear, especially with Lance in the mix, that definitely soured things but maybe there was more to Kyrgyzstan, metal claws flexed instinctively, he’d locked in one thought , a play over again and again of what happened until he was no longer a man but a monster, now that life had been breathed into him…what did that make him now?

Sighing, Killian rested his forehead on the window, everything was so complicated now, if he could time jump, reverse it, he’d slip back into that moment when he and Walter where being carried away, he would make a bargain, a trade of shutting down all of the M9 assassins from their course, all but the one that held them above the surface of the world in their own private little paradise, all Walter would have to do was agree to come with him, be with him forever and ever, after all that wasn’t really so long at all was it, not if it was happy and full of wonder.

A small smirk formed on Killian’s lips, knowing already what the answer would be, after all Beckett was so eager to save people wasn’t he, but he, Killian would actually show his genuine appreciation for it, he wondered what his darling sparrow was up to now, had the agency thrown him in a corner, commemorated him for his astounding work, one could never be quite sure especially with how they continued to allow Lance to carry on after what happened in Kyrgyzstan.

Killian had, had his little daydreams though, like waking up and finding him sleeping on his chest as the morning sun caressed over them, exposing those subtle freckles that dusted over Walter’s cheeks highlighting auburn hair, which would be a mess after a night of love making, fingers stroking through it and down his spine, Killian couldn’t help but wonder if Walter’s skin was soft.

Thinking of his own scars, Tristian was also curious to know if Beckett had any of his own from science projects gone wrong, in places he’d never see but long to kiss if only to show him he found each and every part of his body beautiful.

He wanted to know how he looked when laughing, the sound of his laughter, to see how his look of want would be beneath or above him, back arching and flushed.

How sweet would he sound at tender kisses to his neck, being held and softly whimpering, maybe the fantasy was better than the reality, but with his current situation he would never have the chance to find out and well…it was highly unlikely that Walter would ever see him in such a way right?

Killain smiled at the thought of getting to talk to him in a situation as simple as having a coffee at some quiet little corner shop, asking about his day, even if there was no chance for romance…the man who’d helped Sterling still had to be interesting to say the least.

Someone who could hack into his bionic arm had to be highly intelligent, no one else had even thought of it…himself included, obviously or he would have put in more precautions to make sure that couldn’t happen, Killian knew he was lucky in that circumstance that Walter was kind that he believed in a better way or he could have very well turned his own robotic arm against himself, what an irony that would have been.

He flexed his metal claws, of course it had the right firewalls and software now after Walter put in the safety measures himself.

Looking up as the greenhouse door was opened, was it another inmate? As much as he wished the place was just his he was not the only one who enjoyed a little therapeutic time with the plants, it turned out to be a guard holding an envelope, looking less than pleased.

Sitting up Killian eyed the paper with suspicion, usually guards didn’t hand deliver letters unless it was from someone higher up, had something been overturned, given the death sentence behind Beckett’s back…no if that was the case no doubt the guard would be looking pleased with themselves, either way it’d been opened and the vetting team hadn’t even tried to hide it…maybe it was the guards and they had come to tell him something, after all who was even left to send him mail, who’d want to.

“Seems that weirdo, wants to write to you.”

The guard laughed extending their arm as they handed Killian the letter.

Frowning at them, he purposely took it with his claws, finding satisfaction at how they flinched when they snapped sharply together.

“I think you’ll find that weirdo has more intelligence in his little finger than you do your whole body…are you jealous that he’s not writing you, after all I hear you constantly bragging that you think if some nobody can become boss of his own division why can’t you, he’s not a no body unlike you he’s a genius you troglodyte.”

Smirking as their expression soured, the guards fingers flexed, they were someone who thought themselves above the rules but Killian unsettled them enough that they didn’t mess with him, it wasn’t worth the fear of looking over their shoulder and with Killian's model behavior since arrival they wouldn’t be able to say that it was in Mcford’s character, it would look alike they’d provoked him…of course there were also cameras in the corners of the green house to.

“Whatever.”

They grumbled and left.

Killian pulled off the gardening glove he’d been wearing and set it down before pulling the paper from the torn envelope , Walter’s stationary had pigeons on it at first he wondered if it was some in joke about their first meeting in Venice, though as he read through the five pages the young man had sent him he understood and somehow Beckett was now ten times more endearing to him, it was easy to imagine him being excitable as he told him about his day of course keeping out top secret information he wouldn’t be privy to but still.

