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spacedoutman · 2 months

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【𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐬 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤】

(𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭)

Description: They called themselves Kiss, deciding the moment they joined, they'd kiss everything goodbye in exchange for going out in a blaze of glory. But is it really worth it? Is anything really worth it?

(Heavily inspired off the Dillinger gang + Pretty boy Floyd.)

♥ X

Note: I wrote this at 1:42 a.m and finished it at 2:20 am. I am running on no sleep for the past few days. It's canon, Peter Criss wears a stetson and dresses like walking dollar bills. Ace has had about thirty death scares and looks like a farmer (Reference: Homer van Meter) , Paul has been arrested twice and Gene had an edgy phase a little too early.

(I have so much lore for this | Art is Gerda Wegener, Queen of Hearts)

Warnings: Violence

!𝐚𝐨𝟑

Cackling and gunshots made for a terrible chorus—oh, and screaming. There was a hell of a lot of that. Ace’s legs shook as he sent a fury of bullets into the crowd after the pure gold chandelier. His heart jumped like he’d been shocked. His shoulder threatened to fly out of socket as his Tommy gun kicked like a mule. The light was so bright it burnt.

He stumbled back into Paul, who gripped his colt, jerking it to any unfortunate soul in the crowd who dared to twitch. His eyes rested ungodly wide. He breathed shakily, Ace pulling him a bit as he fell.

“You gonna’ give us what we want?” Gene snapped to a low growl as he let the rough sack sink over his shoulder.

The bank teller’s eyes widened. More people dropped. He stumbled back, slamming against the larger-than-life safe. Crystals glimmered in the sunlight as they dropped off the chandelier like rain. Ace jumped to catch as many as he could. “Ace, you’re supposed to be watching!” Paul hissed, pushing Ace off. Ace wobbled back, giggling as Gene kicked open the golden gate, storming around the counter.

He pressed his fingers into the teller’s face, pulling him over hard. He made it look easy. He glared at him through a wicked gaze. The man’s chest caved with every shallow breath he took. Gene grinned as he watched the cold sweat pour down his face. “What’s your name?” Gene taunted slyly, caressing his cheek.

Paul gulped. Hard. Ace shoved him away. “Back off.” Ace groaned, more bored than anything. He combed a hand through his messy hair. The teller’s eyes darted to the rest of the staff, who cowered against the sparkling fence separating them from the rest of the lobby. Paul rushed in, his heels clicking and reflection racing across the blue marble tiles.

Gene could hear Paul’s heart thudding through his ribs. Paul leaned to the counter, snatching everything that even looked valuable. His head was about to burst.--oh. He also grabbed the shotgun. “You know what?” Gene reached in his pocket with his spare hand. “I like that. What’s the code?” The teller shook his head rapidly.

“It’s a time lock!” He shrunk as far down as Gene would let him.

Gene looked down from a lifted chin. A smirk spread on his lips. “Is it?” Amusement drenched his voice. “You’ the manager?”

Paul raced out, slamming the gate behind him. His hat threatened to fly off. “I like those pearls.” Ace said childishly, holding out his open hand. Large, gaudy pearls hung around a lady’s neck. She reached back with trembling hands, barely able to hold herself up as her legs turned to jello. The man beside her held himself. A tight scowl landed straight on his face. “—Oh, and I’ll take your rings.”

“Paul, is anyone outside?” Gene’s shouts echoed through the massive bank.

Paul hopped over the sprawled out bodyguard and the pool of red. He raced to the window, sliding the dramatic gilded-maroon curtains out of the way. A crowd started to gather and no one in it looked particularly happy. Paul jerked to face Gene, who leaned closer to the teller, flicking his tongue like a snake. Ace climbed onto a desk, swinging his legs to and fro like a kid.

“Peter, work your magic.” Paul huffed, barely able to even chase his breath even though the smell of fine perfume was appetizing.

Papers flew off along with a jar as Paul caught himself on another desk. Ink splashed. He held his machine gun tight, crouching behind it and gulping down his thudding heart. His ribs were too tight for it to go down. Ace’s laughter boomed louder than any explosion. Gene smirked, backing out with the teller. He took him by the hair and turned him around to face the vault. The teller gasped.

Peter Criss straightened his silk tie. His face was straighter. He wore a dull look as he slid his sleek black bag off his shoulders, kneeling in front of the safe. The teller gulped down vomit. “Come on out, girls.” Gene cooed, glancing at the all male staff, who could win a record for how fast they did what they were told.

Peter grabbed his bag and walked out, dusting his hands like he wasn’t robbing a bank. Ace curled up on the desk, chest burning from laughter. He forced out little sob-wheezes and clutched his bowler hat tight to his head. Paul dropped his gun, throwing his hands over his ears. Gene dropped the teller, doing the same and crouching away.

BANG!

