#and that's what really sparks a murder rampage | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

desiccatedwithering · 1 year

Text

we live in troubled days (oh, my friend, we have the strangest ways) — ch 3/6?

(4k || read on ao3) (ch1 || ch2 || ch4)

“Ahoy,” Eddie says upon his return to the kitchen, compelled to keep pushing this button until it kills him. This is why he prefers to be the DM instead of a player.

Harrington just sighs and asks, “Everyone good?”

“Who?”

“Your bandmates? Are they good?”

Eddie freezes. Is this a trick question? Was Harrington eavesdropping on his phone call? No, he’s probably just trying to pretend to be a normal, friendly person who doesn’t kill people every year. Eddie forces his shoulders to relax and lets out a high pitched, awkward chuckle.

Harrington stares at him, eyebrows steadily climbing. Fuck. Right. He asked Eddie a question, didn’t he? Those usually require answers.

“Uh, kinda?”

Harrington’s eyebrows furrow, which is fair, because what the hell does that mean?

“I mean, I didn’t get through to everyone,” Eddie says, finally remembering how to string words into coherent sentences, thank god. He shrugs a little. “I’ll have to make some more calls later. If you don’t mind.”

Harrington waves a hand, turning back to the counter. “Yeah, no worries.”

Great. Time for another awkward silence.

He should’ve spent more time investigating Harrington’s room, done more than a cursory search of his desk. He’d been worried about spending a suspicious amount of time upstairs, but if he’d known that this was the alternative—

Eddie jumps a good foot in the air when someone behind him mumbles, “Cookies?”

He whirls around to find Robin Buckley standing right behind him, in a Hawkins High swim team hoodie and reindeer-patterned pajama pants, hair mussed, blinking at him with bleary confusion. “Jesus Christ,” he gasps, clutching at his racing heart. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

“I’ve always been here?” Robin says, frowning. Which is an extremely unsettling sentence.

“She took a nap after her shift this morning, so she’s been conked out upstairs for the last few hours,” Harrington explains, reaching out to grab her hand. She lets herself be reeled in, tucking herself into his side and accepting a mug of coffee with a pleased hum.

“Oh.” Eddie jams a hand into his back pocket, crossing his fingers. “I didn’t wake you up with my phone call, did I?”

Robin obnoxiously slurps her coffee, eyeing him with what Eddie feels like is an unwarranted amount of suspicion, given the fact that he was invited to this dinner.

“Don’t worry; she sleeps like the dead.”

“Except the nightmares,” Robin mutters.

Harrington rolls his eyes. “Well, yeah, obviously, but it’s pretty clear when you have those, ‘cause you wake up screaming.”

Jesus Christ. Was she a witness or (unwilling?) accomplice to Harrington’s summer rampage?

Wait, has Eddie been thinking about this all wrong? Is it possible that he managed to earn himself the freshmen’s seal of approval, and now he’s going to be inducted into the cult by participating in Robin’s murder?

No, she doesn’t fit the pattern (which does exist; fuck you, Gareth). She may be weird and nerdy in her own way, but everyone knows that she and Harrington are connected; the whole school was abuzz with gossip when the fallen king dropped her off on the first day. The most believable rumor Eddie’s heard is that Buckley is a succubus who learned how to control her powers over the summer and now has Harrington under her thrall. (Ok, yes, he was the one to suggest that, and no one else is talking about it. But the girls who’d “overheard” him had only rolled their eyes and not even bothered to call him a freak, so who knows. It might just be getting off to a slow start.)

There isn’t as much gossip circulating about them these days, but pretty much everyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that they’re an item or whatever. Way harder to buck suspicion if everyone knows that you’re the victim’s best friend slash coworker slash boyfriend.

Eddie squashes the tiny spark of hope—not that he wants Robin to die; he’d just really rather not be murdered himself. Plus, it’d be easier to rescue someone else from being sacrificed, especially if he’s expected to participate and therefore has a knife; he doesn’t really think he’s athletic enough to save himself when he’s strapped down to an altar.

Harrington steals her mug to take a sip, then says, “Robin always wakes up on the second to last tray of cookies.”

“That’s how long it takes the smell to fill your stupidly big house. Also, I notice that you’ve failed to provide me with said cookies.” She holds her hand up expectantly.

Harrington rolls his eyes but dutifully reaches past her to grab a cookie and move it the whole five inches from the cooling rack to her hand. God, straight people are insane, Harrington especially.

Eddie heaves himself back up onto the island, and Robin perks up and asks, “Ooh, are we sitting on Steve’s counters today?”

“No,” Harrington says.

“Yes,” Eddie retorts, swinging his legs.

Robin grins at him and hops up beside him, fully ignoring Harrington’s aggrieved sigh.

“Fuck, there’s two of you now,” he grumbles. He glares at them for a second then inexplicably hands Eddie a glass.

Eddie accepts it cautiously, squinting at the contents. It looks like perfectly normal water, but honestly, who knows? There could be some sort of poison in there. Cyanide is water soluble.

“I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you,” Robin declares, “so there’d be no reason to complain if there were two of me.”

Harrington smirks at her. “Wanna try repeating that in front of Dustin?”

Eddie sniffs his glass surreptitiously. He doesn’t smell almonds, but with his luck, he probably doesn’t have the gene that allows you to smell cyanide, so he’d have no idea it was there until it was too late. The safest option is to not drink it. After all, it’s way easier to poison a person with a glass of water handed to them than with a batch of cookies that anyone might eat.

“Uh, no. I value my hearing, thanks.” She rolls her eyes, then tilts her head, looking towards the counter. “Hey, why’s your murder knife out?”

Ha! Eddie hasn’t been overreacting; that insane cleaver is a murder weapon. …Oh no, it’s a murder weapon. Should he be running now? No, he still needs evidence. Which means finding a way to get back into Harrington’s room and actually snooping around, rather than getting caught up in giving Gareth an extremely important status update.

“Eddie asked to see my favorite knife.”

Robin furrows her brow, glancing from Harrington to Eddie and back again. “Steve.”

“What?” Harrington turns to meet her eyes, and his brows shoot up. “Oh. You think?”

Robin nods, hands fluttering.

Eddie stares at her blankly, waiting for her to say actual words, but Harrington just hums thoughtfully and says, “Huh, I totally missed that.”

“What?” Eddie asks, but he’s completely ignored as Robin huffs a laugh and makes another indecipherable series of movements. Cool. Eddie will just listen to half an incomprehensible conversation, then. Like a game of charades but infinitely worse.

“Hey! Not yet, at least,” Harrington says. “And I mean, yeah, obviously.”

Robin raises her eyebrows and bites her lip, drumming her fingers on her thighs. Harrington tilts his head, sets his hands on his hips, and says—

Nothing.

Fantastic.

Alright. Theory one: Harrington and Buckley are cyborgs, sent back to the past to ensure their successful overthrow of the human race. Admittedly unlikely, given the fact that he’s been in school with them for long enough to know that they definitely age like normal people—unless they were recently replaced with cyborgs or their design is so advanced that they can convincingly mimic human growth. Not to mention the number of times Harrington’s wandered into class with his face all bruised and bloody, not a hint of metal in sight. And Eddie seriously doubts he’s some sort of Sarah Conner; there’s no way he’ll ever be a vital part of fighting an apocalypse.

Theory two: Telepathic powers. Telepathy doesn’t really strike him as the sort of power that’d lead to a person becoming a murderer—though maybe he’s just biased from reading X-Men. ‘Cause, like, what if you heard something awful, like someone thinking about the best place to plant their bomb? Then it’d be your moral obligation to stop them, right? Kill one person to save many.

Though Eddie’s not really sure how Harrington’s probable victims fit into this scenario. Sure, Eddie’s thought some nasty things about the jocks at school, but he’d never actually hurt anyone. Just thinking about something doesn’t mean you’ll actually do it. There’s no way Barbara Holland or Bob Newby would’ve gone around setting buildings on fire just because they were bored and wondered how easy it would be to get away with. (Which is a question that Eddie’s never had, for any mind readers listening in right now.) And Hargrove’s thoughts were probably just as terrible as his actions, but the fact that he would beat people up for fun is what really matters, not whatever was going on inside his head.

Surely the first rule of telepathy is judging someone on their actions rather than their thoughts, right? Because most people have enough self restraint to not give in to their worst impulses.

Maybe instead of wanting to kill him for some sort of thoughtcrime, Harrington wants to kill him because his thoughts are inherently a crime. Like, maybe Eddie’s brain is just too loud and chaotic, and Harrington can’t tune it out, so murder is the only option if he wants to ever have peace again. He’s heard the kids mention Harrington’s headaches in hushed, secretive voices. And if they’re Eddie-induced headaches, then obviously they’d want to help Harrington kill him. He doesn’t have any illusions about where their loyalties lie first and foremost.

Can you hear me? Eddie thinks as loudly as possible, imagining the sound traveling straight from his head to Harrington’s like a phaser beam.

Harrington scratches just behind his ear, which isn’t very conclusive.

Hey, Harrington. Harrington. Harrington. Are you listening?

Harrington jolts and snaps his fingers. Is that a yes? He pulls something out of his pocket—probably a switchblade—and says, “Oh, hey, Rob, I got you an ornament for the tree.” He tosses it over to her, and she lets out a delighted gasp.

“Holy shit, Steve,” she says with actual human words, “he’s beautiful. Where did you find him?”

“At the thrift store,” he says, pleased as punch. “The woman who owns it gave him to me for free.”

“God, who would put a treasure like this at the thrift store?”

Harrington shrugs. “Some people have no taste.”

“What is it?” Eddie asks, leaning closer.

Robin hold it up so he can see better, and Eddie is confronted with the most fucked up Rudolph he’s ever seen. Honestly, it probably wouldn’t be recognizable as any sort of animal, let alone a reindeer, if not for the bright red nose on its sorry excuse for a head.

“Fuck, that’s incredible,” he breathes, reaching for it without thinking.

Harrington preens.

“Don’t even think about stealing him, Munson,” Robin growls, clutching melty Rudolph to her chest protectively and hopping off the counter to put some distance between them. “I’d fight to the death for him.”

He holds his hands up placatingly. “I wouldn’t dare, Buckley.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” Harrington starts, glancing at Eddie. “I didn’t want the kids to see this, so—” Harrington turns away, rooting through one of the cabinets for his sacrificial blade.

Does Eddie have time to make a run for it? He takes a surreptitious glance towards the doorway, only to find Robin oh-so-coincidentally in between him and his path to freedom.

So this is how it ends. Stabbed to death, throat slit in Steve Harrington’s kitchen at the tender age of nineteen.

He’s had a good run of it. Sure, he’s failed to graduate from high school twice, and he’s about to die a virgin, murdered by his crush, but— Yeah, he doesn’t have an end to that sentence. This whole thing absolutely blows.

“Here you go!” Harrington says brightly, spinning around with all the enthusiasm of a hyper puppy.

It’s genuinely unfair that he still looks this unfathomably hot when he’s literally stretching his arms forward to stab Eddie in the gut with—

Eddie frowns. Unusual weapon choice.

“What is that?”

Harrington rolls his eyes, propping one hand on his hip. The other gives the thing he’s holding a little jiggle. “Maybe you’ve never gotten a gift before, but the whole point is that you don’t know what it is until you unwrap it.” Then a second later, he winces. “Shit, that was— Sorry.”

“I thought we weren’t exchanging presents,” Eddie says warily.

Harrington shrugs. “I wasn’t going to invite you over and then force you to get me something, dude. That’d be a dick move.”

Dumbfounded, Eddie takes the present. He shakes it automatically; Harrington snorts but doesn’t protest the investigation. Nothing rattles, and it feels solid. Eddie’s fairly certain that it’s a book rather than something deadly. He still holds his breath as he breaks the seal of the tape, slowly peeling the paper away.

“Oh,” he breathes, blinking rapidly like that might change what he’s looking at.

“Do you like it?” Harrington asks, anxiety clear in his voice. Eddie’s fairly certain that he’s wringing his hands right now, though he can’t manage to actually look at him to check. “Will said it was published this year, but if you already bought it for yourself, I have the receipt, so you could get something else. Sorry, I don’t really know what you like other than Dungeons and—”

“Uh, no,” he croaks. “I mean, this is— I don’t have it yet. Didn’t. I—” Jesus, he feels like he’s going to vomit. He makes the mistake of glancing up, catching sight of Harrington, yes, wringing his hands, brow furrowed, putting on an Oscar worthy show of concern, and—

“I have to go call Gareth bye,” Eddie blurts, words probably unintelligible with how fast he spits them out. He darts for the stairs before Harrington has a chance to react.

“Gareth, he bought me Unearthed Arcana,” Eddie hisses the second the line connects.

“Um. Gareth, it’s for you,” a woman who is very much not Gareth says hesitantly. She hasn’t even bothered to cover the receiver, which is rude, frankly. “Some weirdo talking about digging? Dirt? I don’t know.”

There’s a muffled, “Oh, Jesus Christ,” and then Gareth says, “Yes?”

“Gareth, it’s me, your friend Eddie who is not a ghost yet but will be soon.”

He sighs, like dealing with Eddie in mortal peril is the greatest hardship of his life. “Yeah, I figured. It’s been, like, fifteen minutes; what could you possibly be having an issue about already? You freaked out my cousin.”

“Unearthed Arcana,” Eddie repeats. “Harrington bought a D&D book. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Yes, I am aware of what ‘D&D’ stands for,” Gareth says drily.

“He bought a D&D book for me.”

Gareth lets out a low whistle. “Shit, now I kinda wish I was invited. Seems like a better party than my family’s having right now. Do you think I could’ve gotten a new drum out of him?”

“You are not helpful,” Eddie says, gritting his teeth.

“Oh, sorry. It’s so tragic that a cute boy bought you the book you’ve been whining about for months. Do you think you’ll manage to survive this ordeal?”

“Do you have memory issues? Obviously not because he’s planning to murder me.”

“Why would he buy you a present before killing you?”

“It’s actually for the kids, and he just gave it to me to lull me into a false sense of security? Or maybe his deity requires happy sacrifices. I don’t know! I’m not in his head!”

Gareth sighs again and asks, “Why am I the one who keeps having to deal with you?”

“Because you’re my nearest and dearest friend,” Eddie replies, voice saccharine.

Gareth scoffs.

“And because I didn’t want to piss off Jeff's mom, and Frank would just get me even more riled up. I need to keep a level head if I want to make it out of here alive.”

“This is you keeping a level head?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!” Eddie shrieks.

“God, I hate being one of the only sensible people you know,” Gareth groans.

Eddie rolls his eyes. Like he’s not sensible. What does Gareth even know? He— Holy shit what is that?

“Hold that thought,” Eddie says, though he honestly doesn’t know what Gareth was just saying, so it might not have been a thought that merits holding. Much more important at the moment: “I’m being stared at by some sort of demon.”

“What.”

“It’s like some sort of fucked up cat?”

“Fucked up how?”

“I don’t know, it’s just creepy? And it’s staring directly into my soul. Like, you know that awful lemur that you had to do a project on? The one you complained about for weeks because you said it was giving you nightmares?”

“You said you would never bring it up again!”

“Well, anyway, picture that in cat form and then increase its evilness by approximately a thousand percent, and you might have a decent idea of what I’m looking at right now.”

“Christ, and this lives in his house?”

“Apparently. Unless it crawled in through whatever portal to hell he’s planning to shove me through.”

The sudden knock on the door would’ve given him a heart attack if it hadn’t been the familiar tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap pattern that the freshmen are always using. God, they’ve conditioned him, like one of Pavlov’s dogs salivating when it hears a bell. Have they trained him in other ways that he just hasn’t noticed yet?

“Uh, hey,” Robin says, hovering awkwardly just outside the room.

“Gare, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” He just barely catches himself before saying hopefully.

“You really don’t have to. I—”

Eddie sets the phone down, then turns just enough so that he can face Robin while keeping the demon in his peripheral vision.

“Are you ok?” Robin asks and then gives him exactly zero seconds to answer. “Listen, I told the dingus down there that he shouldn’t buy you a present because it would make things awkward, but he’s, like, infuriatingly stubborn when he gets an idea in his head. So I get it. Or, I think I do. I don’t actually know what upset you, exactly. Is he coming on too strong? Or is buying books for a DM after they hit high school some sort of, like, nerd faux pas?”

“What? No, it’s not. Why would—?”

“Look, I don’t know what Steve did to you in high school, but I can promise that he’s not trying to buy your forgiveness or, like, flaunt his wealth or anything like that. He really does just genuinely enjoy getting people gifts. And I think it makes him feel better to use his Pawn Fund to make other people happy. Otherwise it just sits around, collecting dust and making him miserable.”

“Pawn Fund?”