The numerous facts on pigeons, talking about the little things that went on through the day, asking if he was alright, hoping he was being treated well, that one day he’d like to come visit him.

Beckett couldn’t be real, no one was this nice and genuine, he had to be in a hospital bed in Kyrgyzstan in a coma and dealing with death and Walter was just waiting for him in a heaven he was welcomed in, that had to be it.

The hand writing a mix between messy and curly, written in Walter’s own hand, it made it all the more personal than some printed out thing that was signed at the bottom, finger tips tracing over the paper, this was something Walter had touched, it was for him.

These words were written for him, even if the security had checked it over, it made it no less important or special to him.

He would of course have to write Beckett back, it would be a terrible thing to leave him hanging like that.

Reaching the final words on the last page he stilled and had to read it again…and then again…and again to process what he’d been asked by the younger man.

Pen Pals?

He wanted to be

Pen Pals?

Well now wasn’t that interesting.

‘Would you like to be Pen pals and see what the future can bring?

Sincerest wishes for your better future

Walter Beckett

P.s

I sent a picture of myself if you want to throw darts at it in case you hate me, but if not use it as a book mark or something.’

Killian looked at the picture he realized was still in the envelope which surprised him, his heart nearly exploded from how adorable he looked, smiling at the camera with a white and brown pigeon nesting in his hair, oh that must be the Lovey he’d mentioned in the letter, how cute, he smiled fondly, well he’d be doing more than just using it as a book mark, it’d help him get through lonely nights to, not that Walter needed to know that.

The gesture was wonderful, if he could hold him he would have, resting his back against the window he held the letter and picture to his chest, the giddiness that swelled inside him was like being in love for the first time all over again.

In a soft tone he whispered a thank you, eye closing as the other went dim.

Could they be pen pals?

Of course the answer was yes.

He’d love to.

[catchester]

Guardians of the Galaxy, Ragnarok, and Classic Loki

I was discussing Classic Loki's costume with someone online and I admit, in the small teaser, I was really disheartened.

Yes, it was a faithful copy of a classic Loki costume, but comic book costumes are ridiculous, especially older ones. And if that wasn't bad enough, his pants looked like a nappy.

I'd been mostly impressed with the mixture of drama and comedy but this outfit was just a step too far for me. I was not confident in where the series was going.

Then in the next episode, they took this walking visual joke and gave him not only a full, but a fulfilling character arc.

I admit, Classic Loki is my second favourite variant, just pipped to the post by alligator Loki.

And isn't that weird? Alligator Loki is objectively more ridiculous, not in his costume but in his whole character. He's a freaking reptile FFS! But I love him.

And that reminded me of a discussion I'd had with a Ragnarok fan who would hear no wrong said about her movie. The points i brought up with her had nothing to do with Loki, I chose the slavery

It's on Sakar

Valkyrie is a slave trader selling people into certain death because no one wins forever, but somehow a hero,

And that Odin build Asgard using slave labour.

And there's the colonialism, related to the third point.

Both of these issues went totally unaddressed in a movie that didn't even need them. They could have written it a different way and still had a good movie.

I mentioned how T'Challa went into the afterlife to berate his father and ancestors for their wrongs and promise to correct their mistakes, while Thor went to his colonising, slaver father and... asks for advice? Really? That's like showing Thor asking Robert E Lee for advice.

She of course, argued that they were making entertainment, not the colour purple or 12 years a slave. Of course that's a straw man argument, but I reminded her that Black Panther had plenty of humour, and GotG literally sends itself up all the time, and even has a goddamn dance off with the villain, yet it still made me care enough to cry about the death of a tree!

Ragnarok had me wondering why Thor tortured his brother, do heroes do that now? Thor isn't even an anti-hero, he's just straight up hero. That scene just left me cold, it wasn't funny and because it was played for laughs, I didn't empathise with Loki. I mean, he just looks constipated.

You all know how much I love Loki, I've written enough stories about him, after all, but Ragnarok Loki is just meh. I care that he was being tortured from an intellectual perspective, because it feels wrong for the hero to do that, and his betrayal of Thor cam out of left field, but I don't feel sympathy for him. I can't relate to him, I feel neither love nor hate for him, I'm just indifferent (to all the characters actually).

The only thing that rouses any emotion in me is Taika and the rage his mishandling of important issues and dismissal existing character arcs brings out in me.

