#and you are rioting for a man who among other things
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StreetKid!Hobie x Fem!Reader
I recommend you read Part 1 HERE so you understand the story better <3
I posted these earlier on wattpad, the link is in my pinned post
~4.5k words
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Hobie's POV
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RINGGGGGGGGG
W H A C K
CRASH
Hobie opened one eye and groaned at the sight, his alarm clock shattered on the floor. 5th one this month. It wasn't his fault that he kept accidentally breaking them. The loud noises just always triggered his reflexes so this wasn't the first time he'd broken his clock on accident and it definitely wouldn't be the last.
He sat up, shaking his head and groaning, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes as he looked around, sight adjusting the bright light seeping in through the window. Well, it wasn't really a window. More of a large crack in the wall of the abandoned warehouse he was squatting in, but it functioned like a window.
He stood up right as the door opened, stretching his arms and back out before he greeted Riri Williams, his roommate and fellow superhero. "Mornin'"
She nodded at him in response, fidgeting with her watch in an attempt to show Hobie something. Suddenly, it made a beep noise and a small map appeared which she promptly shoved in Hobie's face. "Here's the route Karl said we should take."
"Huh?" Hobie looked at the map and then back at her, still half-asleep. "Wot route?"
Riri blinked. "The route? For the riot today?" Hobie blinked.
Silence.
"Oh! That riot! Yeah, sounds good Ri'" He said, smacking his forehead as he remembered what they'd planned yesterday. In his defense, he hadn't really been paying attention to what they'd been talking about. He'd been preoccupied thinking about other things. Thinking about her.
The girl he'd met exactly 9 years ago. He remembered the date perfectly. December 24rd, the day before Christmas morning. The streets had been full of people shopping and laughing, spreading Christmas spirit. At least, they spread Christmas spirit among themselves. Hobie definitely wasn't on the receiving end of this morale boost that day. Until of course, he met her.
The girl that'd given him her jacket and sent him towards F.E.A.S.T. shelter. The girl who looked like an angel and had a smile like one, with flowy hair and gorgeous eyes. The girl who helped him up, pointed him in the right direction and given him a kiss on the cheek on one of his darker days. He'd been on the brink of starvation and she'd saved his life without a second thought.
But he never saw her again.
"Dunce." Riri replied, zooming into the map. Her harsh words snapped him out of his trance and he rolled his eyes at her, peering at the watch's image. "Right then. Let's grab Karl and Kamala and figure this whole plan thing ou'"
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Two hours later - Hobie's Canal Boat/Headquarters
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"Alright gang, today is the day Osborne's right-hand-man, Captain Stacy, 's daughter comes back from her posh boarding school! They're having some sort of fancy ball in one of Osborne's mansions for it and that's where we strike!" Kamala Khan slammed down her mini figure onto the map Riri had printed out for them to use. "Sound good?" She asked, looking amongst the squad.
Karl nodded. "The rioters will start off in front of the house and after a little bit we'll let them in. Maybe even web up a couple of cops, eh Hobes?" Karl asked, nudging Hobie's side.
"Huh?" Hobie stuttered, standing up straight, his arms falling to his sides. "Uh. Yea, sure." He said quickly, biting the inside of his cheek.
"Man, what's going on with you? Something up?" Karl asked, leaning in towards him slightly, as if inspecting whether or not he was sick.
"No, no. Nothin's up."
"You gotta keep your head in the game, 'Bie." Riri shook her head at him before putting her own mini figure down onto the map. "I'll turn off the security cameras."
"I'll lead the crowd." Karl added, gently putting down his figurine.
Kamala put her elbow on top of Hobie's shoulder, which was fairly difficult considering how tall he was, and grinned at the group. "And the two of us'll deal with the insiders!"
Hobie looked down at the map and smiled, placing his own figurine down. "Kamala'll take care of the pigs doing security. I'll take care of the ones inside the ball"
"Wait." Karl looked at Kamala and Hobie curiously. "There's gonna be a lot of civilians. One of you is gonna have to take care of them too."
Kamala groaned, "All those civilians are fascists too. Besides, it's not like the riot is gonna turn violent."
"Unless Osborne gets violent first" Hobie added, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. "Y'know what? I'll take care of the civilians then. But I'm not gonna put m'whole focus on 'em, aye?"
The three nodded at him.
"So, Hobes..." Karl asked, his tone sounding slightly more somber. "You gonna be okay if those symbiotes are there?"
"Yeah..." Riri added, glancing at Hobie nervously. "I mean last time...you didn't really take them very well."
"I'll be fine." Hobie said quietly, giving them a glance that said I know what I'm doing. "Last time was a freak acciden'. Nothing more." During a riot only a few weeks ago, Hobie had been fighting Osborne's goons as per usual, when a new type of bad guy showed up. They called it a symbiote.
Hobie had known about Osborne finding some sort of weapon that he was planning on using for his military, but the gang had never expected it to be so...weird. It was like it had a mind of its own. The V.E.N.O.M., Oscorp's name for it, was a kind of gooey substance that would engulf its host, using and protecting their body while they fought.
These symbiotes were notoriously hard to kill. Hobie had run out of webs at some point during that riot and had been cornered by multiple of them, only barely escaping thanks to Kamala and her shapeshifting powers, which she'd used to pull Hobie out of the situation and shield him while he fixed his webshooters.
"Fine." Riri said, taking the map of the mansion off the table and folding it up. "Let's head out."
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Your POV
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"Harry!" You exclaimed as you practically collapsed in the young man's arms, pulling him into a hug. "Hi-" he gasped out, struggling to breathe as you squeezed him with all your might.
It'd been nearly two years since you'd seen Harry, your best friend, and four since you'd been back in London. In those couple years, you'd been at a boarding school situated in France, which many of the higher-class girls went in their teenage years in order to learn how to become 'proper ladies' as they called them.
At first, it'd felt like a waste of time to you, but over time you'd made many friends at that school and now that you were returning, you couldn't help but feel a little sad to leave. But this sadness was quickly eliminated by the sight of your best friend and the beautiful city.
Although beautiful was definitely an overstatement. In fact, the city looked to be getting progressively worse, with more and more giant consumerist signs and more and more smog filling the sky that had used to be a beautiful, clear blue. You wrinkled your nose at the smell, the air filled with smoke and dust.
"Its been a while" Harry said with a smile, looking down at you, his hands shoved in his pockets. "That it has. I'm so excited to be home!" You said with a grin, following him as he led you toward the cab, pulling your suitcases for you.
London wasn't what you remembered. Even if you disregarded the changing environment and the pollution, there was still something so different about the place. Maybe it was the abundance of crime that overtook the city after Osborne's presidency. But you couldn't say anything negative about him, especially considering the fact that Norman Osborne was your father's best friend. He'd practically raised you and when you were young, most of days of the week, he and Harry would come over for dinner to eat with you and your father.
Those were the days.
But there was something even more distinct that was different about London. You didn't realize what it was until you saw him swinging through the air in the distance, followed by a flurry of flashing cop lights. Spider-Man.
Or as the higher-ups called him, Spider-Punk. Even those in France knew about him and his strange powers and his even stranger suit. There were plenty of superheroes in London, like IronHeart, a young woman who wore a suit made out of metal, Captain Anarchy, a man with an unbreakable shield and Ms. Marvel, a girl with a very flashy suit who's limbs would elongate in a way no human's ever should.
But Spider-man was definitely a fan favorite.
With his snarky attitude, those quips he'd make around thugs, the way he fought, even his style were all very popular subjects among the inhabitants of Western Europe, his cries against the fascist dictatorship Osborne had implemented in the UK even more popular.
Most called him a hero. Some called him a vigilante.
But your family? A family full of cops and businessmen? A family built on consumerism and fascism? Spider-man was a villain.
But not to you.
No, to you, Spider-man was fascinating.
You hoped you'd get to meet him eventually.
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Later that evening
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Your POV
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"Hold still, girl!"
You sucked in your breath as the maid tightened your gown even more, making it nearly impossible to breath. "I can't brea-" She began to tie up the silky lace quickly, ignoring your pleas for air. When she finished, she ran her fingers through your hair gently, moving it over your shoulders and turning you to face the mirror. "What do you think?" She asked kindly, smiling at you.
The gown was a beautiful baby blue, coming down to your ankles in a flowy manner. The neckline was shaped like a 'V' but wasn't too deep, with fluffy straps hanging onto your shoulders. "It's beautiful." You said with a smile, looking back at her before you looked at yourself in the mirror again.
Mr. Osborne had been insisting on throwing a celebration for your return to London, stating, "my son's best friend needs a proper welcome." After all, you'd been gone nearly four years and you were sure there would be plenty of people who'd want to meet you after all this time. Although it seemed Harry was more excited for this ball than you were.
He'd always been such a rich boy, with absolutely no regard for anything that wasn't his. It wasn't his fault he was so materialistic though, it was his father's. Mr. Osborne wanted the best for his son and although you respected him for it, he would often go overboard. He never let Harry go to anything less than a well-respected private school and wouldn't even allow him to go near any middle-class neighborhoods in fear of him joining a gang or worse.
But then of course, there was plenty in London to be afraid of. If you didn't count the thugs and criminals constantly patrolling the streets, there were also villains like the Green Goblin who were out to get you. The Goblin was a particularly nasty villain who was known for his horrific bombs and grenades.
Mr. Osborne himself could be considered a villain by many. After all, he ruled London like a dictator, with an iron fist protected by his army of super-soldiers powered by organic compounds called V.E.N.O.M., designed to protect their hosts and grant them extreme levels of endurance and strength. The V.E.N.O.M. soldiers were supposed to protect the streets of London, but really they just made everything worse.
And then there were the cops. Your own father, Captain Stacy, was a cop himself but you couldn't help but dislike the force. They were all shoved into the palm Mr. Osborne's hand, eating money out of it like filthy pigs while the rest of the civilians lived in complete oblivion. Disaster after disaster struck the streets of London and the cops did nothing but add to it.
But it wasn't all bad. London had Spider-Man to protect them, right? With his gorgeous guitar, that spiky leather jacket, and that snarky attitude, he was a proper hero.
"Harry's here!" your maid called out to you from outside your room. You grabbed your things and quickly left the room, fixing your hair in the process. Harry was standing waiting at the bottom of the steps for you while impatiently tapping his feet, wearing a sleek black suit. When he saw you, he smiled and gestured for you to come down.
"Long time no see" You said to him with a grin.
"I saw you a half hour ago." He rolled his eyes before reaching behind his back to hand you something. He pulled out a beautiful white rose, the thorns plucked off as to not prick you. You shook your head and smiled at him, taking the rose from him. "You shouldn't have."
"You're right. I should've given it to someone prettier." he quipped, giving you his hand. You took it with a scowl and the two of you walked outside towards the car waiting for you outside. You and Harry both sat in the back while the driver got ready to take you towards the function.
"God, it's been forever since I've been to a ball."
"Oh, father's made sure to make it as grand as possible. Honestly I think he's put more time into this return than into my own birthday." He said with a groan, looking out the window as the car began to move.
You gave him a kind smile. "I'm sure thats not true."
Harry tended to get bitter whenever his father planned something for you. It was obvious that Mr. Osborne liked you more than his own son, always being willing to host your birthday parties, buy you things and just acting more like a father to you than he did to Harry. Harry hated it. He hated being put second to someone who wasn't even related to him. Although you tried your best to play it off, it became difficult at times.
"Yeah yeah." Harry said quietly, still not making eye contact with you as he looked down at his hands, fidgeting in his lap.