“My name for it, not his. His asshole dad cut him off as soon as he graduated high school. But his mom and dad have… issues, so whenever his mom wants to piss his dad off, she sends Steve money. It’s fucked up and manipulative, but at least it means that Steve can spoil the kids at holidays.”

“Right,” Eddie says faintly.

“If it helps, you can just think of it like a gift he’s giving the kids, with you as his middle man or puppet or something.” She winces. “Ok, phrasing it like that makes it sound bad, but you get what I mean!”

Eddie honestly isn’t sure that he does. “I— Sorry, I can’t focus. Are you aware there’s some sort of hellcat in here?

Robin follows his line of sight, then lets out a horrified gasp. “Oh, Steve’s gonna kill you for insulting his baby.”

Fuck, what Eddie wouldn’t give for the ability to summon his DM poker face in times of crisis.

Whatever expression he makes sends Robin backpedaling furiously: “Kidding! Steve doesn’t have a violent bone in his body. Unless you threaten to hurt the kids, and then he’ll hit you with a car. But there were extenuating circumstances there, and he didn’t, like, enjoy it. Honestly, I think it sucked for him because getting into a car crash when you already have a concussion can’t be fun. But if he hadn’t, the kids and Nancy would be, like, definitely dead, so—” She finally stops for a breath and seems to take note of the fact that whatever that was didn’t help the situation even remotely.

“Okaaay,” she says, eyes darting around the room. She claps once. “Forget literally everything I just said! The point is that whatever you think you know about Steve, you’re wrong. I know what he and his friends used to be like in school, and I know what all the nerds and outcasts thought of him. But he’s nothing like that, ok? He’s honestly the best person I’ve ever met, so if all this—” She gestures at all of him “—is because of your preconceived notions about Steve? Knock it the fuck off. I’ll kill you before I let you hurt my soulmate.”

“Um. Noted,” Eddie says, because that honestly feels like the only safe response he could give.

“Ok, great!” Robin claps again and grins at him. “Now that that’s sorted, you should come back to the party. Steve just heard through the walkie chain that Mike is finally off his phone date, so the kids are actually on their way now. Come on. You, too, Keys.”

Eddie watches as the hellcat jumps down from the bed and trots over to Robin. “Harrington’s cat is named Keys.”

“Her legal name is Carmilla—”

“Like the vampire?”

“Yep.” Robin scoops the cat up, and she immediately perches on her shoulder like some sort of bizarre gargoyle. “But Steve has a friend in Indianapolis named Camilla—without the r—and he thought it’d be weird for her. Which she thought was weird, since she’s never been to his house and never plans to, so why would it matter, right? But Steve thought it’d be an issue or whatever, so we usually call her nicknames. I like Keys—or Car Keys—because I think it’s hilarious that she always tries to steal Steve’s keys to stop him from going to work.”

“Right,” Eddie says again. “Why not just name her something else?”

“Because she was pretty feral when he first got her and kept biting him hard enough to draw blood.”

“Ah.”

Robin frowns at him. “You still seem weird.”

“I’m not being weird!”

She gives him an unimpressed look. “I watched you pour an entire glass of water into a plant.”

“It looked dry!” It did not. It was probably the most vibrant and colorful thing in this awful house.

“A fake plant.”

Ah. Well, that would explain why the water just conspicuously pooled on top of the soil. He curls his shoulders in, tugging some hair across his face in a futile attempt to hide his blush. “Oh.”

“So, again, why are you being weird?”

“I’m always weird?” Eddie gestures to himself. “Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, remember?”

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, yes, you’re bizarre and off-putting; we get it. What’s actually up, though?”

“Nothing.”

She tries to set him on fire with her mind.

“Fine! I just— Has Harrington been replaced by a pod person or something?”

“Ugh, is he doing that thing where he doesn’t want to seem like a bully, but he overcorrects and is way too agreeable and it’s creepy?” Once again, she doesn’t wait for an answer. “I’ll deal with it. Now come back downstairs.”

Eddie casts one last forlorn look around the room, then trudges after Robin. Next time he’s in here, he will actually investigate. No more panicked phone calls to Gareth. But for now, he has to try to act normal around Harrington to assuage Robin’s suspicions. So once more unto the breach. He can do this.

(ch4 on ao3 or tumblr)

If you haven't read Do You Mind? (will you mind?) by GreenQueenofClubs (the fic where Steve is a telepath and Eddie's brain is too loud for him to tune it out), I'd highly recommend it!!

#steddie fic #stranger things fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #robin buckley #steddie #platonic stobin #stranger things fanfiction #series: make the yuletide gay #my fic #my writing #my post #st fic #wip #my wips #lol @ past me thinking this fic would only be four chapters #pls enjoy robin's arrival #she's the light of my life

45 notes · View notes

lazydoodlesandfanfic · 2 years

Note

Buff Batmom reaction when she found out Joker killed Jason

Buff Batmom as Black Death going on a bloodthirsty killing rampage killing criminals even innocent civilians. Just so she can murder Joker.

Buff Batmom beating the shit outta Joker for murdering her little boy

Jesus, Bruce, Alfred, and Dick. I can’t imagine what their reaction would be seeing Batmom revert back to old habits and start killing again after Jason death.

I feel like Bruce could feel it coming. That it was going to happen.

He'd seen her break down when she found out what happened to her little boy, how she was an emotional mess for the days following. Dick had come home, and Bruce just watched as his wife sees her oldest who looks so much like Jason, and just immediately crumples again, and Dick just lets her cling to him and sob, knowing that she's partly doing it to try and pretend he's Jason, at least for a second. The funeral comes, and it was then, as they lowered the casket into the ground and Bruce turns to check on her, that he sees the little glint in her eye. Like a spark. He knew she was ready to kill again. For her boy.

She didn't do anything at first. She becomes mostly quiet, doing simple tasks at work and at home, not really conversing with anyone. Everyone can tell something's off, Alfred is worried she's having a nervous break, Dick's worried about his mom's mental state and tries to spend as much time as possible with her, but Bruce knows what she's doing. She's plotting. She's going through what she wants to do in her head, step by step. Fantasizing.

Then she snaps. She's seemingly aware of her husband's own awareness and goes off at the perfect time where when he realising that she's gone, it's already too late. Dick is the first to notice his mom isn't at home, and he tries calling her first, and after a short text back assuring him she's fine and that she loves him to the moon and back but being off still, he informs Alfred who informs Bruce, and he immediately tells Alfred to keep Dick distracted at home, not to let him listen to any news reports or the radio, and to instead convince Dick that Bruce had contact with her and she's gone to get her emotions out (technically not wrong) and he's going to go comfort her, and to prepare a nice meal for her for when they get back to show she's loved. At this point Alfred, knowing batmom's past realises what's happening and agrees.

By the time Bruce finds his wife, she's slaughtered her way through his little hide out, and she's done with Joker. He isn't dead, proven by his heavy breathing and very faint laughter when he was able to gain consiousness for a few seconds every few minutes, but you can't see his green and purple suit or hair in the dim lighting because it's all been dyed red from his blood. Black Death sits against the furthest wall. He ignores the mad man, walking over to her and just kneeling in front of her. In the faint light he can see the tears rolling from the eye sockets of her mask.

"It doesn't feel good. It doesn't make me feel better... he took my baby. He took away one of the things I never thought I'd have... what if someone takes Dickie bird? I can't... I can't lose my... my boys... my baby Jay..." She sobs quietly, and Bruce doesn't say anything. He just wraps his arms around her, muffling her sobs and carefully helping her up and leading her out.

He gets her out of the costume and into civilian clothing he brought with him, as well as for himself before taking her home. She's still a mess the entire time, but when they get home and Dick rushes to his mom's side, saying how he was worried sick about her, telling her how he and Alfred made her favourite, and demanding she take a few weeks off work to properly mourn and relax with her family, she just nods, before looking over at Bruce.

"Thank you." She manages to get out. To this day, he's not sure exactly what she was thanking him for. For forgiving her for her past actions, or this 'slip up'? For giving her this domestic life, or as close as she's able to get? For not telling Dick about the real monsterous side of his beloved mother? For loving her unconditionally and being a true saint of a husband? He wasn't sure, and he didn't care. For him, she didn't need to thank him for anything.

19 notes · View notes

creepypasta-archive · 2 years

Text

John the Killer

by RedDan

John... 'nuff said

CW// murder, gaslighting, blood, gore mention

Click below to read the original unedited story

Everyone knows the story of Jeff the Killer right? And mostly everyone knows about Jane, Jeff’s attempt to make someone like him. And everyone knows that it didn’t work out. But does anyone know the story of John?

Now Jeff had been on his rampage for the past 3 years. He is approximately 16 now. Jeff was still killing and doing his thing while trying to stay away from Jane, the usual. But still even if Jeff wasn’t capable of “normal” thought anymore he still felt kind of lonely. There was a slight emptiness that Jane was supposed to fill (so much for that).

Jeff had a new idea. He decided if a type of lover would reject him maybe a little brother type of person wouldn’t. He was in the town of West Valley, a pretty small town; Jeff wouldn’t be able to stay long without getting caught. In time he noticed a young boy about 13 who seemed perfect. The kid was kind of nerdy and awkward so he was picked on a lot. Just watching those bullies made Jeff angry, it caused him to remember parts of himself he had locked up for many years. John wouldn’t take it though, he often fought back and in that moment Jeff saw something in John’s eyes, just a small spark of pleasure from fighting. It reminded Jeff of him in some ways. That feeling Jeff could only explain, as an odd feeling in the past but now fully understands what it was.

John had no idea he was about to become Jeff’s latest victim. John felt an odd feeling when he fought sure, but he never gave it much thought it was an enjoyable feeling so who really cared. John hadn’t known anyone was watching him fight back, if he had maybe he could have gotten away from what was going to happen to him. Maybe he would have been able to do something to prevent it. John wasn’t able to do much damage to the bullies but enough to keep them away from him for a little while. John went about the rest of his day with that feeling.

The next day there was a news report: Three boys were killed today on Parks Ave. No one witnessed the event however based on how they were killed police suspect that the same unknown killer who has been murdering people all across the country killed them. A young boy who survived this killer once is the only person who ever saw him. The description was chilling, but we can assume he is now in West Valley.

John had of course herd the rumors of this killer but never expect him to be in his own hometown. John was even more surprised when he realized the victims were the bullies that were picking on him yesterday. Was that just a weird coincidence? John was confused as to why them specifically but once again didn’t think too much about it. What John didn’t know was that Jeff had simply done it as a “favor” to John.

The next day seemed the same as any other to John. The teachers at the school told the students that something this unusual could cause stress for some students so they had to go to a mandatory counseling session. John eventually had to go even though he really didn’t want to.

“Hello John Williams, how are you today?” the councilor asked in a sweet voice.

“Fine” John replied not really wanting to be there.

“So how have you been reacting to the recent tragedy? How do you feel about it?” she asked.

“I didn’t really know them very well, its obviously sad, but I’m not effected all that much” John replied honestly. She wrote down what he said and told him he could go but if he needed to talk he could go see her.

It wasn’t long until Jane heard the news report. Jeff hadn’t left much evidence for a few months now; she had hoped he just died somewhere. So the trail on Jeff was warm again. “But West Valley is such a small town” Jane said “what could Jeff possibly be doing there?” she didn’t want to wait around to find out so she set off for West Valley. She wasn’t very concerned about what Jeff wanted there, just concerned with finally killing him. She only wanted at least part of this nightmare of her life to end.

The real nightmare was just beginning for John that night. The nightly routine was normal for John, homework, dinner, TV or video games (sometimes both), then bed. But Jeff snuck in at the middle of the night. John heard some noise in the downstairs section of his house and went to check. That’s when he saw his mom. He saw her with a wound in her stomach; she was stabbed. John couldn’t believe what he saw. Jeff was there with a blood stained knife in his hand and that evil grin carved on his face.

“What the hell!” John yelled and Jeff turned to look at him still with that horrible grin. John screamed and ran from the room to go get his father, who had a metal baseball bat, hopefully. When John arrived in the room however, Jeff somehow beat him to it and John walked in just in time to see Jeff stab his father.

“Just go to sleep old man,” Jeff said. John’s dad lets out a yell and falls to the floor dead.

“No stop!” John yelled.

“You didn’t need them,” Jeff said. “I’m the only family you’ll need” That voice, John thought, that horrible evil voice, it chilled him to his very bones. That voice was so full of malice and a sick type of joy. John ran with terror.

“Don’t worry friend, I won’t hurt you!” Jeff called. John ran outside and bumped into Jane suddenly. John yelled again worried that there were 2 of them now.

“Don’t worry you don’t have to be afraid. I’m here to help” Jane said. “Trust me” she looked like Jeff but her voice was somewhat soothing and comforting yet that darkness over her eyes made her seem soulless. “We must hurry,” she said. Jane grabbed John and run fast away from the house. Jeff only caught a glimpse of them running off.

“Damn it Jane!” He yelled clearly angry even though his face still had its permanent smile.

Jane had taken John back at a hotel room she was hiding out in during her stay. She knew for a fact if Jeff wanted to kill John he simply would have, and that worried her more. If he didn’t simply want to kill John, what did he want?

“What the heck is going on? Who are you? Who was that guy?” John yelled in a panic.

“Ok first of all, calm down.” Jane said. “My name is Jane, and that guy was Jeff. It’s too long a story to explain but he likes killing people and I’ve made it my life goal to finally stop him. As for what’s going on, for some reason he doesn’t want to kill you and that concerns me” John was still panicked by this whole thing. John was just as confused as Jane. “He killed my parents” John mumbled obviously scared.

“He killed mine too, that’s why I hate him so much” Jane replied. “I will try to protect you from him, but I can’t promise anything”

They kept on talking and discussing Jeff. They began trying to make a plan to kill him. They knew it might not be long until Jeff found them again. Then suddenly Jeff charged into the room.

“Hello Jane, as much as I would love to chat I have some business to finish,” he said looking at John with that evil face.

“Stay away from me!” John yelled.

“What kind of lies has my former girlfriend been feeding you?” Jeff said.

“What the hell are you talking about I would never date someone as vile as you!” Jane said clearly angry.

“Whatever, whatever details don’t matter, I need John” Jeff said not at all interested in Jane. He went after John and Jane cut him off. It wasn’t long until the two were caught in a fight. Both of them were out for blood.

Jeff kept on making swings with his knife at Jane. Jane was prepared to finally end Jeff, dodging his attacks and making a swing of her own. Jane then swept her legs under Jeff’s legs, knocking him over. He rolled out just before she jumped on him. Jeff moved swiftly as he grabbed John and hurried out of the room. Jane chased close behind, man he was fast. It wasn’t long until Jeff ran into an abandoned warehouse with John.

“Ok we will have to make this quick” Jeff said.

“Let me go!” John screamed his eyes begging for mercy. “You killed my family!”

“I’m the only family you’ll need from now on!” Jeff yelled. He pulled out a bottle of some kind of beer. He smashed it over John’s head until he was soaking in it. Jeff then pulled out a bottle of bleach and poured it over John’s head. “I actually had some alcohol this time around”

“Stop it, what are you doing!” John yelled.

“This will all be over soon,” Jeff said as he pulled out a lighter and threw it at John. Jane ran in just in time to hear John’s horrible screams of pain and pure terror. Jeff laughed and jumped out a nearby window “See you soon… brother”

Jane had no time to go after Jeff she had to put out John’s flames. She then heard police sirens. She didn’t want to leave John but didn’t want to be arrested for setting the fire. “I’ll be back for you” she whispered and also jumped out the window.

When John woke up he was in a hospital bed and bandages covered most of his face, only a small opening was there for him to see out. He tried saying, “where am I?” but it was muffled by his covered mouth so it just came out as “Wmm mm I?”

“Oh good your awake” a nurse in the room said. “It’s been 2 weeks, we were worried” 2 weeks? John thought to himself. A few days passed and the nurse was taking care of him. They said they would have to wait before removing the bandages. John was scared of what had happened to him but often felt that he was having trouble remembering exactly what had happened. All he knew for sure was that it scared him, terrified him. When he mentioned this to the nurse she simply said that sometimes shock can cause a blur of memories for a while afterwards, then strangely shock causes people to remember the incident very clearly.

After a few more days the doctors said they would remove the coverings. When they did they all did a slight gasp. This confused John.

“What?” he asked. He looked in the mirror and was a little scared. His skin was complete paper white and leathery. His once blond hair was still short but was now burnt black. He realized that he looked like those 2 other people, Jeff and Jane. “Oh may god!” John said clearly upset, almost crying. The nurse put her arm around John, telling him it would be ok and in time with more surgery he could look almost completely the way he used to.