Contrast this torture scene with GotG, which had me sympathising with Nebula while she was being tortured because, sure she's a bad guy, but she's also a well rounded character and her torture wasn't being played for laughs. We know she's been tortured, in one way or another, her whole life. Yes, she's bad, but I can relate to her because I understand her.

Then this Taika fan said something that was more telling than she knew, and was actually 100% correct. Taika thinks comic books are ridiculous, and he's out here making a Road Runner movie.

And it suddenly hit me, she was right.

Everything in Ragnarok is treated the same way an anvil falling on Wile.E.Coyote's head is treated. There are no consequences. There are no lessons learned. There are no character arcs. At the end of the Road Runner series neither the roadrunner or the coyote had changed in any way. They were 2 dimensional, both literally and figuratively.

Unfortunately for her argument, 30 years ago we had what is still arguably the best cartoon Batman series ever, Batman the animated series. It took it's two dimensional animated characters and gave them three dimensional personalities. 30 years later it's still hailed as brilliant.

And I think that's why Classic Loki and GotG can take utterly ridiculous characters (let's face it, all superheroes are ridiculous to some extent) but while some even acknowledge how silly their comic book heroes are, they actually take the characters, the story, and the issues raised seriously.

Yes, Classic Loki looks like a joke, but he's never viewed as one from the crew's perspective.

Alligator Loki is even more preposterous! Who even made his horns, and who puts them on for him? But while the show acknowledges how silly he is with our Loki's questioning, he's a Loki and everyone treats him as a Loki. Yes, he injects some comic relief, but the laughter is never at his expense. He's even shown to be able to hold his own in a fight.

Rocket is a talking raccoon, but he's never laughed at. In fact he's even pitied once you learn what happened to make him that way. He's ridiculous, but he's not a joke. And yes, he makes jokes about how ridiculous they all are (bunch of jackasses standing in a circle) but while a comedic character, the joke is not on him. He's a fully formed, well rounded character. We care about him.

Yes, Star Lord is an idiot at times too, but his heart is in the right place and he wants to do the right thing. So you think he's gone mad when he has a dance off with the villain, but you quickly realise he's being an idiot for a very good reason and is playing to his strengths (and using idiocy as a strength is clever). I think we also understand, because he's a fully formed character, than his humour is a defence mechanism. He plays the fool because that's the niche he's carved for himself to help him cope, but that doesn't mean he is a fool.

Ragnarok wanted to be GotG, but Taiks forgot the part about while it's ridiculous and fanciful, the characters aren't a joke.

To Taika, if it doesn't get a laugh, it's not important. The few serious or touching moments we get are as a result of the MCU bigwigs forcing changes in reshoots, or forcing Taika to stick to the script.

There are no character arcs. You could argue that Loki goes from villain to hero or anti-hero, but he's already been through that journey in Dark World. Why did he regress? Who cares, it's not funny, he's just a bad guy again, forget about the plot holes and just laugh at the guy being killed smelling like toast!

Thor turning away from his father's teachings, like T'Challa did, would have been a wonderful character arc. Seeing his dad, realising his dad was wrong that and he needs to do better, and calling on his own inner strength to protect his people. That would have been a fulfilling arc. Instead he still needs advice from his colonising, slaver father. And this is actually one of the few scenes that wasn't played for laughs. It had so much potential, yet Taika just didn't care enough to reach for it.

Ragnarok is a road runner movie where our heroes toss a series of ACME anvils and dynamite at each other and the bad guys, but like the RR cartoon, there are no consequences. Just like Wile.E, they get straight back up again and lob another anvil at someone.

Hulk has been murdering innocent slaves for quite a while now, but he doesn't care. You'd think Bruce Banner might care about what his alter ego has been up to but no, this good, gentle, introspective, intelligent and caring man doesn't give one single fuck, because it's ACME Hulk and murdering innocent slaves has as many consequences as crushing them with an ACME anvil.

And I think that's the difference. Yes, your characters can be utterly ridiculous, but the crew must take them seriously and make them fully rounded characters who face consequences. Consequences are how we learn and grow.

And if they don't take the movie or characters seriously, you end up with a 2 dimensional story that no one cares about, because you haven't given them a reason to.

I don't care why Wile.E is trying to kill RR. I don't care what his motivation is. I don't care when he gets squashed or blown up, or falls off a cliff, because he's not a character, he's a caricature.

Ragnarok is just a collection of caricatures.