Ace screamed and giggled as his heart picked up pace. The adrenaline pumping through their veins numbed them, just like the intense, grating ringing. Gene swept his bag off the floor, blowing a kiss to the teller, who hugged himself tight as possible. Gene backwards jogged, tipping his hat before spinning around and speeding in.

The safe door creaked before—CRASHHH!!! It fell like a boulder, denting the floor. Peter ran over with a couple bags.

“Watch them, Ace!” Paul cried, holding back panic as he rushed for it.

Gene held his jaw from dropping. He had never seen anything like it for the third time. Peter’s bags were already almost full. Paul stumbled and fell. It was like being a pirate and stumbling on millions of years of treasure. Cash was stacked to heaven—aka, the roof of the shiny, dark grey safe. Gene clutched his chest as his heart leapt over a beat so hard it hurt.

“Get packing!” Paul cried, his voice breaking a bit.

Gene knelt. Ace slung himself up. “Alright, the lot of you..” He purred all flirty, resting his finger on his lower lip. “Whose ready to play a game of.. drop or get shot?” The thirty or so people hit the ground. Ace cackled, lifting his gun from beside him like it was his baby. A man stood up. He opened his mouth. Ace narrowed his eyes. A tight, long smile crept across his lips.

“You don’t want to play?”

Ace made a circle around the end before running his finger down the barrel. He watched like he was thinking over something. He couldn’t be more wrong. He looked back at the man, his hands shaking as adrenaline pumped. The man’s eyes were shut tight and his face contorted in fear. His arms were glued to his sides. He could hardly stand.

Ace was bordering euphoric.

He aimed the thing. The man’s eyes shot open as he tried to choke up anything before—

-he toppled like a domino. Gunshots exploded. A blood-curdling scream burst from Ace as he joined him, his neck almost snapping as he somersaulted over the desk, crashing into the floor hard enough to shatter every bone in his body. Paul whipped around. Gene joined him. Paul glanced before turning right back to look.

“T-The.. the fuck?” Peter stammered.

He could barely be heard over shots which fired like whole ass explosions. Their ears all rang like hell. Peter clenched the bag, freezing for a split second then hitting the ground. Paul’s rasping breaths quickened. His chest clutched his lungs as his whole body curled in on itself. He shut his eyes as tight as possible, screaming in horror. Gene’s breath fled.

He sobered like a drunk man as his eyes tried to dart from each row of fire. The curtains fell like feathers. Zipping ripped through the air along with a sharp stench as bullets smashed into and bounced off the walls, gates and even a couple people. A vacant look landed on Gene’s face as dizziness hit him.

“.. F-Faster!” He faltered, grabbing Peter’s shoulder and shaking him quickly. “Oh god, what the hell are we gonna’ do?!”

Peter yanked himself up. “Peter, Peter.. no..” Paul whispered through his clenching throat, Gene shaking him harder. Peter fell in on himself. Memories raced through his head. Paul just knew Peter was going to get up. “It’s a death run!” Each word flew through one ear and out the other. Peter grabbed his gun tight, standing up and racing straight into the fire.

Gene fell back against the counter. Paul did too. Shouting blared. Ace’s scratchy, guttural wails echoed like they were in a cathedral. Sirens made for a nice instrumental. Shock and horror melted off his voice. Paul exploded into terrified sobs. Gene’s head fell. He shut his eyes tight as possible. Peter shouted taunts and curses in a furious storm, racing from window to window and firing.

Gene’s lids were dyed red. His heart not only dropped into his stomach but hit every bump and ridge on the way. His legs grew weak. His gun slid from his hand.

Heat layered in the already burning room. Sparks hissed like a yard of angry cats. A firework flew in.

Maybe being in it to die wasn’t so worth it now.

#kissfan #kissblr #gene simmons #paul stanley #ace frehley is psycho #they are all psychos #kiss fanfiction #oneshot #fanfic #bank robbery #gangsters #1920s #Harry pierpont is not real #Paul is keeping them all afloat secretly god ideas are burning my brain #Peter may or may not be a rat #He wears a white suit #sometimes #Spotify

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fanfic-lover-girl · 7 months

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Pureblood Purists Actually Have Valid Concerns

Disclaimers

Before I start my post let me make 2 disclaimers since some people have a tendency to twist words on Tumblr:

Not all blood purists were death eaters. I am not condoning DE terrorism here. I am referring to people who held pureblood beliefs but never fought in a war to oppress people.

Harry Potter is a fictional world. My arguments are not meant to be extended to the real world.

Assumption about Magic

JKR does not specify the origin of magic. Is it like ATLA where it's a spiritual kind of thing and people are blessed by Lady Magic? Or is it a gene thing and wizards are a subspecies of human? For me, I am going to go with magic being a gene thing. If magic was like bending in ATLA then wizards should not be such a tiny minority.

Missed Potential of Umbridge Interrogation Scene

This post was inspired by Book 7, Chapter 13 – The Muggle-born Registration Commission. Specifically, the part where Umbridge is interrogating this poor muggle-borne woman named Mrs Cattermole.