John spent the next few days in the hospital. He was trying to cope with what happened. Part of him liked it; it felt like that odd feeling but more intense. He was having trouble remembering the things that had happened to him. His mind and memories were screwed up by the traumatic event. He was more confused than anything. Then one night Jeff snuck in.

“Hello John” he said in that voice.

“Jeff?” John said barley-remembering things.

“How are you doing little brother?” Jeff said.

“Brother?” John asked in his dazed state.

“Common I’m getting you out of this place” Jeff said. He grabbed John and pulled him out of a window; John didn’t seem to care he was still confused and even more so after Jeff called him his brother.

Jeff handed John a pair of gray jeans, a white tee shirt, and a black hoodie to wear instead of the hospital gown that he had been wearing. John quickly changed and grinned at Jeff. Jeff then handed John a kitchen knife. John insisted that he could spike up his hair like he always used to. Jeff broke into a near by store and stole some hair jell for John to use, maybe killing the clerk on his way in but neither Jeff nor John minded.

Jeff and John left the town of West Valley a few days after that. They then went to the next town. They went to a town and found a group of drunken teen girls wandering around. Jeff decided to “help” them. Jeff and John both attacked the girls with Jeff telling them to go to sleep and John not really saying anything. Jeff tried to get John to carve a smile onto his face but John refused to. He wore a crazy smile most of the time anyway, so he didn’t feel it was necessary. It felt good to help Jeff but a part of him was upset and even guilty at the very idea of what he was doing.

Neither of them had realized that Jane had followed them. She had seen John with Jeff. Although he had changed she still recognized him. She was angry at what Jeff had done to him. She went in to attack them both. John recognized Jane as well but couldn’t remember much of her. It wasn’t long until a fight broke out between them. Jeff and Jane went at an all out knife fight with John not sure what to do.

Jane swung at Jeff with impressive speed. However Jeff dodged and made an attack of his own. John was watching the 2 of them confused for many reasons. One what made them fight so instantly, two who should he help, and three where did he remember Jane from? John wanted to help Jeff but also knew somewhere deep down that Jane had good reasons, so he decided it was best not to get involved at all. Jane finally got past Jeff and hurried up to grab John and ran off. John was yelling all the way for her to let him go.

“Shut up, I am trying to help you!” Jane yelled at the kid.

“I don’t need help, let go!” John yelled as he started kicking.

“John, Jeff isn’t your friend, don’t you remember?” Jane asked. John quieted down but just looked at her. He wasn’t sure what to think now. Some part of John wanted to trust her, but another part wanted to trust Jeff. Jane kept John with her for a few more days. He constantly struggled and tried to escape but she always stopped him. One day John even killed a random teen walking past during his stay with Jane, nothing too gory or worth talking about, it simply happened. Jane yelled at him, trying to convince him that he wasn’t like Jeff and didn’t have to be.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to kill, but I can’t help it!” John says, suddenly crying. His face lost that crazy smile and his eyes showed sadness and even fear. Fear of himself, of Jeff, and of whatever part of him that let him act like Jeff. He was left crying as Jane tried her best to comfort him. She could admit even she had outburst during which she killed people imagining that the person was Jeff and using it as “practice” for when she found him. So she could relate to John.

Jeff eventually found John and Jane. He wanted to avoid Jane all together so he whispered and lured John away. Jane went to talk to John and found he was already gone. She knew Jeff had taken him but also knew there wasn’t much she could do.

1 year later.

John was still slightly confused. His face showed nothing but pure insanity more often than not. He sometimes snapped back to reality and cried about the stuff he has done. Jeff tells him he is weak but it proves that part of John isn’t completely lost. Jane was barley lost at all and hated Jeff. Jeff was completely lost beyond any hope. And John was somewhere in between the two. John spends most of his time with Jeff but sometimes wonders off on his own and can go as long as a month without Jeff. He has never found Jane again although he tries to often. However John remains hesitant about exactly what he should do and has been known to even warn his victims before killing them.

John is still out there and its possible you might run into him. If he is in a normal mood then there is nothing to worry about. He might talk to you about his life, might just hang out with you and act pretty much like a normal kid. But if you find him in an insane mood or when he’s with Jeff then watch out. You will most likely be killed and the last thing you hear from John would be the simple question “Should you go to sleep?”

#john #jeff the killer #creepypasta #fanfiction #jtk #horror #story #crossover #jane the killer #jane richardson

1 note · View note

johnnys-breastmilk · 2 years

Text

Marches Won't Do a Damned Thing | Kit Walker x Male!Reader

a/n -- Thanks to @denim-devil for the idea! 100% crackfic taken seriously

summary -- Crackfic smut about Kit going to a Pride March (open-minded king) and meeting the reader.

warnings -- Smut, Face-Fucking, Gagging, Choking, Homophobic Guard at the Pride March