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Hobie's POV
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Hobie was standing on the glass top of the room where the ball would be happening, his clunky combat boots leaving marks on what had been crystal-clear before he'd arrived. This was one of Osborne's multiple mansions, each of which he used to throw different parties and get-togethers. These parties were very exclusive, only being offered to Osborne's closest friends and business partners, and Hobie knew that by having a riot here, they'd be able to hit Osborn where it hurt. Maybe even cost him a couple partners or friends. Hobie's eyes glinted slightly as he smiled to himself, thinking about just how badly he wanted Osborne broken. He was everything that was wrong with this city.
A small crackle noise came from the earpiece embedded onto his earlobe. "Y'all ready for this?" Riri's voice could be heard from the microphone. "Protestors are gathering." Karl replied.
"I'm almost there! Just give me another second" Kamala said, her voice slightly muffled. It seemed like she was running late. "Where were you?" Hobie asked, searching around for where she would come from. "Oh...nowhere." She said quickly, brushing it off. Hobie could just barely see her coming in from the distance. She enlarged her fist to help herself swing up onto the rooftop, landing with her arms out in a t-pose before giving Hobie a cocky salute. "Reporting for duty!"
Hobie snorted and rolled his eyes at her, putting his hands on his hips. "A'right soldier. Let's get this party started." He and Kamala both began their entrance, searching around the perimeter for any way to get in without being noticed. Kamala pointed to a large vent on the outside of the wall and Hobie swung toward it, pulling it open and climbing through with Kamala behind him, closing it before she followed.
The vent led them to what seemed to be an empty dressing room. Everyone else was already out at the party, enjoying themselves. Kamala bade him goodbye as she left to go take care of the cops on the outer perimeter while Hobie launched himself onto the ceiling and began to crawl towards the ball. As he left the kitchen, he tried his best to stay inconspicuous, staying above the partygoers.
There were so many people that he knew. Mainly people that he absolutely despised. He recognized Otto Octavius, a famous scientist who, although at first had been a good, kind man, had been morphed into another one of Osborne's goons after being introduced to riches that no one but Norman could offer. That was how Osborne made allies after all. He paid them.
He also recognized none other than Captain Stacy. A man who he hated with every part of his soul. The man who'd shot at him numerous times when he was doing nothing more than peacefully protesting. The man who'd killed tens of rioters and innocent civilians while preaching that he was 'London's Protector'. Pathetic.
Hobie began to pick off the many cops standing near the doorways one by one, webbing them to ceiling to shut them up while he moved on to the next one. He badly wanted to give Captain Stacy a taste of his webbing, but he was in the middle of the crowd and Hobie wouldn't have been able to grab him without getting caught. So he stuck to the smaller officers that were farther from the rest.
"I've gotten all the one's on the outer perimeter. I'm gonna go join Karl. Let us know when you're ready" Kamala's voice could be heard on the other end of the ear piece. "Yes ma'am", Hobie replied quietly, keeping his eyes on the last cop near the doorway. He shot a web towards him, quickly pulling him up and slamming him into the ceiling, webbing him up before he could say a word, or worse, fall.
Thats when he noticed Osborne getting ready to go stand in front of the crowd, dressed in a black suit that was noticeably nicer than everyone else's. Hobie hung down from the ceiling, watching silently as Osborne walked towards the stairs and quickly walked up them, microphone in hand. "Hello everybody!" Cheers erupted from the half-drunk people at the bottom of the makeshift stage. "I hope everyone's been having a grand time!"
Hobie moved to a more discreet area in order to watch the rest of the speech. Once this was over, he'd be able to call the rest of the gang in with the rioters. "Now I'm hoping most of you know what this whole get-together was about. We're here to embrace the return of Captain George Stacy's lovely daughter from her long period of time spent in none other than the beautiful city of Paris. Everyone welcome back, Y/N Stacy!"
Y/N Stacy? Now who could that be? Hobie searched through the crowd, wondering who one of his rival's daughter could've been. And then he saw her. Long, flowy hair, her skin perfectly complimented by that beautiful dress...and those gorgeous eyes. How...? Hobie was awestruck. Could it be? That girl he'd met all those years ago. He felt his hand subconsciously go down to touch that patch on his vest where he'd sewn a piece of that jacket she'd given him all those years ago. It was her.
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Your POV
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"Thank you everybody!" You said with a smile, nodding as Mr. Osborne handed you a glass of red wine. "I'm so glad to be back! I've had a wondrous time in Paris, and I'm so excited to share it with you all!" After you gave a quick little speech and proposed a small toast, you returned to Harry who'd been waiting for you with a sly smile.
"Did you even prepare for that?" he asked with a laugh, eyes looking over your face as you returned. "Of course not." you replied nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. "Load of tosh anyways, half these people are only here for the food. I don't think I recognize more than four or five faces in that crowd."
Harry chuckled. "Well at least you're paraded around. Father doesn't mind nobody knowing who I am."
"Lets not get all gloomy now, Harry." You said, patting his shoulder reassuringly. "Enjoy the night!"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm gonna go grab more bread." He said with a shake of his head before he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you behind with your glass. You were in the process of mustering up the courage to go introduce yourself to everyone when you heard a noise from behind you.
Thwip.
You turned your head around and strained your ears to see if you could hear that noise again.
Thwip.
The box a couple feet in front of you was knocked over. You looked at it in shock for a moment before you slowly began to approach it to check what'd happened. Maybe it was an animal of some sort?
Thwip.
The noise came again, farther away this time. It was coming from the balcony a few yards away from you. Curious, you began to approach the balcony cautiously, eyes scanning over your surroundings in an attempt to see what could've been making that noise.
"Hello?" You called out quietly. The balcony was empty, as everyone else was busy talking with Mr. Osborne or eating something. As you stepped onto the balcony, you glanced over the edge for a moment. It was a calm night, the breeze just barely chilly and the stars gleaming down onto you, making your skin look like it sparkled.
Thwip
Suddenly, it felt like something passed right by your head. What looked like a string of spiderweb had shot past your right ear and landed on the edge of the balcony, right above where your arm was leaning against. "What the-" you were cut off by another thwip noise.
This time the web was shot onto your mouth. "Mmm!" You exclaimed, trying to pull it off. Then more web was shot towards you, pinning your arms to the railing. You watched in horror as a masked figure approached you, unable to escape due to the strength of the web holding you down.
"MmmMmMm!" You said, trying to convince him to let you out of this situation, although there was no way he'd be able to understand what you were saying.
"Calm down, darling. 'mnot gonna hurt you." His voice was deep, with a cockney accent to it. Very different from the posher accent you were used to hearing. As he stepped into the light, you felt a quiet gasp leave your mouth. Spider-man.
"mmMM?" You asked, leaning back slightly as he approached you. You flinched as he reached his hand out toward your face and you watched as he hesitated for a moment before he ripped the web off. "You-you-you" you stuttered, in shock at the man in front of you.
He stayed silent for a moment, as though he was in shock himself. "Hi. I'm Spider-man."
"I-I know." you said your eyes locked onto the white of his mask.
He stared at you for a moment longer, obviously wanting to say something. But then he shook his head slightly and looked away, hands shoved into his vest pockets. "Are you going to kill me?" You asked, eyes wide.
"Wot?" He looked back at you, taken aback. "o'course not! I wouldn't kill a peng like you."
You looked down at your tied up hands, prompting him to do the same. "Sorry about the webs, but t'was the only way for m' to make sure you didn't run away"
You nodded, still scared out of your wits. "You don't remember me, do you? Well o'course you don't remember me, I have a bloody mask on" he said quickly, turning away from you again. "dumbass" he muttered under his breath.
"excuse me?" You asked, feeling yourself calm down a little bit. He definitely wasn't acting like he was going to kill you. "Not you!" He said quickly, putting his hands in front of him. "Just uh-hi."
You raised your eyebrow at him. He shook his head, "y'know what? Lets start over."
He made a beckoning motion with his hands and approached you again. "What do you want from me?" You asked, looking up at him. He was intimidatingly tall, probably over 6 feet tall, but he was skinny, as though he rarely ate.
"Nothing. I don't want nothing." He said, looking at you. Suddenly, you heard a small crackling noise come from his ear. He placed his palm over his ear and took a step back. "Yeah, yeah I'm ready for you. Just give me another second." He said under his breath.
"Look, listen to me, a'right? Get out of here. Before you get hurt." he told you, leaning in more. "What? Why? What's happening?" You asked, a scared feeling beginning to brew in your stomach. "It doesn't matter. Just trust me and get out of here."
The same crackling noise came from his earpiece. The eyes of his mask widened slightly and he put his hand near yours. He ripped off the web holding you against the railing and took a few steps back. "Just trust me."
You were about to ask him something when he suddenly pulled himself over the railing, leaping off towards the ground. "Wait-" You started to say, but he was already gone.
Get out of here.
That couldn't be good. You walked back towards the crowd of people, unsure what to do. Should you warn everyone? Should you tell Mr. Osborne? Should you tell Harry?
"Hey, Y/N!" you heard a voice call your name. Harry. "Where were you? I've been searching all over for you-" You grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him closer. "Harry, we need to get out of here!"
"Woah-" he put his hand on top of yours, pulling you off of him gently. "What? What's going on?" he asked, looking down at you concernedly. "Somethings going to happen and I don't know what but I know we should leave-" you started to ramble, practically begging for him to believe you.
"Alright, alright" he said, putting his hands on your shoulders to calm you down. "I'll call up a cab. We can go."
"But everyone else-" you started to say.
The entrance doors opened abruptly. Standing in the entrance was a large group of what looked like protestors, holding signs and whatnot, slowly entering. They were led by a man in a red white and blue suit, not the Spider-man suit, but one that made him look more like a soldier. Captain Anarchy.
It was a riot.
You were about to repeat yourself to Harry when you felt him grab your arm and start pulling you towards the exit. "We gotta get out of here" he said quickly, gently gripping your hand. As the rioters poured in, the few cops left began to try to deal with them, pulling out their guns and their batons. "Oh god I can't watch" You said under your breath, looking away as you and Harry joined the group of people scrambling towards the exit.
You caught a glimpse of Mr. Osborne, calling for backup. He looked livid.
As you were pulled along with the rest of the crowd, you could hear shouting and screaming coming from behind you. The rioters and the cops were fighting furiously, the protestors being accompanied by numerous 'superheroes' and the cops being joined by the backup Osborne had called for. V.E.N.O.M. soldiers.
When you left through the exit with Harry, the last thing you saw was one of those 'soldiers' being smacked in the face with a certain guitar, catching sight of that same flash of red and blue, that same leather vest, that same mask that had had you tied against the balcony railing before.
Your not-so-friendly neighborhood Spider-man.
Tags:
@s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @@vileviale @bubble787635 @hows-my-handwriting @puff-hugs
#across the spiderverse#atsv#spiderman atsv#hobie brown#spiderman#beyond the spiderverse#atsv hobie#across the spider verse#hobie brown headcanons#hobie my beloved#astv hobie#hobie spiderverse#hobie x reader#spiderverse hobie#hobart brown#spider punk#atsv brainrot#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x reader#Hobie Brown x#hobie brown x fem!reader#hobie brown x you#hobie brown x oc#hobie brown x female reader#hobie x y/n#hobie x you#spiderpunk x y/n#spiderpunk x reader#spiderpunk x you#atsv fanfic
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imagine this scenario with me flamingo, hobie(SP) and reader(daffodil) frequently going to needy neighborhoods and making small appearances to raise people's spirits, Hobie for his part playing his guitar and reader created beautiful pieces of art as well as different edible plants such as apples, lemons, etc.
How is this request making me fall even harder for Hobie? How are you doing this??? HOW!!