‘Could you please tell us from which witch or wizard you took that wand?’

Umbridge's line of questioning is so ridiculous and JKR missed a golden opportunity to introduce some nuance here. She paints all purebloods who are not blood traitors as evil/bigoted. Just because this is a kid's book it does not mean she has to treat kids like idiots. Instead of painting purebloods as bigoted fools who believe magic can be stolen or sadists making up crack in this sham kangaroo court, she could have used this dialogue to present valid and ignored concerns of purebloods. Instead of crap like this, the Voldemort regime could be jailing purebloods who married muggles or mugglebornes on the count of them diluting their race. Or maybe firing half-bloods and mugglebornes and giving those jobs to purebloods. These actions are still wrong but at least they would be rational and add some depth. And purebloods have serious cause for concern. Let me point out 5.

Concern 1 - Existence of Squibs

In the books, we don't know the blood status of the parents of prominent squibs like Filch. But I bet the likelihood of your kid being a squib increases dramatically if one of the parents is muggleborne.

It makes sense to me that mugglebornes could be descendants of squibs. Making mugglebornes basically muggles who won the genetic lottery. In book 2 I think, Arthur claimed Granger was a historical wizard figure and asked Hermione if she bore a relation to him. She denies this but what if someone in the Granger family was a squib in the past and years later she got lucky?? So basically if you mate with a muggleborne, you are basically reproducing with a muggle. Which in turn increases the chances of a squib kid. Squibs can't function in the magic world properly.

Concern 2 - Wizards are a minority

Wizards are a minority in a muggle majority. It's a fact that minorities are wiped out when they reproduce with the majority.

Hagrid says this in book 2:

“Dirty blood, see. Common blood. It’s mad. Most wizards these days are half-blood anyway. If we hadn’t married Muggles we’d’ve died out.”

If Hagrid is right and most wizards are half-blood, how is this a good thing? Given enough time, if wizards keep diluting their race like this by reproducing with muggles, the wizard minority will slowly be erased which leads to...

Concern 3 - Cultural Erasure

It's more than just blood dilution but loss of tradition. Even if a muggleborne like Hermione integrates into the wizarding world, she will never truly grasp certain customs and traditions that pureblood families like the Weasleys and Malfoys will. For example, I came to the US for college. Even though I have been here for half a decade now, I will never understand what it is like to grow up as a kid in the US. I don't appreciate US holidays like Thanksgiving and Memorial Day. My kid likely will but they will have to learn those customs from an external source or maybe my future husband's family. Someone like Hermione may even see some pureblood/wizarding traditions as archaic and unnecessary. Over time, wizards will lose their culture and practically become muggles with magic. Which is why Hermione being minister of magic sometimes leaves a sour taste in my mouth. There's a reason why only born citizens can become president/prime minister for countries like the US (I would like to believe there is a reason anyway).

Concern 4 - Reproductive Issues?

Also, why did wizards need muggles to survive in the first place? Were the women/men having fertility issues? Was the wizarding population so minuscule that they were inbreeding? Or were they simply just horny for muggles? If small native/African tribes are/were able to survive without reproducing with white invaders or other outsiders why is it different for wizards??

Concern 5 - Lack of New Blood

Still focusing on Hagrid's quote. Let's say every pureblood family started with a muggleborne wizard/witch. Therefore given enough generations, Granger could theoretically become a pureblood name like Malfoy or Weasley. But there's a problem: there aren't enough mugglebornes!

Read Hagrid's quote carefully. He said wizards would have died out if they did not intermarry with muggles. Not that wizards would have died out without mugglebornes adding to the population!

This further adds to my blood dilution argument. Basically, we have a fixed magical gene pool which is being stretched every generation with more and more half-bloods being popped out.

Conclusion

Pureblood purists have rational reasons to favour blood purity and to be frustrated with "blood traitors". As more pureblood families like the Weasleys intermarry with muggles/mugglebornes, there is an ever-smaller marriage pool for purebloods. Throw in cultural dilution too.

If JKR wanted to add depth to the muggleborne discrimination, she should have shown how mugglebornes are critical to the survival of wizarding kind and how much purebloods actually need them. Maybe show them using their muggle knowledge to improve wizarding society while she's at it too? But it's like muggebornes like Lily and Hermione have amnesia and forget all about their muggle background! At least make wizards reap the benefit of magic and technology to balance out the issues of reproducing with mugglebornes and muggles.

I just wish JKR could have given purebloods more of a voice. Not all purebloods are crazy, bloodthirsty DEs or Dumbledore bootlickers. And oftentimes, there are reasons behind discrimination that should be examined and explored, instead of just demonized. Harry Potter is seven books worth of wasted potential. I don't know how anyone can say JKR was excellent at world building when the wizarding world feels so tiny and incomplete.

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