words -- 3.5k

~~~

After Kit Walker left Briarcliff as a free man, his life changed for the worse and the better.

Following his brush with aliens, a mad doctor, and sinners hiding under the guise of the Puritan life, he started to question if he could ever return to a state of normalcy. Well, even inside the haunted halls of Briarcliff, he spent a lot of time with himself in a lone, dark room, with even his deepest worries and secrets free to make their way to the surface, ones that a mad doctor couldn’t cut out of him.

There was an overwhelming suspicion gnawing at his bones that the aliens fabricated to explain away each murder, confined to his head, and he actually killed his wife in a murderous rampage. It lined up with what everyone around him said during his treatments and interrogations about the local killer, but Kit could never connect the dots. He loved his wife, going so far as to stick up for her countless times even when she wasn't around. His heart belonged to her, but there was one thing about him that no one knew would give him the perfect motive to end what everyone presumed to be a loving relationship.

His bisexuality, something Kit didn't even realize was a thing until Lana was admitted to the hellish sanatorium. He was able to confide in Lana regarding his curiosities about what it would be like to live with someone of the same gender, and she helped him as they grew closer by telling him all the ways you could really love someone to clear the air of his confusion.

Eventually, they had gotten adjoining rooms and sat back to back with a thick wall parting them as they spoke to each other. At a certain point in the night, he admitted to Lana how he truly felt towards other men, how he would see them pass at the market or have an awkward conversation with an intimidatingly attractive man at the mechanic shop. It was the only spark of joy he felt during his time there since it was the first time he admitted to himself and someone else that he wanted to start his life with a boy.

When Lana was off getting the worst form of treatment to any man, and they couldn't talk, he thought a lot about what would happen after he got out. Kit didn’t have much family to return to, and Alma and Grace didn’t entice him into returning to his old ways of dating after everything that happened. So, finding a new way of life would have to be the best way to handle the sudden juxtaposition of a nine-to-five to being tossed into the literal pit of hell. Lana was there to help him, though, and was beyond supportive, becoming his wing-woman after they fled. She talked him up to almost every man they came across.

Unfortunately, Lana's book documenting her suffering behind Briarcliff's suffocating walls skyrocketed in popularity and carried well into the seventies years after it was published, leaving Kit to only have her support over the phone without much help. She still called every once in a while to see if Kit had found the next Mister Walker—her words, not his—to introduce to her, but Kit would often reply with a vague answer to keep her surprisingly hopeful spirit for his love life alive. Outside of their experiences in dating, Lana usually called to dish to Kit about whatever celebrity had made a fool of themselves around Lana or to tell him about the latest trend before it could impact the public.

One of the things she had foretold was about pride marches, and she called Kit to urge him to go to the national march that was going to happen in Massachusetts. So, now he was strolling down a long strip of pavement leading to the center of a city he didn't visit often, a sign promoting his love for both genders tucked under his arm to prevent the wrong kind of people from seeing it. He was considerably nervous about heading to a big rally to support the other members of the group he was in and to advocate for himself, given that his knees shook with each step. Kit heard of the horrors that the national march had dealt with all the way over in Los Angelos from Lana. She had attended one but quickly left due to the abundance of police violence toward peaceful attendees.

As Kit approached a massive crowd of people standing in the middle of the street with signs held high above their heads, covered in sayings that promoted their interest in certain genders, he felt a bit out of place. Kit would have fit right in, even down to the hippie clothing he had worn to the event, but it still felt off. He wasn't sure if it was the years of believing he was straight or didn't have enough knowledge to feel as if he belonged, but he was still wary about entering the crowd. The crowd seemed to increase in size as he neared it, a few barricades and law enforcement coming into his line of sight as he finally got to the edge of the massive gathering.

The sun beamed down on him, and he realized that he had chosen the worst clothing to attract anyone, sporting a vertically striped satin shirt and loose denim flares. Everyone buzzing around the crowd looked so casual—some had even taken their shirts off. He had never seen openly exposed men, and looking at them stirred something in his pants. Though, it didn't last long. Kit's inapt attire had him questioning everything. Some may think he was overthinking, but Lana told him that a future husband could come from something seemingly menial, like a one-time event. For a few seconds, he thought about turning around, heading home, and lying to Lana about attending the event. But something pulled him from the debate in his mind and into the choice of him staying.

He could hear a loud shout come from nearby, and while no one else paid attention, Kit was already turning to see what the commotion was. Away from the massive crowd stood an officer supposedly guarding the event, a kid with a sour expression on his face, and you, leaning into the officer's personal penetralia with a hand assisting your intense emotions as the other distanced the kid away from the authority. While Kit was a way's away, you were rather loud enough for him to hear your complaints to the officer.

"Listen, if you touch him again—I swear—I swear—," You were to the point that a sentence couldn't even slip off from your tongue. You just kept inching closer to the armed man while pushing the kid standing behind you further away, praying he would scurry off and leave the peaceful attendees alone.

He refused to move, keeping the same posture with a hand on his hip to easily reach the metallic punisher strapped to his side, "Keep on steppin', boy."

Your eyes shifted between his cold, calloused ones. In response, you continued your protest against him. "Or," It was almost emphasized in the way you paused and took a blatant step closer to the more threatening man, "What?"

With a brief flash of pain, you laid back, knocked to the hard pavement you were standing on; the man had landed a hit directly on the right side of your face with a stiff jab, leaving you on your own as he backed away and down to another position with a guard. Once the fight had escalated into violence just as impactful as the words spoken, Kit rushed over to help. He arrived just as the officer turned the corner to another part of the massive march.

"You decent?" Kit asked, offering a hand to help you off the warm tar. You were still processing everything, so Kit spoke up again, "C'mon, don't be a bunny in the road. Get up."

A few seconds went by, and Kit noticed the kid looking worriedly over your body. He tried to comfort him as best he could, tapping his should to pull his attention away from your discombobulated form, "I think he's out to lunch, huh?"

The kid chuckled, the both of them watching as you finally reached up to take the other male's hand. Kit helped you to your feet and immediately looked over the forming bruise, the distinctive contrast rapidly starting to show with each passing second. He redirected his attention from looking over your wound to back to your face—even injured, you still looked angelic.

"Hurts, don't it?" He asked. His attempts to lighten the mood were now aimed at you, trying to make the best of what happened while keeping your spirits high. Inside Briarcliff, Kit faced the same feeling you were experiencing now, and he knew that the best way to deal with it would be to have some company.

You shrugged it off, playing into Kit's joke, "Not really. You should see the other guy, he was a flat leaver before I could really show him who's in charge."

"Bummer we didn't get to see it," Kit sighed, "You sure you're okay?"

You let the feigned nonchalance go, nodding and playing it straight as you spoke, "I'm glad he just got bugged out and left. No use in staying if you're gonna be a dick."

"Well, you better be stayin'. A stone fox like you makes me look cool," Kit praised with sincerity. There was a placid smile spread over his face, acting as a backing track to his main beat of compliments; it wasn't at the center of the kindness that radiated off of him—but it was there—and it was perfect.

"Are you trippin'? You're seriously cool. That sign in your hand says enough," You spoke, your hand waving towards the direction of the sign in his other hand. The material seemed to tear in his hold. How could he talk to someone so amazing without blowing it?

Kit did a quick look at it and then back at you, "I was gonna ditch this in the trash nearby and leave. Maybe you could come with?"

With a hand raised to feign astonishment, you agreed, "With a casanova like you? I'd be honored. But, what's your name?"

"Kit, you?" His lips stretched over the bottom half of his face to reveal a genial smile as he stuck his hand out.

Taking it into your own hand, you noticed how it fit perfectly against yours, "(Y/n)."

Kit rocked his head to the side to point toward the younger male next to you, "And the kid?"

"He's not mine, just someone I helped," You answered, letting your hand fall out of his grip and looking at the kid as he scampered back into the crowd of people, most likely returning to wherever his parents were.

Turning back to Kit, you noticed him eyeing up the darkening bruise on your cheek, "Y'know, I know a good way to deal with a knock like that."

The friendly back and forth continued as you guided him down the block, leaving the crowd of people and its nasty guards to the dust as you went. Kit led the way to a bar he had seen on his walk to the march, and you decided to head in for a drink with him. Around two hours—and a myriad of drinks—later, things unfolded, and you finally explained your side of the story as Kit listened intently.

"—that's what happened. That asshole hurt some poor kid. I wasn't just supposed to stand there, right?" You tried to justify your actions leading up to Kit's arrival and following intervention, but it was a waste of breath; Kit would love to agree with anything you said, even if it was about aliens flying down to impregnate everyone tractor-beamed up.

He shook his head, and like you had expected him to, he agreed with your recounting of the events, "No, you did what you could, (Y/n)."

"I'm glad you see it like that," You approved, picking up the short glass that was slid over to you from the other side of the polished bartop.

Kit's skeptical side poured into his expression; raised eyebrows and a questioning tone, "Why wouldn't I?"

You sighed and let yourself slouch forward in a moment of negativity, "Do you know how many guys wouldn't?"

Kit waved away your assumption with a single hand and let his drunken mind soak in all of your outstanding features. If it was the only thing played on the television, he would never take his eyes off the screen. He felt something else as well, something dirtier than the mud those pigs-in-disguise roll around in before guarding a march. As pretty as you were, he reacted in the same way he did to those shirtless guys parading themselves around at the demonstration, with a stirring in the confines of his denim. He decided to put his bacchanalian thoughts into expression, "You have such a pretty face. I don't know why anyone would do that to it. The only thing I would—"

"Thanks, but we can't say that here!" You hushedly reminded him, cutting him off so as not to let any nosey people in the bar in on your drastically tastes in romantic and sexual partners. The bartender seemed to have an ear in the conversation without contributing anything to it—who knows if he was listening and judging you and Kit.

"Why not? Fuck it, let's go," He sprung to his feet, the barstool omitting a soft squeak with the sudden shift. His hand tugged at your upper arm, "We're gonna do something even better."

You matched his energy, jumping up from your seat. His hand slipped from your upper arm down into your own hand as you folded your fingers around his palm. It was warm and tight, and you trusted him with each guiding step he took towards the back door of the bar. Passing through the rusted frame, you were met with the most beautiful man on Earth standing amidst the walls of a scummy alley consisting of two brick walls facing each other with a dumpster further down the strip. It was confusing, to say the least, and your mind wandered to the places he would take this.

Ever since Kit had been released from Briarcliff's deadly grip, he had kept a healthy fear to stay out of trouble, and it took a great deal of time to work through it. That didn't mean he wasn't nervous about what he planned to do. Though, not everything he retained from his time in the closest thing to hell on the planet was terrible. During his time there, he gained a new outlook on life and what it meant. Most of your life could be summed up as one enormous risk. What he wanted to do at this moment was a big gamble, but he was ready to take it.

Using the hand that held yours, he pulled you close to him, letting go of your hand to lace it around your waist. A warmth crossed your lips as he collided with yours in a messy combination of tender pecks and brash breath-takers. Kit pressed into you, and you could feel the stretched fabric around his crotch prodding at you further down.

"What do you want, Kit?" You spoke into one of the kisses, letting your hand fly down to his bulge, running over it with your hand. Kit moaned into your following kiss before pulling away to answer, "I want your mouth, baby, please." The both of you took that as a sign to stop and parted for breath.

Kit leaned back against the wall of the building opposite the bar, "You alright?"

You nodded to affirm that you were doing fine, and so he unbuttoned his denim flares and parted the flaps, pushing down the band of his white briefs to let his cock flop out. It looked thick and heavy, judging by how his underwear sagged with the weight. His balls sat just under his hard length, resting between that and the outside of his briefs, but they didn't seem to hang down that much. There was a smattering of short, trimmed hair around the base, but the length of Kit could be considered anything but that. The ridges of visible veins ran along a wide and lengthy shaft before stopping just short of an overhang of skin covering the head of his cock.

Kit took it into one of his hands and started tugging at it as you walked over to him. Slowly, it started to get harder, and the foreskin stretched over his growing head. He moaned as he pulled it back over the head, ushering you to your knees with a few needy words, "Seriously, I need your mouth now, sweetheart."

Kit wouldn't be lying if he said he was slightly hesitant about this. While he wanted to bring a fantasy he had for a while into reality, he had never done anything with another man. He was worried that he would end up disappointing you somehow through his lack of experience, but he had to keep a bold face for you. So, with you situated on your knees, he bucked his hips forward and pressed his cock to your readily parting lips. A bit of precum smeared over your lips as it weighed down on your tongue. For the most part, he tasted great, there was no overbearing flavor, but there was no lacking enticement to your tastebuds.

Kit let out a sigh. He was overwhelmed with pleasure and had to make sure this wasn't some twisted dream that he would wake from, only to find himself back at Briarcliff. The painstakingly slow speed you were taking his length into your mouth proved that this wasn't a dream but just a mere taste of heaven for the both of you. He pressed his hips further towards you, ushering his dick further along your tongue.

The tip of his cock broke new ground as it nudged at the back of your mouth. Due to the pleasure, and the alcohol running through Kit's system, he was practically bending to his own will for a better feeling than this. He took his hands out of his denim pockets and placed them on either side of your head, and with one quick pull towards him, his entire length was pushed down your throat. Kit had to fight himself to keep from yelling into the open alley. The echoes of the dingy alley walls and ensuing sight for anyone cutting through the passage wouldn't reflect well on either of you, but he let himself lose control by keeping you on his cock for a few moments.

Greedily stuffing his cock down your throat proved to be difficult on you, as you gagged on his cock almost immediately. Your mouth sputtered with spit as he held you there before pulling back and keeping the tip of his cock on your tongue.

"You mind if I go farther, suga'?" He asked, and you replied with an "Mhm" that vibrated over his shaft. You felt his grip tighten on both sides of your head. It wasn't painful, but it remained firm as he started to entirely fuck your mouth with fast-paced thrusts. Crude gagging noises bounced off the alley walls with each deep jab into your mouth while your head was being jerked back and forth. You could feel yourself starting to ooze precum at his rough handling of you.

Kit kept this up for several minutes, his knees hurting and throwing praises and the like out before regaining composure. He knew that he was close to spilling a massive load of white-hot release down your throat, but he couldn't help but speak what was on his mind.

"Y'know, those marches won't do a damned thing," Your eyes looked up to his, your eyebrows burying themselves together in confusion as he smirked, "It's when they see you like this, puffy-lipped and spit comin' outta you, they see it's all too real."

He pressed his hips forward and let his cock sink deep into your throat, the stubby hair around the base tickling your nose as his smell became potent and aromatic. With one quick and final thrust, he pulled his hips back and rapidly drove them back against your face. Kit's knees buckled as his thigh strained. His cock followed in the motion and pushed into your throat, spraying a large release of sticky white down it. He held you there for a few seconds before slowly pulling you off, a bit of his release pouring down your chin.

You came directly after and shot a few ropes down the thigh of your pants in response to Kit's climax, "That was really hot."

"Yeah, I don't know what got into me, (Y/n)," He somewhat apologized, offering a hand to help you stand up. You took it and rose to your feet.

"I mean, I loved it. The next time we do this, you gotta do that again," You teased, and Kit happily agreed.

436 notes · View notes

moussescientist · 3 years

Text

So, I read the Kingdom of the Cursed bonus chapters from the B&N exclusive edition and I have some THEORIES!!! Spoilers for KotW, KotC, and the bonus chapters below. Also, this is another longgg theory post from me 👀

The B&N exclusive has three mini chapters from Wrath's POV from KotW era and they are actually quite informative for the KotC plot and are starting to tie things together.

The first of the three is a chapter that takes place at Pride's estate, where Wrath and Pride talk about the murders and Wrath offers to go and escort the last one to hell personally.

We learn that the brides all have to fit a certain description and come from a certain bloodline.

They must have dark hair, dark eyes, and a heart-shaped face (hmmmm wonder who fits that description). This betrothal is part of Pride's plan to undo the curse, which he had been tasked with researching for god knows how long. But, as we have learned in KotC, curses have many threads, and they have to be careful and specific with how they snip them.

We also learn that there is a time limit here for at least the part of the curse that relates to Wrath - Wrath has "6 months to secure his house" which does not sound good and we have heard before. So, first of all, what exactly does it mean to "secure his house"? We get some more hints at this in this chapter, where it almost sounds like he's not going to be around anymore. That he basically needs to get everything figured out so he can leave it in good hands. But there is some mix here with the I-need-to-collect-one-more-soul-for-my-freedom plotline as well. It seems like by collecting that last soul, he gets a little bit more wiggle room, some sort of freedom, but it is hard to say what that means.

The most helpful bit of new knowledge here, to me, is that we learn that Pride's murdered wife had a sister.

Interesting. And that when both the wife and sister were murdered, the devil rampaged through Hell, destroying large swaths of land in his brother's territories whom he thought might be responsible, and threatening his brother's themselves. This passage is written to make you think it is Pride who rampaged. But we know who the devil really is now, don't we?

Wrath comes back later after he discovers Vittoria and has his run-in with Emilia from KotW, and he says this to Pride:

Why would the woman being a twin be an important "secret" to disclose, or to let Pride know he now knows? It must be meaningful - it must signal something. Like, maybe Pride's wife didn't just have a normal sister - she had a twin. This ties into the seeming reincarnation theory. Once Wrath comes back to Hell to confront Pride, he thinks this:

Sounds like she sticks with him. Haunts him, even.

Then we learn he left his dagger with her on purpose. He wanted her to summon him. And once he is summoned as he was in KotW, we get these tidbits:

HE WONDERS IF HIS TATTOO SPARKS A MEMORY. A. MEMORY. And then he realized her magic isn't as blocked as he first thought. Hmmmmmm.

We know from KotC that Emilia starts to have visions of her own that are almost surely old memories resurfacing. Memories of her and Wrath in... passionate situations.

Based on all this, I think Emilia and Vittoria are the Wife and the Sister reincarnated. Vittoria was Pride's wife, Emilia was the sister, and Wrath was in love with the sister, which explains his rampage when he heard they were both dead. But who are they, really, in the lore of the world?

The prologue showed us the original curse that then turned into a bargain between the First Witch and Wrath. The readers are lead to believe that potentially Emilia is the First Witch, cursed to forget her memories as the cost of her dark magic in creating the curse. But this doesn't make much sense to me. What did she want vengeance for? Maybe her sister, Pride's consort, was killed before her, and she wanted Wrath to intervene but then he refused? I can see her love of her sister being greater than her love for Wrath and that driving the wedge between them, but it almost seems like the wife and sister died at the same time. And when the First Witch tried to seduce him initially, he didn't seem even remotely interested or affected. If the First Witch was his one love, I feel as though he would've been at least a little impacted by that. Additionally, the Crone says Emilia is not the First Witch. Sure, she could be twisting her words, meaning that Emilia is the First Witch, but really isn't because she is her own person, but I don't think she had a reason to lie.