Listen, this made me so soft 🥺
FNSM — Hobie x Reader
A/N: At this point I should make a master list with everything regarding the Daffodil universe(?). A book recommendation, exactly last year around this time I read Pussy Riot by Nadya Tolokonnikova. It’s basically a How To Punk as told from Nadya’s perspective (a very punk woman if you ask me, I absolutely love her). It’s beautiful and encouraging. It’s very optimistic despite punk ideologies revolving around oppression and corruption. This book worked also as an inspiration for this fic.
Warnings: mentions of stealing,
Word count:
Hobie took very seriously his epithet of “Friendly Neighbourhood Spider-Man”, so much he had it painted on his vest. He did everything he could to protect those in need, to raise his voice for those who were shunned, to fight for those who were scared.
If he didn’t stand up not only against bad guys but the “good” guys as well, then who was going to do it? In this late capitalist world, the ecological crisis, resources running short, crumbling economy, it was hard to remain hopeful about the future. Hobie made it his mission to keep people hoping.
And since you developed your abilities, Hobie saw the potential right away. You could grow plants and trees! That meant growing vegetables and fruits! Even some sorts of cereals! And after realising he’d never have to buy tea or coffee ever again thanks to you, he thought it would be good to extend that same opportunity to others.
Stealing wasn’t something new to Hobie, in fact, he had quite the sleight of hand. Effortlessly pick pocketing and stealing stuff right in the middle of a crowd. Making a living as an artist was already hard. Since Spider-Man and Daffodil made their services also for free, food wasn’t something that wasn’t precisely abundant in your life —at least not until you developed your abilities— and the two of you more often than not stole from large supermarkets where realistically, the supermarket had very little to lose. However, you never stole from local farmers, and when you had a good month and managed to make more money than expected, you’d return the money to the working class and not a corporation. When you could afford it, the local market was your go to option. When you couldn’t, stealing from supermarkets was it.
However, stealing fruits and vegetables was now out of the way. Now you started stealing other things, dairy, meat, some spices, even snacks. Most of what you stole, now that your life was easier in this aspect, both Spider-Man and Daffodil started making a lot more frequent appearances in poor neighbourhoods, or any neighbourhood that screamed low income work class. Not only to help them by bringing food to them, but also bringing some sort of happiness or excitement to their lives.
Spider-Man brought his band, and managed to set up a gig with all the bare minimum materials. Daffodil created pieces of art with plants. And even covered the streets with fruit trees or fruit bushes so the people always had an option. As well as bringing in baskets of food, as well as some other basic stuff, not just fruits and vegetables.
God, was it rewarding. Seeing the faces of all those people light up. Banging to the music. Enjoying the fruit. Chilling by the trees. It was all so rewarding and refreshing. It definitely ade everything worthwhile.
One time in particular, it was already known among the people, that these two made appearances in the places they most needed them. People were starting to talk about both Spider-Man and Daffodil and what their relationship was. We’re you two just friends? Partners in crime? Perhaps even a couple? It didn’t really matter at the end of the day, all of these people felt incredibly indebted to them. This one neighbourhood had been enjoying of a couple of hours of Spider-Man playing live, and Daffodil growing fruits and veggies everywhere.
While you were immersed in your own job, finishing growing some bushes, seeing everyone taking berries from them, and making more grow, you heard Hobie’s voice beginning to say his goodbyes to the crowd.
"I know you were all enjoying this, trust me, I did too, but sadly, I’ve got more things to do. We’ll be playing one more before we go!” He said, his voice seen and confident as always. "Before that, I’d like a nice round of applause for my beautiful Daffy here, invaluable help, without her, this would be a lot more work for me. She does most of the job here, really!" You said as you turned around and looked at the stage. "Where are you, Daffy, luv?” He asked as you made a tall tree grow. "There she is! Everyone, round of applause for Daffy!”
He then proceeded to introduce and thank his band members. You kept staring at him, feeling yourself blush underneath your mask. Just like him, your own suit concealed the entirety of your identity, by Hobie’s recommendation. And right now, you thanked the mask otherwise everyone would see you blushing. And before Spider-Man finished playing, you caught up with him on the stage. As the crowd went wild, you walked up to one of the mics, taking Hobie by surprise as he didn’t k on you were already there.
"Let’s hear it from our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man. Everyone!” You said excitedly.
Hobie pulled you by the waist, closer to him and hugged you. People yelling even louder.
"Thank you for helping me out," He whispered. "Fantastic job," He said bumping his forehead against yours.
After you returned home, exhausted from all the work done that day, you hopped into the shower, while Hobie fell asleep almost like a magic spell as soon as he touched the pillow. The last time you’d checked the time, it was sticking blurry numbers past midnight. And time seemed to blend in together, squeezing tightly, as one moment you swore you were helping Hobie set everything up for the gig, and the next you walked out of the shower with Hobie lost somewhere between his 4th and 5th dream.
As usual, Hobie woke up a lot later than you did. As he groaned and dragged himself out of bed, he walked into the kitchen where you were drinking something from a mug and watching the TV. The news we’re covering the latest sightings of Spider-Man and Daffodil. Talking about everything that had happened, the art show, the concert, the food. These people clearly happier with those two than the government who was supposed to watch after them.
"Morning," Hobie said in a low raspy voice.
"Hey," You turned over at him. "How did you sleep?”
“Good. But not enough, watch’a drinkin’?
"Tea," You replied. "Want some?”
“Nah, I’ll go for coffee this morning…"
"It’s 2 pm, love" you giggled.
"Morning still…" He joked walking up to your chair as you looked up. Hobie leaned down and pressed a sweet peck on your lips. "I’ll make some coffee…" He purred. "What are the news saying?”
“That we stick our noses where we shouldn’t, according to that prick Jameson, but everyone in the neighbourhood is actually delighted…"
"Good," Hobie yawned. "Fuck that dickhead, I’m glad people liked it,"
#hobie x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown#hobie fanfic#hobie brown x y/n#hobie x y/n#hobie x you#hobie brown fanfiction#hobie brown x you
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Ahoy! For Halloween, I thought I’d give you all a teaser for my latest project. 😈
Eris Vanserra is a young doctor in West Germany in 1968. After learning his mother has been keeping the old ways behind the back of his deeply religious, deeply abusive father, Eris decides the easiest, most direct way to vengeance is by summoning a demon. This scene takes place in Grunewald, a forest in West Berlin, where Eris summons said demon. This will be, of course, Azris, so y’all know who the demon is.
Special thanks to @queercontrarian who helped me develop this idea by suggesting it take place during the ‘68 riots in West Germany in the first place and who is also indispensable as a translator. This is unedited and unbetaed and will likely change its form before i actually post this thing. Enjoy!!
A break in the trees reveals the lit-up summit of Teufelsberg. He can’t quite see the three dome radio towers, but he knows they’re there. He’d seen them up close only once, when he’d gone skiing three years ago. It had made the hair on the back of his neck stand up, to be so close to the machinations of the American secret intelligence apparatus.
Now, though, there isn’t any snow, only the wet squelching of fallen, rotting leaves beneath his bike tires.
It had been easy enough to find his mother’s book, in the end – it had been in the kitchen next to the cookbooks. A smart hiding place, one Beron would never think to look for something important.
Decoding it had taken somewhat longer. It was handwritten in shaky cursive, sometimes in what seemed to be Middle German, and Eris had risked eye strain trying to tell the writer’s vowels apart. But there, hidden among recipes for poultices and medicines for pain or fertility, is a three line recipe, as it were.
The cold October air whips Eris’s hair into his face as he mouths the words to himself: ich beschwöre euch, Dämon. Gebt mir eine wahre und getreue Antwort, sodass ich an mein ersehntes Ziel gelange. Ich beschwöre euch.
It’s not the original Middle German, of course; Eris is on the other side of the Luther’s ninety-nine theses and he trusts his pronunciation of modern German much more than the other. It had occurred to him that the translation might affect which demon answered his call, but in the end, he had decided it didn’t matter. This was all a fool’s errand, regardless.
He laughs once at himself. It clouds around his mouth before being blown away by the wind. Rain is in the air, and he needs to get this idiocy out of his system before then.
It’s the kind of rebellion he has never had the time or energy for, and he feels as though he’s tilting at windmills. If he were a braver man, he’d simply murder his father himself.
Eventually, he feels he’s reached deep enough in the forest, and he slips off his bicycle. He hesitates before simply resting it against a nearby tree. Yes, it’s technically visible from the path, but it’s nearly eleven at night in the middle of a bloody forest. No one is around to steal it.
Leaves and branches crunch beneath his feet like rusty, crackling laughter, and he feels foolish again. He can turn around now, be back in his apartment by midnight, and not have his landlady be any the wiser.
But something pulls him deeper into the loamy dark, his torch beam hardly piercing the darkness around him.
Eventually, it is only Eris and his stupid quest in the dark of Grunewald, and he draws to a halt. It takes only a moment to kick away leaves and clear a small section of grass, and he slides a glass jar from his backpack.
The recipe had called for chalk or dirt, and he uses dirt he’d collected from the farm to draw a circle in the cleared space. It’s wobbly, and he swipes at his mouth in irritation. The motion leaves dirt on Eris’s face; he can feel it but doesn’t care.
Next is another small jar, with two slender sticks of incense. He’d stolen them from Nesta last week and figures the scent of cedar would be least offensive to a demon. It’s incredible how much effort he’s put into something so stupid. Perhaps, he thinks with a wry twist of his lips as he eases into sitting position, he should start considering that he’s doing this after all.
The circle is barely visible in the torchlight, and the lit end of the stick of incense also seems to disappear into the clutching dark. He is alone here in the dark woods.
Eris shuts his eyes against the sudden lurch of fear and inhales once through his nose. He exhales, then repeats. On the third breath, he murmurs, “I invoke thee, demon.”
The silence thickens around him.
“Give me a true and faithful answer,” he continues, his gloved hands clenching in his lap. “So that I may accomplish my desired end.”
The wind breaks the silence suddenly, moaning through the trees. The sound of it through the leaves sounds like a snake’s hiss, sharp and violent. Eris is alone and cold here, and no one will notice he is missing if something goes wrong.
“I invoke thee,” Eris forces himself to finish, barely above a whisper.
A faint shudder rolls through the earth, or maybe it’s just Eris himself, and he squeezes his eyes tighter shut. Would it be better or worse to open his eyes and find that his words have brought him nothing but embarrassment?
After a moment, the wind dies down, and Eris cracks his eyes open.
He is alone. The incense is no longer burning, its embers quenched by the hissing wind.
“‘I invoke thee,’” he snarls to himself and rushing to his feet. He kicks through the wobbly line of the dirt invoking circle, and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Bullshit.”
[…]
He turns to look behind him, his fear from earlier returning. It’s thick along the back of his tongue as he watches two perfectly round lights bob up the road towards him. He pauses, one foot sliding in the mud just off the road, as the tremulous lights steady and the rumble of a car engine reaches him.
Thank God, he thinks acidly. What a day it would be if demons weren’t real but aliens were.
The rumble grows closer, and Eris sticks out a thumb, slick and shining in the car’s headlights. It slows as it reaches Eris before finally stopping in front of him. The driver is revealed bit by bit as he rolls the window down – dark hair flopped carelessly across his forehead, piercing hazel eyes underlined by heavy bags.
“You lost?” the man says. His German is accented in a way Eris can’t quite place.
“My bike was stolen,” Eris says, not bothering to hide his shiver. “Could I trouble you - ”
“Get in.”
Eris blinks in surprise at the quick acceptance, but the man is leaning back in his seat as if he picks up strangers in the dark woods every day.