This may seem a little far fetched, but I think Nonna is actually the First Witch, and Emilia and Vittoria were once the Maiden and the Mother, respectively, or at least tied directly to them in some way. Everything that is associated with the Maiden is associated with Emilia - the crescent moon, Daughter of the Moon, her aesthetic, her suite at Wrath's estate, her silver cornicello to Vittoria's golden one. The Maiden is also associated with the mortal world, and Emilia is constantly talking about trying to save it, trying to protect it. Whereas Vittoria forfeited her "mortal" life, but has been reborn. She looks like a goddess now, an angel of death. A being fit for the heavens, as the Mother is. And maybe the "Mother" isn't just a moniker - what if she really was a mother. It is said that the First Witch was born to a goddess and a Demon. Maybe to the Mother and Pride? Perhaps Nonna was trying to avenge her mother and aunt's death, and this is what happened. Emilia said Nonna liked Vittoria more in KotW - maybe thats because she knew she was her mother, reborn, and was thus more drawn to her?

Hard to say. There are soooo many possibilities, but this is what I think is happening based on what we know right now. Regardless, some sort of reincarnation trope is coming, y'all.

#kingdom of the cursed #emilia di carlo #prince wrath #kingdom of the wicked #kotc #kotc theories #kotw

370 notes · View notes

marahuyos · 3 years

Text

anon asked: Hello! This is lowkey a comfort request for me djdnks but could I request how diluc, xiao, and childe would react to confessing to their crush but being turned down because their crush doesn’t think they’re worthy of them and they almost genuinely don’t believe the guys when they confess? Feel free to ignore if this request makes you uncomfortable in any way or anything!

*:･ﾟ✧ THIS WAS SITTING FOR SO LONG IN MY INBOX ANON IM SO SORRY HFDJKGHFKDGHFDKGDFGK

gn!reader

tw: swearing

✧ Diluc Ragnvindr

“I... you make me feel that there is something to look forward to in this bleak world. I hope that you will stay by my side forever. So... will you do me the honor of courting you?

• Diluc Ragnvindr is a classic man and he’s absolutely the type to listen to his father regale stories of how he courted his mother. His naivete and rose-tinted view of the world of love is something that Diluc internally cringes at whenever it passes in his mind. He never thought that he would ever go back to reciting corny declarations of love... that is until he met you.

• He wasn’t the type to beat around the bush. He tells you those words quoted above and his visage nearly rivals the color of his hair. He cringes at his own words but he feels like that he didn’t mess it up. In fact, he’s lowkey proud that he was able to fish out those words without making a complete fool of himself. Surely, that would be enough to show you how he truly feels--

• “Are you playing me for a fool, Diluc?”

• Or not.

• He stares back at you, mouth agape and eyes widened. Did he do something wrong? Did he perhaps catch you at a bad time? He was sure that the settings of his confession was perfect. If not that, then why would you think he was joking?

• When he hears that you think he’s ingenuine in his feelings, his heart breaks then those pieces turned into sparks of fire. Did something or someone happened to make you feel this way? How dare someone make you feel like you were undeserving of love? And who was the person to make you like this?

• His plans of vengeance will come later, right now, he needs to show you that he won’t break your heart. It’s a long process, but Diluc won’t give up so easily. It may take months, but he’s willing to become your dawn amidst your dreary days.

“I’m serious about what I said. I’ll wait for eternity until you say yes.”

✧ Xiao

“Mortal... I have-feelings-for you.”

• The one who struggled the most with his confession, yet the one who expects your response, even going so far as to relating to it. Xiao never had much of a proper conversation, much less a confession, to someone that wasn’t an adeptus. What more if it were a mortal who struggles with self-confidence?

• “Are you sure, Xiao? Or is this another thing that you’re confused about?”

• He’s not sure of it himself. He’s not sure of anything. But he’s sure of his feelings towards you. He’s afraid of the rejection but fuck, does it make his heart race every time he thinks about it. He’s willing to risk his dignity for you and it’s scary that an adeptus like he is willing to do this for you.

• But he sees where you were going with this. He had that moment in time where he thought he was as worthless as a dog-a lapdog serving his master and never even offered a bit of kibble. Xiao knows how you feel and he relates to you so hard. It’s almost ironic how both kindred spirits-two people who’ve been hurt and so distrusting of the world-joined hands together against all odds.

• Surprisingly, he’s the most relaxed out of everyone here. At least he doesn’t go in an immediate murderous rampage. Instead, he stands by you in silent relations. He’s not good with words but he’s felt your struggle. He stands by you and he hopes that you understand his feelings.

“I understand... completely how you feel. And I am here.”

✧ Childe

“I wish to go back home to Snezhnaya with you-to meet my family. And for them to see the apple of my eye.”

• He’s the type to have faux confidence. All his splendor in fighting and battles and yet he can’t muster the courage to come and confess to his crush. It’s laughable, really. So even in his confession, he seems insincere and it seems like he was just playing your feelings.

“That’s cute, Childe... What do you want?”

• I-he wants you. Was he not clear enough? He was sure he didn’t cause another city-wide disaster or he forgot anything important. He was sure that he laid out his confession as smoothly as possible, so why did you think that he was confessing for the sake of getting something in return?

• At first, he was angered by that. Did you think he was that shallow to toy around with your feelings? Did you think that he was a lowly mongrel who backs out the moment his enemy fights back? He becomes defensive immediately, admonishing you that he's already having a tough time trying to confess and you were here making things even more confusing.

• And, of course, you argued back. This argument went in a back and forth for a while until you explicitly say to him that someone before had made you feel this way. That your heart was toyed with and broken and they weren't there to pick up the pieces.

• All Childe could feel after that was pure rage. Rage unlike anything he's ever experienced. Out of everyone here, Childe has the most violent reaction, and you had to make a convincing argument for him to stay before he kills the person who broke your heart.

• After apologizing, Childe makes sure that you know that he's into you. It's awkward at first, probably laughable how a Harbinger is brought to his knees by you, but it's worth it when Childe hears those three words on your lips before kissing them.

#genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc imagines #diluc x reader #xiao #xiao imagines #xiao x reader #childe #childe imagines #childe x reader

422 notes · View notes

handsoffmyfriends · 4 years

Note

Alrighty for Bakugou fluff, can I request a scenario where he wakes up but he's still REALLY sleepy so he actually thinks he's still dreaming so he goes downstairs for breakfast in the dorms, kisses the reader and hugs them while getting food, just the two of them. Only the reality is he never confessed to his crush yet, the bakusquad is there and he burns his tongue on his coffee thus waking up and grasping what he just did. EMBARRASSMENT GALORE

LUCID DREAMING

— bakugou katsuki was one of the few people who experienced very lucid, very life-like dreams. usually, he was pretty good at telling when he was dreaming and when he was awake. usually.

PAIRING: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

WORD COUNT: 1,099

WARNINGS: second hand embarrassment, bakugou swearing, distressed denki noises

A/N: HELLO THIS WAS THE FUCKING FUNNIEST THING OF MY ENTIRE LIFE i seriously could not stop giggling over this for a solid 5 minutes !! anon i am BEGGING YOU turn on your location, you deserve all the recognition for this HILARIOUS prompt nhfdsjklhgkjfds

You were in the kitchen, preparing another round of coffee for the squad. It was Sunday and you all agreed to do nothing except indulge in caffeine and watch shitty movies with shitty snacks. Bakugou had yet to weigh his opinion on the matter, but considering he was still in bed - at the righteous hour of 8am, no less - he had waived his right to an opinion.

“Think I should make Bakugou one?” you called out.

The resounding “NO!” from every single person stopped you in your tracks.

“Bakubro is really particular about how he likes his coffee,” Kirishima explained, leaning back over the couch to look at you. “It’s so manly.”

“You mean insane!” Kaminari corrected, voice high in distress. “Have you actually seen how he makes it?”

“It’s a crime against coffee,” Shinsou added sleepily. “He doesn’t even use real coffee.”

“Jokes on you, buddy, but Y/N isn’t using real coffee, either,” Sero teased.

“Y/N doesn’t burn the shit out of it, though,” Shinsou shrugged. “Speaking of which, can you hurry up? I’m gonna pass out over here.”

“Be grateful!” Mina snapped, lobbing a pillow in Shinsou’s direction. “Y/N, don’t make his anymore! He doesn’t deserve it!”

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll take that back right now, Pinky,” Shinsou snapped.

You laughed at the squad’s banter, tuning it out as you continued to prepare coffee for everyone. Shinsou included, since you didn’t have a death wish. Excluding Bakugou, since Kirishima was right. He was picky when it came to what he put in his body. You doubt he would appreciate the gesture if you fucked up his first coffee of the day.

Speaking of the blasty boy, he finally made his appearance. You’d never seen him look so exhausted, you were actually kind of concerned about him. He was always the first one awake, banging on your door to drag you down for morning training. Sometimes he would try Kirishima, and he knew better than to try getting Kaminari up early. Shinsou was a lost cause. Having him practically drag his feet across the room was a sight you never thought you’d ever see.

He paid the rest of the squad zero attention as he made his way into the kitchen with you. “Good morning, Bakugou,” you greeted, though even to your own ears it sounded like a question. “Did you... sleep well?”

He grumbled as he dragged himself over to you and— wait, what!? You flushed red instantly as he slung an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. You were compliant since you didn’t know what was going on. Why was he—

Your brain shut down when he planted a sleepy, sweet kiss to your cheek and said, in a gravelly voice, “mornin’ babe.”

He pulled away as if everything was fine, as if kissing you like you were a couple was a normal thing to do. Sure, you might have harboured a secret crush on the guy, but you were friends first! He never showed any indication of liking you back, so you never pursued anything. So... what the fuck!?

Should you say something? Was this a thing that was going to happen now? You wouldn’t exactly be unhappy if that were the case, but... it wasn’t supposed to work like that!

The rest of the squad looked on in stunned silence. Of course, they’d seen.

(Unbeknownst to you, the squad had managed to wrangle some of Bakugou’s more personal feelings from him, several months back. It had taken a lot of bribing, and he only ever said it once. That Bakugou Katsuki had a crush on you. They’d all been sworn to secrecy, lest he turn to villainy to murder all their asses.)

No one knew what to say. No one dared break the silence. It was so surreal, it felt almost dream-like in the absurdity of it all.

You just watched as he milled about in the kitchen, making his famous shitty coffee with nothing but boiling water. You’re sure he forgot to add something cooling. Before you could warn him about scalding his entire tongue off, he tipped his head back and took the most daring chug of boiling bean juice you had even seen.

It ended up exactly how you’d imagine it would. He sputtered it all out with a series of curses, nearly throwing the offending mug across the room.

And then he froze. Abruptly, as if he hadn’t even been aware of his surroundings, he looked around to see the squad all leaning off the edge of the couches, to see you standing there entirely red faced.

His face went deathly white for a second before all the blood came rushing back, his face flushing even redder than yours in undeniable embarrassment. “Holy fuck, I’m awake.” He sounded so mortified, wide eyes flying to you and then locking onto your friends.

The silence lasted exactly three more seconds before Kaminari burst out laughing. “So bold, Kacchan!”

“That was so freaking manly!” Kirishima praised with a tear of pride.

“It’s about time Bakubabe made a move,” Mina squealed with excitement.

“Bakugou really is an all or nothing guy, huh,” Sero nodded, vaguely impressed.

“I’m never going to get my fucking coffee,” Shinsou groaned, curling up on the couch and burying his face into the cushions. Through some other worldly powers, he was out like a light, fast asleep despite the ruckus going on around him.

The squad roared with laughter. There was no stopping their whooping and hollering, both cheering and teasing Bakugou.

“Shut the hell up!” Bakugou shouted, hands sparking off. That just made the idiots laugh even louder. He felt embarrassed, he felt humiliated, and he wanted nothing more than to blast the smug faces off his dumbass friends but you were there, looking at him with a mix of your own embarrassment, confusion and concern. It was enough to pull him back from his murderous rampage.

“Bakugou...” you started, but he interrupted you.

“Don’t make a big deal out of it, Y/N. I thought I was dreaming.”

Wrong choice of words. Your face turned sweet, your smile like sunshine. “Aw, you dream of me? Bakugou, that’s so sweet!”

If it were even possible, he went redder in the face. Your group of friends laughed even louder.

Feeling bold, you decided to tease Bakugou just a little more. You stepped up close to him, mimicking his moves on you earlier, placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “You could have just said you wanted a kiss, Kacchan.”

8K notes · View notes

kittydripuwu · 3 years

Note

Hello, I'm the anon that requested the Dazai being kidnapped scenario and I didn't see it on your pinned post anymore. May I ask what happened to it / if I did anything wrong?

hi sorry omg, i posted it earlier but tumblr was acting up and i had to take it down and forgot to repost it! here u go :>

req - Can I request some angst to fluff where Dazai purposefully puts himself in a dangerous position and everyone thinks that he's dead so a usually stoic reader goes on a rampage in their grief on the organization that supposedly killed him during an agency raid but then finds out that he's alive? And reader hasn't confessed their feelings yet?

never again | dazai x reader

words - 1951

warnings - swearing, angst

genre - angst/fluff?

note - this is so poorly written im sorry my ideas were ALL over the place :’)

the long period of time in which the agency had upheld peace and quiet with all of the known criminal organizations in yokohama, had come to an end. the port mafia and the agency had started to notice odd and quite brutal murders around the city. at first, the agency thought it was the mafia going on a killing rampage, only to notice the method used to assasinate was quite different from the mafia's. whoever it was, they killed brutally, leaving an X cut into their victims throats. they were a bloodthirsty bunch and all they were here for was to kill and take over any other gifted organizations.

the agency had already dealt with a few attacks, but none with other ability users making it easy to fight them. everyone from this unknown organization seemed to dress in all black and wear sunglasses to cover their mysterious identities. when taken hostage, they wouldnt speak, no matter what was done to them, it was an impossible case.

you had been calm throughout everything the agency went through in the last few weeks, knowing that you and your fellow agency members knew how to fight well and deal with these kinds of situations. it was all peaceful and quiet that day when you were sitting in the office doing some work until, the agency building was yet again attacked. an ability user with an inferno ability, able to burn anything down to ash. they did not seem to seek destruction of the city but rather, the people in it. it was a difficult fight but you and your colleauges were able to get through it as always.

after this, the president of the armed detective agency declared it a case to find out more and stop this organization, but urged everyone to do it at a distance.

"whatever you do, do not go near anybody from this unknown group of people. they seem to seek bloodthirst, and will kill everyone in their path" he said during a meeting that occured that same day. you knew this wasn't going to be easy but you were going to try to do as much as you can to help.

it was getting pretty late and you had just finally finished some work, standing up and heading out the door to head home. you walked the streets cautiously, knowing that at this point in time, the city wasn't particularly safe. you ended up getting home with no troubles, and instanly falling asleep after a long and tiring day. meanwhile, there was still one person in the agency who was awake during the long hours of the night, and that was dazai osamu. despite what he was told by the president, he had his own plans for how he was going to find out information. he knew this could easily get him killed and he knew this was dangerous but it was the only way he could think of.

dazai's plan didn't seem all that bad to him, he was simply going to find one of them roaming the streets, disarm them and question them. he was aimlessly roaming the streets at night in search of one of the people dressed in black, with nothing on him but a loaded gun. he didn't really know why he chose such a dangerous plan, he knew there was a high chance that he could be killed but all of that didn't matter to him now. he, who had been concealing his emotions for too long, feeling empty and inhuman on this planet, felt somewhat at peace when coming this close to death. he kept trying to tell himself that if he died helping the agency, helping you, maybe everything would have been worth it after all, maybe the pain and suffering was worth something, maybe it would mean that he was finally a good person.

but no, none of these invasive thoughts were true, for when he ran into one of the unknown men dressed in black, he had broken a promise he made long ago to a dear friend.

he stood above the man who was on the ground now, disarmed. this man was unlike the others, he spoke. maybe it was dazai's forceful interrogation methods, or maybe it was just another man surrendering. he told dazai about the organization's intentions, where their base was and all about their powerful ability users. he told him that the only way to get rid of them, was to kill them all. they were a group of soulless men, wanting nothing more but to kill and take over yokohama.

"kill me" he pleaded after speaking to him about the organization.

"please kill me"

"why do you wish to die?" dazai asked him.

"there is no place for me in this world" he said simply.

this sparked something in dazai, he understood suffering very well and he could tell by this man's voice that he was in pain, and like dazai, he desired nothing more but to get a taste of sweet death.

"i'm sorry oda" he whispered to himself before shooting the man a few times.

after this, he continued to wander the empty streets, realising that the only way to fight them was going against agency rules. but he thought if he was able to do this on his own, maybe he could keep you and everyone at the agency, safe. he managed to reach the base of the place, and seeing no one around to gaurd it, he simply walked in. he managed to sneak through to what looked like a computer room. there were plenty of computers and different kinds of technology, but none of that mattered when he saw a usb on one of the desks in the room. he was quick to slip it into his pocket right before three men appeared in the doorway.

there was something different about these men, they didn't instantly shoot, but rather took him as a hostage. these men spoke aswell, they told him that they wouldn't kill him yet, but rather wanted to find out more about the other organizations in yokohama. they said they had questioned multiple people already, who gave them nothing of use and were brutally murdered. he was handcuffed and left to sit in this room until dawn.

you woke up feeling pretty sore and tired from all the events of the day before. after getting ready, you took your regular route to the agency with caution, ready to attack if need be. when you arrived at the office, you were informed that dazai never came back to the agency dorm that night, and that he had gone missing. normally, everyone including you would treat this as just dazai being dazai, but with the current state of the city, everyone began to panic. there was a meeting to discuss the next plan of action after multiple phone calls to him, resulting in no reply.

"dazai would never do this in such a situation"

"he wouldn't disrespect the presidents order's like this"

"not in a situation like this for sure"

"i agree, he may be reckless but not so much to go this far"

you sat through the meeting, mind filled with worry as you listened to what everyone was saying. you've always gotten along very well with dazai, and always found him to be a very interesting person. you hated to admit it but, you liked him, alot. you were too shy to confess to him for the longest time but you had promised yourself to finally do it after all of this was finally over.

"could he be dead?"

"ranpo help us out here"

"no can do, all i know is that he's most likely at thier base"

after being so caught up in your own thoughts, this managed to snap you back into reality. dazai osamu. dazai osamu was dead? no, you tried to tell yourself that you shouldn't even consider that but the thought kept coming back to haunt you.

"everyone search for him" said the president as he dismissed everyone.

you and your fellow agency memebers spent the day looking for dazai. you looked in all the spots you knew he could be, but he was nowhere to be found, and his phone going straight to voicemail when called.

if he didn't show up the next morning, everyone would presume him as dead. you couldn't sleep that night, your thoughts draining you with worry and sorrow.

the next morning, dazai was still gone. everyone was worried and discussing what to do, when you simply stormed out of the meeting room, running out of the building.

"i'll kill them all i swear i'll kill every last one of them" you muttered to yourself as you ran down the streets, looking out for anyone who was wearing black. your thoughts were now clouded with fear, worry and rage as you desperatley searched the streets for someone to give you information. no one seemed to reveal anything, no one spoke, not a single one of them. you had no choice but to hurt them and even kill a few in order to get something. one of them managed to croak out an adress as you repeatedly kicked them while holding a gun to their head. luckily, you hadn't encountered any ability users, only weak men who were too easy to disarm.

"what did you say?" you asked the man.

"o-our base" he replied, in between coughs.

within a minute, you were out of the alleyway, back on the street and heading to the given address. you swore to yourself that you would make sure anyone who hurt dazai would be dead.

lost in your thoughts, you weren't paying attention to where you were going when you bumped into someone. you looked up, only to see a familiar face.

"y/n?"

you began to cry. dazai was standing right infront of you, looking down at you in confusion.

"what the fuck is wrong with you" you said between sobs, throwing your arms around him.

"what??" he replied, hugging you back.

"everyone thought you were dead" you said as you cried into his shoulder.

"i was only gone for 2 days" he replied, rubbing your back gently to calm you down.

"where the fuck were you?" you asked after a few minutes of silence, pulling out of the hug.

"i got myself caught by the organization to find out information"

"why would you do that"

"because that was the only way" he replied, with no emotion in his voice.

"please don't ever do that to me again" you said as you looked down while you two began to walk back to the agency.

dazai knew how you felt about him, despite the fact that you haven't confessed. he felt the same way but he wasn't going to tell you that, he was going to wait for you to do it.

he stopped in his tracks suddeny and turned you around, pulling you into his arms, and hugging you tightly.

"never again" he said, as you gladly accepted the hug.

he wanted to make sure you knew that he cared about you. he wasn't very expressive of it, but he told himself he would do anything to protect you and the agency, no matter what it took.

you two then returned to the agency, where everyone began to yell at dazai but also praise him for the information he was able to get. they knew exactly how many of them there were, the abilities they had, and how to properly deal with them. thanks to him, the agency was once again able to save the city.

#bsd dazai #dazai x reader #osamu dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai

40 notes · View notes

kiribakuhappiness · 4 years

Note

Barbarian bakugo replacing ua bakugo due to a quirk. Panic ensues and in kirishima's case, gay panic

(Kiribaku Drabble Prompt) ahhh, i actually have been planning a barbarian bakugou in yuuei setting story for some time now, so have some short excerpts from that! i know the ‘k’ tattoo on barbarian bakugou is supposed to be for ‘katsuki’ but i like to pretend that it stands for ‘kirishima’ <3

Kirishima quite literally could not cope.

“I know you,” the-Bakugou-who-could-not-really-be-Bakugou leaned closer into his space, pressing the tip of the blade of a sword into the soft underside of his chin. His face was so close, Kirishima could see all of the different flecks and shades of murderous red in his eyes. His nose scrunched up as he examined Kirishima’s features through a squinted, calculating gaze. “Have you ever been a dragon before?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he barred a set of white teeth and, for All Might’s sake, he was being 100% serious.

A quick breath stuttered past Kirishima’s stunned lips and he tried not to focus on just how quickly his heart was now racing in his chest. This Bakugou seemed highly unaware of what personal space was, a stark contrast from the hunched up friend he had grown used to spending his days with.

“Ah, n-not that I remember,” he laughed sheepishly and rubbed at the back of his neck. “I mean, I went as a dragon once for Halloween, but that was - “

“Hallow... So, it is witchcraft, then,” the-Bakugou-who-could-not-really-be-Bakugou-unless-he-had-somehow-picked-up-a-sudden-interest-in-roleplaying snapped, pressing the sharp tip into Kirishima’s chin more, who continued to resist the urge to harden against it. He glared and suddenly he turned his weapon onto Jirou, who looked like she was trying her hardest not to burst out laughing at the absurdity of this entire situation. “I am to assume that you are the fucking puppet master behind this intricate illusion, you witch!”

Jirou slapped her hands over her mouth and looked ready to cry as she snorted through her fingers.

“Where the hell is sensei when you need him?” Kaminari whined from his spot on the floor, struggling against the tape that bound him to Sero.

“Enough of your damn nonsense!” Bakugou snapped ironically, narrowing his eyes dangerously at Jirou. “I have a dragon to save and a war to rage. If you refuse to release me from this imprisonment, then I have no chose but to gut you and end this damn charm for myself!”

As much as Kirishima understood the seriousness of this situation, as the other Bakugou – who he was now certain was either concussed or some kind of ravenous warrior sent from another dimension – charged towards Jirou with every intention of slashing her in two, he still couldn’t help but acknowledge that was probably the manliest thing he has ever heard Bakugou say, as he raced forward and threw himself between the sharp edge of the sword and Jirou’s small frame, hardening in time to shatter the metal upon impact.

“So,” Kirishima shifted awkwardly on the bed as he watched the other Bakugou wander around his room, lifting up books and flipping through them with a scowl before he tossed them aside to the floor and moved onto the next object. “Who are you?”

The other Bakugou picked up the lamp sitting on his desk and turned it around in his hands, feeling the weight and running cracked, calloused fingers over the metal before his sharp, dangerous eyes landed on Kirishima again.

“Katsuki,” he gruffed, as though it were obvious – which… what else had Kirishima really expected him to say? From what Aizawa-sensei had explained, he was Bakugou in nearly every sense of the word. Just a Bakugou Katsuki from another place, another time; plucked straight from another world. It was fascinating.

“No, I know,” Kirishima laughed and leaned his elbows against his thighs, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. “I mean, who are you really?”

The other Bakugou scowled at him, holding the lamp dumbly in his hand, before he, too, tossed that aside onto the ground, where it ‘tinkered’ about on the floor before falling still. Kirishima winced and hoped the light bulb hadn’t been busted, at least, before the other Bakugou straightened his shoulders and faced him with a hard expression.

“I am Bakugou Katsuki, rider of dragons and the barbarian’s first in command,” he eyed Kirishima critically before he said, with the same conviction and feral promise in his voice that Kirishima had heard him use when he was talking about being the number one hero, “… soon to be King of Musutafu.”

Kirishima blinked at him, mouth parted in awe. “Wow. That’s so fucking manly, dude.”

The other Bakugou smirked at him. “A barbarian is trained to be a man from a young age,” he commented easily, before his lips turned down into a scowl and his eyebrows notched together in concentration as he strode across the room with a confident stride, heavy fur boots clunking along the ground, before he stopped right in front of Kirishima and leaned into his space once more, using both hands to grab him by his jaw and forcing his thumbs into Kirishima’s mouth to push back his lips and expose his sharp teeth.

Kirishima floundered under the sudden intrusion, grabbing the other Bakugou by the wrists and trying to push him off to no avail. He’d never tell his Bakugou, but this Bakugou was much stronger than he was.

“You certain you’re not a fucking dragon?” The other Bakugou grunted, touching one of the sharp tips with the pad of his thumb. When it pricked through his skin and caused a bubble of blood to rise to the surface, he rubbed it thoughtfully between his fingertips.

“Easy with those!” Kirishima shouted, finally planting the palms of his hands hard into the other Bakugou’s bare chest and pushing him away. “Get out of my mouth, man. It’s weird,” he grumbled, ignoring the flush of heat on his cheeks and down the back of his neck as he wiped his mouth off with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Stop.”

Kirishima huffed out a breath when his chest collided with the back of Bakugou’s arm before the other boy grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him behind him. “Dude, what are –“

“Shut up,” Bakugou snapped back at him. “There is someone ahead, can you not fucking hear it?”

Kirishima stalled and listened carefully. Around the corner, somewhere in the kitchen, he could hear a pair of voices talking lowly. It sounded like Kaminari and Jirou, though he couldn’t really understand what they were saying. He reached out and placed a hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, gripping it tightly.

“Don’t worry about it man, lots of people live here. It’s just –“

The sound of the blender started, effectively drowning out Kaminari and Jirou’s voices, and sending Bakugou into some kind of rampage as he ripped his shoulder free and barreled into the kitchen ready to destroy the blender with his bare hands. Kirishima tried not to laugh as he hurried in after him.

“What’s this?” Kirishima asked, reaching out and just barely grazing a fingertip along the black ink.

The other Bakugou ripped his arm away and glared at him for a long moment before he turned his eyes resolutely back to sharpening his knife, an angry furrow in his brow. “None of your concern,” he snapped, and when he flicked the knife against the whetstone next, an array of little sparks crackled off of it into the air.

“Sorry,” Kirishima said, leaning back against the side of the bed and resigning himself to watch him continue to work in silence. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

The other Bakugou’s jaw clenched tightly as he slid the edge of the knife down the whetstone again, before he forced out, “It is the mark of my bond with my…” he paused, his expression loosening even as his grip on the whetstone became vice-like. “My partner…”

Kirishima reprimanded himself in his head for even asking in the first place. “The one you left behind in the other world, you mean?”

The other Bakugou nodded sharply, resuming his work with newfound determination. “I must find a way back to him,” he said, glaring in anger. “I cannot sit here and continue to twiddle my damn thumbs!” He shouted, standing to his feet and slamming the tip of the knife deep into the surface of the desk. “Not when he is out there fighting! I am meant to stand by his fucking side!”

Kirishima jumped up too, raising his hands in what he hoped was a placating manner. “Hey, I know, okay? You’re ready to get back to where you belong, raging wars and fighting gramlucks or whatever – “

“They are Gremlocks and they would better make a meal out of you than – “

“Right, right, right, grandma licks, I get all of that.”

The other Bakugou opened his mouth again, looking ready to rage, and Kirishima laughed before he waved his hands around.

“Sorry! I know! Gremlocks! Got it. You just need to give us some more time to find out who switched you all around in the first place and then we can – “

“Kill them,” The other Bakugou nodded as he snatched the knife out of the splintered wood and raised it between them with a feral grin.

Kirishima sighed and rested a hand on the other Bakugou’s wrist, bringing it back down to waist level and effectively removing the tip of an incredibly sharp object from his line of sight. “No,” he said with a shake of his head, ignoring the frown and angry squint the other Bakugou leveled him with. “No, then we can have them reverse the effects of their quirk and send you home.” You murderous idiot.

“Hm,” the other Bakugou grunted in contemplation, turning the knife around in his fingers, before he scowled hard at him. “You won’t kill them?”

Kirishima ran a hand over his face. “No. We aren’t going to kill them.”

“You are too weak to kill them,” the other Bakugou decided with a firm nod. He pointed the tip of his dagger at his own chest. “When the time comes, I shall kill them for you. To repay my fucking debt.”

“No!” Kirishima yelled, grabbing him by the shoulders. “No! Don’t do that!”

“I fucking must,” the other Bakugou argued with a snarl. “It is the way of the barbarians to show our gratitude in bloodshed!”

“But I’m not a barbarian!” Kirishima floundered. Of course, in an alternate universe Bakugou would still be hungry for blood. He really shouldn’t have expected any different.

“You sure do have the appetite of one, at least,” the other Bakugou snorted in amusement.

what do you guys think? is this something you would want to read in full? i can probably get some edits done and have it up in a few days :)

#kiribakuhappiness drabble prompts #kiribaku #bnha fantasy au #kind of?#barbarian bakugou #kirishima eijirou #bakugou katsuki #bakushima #bnha #my hero academia #fantasy au

226 notes · View notes

mocacheezy · 3 years

Text

And the title of "Was so amusing I forgot he was supposed to represent a ruthless villain" goes to: ✨Beast Wars Megatron (1996)✨

[Show spoilers below, but you probably know that already.]

Extra note: I am a TF newbie. This is my opinion and I don't have all the details for the many continuities that exist. I just need to scream about a purple T-Rex.

As the shows main villain, he seems more comical than threatening, but during the second and third season he:

Cut out an immortal spark from a failed Maximal science experiment, and continuously used it to torture said experiment (both for his amusement AND practicality, since Rampage would destroy him otherwise)

Called a deformed protoform ugly, "with an ugly name to match its appearance", and called it useless since it is unable to transform.

(Yeah, the above doesn't sound bad or unusual by villain standards, but these are things that had me go "What the fuck, aren't you the theatre kid of a villain? What is this?!", so if it made me react like that it's on the list. The following things also contribute to my reaction)

Set up the before mentioned protoform to an impossible task of essentially killing all Maximals and bringing proof of their deactivation as a test of its competence (bring me their heads... Dramatic✨)

By calling it useless since "It can't even transform!", he is spitting on the name of his predecessor, the original Megatron

(I am atleast 90% certain that G1 Megatron (and any other Megatron really) would take a look at it, figure out if it can hold a gun/fight/be useful and let it fight. Can't even transform my ass, as long as it can be manipulated and/or fight for the Cons it doesn't matter if it can or can't transform you copper bitch!)

Decided to cut the Maximal science experiment's immortal spark in half to create a new Frankensteined transmetal super soldier.

In order to obtain more power he took the original Megatron's spark and "mingled" it with his. And by mingled, I mean he inserted it into his own spark chamber with his own spark and kept it there. Not intending to return it to the original frame most likely.

Until the very last episode of the third season, until the last 10 or so minutes, it looked like he was going to win. I am talking the whole "Are the good guys going to win?" kind of doubt on my end.

But the real kicker and the reason why I'm so shocked?

He was in character through all of this! He didn't get "more evil" or "crazier" or "ruthless" as the seasons progressed. He wasn't "meaner" or "less charismatic". He behaved precisely as he did in the first season, same dramatics in his movements and speech and all of that!

The only difference was that he was doing something actually threatening and villainous in front of us viewers!

That's what had me staring at the screen with wide eyes; the fact I got fooled by his personality and didn't perceive him as an actual threat.

From the 3 shows I finished watching so far (Prime, Animated, Beast Wars) he threw me in for the biggest fucking loop.

Because with other Megatrons it's very clear what kind of a villain they are from the start:

Prime Megatron looks like a threat, moves like a threat, and while he has charisma, we don't see it that often. And he has dramatics, but those are mostly reserved for fights with Optimus or Unicron-poprock-crystal-candy induced hallucinations. And even then it's more like grand, over the top speeches, not silliness.

Animated Megatron has class. He is charismatic and uses this to his advantage to the extreme. He manipulates everyone and anyone, his followers are ready to fight eachother for a crumb of his praise, and a chance to be called "most loyal". He has dramatics (more than just the fact he twists his oil barrels into goblets) and he has embarassing moments infront of his troops, but those are due to circumstances, not him being silly.

I am in the process of watching Cyberverse, and so far this Megatron is a threat, doesn't seem like much of a threat when fighting the autobots, and to my limited spoiler-fueled knowledge, will become a bigger threat later on.

Take another look at Beast Wars Megatron and tell me if you'd consider this guy a threat:

He monologues and laughs TheVillainLaugh so often, you start to expect it and just wait for it most episodes. At one point he laughs so hard he ends up choking on it. And after his coughing fit he resumes his plan monologue as if nothing happened. And it's not like the other Predacons don't acknowledge their boss' behaviour:

That doesn't mean he doesn't have some loyal Predacons; Scorponok, Waspinator and Inferno being the ones that come to mind (also the ones that crave his approval and praise the most), with the other Preds leaning more towards treachery. But how he handles treachery or disobedience or even talking back, where it seems like he's bantering, not threatening them,

His personality just doesn't fit with the traits and behaviours the other two Megatrons exibit, the kind of traits that I started to expect of Megatron as a character.

He doesn't fit my perception of a Megatron that is a threat.

Which, considering the narrative of transformers, says alot about me and the way I essentially placed the character into a mold and went "alright, angry, commands and demands attention, can be ruthless, is stupid enough to keep a guy as his SIC/ on his team, despite multiple murder attempts and scheming".

Now, if we get into actual details, Beast Wars Megatron wouldn't count as "an actual Megatron", since the show itself is set after the Great War between the autobots and decepticons, G1 timeline. This Megatron took his predecessors name, so for all we know his name could be Joe before he changed it.

But his actions and the "destroy and conquer and lay the groundwork for future plans while you're causing mayhem" thing he has going on? That is Megatron behaviour as far as I can see.

And, granted, Beast Wars is the oldest out of the three shows I've watched (Animated 2007, Prime 2011), and so he is older than both of them, his characterization might be much closer to G1 than both Prime and Animated!

But before this becomes a full on essay full of misinformation (and more spelling mistakes), I'll just give my thanks to each continuity being it's own thing, with enough variety to keep you on your toes, while expecting how the general plot might go.

I hate that I can't even fully hate him, because he is so incredibly entertaining, so I am stuck looking @ the screen, cursing the fucking prehistoric grape lizard fidget spinner of the future, because he is so vile but he does it in style.

Here's a flattering picture of him as I seethe.

🎉Congratulations you metal Barney on rollerskates!🎉 You are truly despicable, the worst! I hope you choke on a rubber ducky💕

[He also gets a smaller trophy for his Transmetal MegaMode (or whatever it is called officially), because its a fucking dragon. He went from a bubblegum T-rex, to a copper rollerskating T-rex that can fly, to a red and gold dragon that can breathe fire and ice. So yeah, drastic transformation wise, no competition here, as well as levels of drama that came with each alt.]

#Moca talks #transformers #beast wars megatron #I simultainously love AND hate the bitch #(and I forgot to post this rant as soon as it was drafted so egh)#moca screeches

28 notes · View notes

creoterative · 3 years

Text

AoT x GoT Headcanons

This just came to my mind and in a few hours, I built a whole story with this sh*t, but who cares, so I’m gonna focus on the dragons for now ;)

warnings: mentions of blood and murder, mentions of ehhh.... not so good bed scenes

and of course, spoilers for both

Daenerys Targaryen

-portrayed by Historia Reiss

-although she entitles herself as the ‘Mother of Dragons’, she sees herself as more of a big sister and the Dragons see her as such too

-is a very openhearted and -minded person, just as Dani was in the first seasons

-wants to break the wheel and earn her right to the Iron Throne by releasing every single slave in all of the Seven Kingdoms, because she was used by her father to gain him more power (she was forced to sleep with several generals)

-loves her three dragons and if something happenes to them, she goes on full rampage

-when Reiner gets shot by a spear, she feels extremely guilty and apologizes to him even weeks after

-her favorite of the dragons is Reiner because he is strong, kindhearted, but a beast in battle, she trusts him the most, which is why she has a connection with him

-Galliard is her favorite when it comes to insulting and threatening her enemies, because that boy knows how to use his teeth and scowls

-Bertolt is her favorite when she needs someone to talk especially when it comes to serious decisions, Reiner can’t decide either and Galliard always wants someone to die, so Bertolt is the only one with a little bit of a brain to work with

-she enjoys laying on top of any of them in their dragon forms, because their bodies are extra warm then and can protect her from the cold, no matter what

-Historia hates it, when her boys fight, so if they do, she will start crying and plead them to stop, which, of course, they do immediately

-because of her experiences with her father and his trusted allies, she doesn’t know how to handle new faces and gets really shy around them, so her dragons get a little... overprotective in these situations

-but she can be a damn strict ruler, if anybody does something, that she doesn’t want to be done, fist on the f*cking table and a stern look, everybody will crawl on the floor

-she gets to know Armin Arlert later in the series and is attracted by him, although two of her dragons do not like him that much at first, has a relationship with him later on, but is killed by Armin right in front of the Iron Throne

-the reason why she gave all her ‘sons’ different last names, or last names at all, is because they actually aren’t related to each other and her consultants didn’t allow her to give them her own last name, since the Reiss family is highest royalty to them. Many of her consultants actually only see the three dragons as tools for battle and not actual members of the empire, Historia creates.

Drogon

-Reiner Braun, there is no better one for him

-but the role of Drogon himself would be a little... different