He slips into the car, winding the window shut as fast as possible. The storm spits a last few drops into his face, and he collapses back into his seat. The inside of the car is too warm, the heat turned up nearly to the maximum. The engine purrs beneath Eris’s feet when the man takes off, and Eris watches the man’s hand resting on the gear shift.
The skin looks waxy, and Eris recognizes them for the burn scars they are. He has the strange impulse to touch them, to make sure they are real in a way nothing else has felt tonight.
“What were you doing out here so late at night?”
Something in Eris rebels at the patronizing tone, but he quashes any visible reaction beyond pushing his sodden hair from his face. When he looks over, the man’s hazel eyes are so dark as to seem black.
Blandly, he replies, “Biking.”
The man laughs, just one short burst. “Of course.”
“Thank you for the lift,” Eris says. He arranges himself in a way he knows makes him appear smaller, more delicate. It angles him more fully towards the man and shows off the curve of his hip. Some men like that, Eris knows, especially when they don’t like to like men. “I was dreading walking home in the dark by myself.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” He smooths a hand down the front of his sweater.
The man waves a dismissive hand at Eris, encompassing his whole body. It somehow manages to make Eris feel brutally naked, and he curls into himself with no coquetry in the motion. “Don’t do that thing you did just then. Make yourself so – ”
“I - ” The word falls pathetically from Eris’s mouth as more half-formed excuses pile up on his tongue. Maybe the man is a policeman or part of the secret service, and Eris has just broadcast his willingness to spread his legs for another man. God, maybe he’s an American.
Eris waits, breath trapped in his throat. But the man never finishes his sentence, and his hand falls to the gear shift again. The engine rumbles beneath them, knocking Eris’s thoughts into one another.
Beron will kill him if he’s arrested for this. He might kill his mother, too, for breeding such a deviant. It doesn’t even occur to him to be afraid that this man might kill him for the offer, which, despite it’s immediacy, lacks any real teeth.
“I think I can walk from here.” Eris is proud his voice doesn’t tremble; his hands are steady, too.
In response, the man purses his lips. He doesn’t pull over, though, and Eris thinks he might vomit. At least if his body turns up at some point in the future, no one will know he was with a man before this. The thought makes a hysterical laugh well up in his throat, competing with his excuses trapped there.
He wishes, suddenly, pathetically, for Nesta.
“Do you know anyplace quiet we could go to?”
The man’s voice is almost covered by the engine, and Eris has to swallow once, twice, before he says, putting a little of Beron’s sternness in his voice, “I’m not taking you home with me.”
At this, the man turns his head towards Eris. They pass under the first street lamp of the main road, and Eris narrowly bites back a gasp.
Eyes black as coal with no white showing, the demon says, “I think you and I have some things to talk about.”
#azris#eris vanserra#acotar#azriel#fanfiction#whntdws is…such a bad abbreviation#i’ll fix it in post ig#HAPPY HALLOWEEN (MONSTER)FUCKERS
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https://www.tumblr.com/nrilliree/747663914665459712?source=share
It's really crazy how much TG lives in their own fanfiction.
This person also refuses and seems to understand that it is misogynistic that Rhaenyra ended up with a nickname equivalent to Maegor simply for arguing about taxes. Something that was advised to her by a man on her council, not even her idea. And what else could she do anyway ? There was no more money because the Greens took everything ! But obviously, it's all Rhaenyra's fault. Also, I find it hard to understand how the TG are good sovereigns when we see how they manage money ?
Also, the simple fact that she doesn't seem to accept and understand that Rhaenyra had more than half the kingdom on her side ? That the Greens weren't tied or had a majority ? She almost acts like everyone obviously wants to support them.
She advocates neutrality while she is openly TG, it annoys me.
Anyway, coming from a person who thinks that I can't read and don't know anything about the GRRM universe simply because I told a simple truth ; namely that women could not become Kingsguard. A truth according to her that is false because since Visenya created the Kingsguard, apparently that means that women can be too ? Sorry, but how can we seriously support such a stupid thing ? It's not because Visenya created the Kingsguard that women can become one! In the era of ASOIAF / GOT a woman can't even be a knight ! So Kingsguard in the time of Rhaenyra ?! Make me laugh !
She's also exactly the kind of person who will try to explain to you that Rhaenyra can't be the legitimate heir because apparently there is no legitimate heir under the pretext that the law is vague. Stupid, the only real law that matters is the word of the king. It kills me that they are trying so hard to deny it ?!
I'm not going to talk about our least favorite troll, so I won't refer to her statement, but rather the general attitude among TGs.
Alicent's mistakes and crimes are explained by the fact that it was not her fault, but the evil men around her who coerced and manipulated her. She is a victim of evil men.
Rhaenyra's mistakes and crimes are Rhaenyra's mistakes and crimes. The end.
This is what some people think.
This can be extended further to other TG characters:
Did Helaena go crazy and commit suicide after her children died? Poor thing, it was completely explainable, the death of murdered children is a huge tragedy that will devastate everyone!
Rhaenyra went crazy and paranoid after the death of her children? This is no explanation! You can't explain this to her, she's a terrible tyrant!
Rhaenyra's reign was not good, but there was much more to it than the fact that Rhaenyra "is evil, spoiled, narcissistic and generally yuck." People accuse her of not being a feminist because she didn't decree that from now on all daughters would inherit on an equal footing with sons… Do any of these people even know how emancipation developed in the real world? It didn't work that way. Rhaenyra was to be the first woman in power. It was the first step, and true emancipation often takes generations.
In Poland we had Jadwiga of Anjou and guess what? She took the throne as a king, not a queen, so she could rule, and that didn't miraculously result in women being treated equally to men from then on.
Rhaenyra listened to her advisors and therefore did not decree that daughters would inherit before sons or cousins, because she knew she could not make too many changes in one moment. She listened to the advisors, but it was still her fault. It's just as much her fault for stealing the Driftmark from Baela and Rhaena… even if Corlys preferred to legitimize his bastard and make him heir rather than give the inheritance to Laena's daughters!
Rhaenyra is fully to blame for the riots and dragon slaying, even if the Shepherd was simply looking for a suitable excuse to overthrow the rich and lords. It wasn't even about Rhaenyra, and if Aegon had been on the throne then, there would have been riots anyway. The Shepherd would simply find another reason! For example, the fact that people were starving and Aegon built golden statues of war criminals…
She realizes that Rhaenyra was not a good queen, but that was due to the situation. War, lack of money, riots incited by the Shepherd, and on top of her own emotional problems that resulted from almost her entire family being killed. If someone doesn't see it, he or she is simply a TG pro, not a "neutral" person who, strangely enough, justifies only one side of the conflict.
#house of the dragon#team black#anti team green#hotd#pro team black#rhaenyra targaryen#anti alicent hightower#anti team green stans
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Behold my craziest theory about the Plants in manga.
Everything below is not my take on the actual canon, but rather just a fun theory I came up with based on some plot holes.
Okay, so listen: people in Trigan didn't just become incapable of obtaining food and energy naturally, without the Plants. They're probably genetically altered in such a way that they are unable to use food and energy that doesn't come from the Plants.
That's why they don't use solar panels on the No Man Land, even though it would seem like an obvious solution. And that's why the townsfolk in Chapter 47 all died out in a few days.
Soldiers speculated that it could have been up to two months after the city was cut off from the world.
But in such a period of time, the Ark would have time to fly over the horizon and it was seen on the fifth day of the soldiers' stay in this area. And the day before, that is on the fourth day, there were still people alive in the town and they still had the strength to make riots.
But on the 7th day, when soldiers reached the town, there was no one alive (except for one man).
"Exposure" in the original was "burns" ( implying sunburns). That is, people not only managed to die of hunger and thirst before the Ark had time to disappear beyond the horizon, but sunburns also were mentioned among the causes of death. So, the Plants not only provided food and water, but also somehow protected against solar radiation, which is probably why there are so few suntanned people on the NML.
This means that the bodies of the humans in Trigan are completely changed and die in a matter of days without a Plant presence anywhere near them and without consuming food containing Plant biomass (since even the cannibals in that town didn't survive). They are literally completely dependent on the Plants, just as the Plants are dependent on the life support terminals they are connected to.
And we also have mutated humans and humans with Plant-like abilities, like Elendira, who can create matter from nothing (her nails literally appear in her suitcase out of nowhere, they are neither stored in it nor teleported from somewhere else by some device)
and Legato, who can manipulate electricity and take control of other people's bodies, which is reminiscent of Knives' ability to control the merged being. When Knives "connected" to Domina with a thin feeler, it looked very similar to Legato's technique.
(It's not impossible, however, that Knives intentionally copied Legato's trick. )
What's my point? You know, there's this trope in horror stories: an alien ship/meteorite falls from the sky and infects the land and living things all around so that people, who lived there, become unable to live outside the ship/meteorite radiation zone or eat normal food. And they, these people, gradually turning into aliens or mutants. So, what if the same thing happens in Trigan, it's just that in this universe humans, unlike in all these movies and stories, didn't avoid the " impact zone", but rather took the alien DNA and spread it all over the Earth. So Trigun humans are no longer 100% humans, but part of the Plants' biosystem, which is why dependent Plants forgave them so easily and don't really mind to be "used".
This could also be related to the presence of ghosts, which can be both human's (like Conrad and Wolfwood) and independent's (like Tessla). The existence of ghosts is not revealed to public, most likely so that people won't find out that after death they will spend eternity in a gloomy black void.
What are independent plants for then? Most likely they are some sort of walking weapons. From the conversations of the Earthlings we can conclude that Knives is not the only aggressive independent (he was just the strongest of the known ones) and that independents on Earth have their abilities blocked for humans' safety ( so most likely all independents have weapons built into their bodies).
What's the need for weapons against humans if the dependent plants don't mind their position and "humans" are in some sense part of them? Maybe to regulate their numbers, or to stimulate their reproduction and further mutation, maybe the Plants need not humans but their souls (ghosts), or maybe independents are something like immune cells that get rid of improperly developing body cells.
#trigun#trigun maximum#trigun plants#my headcanons#manga spoilers#trigun spoilers#manga theory#my analysis#spoilers#millions knives#legato bluesummers#elendira the crimsonnail
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Daemon Targaryen x OC Soulmate AU - Part 2
So, I received a request after I posted my last fic, and this one was created. In this, the bond between Daemon and his wife is explored a little bit more.
Trigger warnings: mentions of violence, child abuse
Part one here
Daemon was never known for his calm demeanor, that much was true. Most of those at court knew not to rile him up, lest they wake the dragon. Much like his Red Wyrm, once angered, Daemon could not be tamed or reasoned with. Yet there was always someone who tried his very best to drive him to his very limits, maybe even over them.
There was no love lost between Daemon and Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand. From the very first moment those two met, you could feel the hostility, the anger gathering in the room like a poisonous smoke. Otto always did everything he could to bring up the volatile and rogue nature of the Targaryen Prince, advising the King to remove him from court, for the good of the realm. Daemon, on the other hand, never lost the chance to tease and taunt his adversary, either through his weak spots, or simply ignoring everything the other man said and doing as he thought best. And in the middle of it all the King and the rest of the small council, trying to keep things from going out of hand.
Today was just one such day, only the scene was unfolding in front of the entire court. The two men were arguing about another bout of harsh punishments Daemon had delivered throughout the city. From what the rumors spoke of, he had maimed or killed at least 30 people, delivering each punishment himself, personally.
“Your Grace, this unchecked behavior of the prince cannot go any further. Reports show that him and his gold-cloaked thugs made a festival of the slaughter, teasing those about to be punished with sneers and jests. There were even some who claimed that one of the soldiers dismembered a man down at the docks, while the prince watched and drank wine with his friends.”