-Reiner can transform into a light golden dragon, bigger than a Boeing 747, with even brighter horns and claws, his scales shine in the sun and sometimes, when the light is just right, slight glittery patterns can be seen all over his body, giving him some kind of royal appearance

-his flames are bright as well, still orange, but intensive

-also his armor is the strongest among the three brothers

-he is Historia’s choice to ride into battle, which he is very honored by

-is very proud of his origin and powers, but doesn’t show this pride as much as Galliard does

-doesn’t interfere too much into politics, is more of a fighting guy and wants to prove his value to the queen, Historia

-his roar is veeeery deep, can smash a grown mans eardrums into pieces and scares the enemies even before they see him

-as he grows up, he realizes, that killing people gets to be a habit and Historia isn’t just breaking chains anymore, but also kills those, who don’t want to bend the knee, which he highly disagrees with

-nevertheless, he doesn’t interfere until the last day of Historia’s reign, he is the one to melt the iron throne in rage and carries Historia’s corpse to the place, where she gave life to all three of them

-as a dragon, he can fly, but he actually isn’t too good at it at the beginning, Galliard and Bertolt get way ahead of him, which is why Historia almost decided to ride Galliard to battle

-he likes to sleep in human beds more, being out in the open is more a Galliard thing

-gets in fights with his brother Galliard wayyyy too often, but gladly Bertl is there to reason with them, if that doesn’t help, Historia will just start crying right next to them (as they grow older, they don’t harrass eachother as much because... they would burn whole villages)

-he was the first to learn how to breathe fire

-his title amongst the people is ‘the one who breathes gold’

Rhaegal

-Bertolt Hoover would earn the role of Rhaegal, the fierce green dragon, Armin Arlert gets to be his rider later on

-in his dragon form, Bertolt is even bigger than Reiner, a good amount of bigger I should say

-his scales are actually green as well, but a lot darker than Rhaegals in the series, while his teeth are black, as they should be according to the books, his wings are the only ones being without any cuts or wholes, since he doesn’t really fight with his brothers

-he is known for his technique of clapping his wings together and creating a whole storm to send people flying, when he is asked to fight by Historia

-Berts flames are a dark green colour, sometimes a bit of black can be seen as well

-although he isn’t Historia’s first choice in battle since he is rather calm and shy, he can be a real threat because of his size alone

-he actually prefers to fight in the dark, because he can hide more easily even though he is the biggest of Historia’s dragons

-Bertl is the one, who is the most aware of his powers and controls them perfectly, which is why he always reminds his brothers to be careful with their tails or their wings, much to their confusion, I mean, he is the biggest of them, by far

-he’s a gentle giant, most of the time, and Historia’s preferred place to sleep on is his back in dragon form

-that boy can be such a d*ck, when it comes to sleeping, accidentally of course, because, well, he sleeps, but his positions while doing so are... random. In both forms actually, a house was smashed to dust one time

-politics are absolutely his thing, he loves to be a part of tactical meetings and enjoys to help his queen/mother with difficult desicions, although he is pretty shy around other people, who don’t belong to his closest family

-his roar is deep, but not as deep and loud as Reiner’s, even though he should have the lung capacity to make it even louder than his, which is because he actually hates to roar, is more of a silent assassin, you almost can’t hear his wings

-as Historia begins to grow a darker queen, he keeps himself out of it, only follows her orders, but deep inside, he questions their actions and feels sorry for what he has done

-he is really sceptical at first, when Armin approaches him, but as soon as he senses the Reiss families blood, he calms down and lets Armin ride his back

-they actually have a connection similar to that of Historia and Reiner later on, which allows Armin to lead Bertolt into battle and give him commands, just like Historia does

-he has this look, when he is in his dragon form as well as in his human form, a look, that can easily make anybody uncomfortable, though he just looks very directly at somebody. That is his way to say ‘back. the hell. off’

-Bertolt is shot down by three scorpion bolts in the battle at Dragonstone, Galliard isn’t there to whitness this, but Reiner and Historia are right next to him, leading to Reiner wiping out a whole fleet of ships in blind rage

Viserion

-the best one to play this part is Porco Galliard, just called Galliard by everyone, he hates his first name

-Galliard is the smallest of the dragon brothers, but he is actually the toughest and fiercest, leading to him being used in most of the battles Historia fights as the first one to attack the enemy

-in his dragon form, Galliard is of a smaller statue than his brother Reiner, but still pretty big, has copper scales, which pretend to seem a little bit darker, than they actually are, his claws look as if they are really made out of pure copper, but his teeth are pure white

-the fire of this boy is HOT, like he can literally melt rocks and metal like frikin wood, also his flames are of dark orange colour and sometimes a little bit of yellow sparks through

-he actually likes to use his claws to crush catapults and sink ships rather than using his fire, although it is really strong

-is the fastest of the dragon brothers and loves to speed through the enemy lines

-he often teases his brothers because he is the first to rush into combat and ‘makes things easier for them’ (actually he has to save Reiner a lot... and teases him for that as well)

-always the first one to say ‘let’s just kill them all, we know they deserve it, mom’

-he is rather harsh and cynical, but can be really sweet with children, tries to convince them that dragons are not always vicious beasts

-he often wanders around alone, sometimes disappearing whole months only to return from some smaller battles, because of that he has the best orientation amongst his brothers

-he absolutely hates fish

-Galliard actually would never allow any human to ride his back, not even Historia, doesn’t matter if Reiss blood or not, he HATES to be controlled, so Historia can only tell him what to do if he agrees to ‘help her out’

-has no interests in politics. AT ALL.

-Galliard doesn’t like other people, but is loyal to the kingdom and its queen, protecting Historia with his life, if he has to, still, no other people, except maybe some children, he grew fond of

-when he roars, it sounds like a damn hurricane is coming, high pitched, but terrifying as well, people sometimes actually think, that a storm is coming, when he roars, which he is very proud of

-is the first to notice Historia’s turn to the darker side of herself but thinks, that she finally accepted his sight on things, but as soon as it resolves in killing people just for the effect, he starts to question her, and actually speaks his mind to her very openly, only receiving stern looks from her

-he absolutely hates Armin when he first arrives at Dragonstone, shows that by growling at him and just flying away

-Galliard is the first of the dragon brothers to get killed, an ice spear pierces through his shoulder and neck, which kills him mid flight, is later revived by the Night King, also known as Eren Yeager, to fight against Historia

-he gets killed again when Mikasa Ackermann stabs the Night King in the chest, right after Galliard destroyed the wall of ice and fought his brothers in a devastating battle, in which Bertolt gets injured badly

#reiner braun #porco galliard #bertolt hoover #aot #aot headcanons #historia reiss #attack on titan #game of thrones #daenerys targaryen #drogon #rhaegal #viserion #headcanons #crossover

12 notes · View notes

1piece-for-you · 4 years

Text

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐭 — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

[𝐀𝐒𝐊] - 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨😊𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐉𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐲 — 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐀𝐒𝐋... 𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫?🙏🏼 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬𝐬𝐬

[𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄] - 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐒𝐋! 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫. 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲.

━━ 𝐄𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐬 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐝

— In the eyes of the public, Kidd is indisputably an uncontrollable savage; a menace that is shrouded in death and terror. He stands with an unwavering form that spits ichor and acid towards every authoritarian, barbarian, and civilian in his path, and his crew proudly shares the same sentiments as their captain, for they are just as ravenous and power-hungry as Kidd.

— And as his lover, a sense of pride thrums beneath your skin whenever you read headlines detailing the Kid Pirate’s most recent bloodshed. It is a thrilling sensation, knowing that Kidd possesses such monstrous strength, yet he treats you so wonderfully gentle with the right degree of roughness.

— The strong grasp Kidd has on you are both enthralling and welcomed. The implication of being kept in his hardened arms with no escape never ceases to send biting tingles down the curve of your spine. His possessive behavior towards you is no secret; the mad scowl resembling that of hellhounds were enough to signal to all the unworthy individuals that you were undoubtedly claimed by him.

— Though selfish mannerism is befitting for the walking explosive that is Eustass Captain Kidd, the word jealousy never did quite seem to belong in his vocabulary.

— And you were inclined to believe such a notion; Kidd is incredibly brazen with his earthly desires and greed for treasures he deems worthy of belonging in his collection. There never existed a reason for him to be jealous since the planets were constantly aligned in his favor. Whatever his target was, it will inevitably end up in his clutches.

— But the truth is, that attitude was only retained until you stepped into Kidd’s life. All the people he held in his bed before were for cheap, fleeting pleasure, and the materialistic goods in his possession are nothing more than replaceable, inanimate objects. You do not, nor ever will, belong in either of those categories; you are too precious to be labeled as anything other than Kidd’s treasured lover.

— And so, after officializing your relationship, an unforeseen development was occurring within Kidd’s psyche. In the open air, where his sharp eyes take notice of the lingering gazes and judging stares your presence attracts, a newfound threat looms behind him. The sickly green claws of jealousy ropes around his neck, clawing at his throat to shout threats of murder towards any and all of your pursuers.

— He would never admit it, but the slumbering insecurity buried deep in his metallic heart had finally awoken, rearing its ugly head whenever jealousy seeps into the cracks of his frame.

— While you are considerate of Kidd’s feelings and would genuinely never wish for him to feel even the slightest bit of distress, your more sadistic side is a little too tempted to garner this reaction out of him. And as destructive as his rampages could be, which hinders the livelihood of both the innocent and Kid Pirates themselves, the entertainment you derive from them is intoxicating.

— There is plenty to notice of Kidd’s hostile behavior during his jealous outbreaks; the prominent veins throbbing on his neck, the faded white on the knuckles of his clenched fists, the feral eyes of a beast that craves red to be spilled. It is these same details that made Kidd so alluring in the first place.

— The most notable event of Kidd lashing out was when journalists for the News Coos had sought you out for an exclusive interview on your boyfriend. It was during one of those rare occasions when you had the privilege of self-isolation whenever visiting a relatively secluded island. Being asked to an interview was certainly a strange occurrence, but otherwise, you gladly accepted their invitation, just for the pure enjoyment you would receive when Kidd learns of this; it was sure to be a spectacle.

— And oh, how right you were. You would even dare to compare the next morning of cotton candy and yellow rays to a night of vivid, scattered fireworks. The imaginary sparks that flew from the grinding of his teeth and the vicious glare that was scorching the newspaper to char as he traced the front headlines; the sight alone had undoubtedly left you high on cloud nine. A shame that Kidd did not share your view on the matter. The article was entirely laced with inflated lies and pompous descriptions courtesy of you, which the journalists easily lapped up, but those details were not what pressed Kidd’s gears.

— The picture accompanying the interview was none other than one of you; a quaint, charming photo that encapsulated your smile. It seemed that the editors deemed photos of Kidd to be both unnecessary and tasteless; he is a renowned pirate, his fiery red and crazed snarl is engraved into everyone’s mind. And so, that day’s newspaper had essentially settled you in the limelight. For that, he was livid beyond the orbit; he was furiously seething. You were swarmed with harmless threats, stuttered quibbles, and poorly disguised compliments for nearly a week.

— “How can you interact with these nobodies?” “If you wanted to talk about me, then I’m right here to listen, you know!” “Why would you let someone take a picture of you? Now the world will see how-! They’ll know about your existence!” “How dare you look so- look so damn cute!” - How brazen of you, to find a riled up Eustass Kidd be your guilty pleasure.

— But you know his limits, as any lover should when it concerns their partners, and to calm down that brute of yours, you resort to the two most effective methods; hushed whispers of sweet honey and melting wax, or close contact of bodies with not even a hairsbreadth of space in between.

—But really, it never matters what you do, Kidd is always happy to indulge your needs and his own, especially if it rids that grotesque, sliver of doubt that nips at his mind as he drowns himself in the nectar of ecstasy. As long as you remain by his side and in his embrace, he will be content, and the same goes for you.

━━ 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

— Killer is a dangerous man. He is the manifestation of dreading silence and disguisable malice; his mere presence of which that is both suffocating and daunting never ceases to send his foes onto trembling knees. It is honestly a shame that people allow his estranged mask to cloud their better judgment and underestimate his true strength, for they would be no different from mindless sheep wandering into the wolf’s den.

— But perhaps there is some delight to be found in the fact that the masses remain ignorant of Killer’s more feral side, which lies beneath his metal veil of mystery and obscurity. Though, the real pleasure of it all truly descends upon your core when you are graciously given the chance to witness him succumb to the boiling heat of jealousy.

— Killer may be the level-headed one of the crew, with his silent bravado and hardened resolution, but that simply means he is more capable of hiding his true intentions. In a sort of absurdly humorous way, Killer could be compared to the infamous Pandora’s box; dare yourself to probe the enigma and be rewarded the gift of miserable consequences.

— Typically, it would be an utter chore to garner any sort of instinctual response laced in ire from Killer; his patience and composure do rarely snap, but then again, it may be due to the iron pride he latches onto that refuses to falter in the face of his enemies. Well, whatever the incentive is, Killer effortlessly deflects and counters any shunning whims and mockery throttled his way, no matter the level of triviality in the situation.

— And yet, when those supposedly trifling incidences drag you into its cesspool of festering problems, a rivulet of frigid panic whirls within him. There was something so prolifically revolting about heeding his lover involved in such situations, and that bitter inkling only deepens when he finds some weak nobodies casting empty promises and vapid flirts at you. The confinement in his chest would be too tight, suffocating his velvet rope in endless unease; it was impossible for him to ignore it, to ignore the desire to show you were his.

— Now, Killer will never act out so intrusively at a scale that would cause you discomfort; he greatly respects your boundaries and privacy, shown through his timid head tilts and hovering hands as he waits for your confirmation to coddle you in tender intimacy. But sometimes, Killer’s need for a release from the thrumming tension and frustration distorts his reasoning, whether in the form of cloaked malice or blatant aggression.

— If it is the former, Killer would quietly come in between you and the other party with feigned formalities and subtle contact. His bold assertions range from small doting to shameless proximity; a brush of his bronze skin against your own warmth, a possessive embrace around your waist to pull you back against his steel frame, a shift of view to his mask, where you knew that Killer was riddling you with all his passion and reverence through his masked gaze.

— Ah, even the smallest of his grazes has your mind muddled in pink sugar.

— But as much as his fervid touches leave you teeming in a swirl of rousing electricity, there was no denying that the sparking sensation utterly surges when he follows up with a more assertive approach. And oh my, how his killing intent permeates the atmosphere when he is edged on by the crawling eyesore of your flatterer laying their sullied claws on your petaled features.

— Really now, just who did those specks of grime think they were, to project themselves upon you so invasively? Slamming an object down may be enough to scare off your contriving admirers, but the temptation to simply utilize his raw, brute power to ensure they never awake from their slumber was just too much of a rush for him to reject. However, Killer is more civilized when it pertains to social settings, so brawls prompted by him are not a common affair; but you could still list the numerous times he punched somebody for more warranted reasons, especially when they unmindfully slip themselves into your space by force.

— But the part that swoons your heart into torrid oblivion are the aftermaths of any of his invidious turmoils, when your ever so reserved giant, who can be reduced to melted chocolate and thawed hearts with a touch of your own, returns to you with a shameful expression. Through the veneer for his unmerited insecurity, you could vividly picture the confliction swimming in the depths of his cerulean eyes.

— As unreasonable as it may sound, Killer is entangled in the firm belief that you had this sparkling image of him where he is this reposeful, yet formidable pirate who also happens to be the ideal boyfriend. It is this same notion that spurs Killer to play the role of a perfect lover; the unfortunate product of his childhood, where he spent years in hiding out of self-doubt. And so, when he finds himself reacting senselessly violent towards a mundane situation, fueled by nothing more than petty feelings, he is inclined to believe that he somehow has broken your trust.

— So it is in your best interest that you remind him of just how perfect he already was, how you adore his qualities, his potential, and his flaws; Killer does so much to deserve that melodic reassurance. Imagine, the radiant blissfulness that would cocoon his being once your comforting voice sends honey swirling through his body. And besides, his possessive arrays are enticing performances, because everything Killer does for you was just so profoundly romantic, even with the couple splashes of crimson here and there.

— Of course, there are other traits of Killer’s for you to wholly cherish him for other than the ones that lean towards his violent streak, but how can you gloss over such displays of ferocity without proper appreciation? He deserves at least some slick pressure poured in with unbridled love and infinite urges, from the top of his crown to the underside of his jagged jawline; perhaps even lower if you are ever so daring.

#one piece headcanon #op headcanon #one piece headcanons #op headcanons #kid x reader #killer x reader #eustass kid #killer

143 notes · View notes

my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

oof,, now i wanna see a scenario where max actually ends up killing the tiny human for maximum angst,,, ur stuff is seriously so good.

The angst is real. These are real angst hours. I'm glad you like what I make! I enjoy hurting these bots I love and I have no idea as to why...

WARNING

THERE IS DEATH BELOW, ALONG WITH SADNESS, EMOTIONAL TRAUMA, GRIEF, AND A WHOLE LOT OF ANGST. THOUGH THE ENDING IS SOMEWHAT HOPEFUL READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION.

The level of guilt and grief had shaken him down to something in the depths of his core, and the onslaught of it all had nearly killed him, his spark all but flickering out when he was given the news. He'd still been in Rung's office, having ended the whole ordeal by pleading for help and promising not to hurt anyone so long as the little human limp in his hands received care. But of course it had been too late...

He hadn't remembered anything about collapsing beyond the incredible hope not to wake up again. Yet, despite everything he had done, Ratchet had put him on spark support and stabilized him. Why was a mystery he didn't have the energy to solve. Cuffed to the berth, he'd asked only to be taken offline for his transgressions, and had refused to eat. When the medics had put him on an energon drip, he'd wondered if his punishment had already been decided and would be the worst possible for a bot like himself; living with what he'd done. They even prevented the multiple attempts to terminate him from various members of the crew...

Rung had been his only non violent visitor, beyond the bots in charge. They'd all been stiff, but the sweet little phsychiatrist had been comforting, as if Max was the one who deserved empathy in all this. Nothing had occurred to him to say beyond how sorry he was and that he didn't mean for any of it. Primus bless his overly soft spark, Rung had forgiven him for what he could, assuring him that the trauma he'd suffered was capable of twisting any spark.

But, he'd also pointed out, it wasn't his place to forgive for the one who wasn't with them anymore. Such a thing could really only come from himself...

He'd cried when he'd heard that for the first time. Cried like a little sparkling after having an energon candy snatched away. The smaller bot had just held him, as much as he could with their differing sizes and positions, and gently encouraged him to let out the pain as long as he needed to. Had his body not been so frail he'd have likely wept for much longer. The pain was just overwhelming, as the phsychiatrist had just told him more or less that he'd never be forgiven.

Because he'd never be able to forgive himself.