Everyone in the room stood aghast of such a revelation, and you tried your very best not to stumble when the wave of absolute fury hit you like a wall.
Lord Otto ignored the whispers coming from the crowd gathered to hear today’s proceedings, and turned towards the King sitting on the Iron Throne.
“Are we really supposed to let a wild animal like him roam free through the city, doing what he wants to the innocent people of King’s Landing without getting punished for it? Already there are several merchants and tradesmen complaining about the damages done to their shops during the raid. If we let this go on, we will have a riot in our hands.”
Several courtiers agreed with the Hand, while you kept your eyes on your husband. He looked absolutely murderous, his hand twitching on the handle of his Valyrian sword. You knew that, if this went on any further, Daemon would draw his sword, and things would go downhill from then on.
You stood near the front of the crowd, your mind reeling, trying to find a way to ease the tension. It seemed impossible, Daemon was one word away from turning his enemy into pieces before the entire court, and the smug expression on lord Otto’s face didn’t help with the matter.
Then you remembered something you had read in that book from Old Valyria about the magic of the soulmate bond. It was observed among soulmates that, when one of them were in some sort of distress, the other could have a calming effect on them if they could focus on it. You had read about a young dragonlord who had managed to calm down his wife during her labor. The child was descending feet first, causing so much pain to its mother that she had seized the healer’s knife and tried to cut through her belly to get the baby out. The young lord had managed to stop her and held her in her arms, whispering soothing words to her as the midwife tried her best to turn the baby around and deliver it safely. He had been successful, and both the mother and her child had made it through the ordeal.
You knew that you couldn’t just go and hug your husband in order to do the same, but you could at least try to use the bond to somehow ease his anger. You took a few deep breaths, letting everything else around you fade and focus on your connection. The fiery waves of anger still came through, one stronger than the other. You closed your eyes, bringing to mind one of the most treasured memories you shared with your husband.
A few months into your marriage, Daemon had taken you for your first flight on his dragon. Caraxes had taken quite a liking to you, and the two of you had flown on his back all over Blackwater Bay, before landing on a small island within sight of Dragonstone. Daemon told you that he used to come here as a kid after his parents died, to escape the tediousness of court life and the many women who wanted him for their husband.
“It’s my resting place, the one place I can be myself, without anyone judging me or glaring at me,” your husband had whispered as you both lay on the grass staring at the clouds passing over you. It really was a small paradise, with a small patch of trees to the south, some rocky hills with caves under them, and a small beach with white sand and small seashells spread all over it. You really could see yourself living here for the rest of your life, just you, Daemon and all the children you would have. No courtiers, no fights with devious men who sought to hurt your husband, only peace, clear skies and the endless sea surrounding your home.
You felt the anger slowly fading away, a sense of calmness and peace replacing it. It was as if a gentle sea wave washed over you, putting out the fire, leaving you cool and refreshed. You opened your eyes and looked at your husband. He looked calm, but also surprised. He glanced at you, and you gave him an encouraging smile. His eyes shined with joy, a small smile gracing his face.
Then he turned to his adversary, but there was no anger this time. Instead, the sense of calm was reinforced somehow, stabilizing it.
“I think you are missing a few key pieces of information my lord Hand, allow me to enlighten you,” Daemon simply stated, his voice steady.
Otto Hightower looked at him with distrust, but said nothing.
“The raid I conducted last night was not like the one I led some years ago. That time I had punished all the criminals I could find, yes, but last night has specific targets.”
“And what targets were those?” the lord Hand questioned.
“Ever since I returned from the Stepstones, I have been trying to restore the Watch back to the standards I set when I was in charge. Though most of the men are honorable, dedicated to their duty, there are some among them who have been corrupted by bribes, paid to look the other way so criminals can continue conducting their business without interruption. One such criminal is a man named Timeon Black, so nicknamed for his rotten heart. He was one of the last men I arrested last night, and the only one I left for the King to decide his fate.”
“And what has that man done to deserve punishment?” the King asked his brother.
“He is the leader of a pack of thugs who have been trying to rule over most of Flea Bottom, one way or another. Some are paid by the traders to make sure their shops are not damaged, others kidnap people to enslave, including girls to be sold to the Street of Silk, as well as orphans from the motherhouses, to be trained and used as fighters in fighting pits, either against animals or each other.”
“Gods be good,” the King gasped, as did several of those amongst the crowd.
“After I made sure the goldcloaks in league with that monster were detained and locked up in the Black Cells, me and ser Harwin took 100 of our best men and hunted down each and every one of Black’s men, delivering to each of them the punishment they deserved for their crimes. Yes, if you don’t know what those men did, the punishments I delivered sound harsh. What do you think now that you know the entire story?”
Lord Otto stood speechless, his lips pressed together tightly.
“As for the man we dismembered, he was the gatekeeper of the fighting pits, in charge of keeping the children fighters locked in their cages, like wild animals. When we burst into the building, he had been beating a 10 year-old girl with a walking stick for losing him a lot of money. When he saw us he just smiled, kicking her back in her cage before he tried to attack my men. I ask you, what would you have done, give him a slap on the wrist?”
The Hand had absolutely nothing to say. You could feel the glee enveloping your mate, bright and sparkling.
“You have performed your duties with excellence,” the King glanced at his brother, his gaze full of pride. “I do recognize that such acts of violence may sound cruel, but against such heinous criminals, it was exactly what should have been done. Continue to perform your duties as you see fit, and I will see to it personally that the men that assisted you to this raid are given rewards for their actions. My lord Hand,” he turned to the other man, “perhaps you should make sure you have all the information before you start making accusations. Your relentless campaign to sully my opinion of my brother is becoming tiresome.”
Daemon bowed to his brother, then turned to leave, not even glancing at Otto Hightower. The Hand bowed to the King as well, then disappeared through a back door, ignoring the whispers of everyone around him.
Your husband approached you, his eyes shining. You could feel the happiness filling him, and that in turn made you happy.
“May we take a walk in the gardens my lady?” he enquired, offering his arm.
“Of course my dear husband,” you nodded, taking his arm and letting him walk you out of the throne room.
He led you to a secluded spot in the gardens, away from prying eyes and ears.
“What did you do to me?” he asked when you both sat on a stone bench near a rose bush.
“I tried to calm you down,” you shrugged, smiling softly at him.
“But how?”
“You were about to attack that bitter excuse of a man, and I was not going to let him take advantage of your temper. You might be a monster to him, but to me you are my hero, my dragon knight. I simply used our bond to ease your anger and help you think more clearly.”
Your mate took your face in his hands and kissed you softly, filling you with warmth and joy.
“What have I done to deserve you?” he whispered, his violet eyes staring into your very soul.
“You are an honorable man with a good heart my love, and don’t you forget it. Now, let us put the events of this day behind us. How about we go take Caraxes for a flight, maybe visit Driftmark?”
“That sounds lovely,” Daemon smiled.
-----
Hope you enjoyed it!
Taglist: @alexandra-001, @the-mechanical-angel
#daemon targaryen#daemon targaryen imagine#hotd fanfic#daemon targaryen x reader#prince daemon targaryen#house of the dragon
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Give me all the Prom lore you have 👁
Oh man, now you've done it.
Cracks my knuckles cause this is gonna be long one, I'll try to condense down a bunch of storytelling though. Prometheus or 'Prom' is a Nightmaren who is one of Wizeman's most wanted and has eluded capture for a very, very long time. Here's the big galoot's current (though needs updating) ref sheet:
I'll put the rest under a cut because good lord was it hard to condense all this worldbuilding down into one post
Prometheus -not his original name- lives as a fugitive Nightmaren hiding out in the Waking World, constantly avoiding Wizeman's attempts to drag him back to Nightmare -much to the god's absolute fury. To Wizeman, Prometheus is his invaluable property, being a Nightmaren that was manufactured under his command. The perfect fusion of a Nightmaren that was originally human and a Night Terror (big, nasty abstract horror like creatures that have been around since the very first dreaming).
Prometheus was originally a scientist under Wizeman's command, but after seeing all the fucky things that went on as a result of the God's infallible narcissism, he fled the Night Dimension and went into hiding in the human world. As an extra big fucka you to Wizeman, he also stole a bunch of Nightmare tech from the labs and is using it to keep himself safe and dance circles around any attempts Wizeman makes to capture him.
AS FOR HIS PERSONALITY, well, you'll either love him or hate him, and he loves to see which one it'll be. He is cocky and egotistical, loud and abrasive. He's the party and the riot. He'll break hearts and faces. He's spent years feeling untouchable and he revels in the fact. He is a god in this world and he walks among mortals. Needles to say, the power has gone to his head a little.
Only to swiftly turn it upside down. Prometheus almost immediately becomes one of Balan's most challenging visitors and takes it upon himself to fight the Maestro at every single turn. He's stubborn and bullheaded and lives to push everyone's buttons, especially Balan's. Prometheus has a big issue with authority and decides he doesnt like the way Balan walks around like he's the king of everything (in his mind, anyway). It exhausts Balan. It exhausts the whole damn Theatre, and a good chunk of people decide he is truly a lost cause. You can't help someone who doesn't want to be helped.
When he's not all party central though, and you catch him during some downtime, he's a very lively energy to be around. He'll hype you up and pull you into activities, and he loves being around people. He'll never admit it's because he is lonely.
✨AND YES, THERE'S A TIMELINE WHERE HE ENTERS THE WONDERWORLD THEATRE ✨
But, through finding a lot of new methods of approach, Balan does eventually make some breakthroughs which gets the ball of his heart therapy rolling (albeit slowly). Prometheus had a lot of long, arduous struggles during his time in the theatre, his heart trials are strange and unique and it takes them all a lot of figuring out news ways on how to finish them. But eventually, the big guy settles into it and ends up calling the Theatre home. He makes himself useful by becoming part of the stage crew, being able to move and lift huge set props and pieces of equipment around that could normally take 5+ people.
Other fun points because this is already getting long:
- His special interest is the guitar, he learned to play while hiding out in the human world and often picks it up. He also spent a lot of time learning a bunch of human languages, it works his brain in a very good way.
- He kisses this guy a lot:
- His Negati boss is unlike anything Balan or Lance have ever seen before, and was one of the only times they actively had to pull a heart out of the arena before they could overcome it.
- Even though he and Balan are on better terms, he will still actively annoy the Maestro every chance he gets because he finds it extremely funny to ruffle Balan's perfectly preened feathers
- He spent a long time seeing the theatre doors appear to him on the outside, but he never trusted them and actively avoided them (assuming anything magical and out of place was some sort of trap laid by Wizeman). He will not speak about what it was that finally pushed him to seek refuge in the theatre.
- Thanks to @emirrart his voice claim is Markiplier
#excuse the whole damn novel this guy just has a TON of worlbuilding done to him#and this is barely scraping the surface of it all#i had to rewrite this post like five times because it just kept being too long#he has so much worldbuilding to him#NiGHTS#NiD#JoD#Nightmaren#fanmaren#oc#Prometheus#asks#silverpsychedelic
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aw yeah lets do this
S-Tier, AKA the Legitimately Good Tier:
HAWKEYE: Maybe my favorite MCU thing I have ever watched.
+ If you let Jeremy Renner actually act and give him a script, he's fucking great.
+ Kate Bishop is a perfect mess and I love her, I love she's young and excitable but also takes things seriously, she feels like she's a work in progress, I love her.
+ MAYA. Holy shit the gravity well of this character, how her presence dictates any scene she is in. Truly stellar.
+ This entire miniseries is like an extended apology for Hawkeye in every other appearance. "Sorry we dropped the ball with this character so consistently, we will bring the A game here."
+ The importance of disability. I'm among the ppl who was upset that Hawkeye's disability was dropped, so the way it is centered over and over and over in this, how its practical, how it's funny, how it's sad, how it gives us the most devastatingly emotional scene in all of the MCU yes I am talking about the phone call scene, finally. Fucking finally.
+ Florence fucking Pugh and her entire charm offensive.
+ The car chase scene.
- The first episode is unfortunately REALLY slow.
- Nah that's all I got. I love this one.
THOR: RAGNAROK
+ "Asgard isn't a place, it's a people" is maybe the most poignant message any MCU film has ever managed.
+ Literally the funniest movie, but also basically a repair job of character building for everyone in it.
+ The camerawork in this one makes me so happy.
+ Tom Hiddleston is given so much to do and he's there with heels on, spectacular.
+ The giant turret/pegging visual pun, god bless.
+ Cate Blanchett can kill me.
- uuuuuuuuh. It's not as good as Hawkeye. Yeah.
GOTG Vol 2
+ Sorry but I am a GOTG Truther, I really do think its the one storyline in the MCU that is allowed to get away with really fucking intense character drama because it's not considered "main line." There is a reason ppl rioted when they tried to remove Gunn, and I'm with them.
+ The only good thing Chris Pratt has done since Parks and Rec.
+ The way this storyline centers on death and grief is devastating.
+ Rocket Racoon is the best character in the MCU and we all know it.
- I think the initial treatment of Mantis is REALLY rough even though in the end I think it works, but that's a hell of a hump to get over.
A-TIER, AKA the Great for a MCU Flick Tier:
BLACK PANTHER
+ My biggest problem with the MCU is the creative desert of its set and costume design, the way it feels like nothing is given time to breathe in the creative process. BP is the antithesis of that. I would watch a four hour documentary just on the visual design of this movie, from the architecture to the costumes to the make-up, everything. I don't want to hear from the director or writers, I want to hear four hours of just the craftspeople talking about their work. It's monumental.
+ Best Villain in the MCU, bar none.
+ Only MCU film to move me to actual tears in the movie theatre.
- I loved this movie! For the life of me I could not tell you the plot. I understand the plot of every Mission Impossible film but I don't know the plot of this movie.
- If this movie was allowed to cut, like, 20 minutes of action and replace it with more character drama, it'd be the best MCU film.
IRON MAN 3
+ The MCU Movie That Pulls Exactly Zero Punches About Being About Mental Health And PTSD Holy Shit
+ Rhodey and Pepper get so much to do and I like an ensemble piece so much
+ Shane Black is in love with RDJ and I'm so happy for him
+ Pepper gets to be a lil monsterfied and that's hot
- Doesn't have Sam Rockwell.
- The plot is kinda fully secondary to the character work, which imo is fine, but yanno.
GOTG Vol 1
+ All the stuff I said about GOTG Vol 1
- It's not Vol 2, which benefits from having all the bedrock foundation built by this movie to spring from.
B-TIER, AKA It's Fine I Guess:
IRON MAN 1
It's good! It invented the wheel! Part of it are fucking agonizingly painful to watch in 2023 but it also has more heart than 80% of the franchise so.
IN A CAVE. WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS.
LOKI
Okay it feels shitty of me to judge this one on its technical faults bc apparently it was shot during the pandemic and that causes a lot of the issues with the camerawork, the awkward editing, and just how Weird everything was put together. But also it's REALLY stilted and awkward, which butts up against the good script and the better acting, so IDK man.
Owen Wilson is amazing. Even my mother thought the way they canonized Loki being bi was a cop-out. And the final twist pissed me off. I hope Season 2 is better.
THOR 1
I DUNNO WHAT TO TELL YOU, BUT KENNETH BRANAGH UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT.
DR STRANGE AND THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS
This movie is a mess but once i figured out it was trying to be The MCU Does Gothic Horror, I was a lot more on board. It has all the flaws of the original Dr Strange and is hard to visually follow like most MCU films, but also has America Chavez, who I adore.
IRON MAN 2
It has Sam Rockwell, I don't give a fuck.
C-TIER, AKA I wish I cared but I do not 8C
DR STRANGE
I dunno I like the actual character of Strange weirdly, I like what a complete fucking asshole he is, I like his god complex and how he reacts to his disability as a surgeon. On the other hand what the fuck is Tilda Swinton doing here, this is just awful. My biggest issue with this film is that it didn't have to be this terrible but every decision made about it feels so fucking thoughtless and myopic.
WANDAVISION
yanno. i cannot even explain why i fell off this so hard. Like, this one Had Me all the way up to and including the Agatha reveal, but like the final episodes after that reveal somehow left me completely cold and uncaring. it's genuinely weird.
D-TIER, AKA Oh my god no thank you
AVENGERS
I hate the writing. Like, I haaaaate the writing. I feel like the only likeable relationship in this is Tony and Bruce, and that does not carry this movie. The quip-driven writing, the way the need for a joke supercedes naturalistic voices and dialogue making sense, it pisses me off. I hate the writing. Heartless movie.
BLACK WIDOW
oh my god i'm actively angry at this movie okay because for the first 20 minutes, I was like "wait, is this going to be a real movie," because it felt smaller, the action felt more realistic, that fight between the Widow and Yelena in the beginning felt like it could have been out of MI: Fallout, and the other fight between Natasha and Yelena in the safehouse was also good, I really thought for a few moments that this could be Good
and then it just took a hard right into The MCU Tries And Fails To Make MI: Fallout (They Even Stole The Mask Gag, What The Fuck Was That) and not only was I disappointed, I was like retroactively pissed for the 20 minutes when I had hope in my heart. If not for David Harbour's character, I would have just left in the middle of this movie.
AVENGERS: ENDGAME
Its not at bad as Infinity War! Nebula and Rocket carried this movie on their fucking backs. But what do I know, I liked Renner's mohawk of sadness.
F-Tier, AKA Fuck This Movie
INFINITY WAR
Fuck this movie with a rusted steel dildo, fuck this entire fucking movie, I despise it. The writing is so actively fucking terrible I want to fistfight whoever is responsible. I fucking hate the attempts to humanize Thanos over how sad he is about the daughter he abused and then murdered, boo fucking hoo, I hate the joylessness of the superhero combinations, I hate the quip-driven writing, I hate this movie with a burning passion. This might be one of the worst movies I have ever seen. Soulless and destitute.
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kindlings & mirrors. | t. todoroki.
touya’s outgrown his hometown, but he’ll never outgrow his rage.
wc: ~1.7K.
w: cursing duh, mention of burns/burn scars, descriptions of a house fire/flames, implication of arson, mentions (?) of family trauma and abuse, slight mention of alcohol, angst w/ no happy ending.
i’ve got a whole doc on this universe that i made up i’m rioting. anyways enjoy! there’ll be a second part to this btw!
take a shot every time you spot a taylor lyric that inspired this /j
“Watch—” Startling blue irises stare as smoke swirls out into the sky, an endless inky black mass moving through clouds like a serpent. “—I’m gonna leave this shithole behind. I’m gonna change everything and nothin’ will stop me. Not even him.”
You shift in your spot, foot wedged against the roof as you lean on the slant, eyes drifting back from the burning house to the boy who longs for the fire. Shadows dance across him, skipping across features and burying others in darkness, turning him into the picture of every harbinger of doom, every version of oracles and sea monsters in mortal skin—because that is what they do not like to admit when they assume you know nothing. Feed someone a poison and they learn to test the immunity, but give it to them long enough and soon they won’t remember what it was like to not have it running through their blood. Sometimes, something dies, and something else crawls out of the bones.
The house is two streets down, but even at this distance, you can hear the sirens and the screaming. If you close your eyes, you can even imagine the crackle of the flames as they succumb to greed, swallowing memories and names and anything else they can reach before they are overcome. From here, people look like beetles, crawling across gravel and asphalt, climbing into broken windows to rescue whatever remnants are scraping by on mercy, and Touya watches on. You wonder if he’s thinking about how his father is risking a scorching death and how his family’s future is held in the hands of a man who thinks himself a god among men, if he wonders whether the knife is ever too heavy to wield, if he ever wants to put it down. He won’t. Like father, like son; hold it long enough and palm molds to hilt. Use it long enough and blade turns into limb.
“Make sure no one sees you leave.” You duck your head when he glances in your direction, scratching at an imaginary spot on your clothes. You still hear sirens. “Caught by one, hunted by all. They’ll search from dusk to dawn.”
Touya’s hands flex, fingers curling onto hard tiles, nails scraping against them. You don’t need to see his scowl. By now, you know him inside out, and you can feel it: the squint of his eye, the razor edge of his mouth. His words are wrapped in barbed wire. “I’d like to see him try.”
(Once, at home alone, you spilled alcohol onto your white carpet, watched in silence as the liquid gold stained, and in your drunken haze thought that if it could talk it would say; “If I’m going I want to go being seen.”
You see the irony now, in things that refuse to go out softly, in things that desire to leave a mark behind. In another universe, Touya is happy. In that universe, he is his mother’s son in the way that he’d taken his place in her business, not because he had to, but because he could, without fear or reservation—something about pastries, you’d guess, where no one yelled and everything tasted sweet. There is no hurt. You imagine that he would bring her new recipes to taste, and she’d never stop smiling, brushing hair out of his eyes as he tied on an apron. In that universe, Shouto knows who his brother is, knows how he snorts when he laughs, that he’ll remain quiet when trying to sell a lie, that he used to like drawing stars in his palms so he could pretend he’d caught a wish, even though it was always the same thing.
In this one, you overlay his memories until he becomes a ghost, flickering in and out of your recollection until he is a name you barely remember.
But of course you do. You always have.)
He lays back against the roof, propping one leg up and bringing his arms behind his head, fingers buried in his bright hair, and his shirt rides up, exposing the scars beneath. Your heart drops, such a sudden dip it makes your breath catch, and you trade your dignity to keep back the words you want to say, swallowing how they burn as they go back down, simmering in the pit of your stomach.
You already know this story. A father’s pride rests in his family, a first born son who’s destined to fail, regardless of how badly he’d wanted to succeed, and another who inherits the silent anger, who clenches his hands into fists he will never want to use. A daughter to pick up the pieces and the youngest who is afraid to believe he is everything his father isn’t, because it might mean he is everything his father used to be.
You remember the nights in the hospital, how you sat in that uncomfortable chair with nothing but the clothes on your back and a book in your hand, how you watched the monitor beep and listened to him breathe. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but sometimes, when he’s in your room and he thinks you’re not looking, you catch him eyeing the same title. You wonder if he remembers how you read it aloud, forcing syllables past your teeth so you wouldn’t cry. Sometimes, you wonder if he had gotten out of the house earlier, if his father hadn’t been so stubborn that night about Touya rescuing himself, that he’d still look at the world like he loved it.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs, tilting his head back. “I can go anywhere.” A laugh bubbles out of him, astonished. His eyes are wide as he reaches a hand toward the stars, like he can pluck them right from the sky. “I can go anywhere I want—just not home.”
You watch him quietly, trying to commit this to memory. The curve of his jaw, the look in his eye, the tiny, nearly invisible smile on his lips, the blinding white of his hair, and how he’s kept it messy on purpose. You peer at his scars once again, tracing them from his neck to his hands, to the tips of his fingers where they’re stained black by something he’s used. You’re going to miss him. You already miss him and he hasn’t even left. But he will. Touya is still of the Todoroki line, and they are nothing if not consumed by their heart.
“Do you know when you’re leaving?”
He gazes at you from the corner of his eye, a furrow to his brow. “The first chance I get.”
It took one week. You took one look at his sister, at her smudged glasses and the fat tears trailing down her face, at Shouto’s confused and worried look, too heavy for a child his age, and you knew. With his father’s truck stolen hours before, he is forced to catch a ride to the firehouse after Touya took a match to the edge of the forest.