Still, for reasons he didn't understand, he'd kept living and the others had refused to let him die. Most of it what you might call his "recovery" had been a blur. Between the grief and the guilt his spark had been determined to snuff itself out, but the skilled medics had refused him even that much, looking progressively less angry as they did so. Ratchet had actually appeared to pity him, something he found both unfathomable and at times infuriating. Regular sessions with Rung did little to soothe that desire to be hated.

He'd have probably continued that way for eons, even after being moved to the cells once his spark was strong enough to handle living on its own, but fate had thrown the entire ship down a very different path.

It had done so in the release of Overlord.

Like a warbeast, he'd been unleashed to take care of the rampaging monster, if only because death for all was guaranteed if the gleeful murderer went undefeated. With nothing to live for and everything to die for, he'd taken the opportunity almost gladly. There had been nothing to hold him back when he met his tormentor. Fear had stood no chance against his pure and unfathomable hate, but he didn't care at all for avenging himself, his spark burned for a life that had been lost in his own hands. It had been almost comically clear to him; he didn't need to be forgiven, but he hardly shouldered all the blame, for who had twisted him into what he was today? Who had caused nothing but suffering from the moment his spark had emerged from the Well? Who was smiling through it all?

The battle had been long and, even to experienced veterans, gruesome. He'd been torn apart, but pain had seemed so minor it simply didn't stop him. Pink energon had slicked up the floor beneath them, and when firepower had become unavailable the two had resorted to grappling with raw strength, fighting more like animals than bots. It had been agonizing due mostly to how desperately he needed to not die. Death wasn't an option unless this monstrosity went first. Looking into those twisted optics had been an excellent source of motivation, both at the beggining of the battle and towards the end, even as his vision began to fail from the strain of keeping himself going.

The final push had become possible when he saw what he'd wanted so desperately; Overlord was afraid.

Because he knew he was losing.

According to witnesses, the murderer had actually made an effort to flee in the end, but Max had finished him off by hunting him down and pinning him to the energon and viscera soaked ground.

A crack to Overlord's chassis had been his only target, one he attacked with primal fury using what remained of his arms and servos, clawing and tearing like a starving beast tunneling for a meal. As the armor had peeled back to reveal a sickly green spark, the former tormentor had actually begged. Max had heard none of it, taken no pleasure in the reversal of their roles, and had instead been unnaturally silent as he worked. This wasn't about his revenge. When his digits had secured about that spark, they'd actually burned from the heat of it, as if the accursed thing had come from the Pit itself. Yet he'd persisted, not even looking the now pitiful Overlord in the optics. The Phase Sixer was no longer a concern.

All he remembered before the blackness was how unusual a sound the heated orb in his hand had made upon being wrenched outwards, like the cracking of organic timber, only to collapse between his digits with the sound of thick glass shattering all at once. The explosion had taken his arm off, but pain had dissapeared from his being on every level. In fact, he'd known only that his battered face was smiling in what he believed to be the end. It was the small and content smile of knowing a job was done. Perhaps that was the closest someone like him could get to absolution, but even as his body had hit the floor, he hadn't minded whether or not the afterlife would deem him worthy of peaceful eternity.

Because if it didn't, he'd have the opportunity to do this again, and then perhaps Overlord would face a modicum of justice in eternity...

He could have sworn he saw you in the still silence, but that made little sense for a multitude of reasons. Though he could have passed it off as the effect of a million life saving treatments while he hovered on the edge of death, a state he apparently spent weeks in, he had decided to view the moments in your presence as an eternal mystery. You'd smiled and had assured him everything was fine, but had always been that way. Shushing any efforts at apology, you'd embraced his palm just as you'd done once in life, but this time the warmth of your touch seemed to fill his entire frame. It hadn't been enough for him to forgive himself, but he'd known peace. The one who'd started the vicious cycle of hurt was no more, and he promised it would end with him. Though he'd still fight, it would only ever be as a guardian. Wherever he ended up...

The soft beeping of countless monitors and the hum of just as many life supporting machines had replaced your voice when his optics had finally opened. Unable and unwilling to move, he'd been plagued by hurt in every solid inch, save for something far less unpleasant on his right hand.

Rung had been there when his optics finally found the strength to roll in his immobile helm, and the tiny mech had looked ecstatic to see him wake, calling for Ratchet as his small hand secured its grip on his. There had only been enough energy in him to stay awake a few minutes, but that had been all he needed to see the bursting shelf of Innermost Energon left for him. Apparently his victory and subsequent survival had redeemed him for most. That didn't really matter to him, nor did the assurance his crimes would be absolved in the wake of his considerable... extenuating circumstances and actions of atonement. Recovery had come impossibly slowly, and with all that quiet he finalized his plans for the future, finding endless companionship and motivation in his tireless therapist.

He'd live for you, every day that remained of his own life, to shape the galaxy into one as bright as it had been with you in it. Nothing could undo the past, but further wrongs might be prevented. The first hope he felt in forever was that you'd approve of his decision.

Support me here if you like my writing! Every donation helps me secure more time to create, and the same goes for commissions, which are always available!

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #ll #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #fort max #fortress maximus #human reader #im so mean to this robot guys #tw death

60 notes · View notes

ravnicaforgoblins · 3 years

Photo

Ravnica for Goblins

More Awesome NPCs of Ravnica

NPCs are one of the most important tools in a DM’s campaign. Your assorted guards, informants, bartenders, hench-persons, random civilians, and, of course, your quest-givers. Optimistically, you hope to have certain NPCs stick around for a while to have the party build a relationship with them, as opposed to getting murder-hobo-ed because your party doesn’t like their attitude. Which is why it’s so great that Ravnica is filled with cool NPCs who are definitely stronger than your party (for a while)!

A couple notes; I already did a list of Awesome NPCs, focusing on the Ladies of Ravnica, so this time I thought I’d try and give the boys (and Melek) some spotlight. Secondly, as I’ve by now made annoyingly apparent, I’m focusing on characters in the modern era of Ravnica, i.e. after the Decamillennial, because everything before the Decamillennial is a nightmare to figure out and you don’t need that headache.

Tajic, Blade of the Legion

You can’t have the Boros without Tajic. Well, you can, but you don’t want to. Tajic is the Legion’s Champion as well as their Mazerunner, and embodies all the ideals the Legion stands for. Unity, strength, passion; an unbreakable shield against all who would threaten Ravnica’s citizens. He is technically considered a Firefist, but special considerations should be made to give him the flavor he really deserves. Both of Tajic’s MTG cards have had some manner of protection against damage when involving other creatures. In addition, Firefists are actually primarily spellcasters, whereas Tajic is never seen without a blade in his hand or his name. So, to sum up, take a Firefist, add in some manner of damage resistance or even immunity contingent upon having allies present, throw in a weapon trick or two for his big wavy sword, and ta-da! You’ve got Tajic!

Momir Vig, Simic Visionary

I know I said no pre-Decamillennial, but Momir Vig is a special case. Technically, the former Guildmaster is dead, but the shadow of his reign still lingers over the Simic Combine. Momir Vig symbolizes everything Ravnica fears about the Combine; progress without restraint. Vig’s cytoplasts were oozes designed for personalized evolution in subjects to correct flaws and deficiencies (regrowing lost limbs, bolstering weakened immune systems, extra brain cells, etc). The only problem is that the project worked so well that Vig stopped seeing the need for consent, creating a new form of cytoplast that only needs to touch a host to bond with it. This raised some understandable concerns among Ravnican citizens, as well as the other Guilds. These concerns went to 11 when Vig’s Project Kraj, a gargantuan organism composed of thousands of cytoplasts, was activated to purge Ravnica and start over with a fresh slate. They went to a further 12 when Vig was killed, Project Kraj summoned every cytoplasm back to it (maiming, crippling, or killing a large number of hosts), and proceeded to go on a rampage that only ended after it ate Rakdos and went into a coma.

Momir Vig is exactly the kind of mad scientist to escape the grave, go underground, and continue his research unimpeded until it’s ready. A Rogue Guildmaster with no boundaries, or as we like to call it, a ready-made Big Bad.

Melek, Izzet Paragon

As with Vig, Melek is canonically dead, but that sort of “dead” that could conceivably be temporary if the story requires it. Melek is a Weird designed by Niv-Mizzet himself to be the Izzet Mazerunner. A certain sparkmage had other ideas however, so he absorbed the sentient being of pure elemental energy into himself at the start of the Maze and took its place, then tried to shock the other runners to death because, you know, winning. But following the physics principle that energy cannot be created or destroyed, only changed into a different form, it’s believable that Melek could return someday. Probably with a grudge against said sparkmage. Melek is a fascinating build, combining high-level spellcasting with complete elemental resistance or possibly even immunity. Basically, a wizard who can tank. Even more intriguing, any lab run by a being composed of pure energy would be calibrated to channel said energy, possibly allowing short-range teleportation within said lab. This is a brilliant exercise in lair mechanics, so don’t hold back. Lest we forget Melek is a personal project of the Firemind, aka, the single most brilliant, powerful, and egocentric fire-breathing ancient dragon wizard in Ravnican history.

Tomik Vrona, Distinguished Advokist

Given the Orzhov Syndicate’s seeming fascination with being a faceless hierarchy of priests, lawmages, ghosts, tax collectors, etc; it’s nice to have another face with a name. Tomik Vrona is a lawmage who apprenticed under Teysa Karlov herself, making him a master of Ravnican law. It also makes him uncharacteristically open to relationships with other Guilds, as he is effectively Teysa’s link to the outside world during her imprisonment. Tomik carries a strong respect for the law, but is a passionate lover of interesting & creative loopholes. In short, he’s not inherently evil/greedy like most of the Syndicate, but still has ambition in spades. He prefers to use gargoyles for transportation, treasures every book he owns, and is canonically dating/living with that hot-tempered sparkmage mentioned previously. Whether the relationship is public or not is up to you. I personally see it as a measure of trust between the NPCs and the party; it’s a pretty controversial pairing of Guilds. It could even be a Romeo & Juliet (Julio?) kind of affair, just putting that out there.

Vorel of Hull Clade

If Momir Vig represents the dark side of the Simic Combine’s experiments, Vorel represents the infinite possibility they can offer. A former Gruul shaman, he made the decision to give up a piece of his clan’s territory to a Boros Legion garrison to better fortify their home turf, and was nearly killed when they turned on him for perceived cowardice. Vorel escaped and joined the Combine, where he was given Merfolk traits and an environment that embraced his ideas & strategic thinking. Vorel is extremely grateful to his new Guild, and believes himself to be an example of how anything is possible through the Simic, no matter one’s origins. His strong passion & drive have led to great breakthroughs, but he’s definitely more emotionally-driven than most Simic researchers. Here is a Biomancer that isn’t afraid to get dirty or bloody in combat. This could be a fun experiment in crafting a Simic Melee Weapon.

Tolsimir Wolfblood, Ledev Guardian

You know that one leader elf in fantasy stories who everyone else takes orders from but never fights themselves? Yeah, this isn’t that elf. This is what you wish that elf was, a warrior archer who leads his soldiers into battle atop a giant dire wolf and kicks some serious ass. The Ledev are Selesnya’s elite mounted force, skilled fighters, archers, swordsmen, and even spellcasters. They are the cavalry, the breaking dawn on Hornburg, the “oh shit” in an enemy’s mouth. Please don’t make the mistakes of countless fantasy novels by being on bad terms with such badass warriors. Having any member of the Ledev behind you should be a boost to the party’s courage & resolve. Having Tolsimir fight alongside you should be one of the greatest honors of your life. The chance to finally recreate that “besties” relationship between Legolas & Gimli as you see who can kill the most enemies in battle.

Domri Rade, City Smasher

I hesitate to include Domri, I genuinely do. He’s a scraggly little punk who nearly brought about the destruction of the Gruul (and all of Ravnica) ultimately because he was too weak and too stupid. I include him here out of respect for the lore, but you can honestly do better. Domri Rade was considered too small & weak for any Gruul clan, so he instead bonded with the savage animals of the Rubblebelt, eventually discovering he could incite them into stampedes at will. This new power finally granted him admission into Borborygmos’ own Burning Tree Clan, but he panicked during the burial rite of passage and planeswalked away for the first time. Eventually he learned to control his powers, returned to the Rubblebelt, challenged Borborygmos for leadership of the Burning Tree clan, and won by sending wave after wave of stampeding boars to trample the cyclops Guildmaster. He was enlisted by Nicol Bolas to help destroy Ravnica, and failed to realize that meant him too as an eternal ripped out his Planeswalker Spark, killing him. Domri Rade is basically a cheap knockoff of Garruk Wildspeaker, only smaller and weaker and dumber and infinitely less dangerous. He is, however, considered by many to be an omen of the End-Raze, heralding the return of the Boar God Ilharg and the burning down of Ravnica by the Gruul who follow the Old Ways. So maybe play up that angle if you include him in your campaign.

Ral Zarek, Izzet Viceroy

If you only include one NPC from any of my lists in your Ravnica campaign, you must include Ral Zarek. Failing to do so is denying your players the opportunity to interact with the single coolest character in Ravnica. He beats out Vraska for the sole reason that he’s a much more public & accessible figure than the Gorgon Assassin, and an unexpected encounter with him is significantly less likely to end in your death/petrification. Between his good looks, cocky grin, brilliant mind, and lightning powers that put Thor to shame; Ral is certain to make any situation more interesting. He’s a great contact to have within the Izzet, a brilliant researcher, extremely talented with designing gadgets or magic items, an astonishingly powerful magic user, and a fun guy to hang around with. He can definitely have a temper on him, so understand when to back away. Hint: His hair turns from black to white when his electromancy powers are activating. You’ll also probably notice the sounds of static discharge building up around him, perhaps a faint smell of ozone, crackling energy coming from his gauntlet, and, oh yeah, his eyes glow and his smile turns into a growling grimace of death as he fills you with lightning. Whether by design or accident, Ral is basically the mascot for Ravnica, and it’s almost unthinkable for him to be absent from a campaign set there.

#ravnica for goblins #ravnica #goblins #D&D #D&D 5e #dungeons and dragons #mtg #ral zarek #domri rade #tajic #momir vig #tolsimir wolfblood #tomik vrona #vorel #melek #roleplaying #npcs

36 notes · View notes

definitely-not-karen · 3 years

Text

The complicated thought experiment when over analyzing Megatron in idw transformers

So. I like this Megatron. I like the idea of Megatron wanting to become an Autobot and redeem himself but as sad as his unknown fate was, the concept of being able to live far beyond what humans can perceive creates some interesting and messy trains of thought.

I know this isn’t a good example but gosh darn it was the first thing that came to mind. So. Flowey from Undertale. He lived through many timelines. I don’t remember how many but I’m going to say a lot. He says that in the beginning, he made friends with everyone, solved all their problems and got bored. Then he started murdering monsters. The concept I’m taking from the example is that is the good Flowey did undone by the bad? The answer is yes (I know he resets people’s memories and stuff) even if you’re being good for so long, I’m pretty sure murderous rampages are seen as bad.

Now for Megatron, and let’s start with Earth. The All Hail Megatron series involved an invasion of Earth. It was confirmed that a billion people died as a result of the invasion. Now I don’t have the exact number of how many other planets the Decepticons did their infiltration plan with but probably a lot since they had designated “phase sixers” to basically eliminate entire planets. So billions of lives destroyed, planets desecrated, civilizations extinct. Now obviously Megatron was not the one doing the killing but he did create the plans to conquer worlds.

Since billions is hard to imagine, I’m going to bring down the perspective.

https://youtu.be/AT4Ms2jj2tQ

youtube

This is a deeply disturbing scene with Megatron and Starscream. Starscream is at his lowest and Megatron comes back and physically and verbally hurts him.

So Megatron has killed more people than I can imagine, treated people around him terribly and yet, they somehow managed to redeem him in MTMTE and Lost Light. However I use redeem tentatively, cause even in universe, he is not redeemed, he’s still sent to either eternal prison with no parole and also not being able to see or hear or death. But Megatron is still a sympathetic character that I love. For me it’s because Megatron’s crimes are so beyond the scope of what I can process that I can only really take what the story presents me; a broken person trying to fix himself. Now the question about if he can really be redeemed is interesting. I would say no. I may disagree with his end fate but I don’t think he can truly pay for his crimes and infinite prison and death just doesn’t make a difference. How does justice work in situations where I literally cannot process the injustice because it’s so awful? I don’t think he deserved death, I can’t think of what he does deserve because the scope is too large for my squishy brain to handle. What I can say is that I disagree with both of his possible fates. The other option that’s not death is essentially conscious death. I can’t really provide a proper form of justice for this other than I disagree with just killing him. I do think Megatron has to live with the fact that he’s killed billions and caused the extinction of probably hundreds of civilizations.

The Flowey example kinda makes sense once you factor that Megatron went to an alternate universe and essentially redid his life. So it’s the opposite of Flowey. Flowey started good then murdered people and Megatron (started good) murdered billions, and then went good. So if Flowey became bad, does that mean in turn Megatron turns good? ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I have zero education in moral philosophy, my only interaction with moral philosophy is The Good Place. Megatron spends a million years in the alternate universe doing good and I tentatively would think that staying in that universe where he hasn’t murdered billions, I would say it’d be fine if he stayed there doing good. I’d still feel icky about him getting off the hook for murdering billions but he thought he was stuck in that universe forever and ridiculous examples draw ridiculous conclusions so I say he can be good in that universe. So I think this kinda applies to alternate universe Lost Light. It’s a bit iffy since people on that ship probably (and rightfully) hold resentment against Megatron still but for the most part, new universe new Megs I guess? (Oh my gosh new universe new me).

Since I’ll never think of answers, I’m just going to leave all my questions here.

Can Megatron be redeemed?

Does Megatron redeem himself?

How long would it take Megatron to redeem himself?

What can Megatron do to redeem himself?

Is redeeming an arbitrary view that cannot be applied to this situation?

Is there a punishment that is equal to the billions of lives lost?

Is punishment also an arbitrary practice that cannot be applied to this situation?

Does Megatron’s heart suddenly being in the right place redeem him? How can people truly accept he’s changed and can people accept him?

How did James Roberts make such a good iteration of Megatron, was it witchcraft?

Does Megatron deserve death?

Is life in prison for someone who can essentially live forever punishment enough?

Can the prison treat him humanely and allow visitor?

How long are the visiting hours at this prison?

How much do the prison guards get paid?

Is prison also an arbitrary thing that wouldn’t work for this situation?

Am I even using the word arbitrary right?

How much volunteer work would Megatron have to do to pay for the billions of lives lost?

Since Megatron was involved in reactivating the hot spots on New Cybertron, technically he helped create a billion new sparks and saved the lives of those in New Cybertron and Rodimus even lied and said that he opened a matrix, does this do anything?

If Megatron worked as a doctor for the rest of his life, saving people, does that help at all?

Am I over thinking this???? Yes.

In the end if I suddenly found that this human life ‘‘twas all but a dream and I wake up on post war Cybertron, I do not think I could forgive Megatron. Obviously I only focused on Megatron and most everyone who had power in the idw transformers universe did awful things but it is amazing about how a character so seemingly irredeemable became redeemed.

TL;DR this is fiction so it doesn’t really matter but it’s something to think about I guess.

#idw transformers #transformers #transformer #transformers idw

11 notes · View notes