The official report claims him officially deceased. Says that it must’ve caught onto him first or something else that made it catch onto the tree, but you know better. His things must still be in his room, everything he’s ever owned, everything he’s ever been. You can’t become someone else if you’re still dressed in your funeral clothes. You don’t believe he’s in there, bones trapped between branch and ash. You can’t.
The best and worst part about him, you think now, is how he has always been a sucker for aiming to kill. He has always had a thing for annihilation, for the complete destruction of anything that stands in his way of changing who he is, but you hadn’t expected to hear he’d burnt the treehouse first, allowing heat to eat up the names carved into the bark, and when you stand in front of the wreckage, you remember the feel of the ladder. You remember; the rug was the ugliest thing you’d ever seen, itchy and uneven in design, but you loved it because he did. You remember; posters were taped onto the walls, with maps of how you’d all be legends, timeslines scribbled in marker, plans written into roads. You remember; Natsuo curled into the beanbag, holding your hand after a fight and you holding his after the bruises. You remember; Shouto sharing a container of soba, and how you’d both eat, listening to the birds as you named each one in his blind spot, caused by the patch over his eye. You remember Touya digging into the bark; I WAS HERE. You remember, in smaller scratches, soft and unsure, undeneath the original, Shouto’s handwriting; I WAS HERE TOO. And then you blink, and water hoses replace laughter, firemen replace family, past replaces future.
Enji watches as you process the scene, eyes narrowed and mouth pulled into a sneer. You can see his eyebags, the unkempt hair. No one says anything. Instead, you go to kneel by the tree, head pressed against the ruined bark, hands clasped together.
(Because what are you supposed to say to the man who taught his son that hate is the only thing worth keeping? What do you say to a tiger with an already open mouth, looking for an excuse to eat?)
As you close your eyes and think about his sons, his daughter, his ex-wife, you listen to his footsteps slowly walk home.
(“There’s nothing worth me staying for.” He flicks a broken piece of roof tile over the edge, counting seconds until impact. Three. “This shitty little town’ll still look like garbage in the rear view. But,” You see a bit of his canine become exposed as a wide, nearly cruel smile forms on his face. “one man’s trash is another man’s treasure and all that shit, right?”
Your brothers, you think, that’s worth it. Your sister, your mother. The people who love you despite the one who doesn’t.
“Just like that?” You force a laugh, ignoring the stiffness in your bones. “Well. Remember me when you make it to the city, ‘kay?”
He stares, features turning blank before he nods, and whether you want to admit it or not, that look in his eye, that dangerous gleam, reminds you of his father. Of the way that, if given the opportunity, he would do anything for what he wanted, would burn the earth even if it meant he didn’t come out of the ashes. And then he looks back to the sky, and it’s gone.
You pretend that you don’t notice his tell, that the minute doesn’t tick on indefinitely, that he’s telling the truth, that just for a moment, you aren’t losing him.
“Just like that.”)
reblogs are preferred and appreciated! let me know your thoughts! <3
#!pandora’s entries#dabi x gender neutral reader#dabi x reader#dabi x you#dabi x self insert#dabi x me#dabi x y/n#touya x you#touya x reader#touya todoroki x reader#touya todoroki x you#touya todoroki x y/n#bnha x you#bnha x gn!reader#bnha x gender neutral reader#bnha x y/n#mha x y/n#mha x you
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Leo drifted in and out of the winter realm. While he loved his realm, there was something more fun, more alluring about the mixed realm. Perhaps it was all the chaos humans could bring about. He was not sure, the fairies rarely had political issues. Ran by fairies women, rarely did problems arise, unlike this realm where he could find innocent mischief or genuine trouble with ease. He had just come from the winter realm and regrouped with a group of humans who wished to abolish the system they had in place. He had seen it work, but more often times than not, he had seen the disaster it was. Human men were good at destroying and growing power-hungry. He did despise humans but he was weary of them. Did not trust them easily, and with good reason. They betrayed each other with ease, cheated, and killed. Did many things to advance within the confines of their own society. Leo watched the leader of their group speak among a mass of people who were slowly gathering around him. He was talented with his tongue, and he believed that a witch had aided him with magic but it was all him. Pure talent at manipulating or making one believe. It could prove to be dangerous but for now, his intentions were pure and genuine, Leo saw no reason to interfere. Crossing his arm across his chest, the masks covered all of the members of their group. Leo glanced around the crowd. Taking in the faces who were glancing at the man who spoke, he could their gazes sparkle at the idea of overrunning the town square to riot against their cruel king. Granted, the guards would not allow it to grow beyond much more. He doubted they would reach the castle, but they had planted seeds. Which was their job. His gaze landed on a short blonde woman. Honing in on her, kicking himself off the wall and he moved gracefully through the crowd, a waltz-like movement, seeing the color of his eyes was green. His lips slowly formed into a smirk, hidden by the black fabric he to cover his face, exposing only his own blue eyes. The leader of the group shouted for them to disperse and he looked up as he held the torch up into the sunset sky. Quickly looking to the green-eyed beauty who caught his attention only for chaos to surround him. His eyes searched for her but she was gone. Leo watched people knock over stalls, and start to light them on fire, people fighting the guards who came rushing. It was perhaps much to chaos and it unfolded quickly. Hand on his dagger as he moved through the crowd avoiding people who fought as if they owned the streets and the guards with ease. The winter realm fairies were rather graceful creatures, waltzing being their national dance. They threw extravagant balls. Leo snatched a sword off a man falling to the ground, unsure if he was dead or alive but Leo would have better use for such a fancy sword. Sliding into an alley, where a guard was tearing at the clothes of a poor maiden. There were always men who tried to take advantage of such situations. Leo was very good at spotting them. He was no hero by any means, he wondered if they did not stir the pot if the poor maiden would even be in such a predicament. He approached. “Close your mouth, beauty.” He stated, starling both the guard and the women for long enough to have Leo slide the sword straight into the back of the guard's neck. The sword slid in as if he was slicing through butter. Part of that charm was his magic. Leo moved the dead guard off the maiden and helped her up. “It is okay, you will be fine.” He spoke softly, pulling a handkerchief from his belt. Bringing it up to gently wipe away some of the guard's blood on her chin and cheeks. Stuttering what the mad had tried to do, Leo’s own blue eyes softened. Human women were his favorite despite his weariness to them. They were sweet, playful, and had the most genuine smiles he had ever seen. They seemed content with so little when they clearly deserved far more. The woman he had saved just now looked at him like he was a hero, which he was not. “Are you far from home?” He asked, tempted to accompany her.
Placing a hand on the dagger that hung on his belt as he handed the handkerchief to the women. While sliding the sword out with ease from the guard who was finishing choking on his own blood. Leo pulled the dagger and held it out to the women. “Much easier to wield than a sword.” He spoke through the thin material of his mask. The woman clutched the handkerchief and dagger to her chest. Leo held the sword, “get home safely.” He spoke softly, she seemed to break out of her trance before thanking him profusely and making a quick run for it as if he would change his mind. Leo glanced as she ran toward the entrance of the alley, spotting the blonde from earlier. A smirk on his lips, not that she would be able to see it but she would hear in his tone of voice. “You found me. Now that is a pleasant surprise.” He spoke, amused as he closed the distance between them. His gaze slowly took her in. Giving her a playful and very theatrical bow. “What can I do you, my lady?” Still bowing as his gaze slowly raked her as he slowly stood to his full height. It had been a playful gesture, but now Leo was truly wondering if she was of nobility. Her shoes were too clean and did not have the wear and tear of those in need. Also noticing her hands clean, her fingers polished and free of dirt. Narrowing his eyes as she spoke, that was not to say peasants were not clean but she also did not bore the sun-kissed of a woman who worked under the sun. “What is your name?” Leo asked, pulling her into the alley as more guards were approaching the castle. Leo smiled, he had not known such chaos could erupt from a speech. Pressing her into a wall as he covered her with his body, blending them into the shadows due to his black attire, hair, and mask. His hand clamped over her mouth as the many steps of guards running past them passed by. Once it subsided, Leo glanced down at her green eyes and pouty little mouth, “now what is your name?” He asked once more as he had not allowed her to answer.
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*gets behind mic*
me: Hey, incels and anti-SJW chumps... Those "man hating feminists" you despise so much actually are the same as you in a SHIT TON of ways. At the center of your views on gender, you both believe that the male is savage, and female is frail, among a lot of other flavors of bigotry. You're just at each other's throats, not because you're enemies, but because you're rivals competing for the power to oppress.
Them: *literally start rioting*
I get where you're coming from, but "man hating feminist", when used by anti-feminists, means all feminists, not just radfems, which I think is who you're trying to target here.
Not "all feminists" are man-hating. Many radical feminists certainly are, but intersectional feminists (for example) are not.
Also, "feminists" in general do not believe men are savage and women are frail. Again, that flavor of bioessentialism is common among radical feminists, but is in fact antithetical to the what most feminists believe.
So do I think men embroiled in alt-right, incel, and anti-sjw circles have similar views on gender and sex to radical feminists? To some degree yes.
The big difference is of course that the incel side thinks that the patriarchy and the status quo are great, and that they are entitled to females and that subjugating females is the right thing to do, whereas on the radfem side, they think female separatism from males, reorganizing society into a matriarchy, and/or male genocide are the only solutions.
So while they both might agree "male big, female small", they have very different views on what we should do with that dichotomy.
The thing is though.
Neither of these groups actually represents the majority of society. They are extremists. One should not use incels and their weird alpha male worldview shit as evidence of "what all men believe" any more than one should use radical feminism as proof of "what all feminists believe".
And you know what else is unfair about this? That radfems use incels as proof of what all men believe, and not just what "all incels" believe. They demonize all men based on the actions of this specific subculture, and say "the existence of this subculture is evidence ALL men are rotten".
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Any productions on who you think will have the messiest route ?
ohhhh ok lets do this!! I'm going to make some predictions on the guys routes based off their profiles...let me know if you want me to do the girls too!
Lewie - The pro football captain immediately intrigues me because I'm looking for an asshole on my messy routes and jocks are notoriously players....but then you read his profile and it feels soft. He was clearly way more into his ex than she was into him (the 2 vs 3 years) Making pottery for nan...being happy even after losing a game...BOO!! this screams emotionally stable aka no mess. PASS! he gets a 0/10 on the mess scale.
Jamal - a skateboarder...ok strong start. Aren't skateboarders usually pretty angsty?? BEEN SINGLE FOREVER...OK!!! More of a situationship guy!!!! mom calls him a RASCAL 💀 also he's 6'2" and hot...are you kidding me?? 9/10 on the mess scale.
Ozzy - our very own Curtis Pritchard has entered the villa and immediately the red flags are popping up everywhere. The man doesn't seem to have ever been in a relationship...the closest thing to it was a gym crush?! SIR! ☠️ he's constantly touring and moving around...ALSO 6'1"...anyone above 6" gets an IMMEDIATE 5 points for the mess scale. If we don't get a "I was coming here to tell you I loved you" moment I will riot. 9/10 on the mess scale.
Ryan - COME ON...A SINGER?! Who looks for love everywhere he goes but whose longest relationship was only 6 months 😬 I think I can guess what words his closest friends would choose to describe him. RED. FLAG. only 5'10" tho so he's the short king among the other messy islanders but I foresee what he lacks in height, he'll make up for in mess. another 9/10 on the mess scale.
I'm so excited for the potential chaos to come!!
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hello miss jo! i wanted to share my new fic obsession with you, which is reading fics about hero cons! but mostly can only find character x characters ones..
are you a convention person? like, i'm imagining so many fun things with this setting. tagging along as dynamight's plus one, are the two of you out to the public or are you being confused as a staff member?
OR attending the con to meet dynamight, getting in line for an autograph and katsuki has to shift awkwardly when you come up in your cute little cosplay because he's chubbing up at the sight of you in his costume
even better, katsuki walking around the con early incognito because he's a fanboy as much as he is a hero. catches his name in a couple conversations, your voice sticking out the most when you talk about riding his face and having him bend you over the nearest merch table. man nearly chokes as he heads to his panel he's already a couple minutes late for because he couldn't tear himself away from eavesdropping. and you swear later when your sitting among the audience he keeps shooting smirks right at you, but why the hell would he? it's not like dynamight's ever seen you before this!
I’ve definitely got some little drabbles about this!! I can try and find them tomorrow, although I vividly remember one in particular is sleazy Red Riot taking advantage of his cute fans (and Dynamight fans) and there was one about someone being mean about your Dynamight trivia at a con and Dynamight steps in and says you’re right and they’re wrong ahhhh.
I love cons! I don’t go to them as much anymore, but I’m obsessed with the idea of being able to meet Dynamight at a con and you’re doing everything you can to secure the photo pass and the signature so you get to meet him twice.
I love no one knowing who you are, so they think you’re staff and they try to boss you around and Bakugou is like excuse me??? That is my wife. (You’re not even married but you get the idea). Or you’re just bored sitting at his table all day, because to the world this is Dynamight but to you it’s your boyfriend so you end up going shopping or going to check out the other guests that are there. Maybe you have a teeny tiny crush on Pro-Hero Hawks so you go to his Q&A and Bakugou is jealous, but he still sets up a private photo op for you— “You know you could just go to his agency any day of the week.” “Yeah but then I wouldn’t be wearing this cute outfit, Kats🥺”
But I also love the idea of being a staff member, and maybe you’re not from Japan you’re just a member of the event team so you don’t really know who any of these Pro-Heroes are; and you accidentally run into Red Riot? And you both end up talking over lunch or something and then you go and watch him on stage later doing the Q&A and you have no idea what he’s saying but you just think he’s super cute.
But omg your last idea, of him being incognito? Like just wandering around and buying merch and action figures or whatever— because he’s an All Might collector himself. And then he sees a pretty thing dressed up as him and he can’t help but listen to you go on about the sinful things you’d do to him, and he prays later that you have a photo pass. But now he’s gotta spend his entire Q&A panel with a raging hard on because of you, and of course he spots you in the crowd.
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The Plot to Kill Jesus
When Jesus had finished saying all these things, He told His disciples, “You know that the Passover is two days away, and the Son of Man will be handed over to be crucified.”
At that time the chief priests and elders of the people assembled in the courtyard of the high priest, whose name was Caiaphas, and they conspired to arrest Jesus covertly and kill Him. “But not during the feast,” they said, “or there may be a riot among the people.”
Jesus Anointed at Bethany
While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to Him with an alabaster jar of expensive perfume, which she poured on His head as He reclined at the table.
When the disciples saw this, they were indignant and asked, “Why this waste? This perfume could have been sold at a high price, and the money given to the poor.”
Aware of this, Jesus asked, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful deed to Me. The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have Me. By pouring this perfume on Me, she has prepared My body for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached in all the world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.”
Judas to Betray Jesus
Then one of the Twelve, the one called Judas Iscariot, went to the chief priests and asked, “What are you willing to give me if I hand Him over to you?” And they set out for him thirty pieces of silver. So from then on Judas looked for an opportunity to betray Jesus.
The Passover with the Disciples
On the first day of the Feast of Unleavened Bread, the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Where do you want us to prepare for You to eat the Passover?”
He answered, “Go into the city to a certain man and tell him that the Teacher says, ‘My time is near. I will keep the Passover with My disciples at your house.’ ” So the disciples did as Jesus had directed them and prepared the Passover.
When evening came, Jesus was reclining with the twelve disciples. And while they were eating, He said to them, “Truly I tell you, one of you will betray Me.”
They were deeply grieved and began to ask Him one after another, “Surely not I, Lord?”
Jesus answered, “The one who has dipped his hand into the bowl with Me will betray Me. The Son of Man will go just as it is written about Him, but woe to that man by whom He is betrayed. It would be better for him if he had not been born.”
Then Judas, who would betray Him, said, “Surely not I, Rabbi?”
Jesus answered, “You have said it yourself.”
Institution of the Lord's Supper
While they were eating, Jesus took bread, spoke a blessing and broke it, and gave it to the disciples, saying, “Take and eat; this is My body.”
Then He took the cup, gave thanks, and gave it to them, saying, “Drink from it, all of you. This is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for the forgiveness of sins. I tell you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it anew with you in My Father’s kingdom.”
Jesus Foretells Peter's Denial
And when they had sung a hymn, they went out to the Mount of Olives.
Then Jesus said to them, “This very night you will all fall away on account of Me. For it is written:
‘I will strike the Shepherd,
and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’
But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee.”
Peter said to Him, “Even if all fall away on account of You, I never will.”
Jesus Prays in Gethsemane
“Truly I tell you,” Jesus declared, “this very night, before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.”
Peter replied, “Even if I have to die with You, I will never deny You.” And all the other disciples said the same thing.
At that time Jesus went with His disciples to a place called Gethsemane, and He told them, “Sit here while I go over there and pray.”
He took with Him Peter and the two sons of Zebedee and began to be sorrowful and deeply distressed. Then He said to them, “My soul is consumed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with Me.”
Going a little farther, He fell facedown and prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from Me. Yet not as I will, but as You will.”
Then Jesus returned to the disciples and found them sleeping. “Were you not able to keep watch with Me for one hour?” He asked Peter. “Watch and pray so that you will not enter into temptation. For the spirit is willing, but the body is weak.”
A second time He went away and prayed, “My Father, if this cup cannot pass unless I drink it, may Your will be done.” And again Jesus returned and found them sleeping—for their eyes were heavy.
So He left them and went away once more and prayed a third time, saying the same thing. Then He returned to the disciples and said, “Are you still sleeping and resting? Look, the hour is near, and the Son of Man is betrayed into the hands of sinners. Rise, let us go! See, My betrayer is approaching!”
Betrayal and Arrest of Jesus
While Jesus was still speaking, Judas, one of the Twelve, arrived, accompanied by a large crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests and elders of the people.
Now the betrayer had arranged a signal with them: “The One I kiss is the man; arrest Him.” Going directly to Jesus, he said, “Greetings, Rabbi!” and kissed Him.
“Friend,” Jesus replied, “do what you came for.”
Then the men stepped forward, seized Jesus, and arrested Him. At this, one of Jesus’ companions drew his sword and struck the servant of the high priest, cutting off his ear.
“Put your sword back in its place,” Jesus said to him. “For all who draw the sword will die by the sword. Are you not aware that I can call on My Father, and He will at once put at My disposal more than twelve legions of angels? But how then would the Scriptures be fulfilled that say it must happen this way?”
At that time Jesus said to the crowd, “Have you come out with swords and clubs to arrest Me as you would an outlaw? Every day I sat teaching in the temple courts, and you did not arrest Me. But this has all happened so that the writings of the prophets would be fulfilled.”
Then all the disciples deserted Him and fled.
Jesus Before Caiaphas and the Council
Those who had arrested Jesus led Him away to the house of Caiaphas the high priest, where the scribes and elders had gathered. But Peter followed Him at a distance, right up to the courtyard of the high priest. And he went in and sat down with the guards to see the outcome.
Now the chief priests and the whole Sanhedrin were seeking false testimony against Jesus in order to put Him to death. But they did not find any, though many false witnesses came forward.
Finally two came forward and declared, “This man said, ‘I am able to destroy the temple of God and rebuild it in three days.’ ”
So the high priest stood up and asked Him, “Have You no answer? What are these men testifying against You?”
But Jesus remained silent.
Then the high priest said to Him, “I charge You under oath by the living God: Tell us if You are the Christ, the Son of God.”
“You have said it yourself,” Jesus answered. “But I say to all of you, from now on you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of Power and coming on the clouds of heaven.”
At this, the high priest tore his clothes and declared, “He has blasphemed! Why do we need any more witnesses? Look, now you have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?”
“He deserves to die,” they answered.
Then they spit in His face and struck Him. Others slapped Him and said, “Prophesy to us, Christ! Who hit You?”
Peter Denies Jesus
Meanwhile, Peter was sitting out in the courtyard, and a servant girl came up to him. “You also were with Jesus the Galilean,” she said.
But he denied it before them all: “I do not know what you are talking about.”
When Peter had gone out to the gateway, another servant girl saw him and said to the people there, “This man was with Jesus of Nazareth.”
And again he denied it with an oath: “I do not know the man!”
After a little while, those standing nearby came up to Peter. “Surely you are one of them,” they said, “for your accent gives you away.”
At that he began to curse and swear to them, “I do not know the man!”
And immediately a rooster crowed.
Then Peter remembered the word that Jesus had spoken: “Before the rooster crows, you will deny Me three times.” And he went outside and wept bitterly.
— Matthew 26 | The Reader's Bible (BRB)
The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean.Bible. All rights Reserved.
Cross References: Genesis 9:6; Genesis 50:2; Exodus 12:18; Exodus 21:32; Exodus 24:8; Leviticus 5:1; Leviticus 24:16; Numbers 14:6; Deuteronomy 15:11; Deuteronomy 19:15; Deuteronomy 21:22; 2 Samuel 20:9; 2 Kings 9:1; Job 30:10; Psalm 27:12; Psalm 41:9; Psalm 42:2; Psalm 42:5; Psalm 110:1; Isaiah 19:1; Isaiah 50:6; Zechariah 11:12; Zechariah 13:7; Matthew 2:23; Matthew 4:11; Matthew 4:21; Matthew 5:22; Matthew 5:25; Matthew 6:12; Matthew 7:28; Matthew 10:4; Matthew 10:33; Matthew 11:6; Matthew 12:14; Matthew 17:1; Matthew 18:7; Matthew 20:13; Matthew 20:24; Matthew 21:17; Matthew 21:42; Matthew 23:7-8; Matthew 27:5; Matthew 27:40; Mark 10:1; Mark 14:13; Mark 14:43-44; Mark 14:53; Mark 14:60; Mark 14:63; Mark 14:65; Luke 9:32; Luke 22:14; Luke 22:21; Luke 22:42; Luke 22:54-55; Luke 22:64; John 13:22; John 18:10; John 18:16; John 18:19; John 18:25-26; John 18:27; Acts 2:7; Acts 10:4; Acts 13:10; Acts 19:29; Acts 24:25; 1 Corinthians 11:28; 1 Corinthians 16:12; 2 Corinthians 12:8
#plot to kill Jesus#Jesus anointed at Bethany#Judas to Betray Jesus#Passover with the Disciples#The Lord's Supper instituted#Jesus foretells Peter's denial#Jesus prays in Gethsemane#betrayal and arrest of Jesus#Jesus before Caiaphas and the Council#Peter denies Jesus#Matthew 26#Gospel of Matthew#New Testament#BRB#The Reader's Bible#Bible Hub#Berean Bible
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Oblivion
ENGPORT - Drabble - Forgotten AU. Based on this.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-five minutes.
“Stop!”
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-six minutes.
“Wait!”
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-seven minutes.
"Hey!”
“Excuse me, I'm sorry...”
He got up and ran again at full speed, not stopping to help whoever had crashed at the next corner. He received some insults and indignant looks in a foreign language, but he kept his head up, his eyes fixed and unblinking.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.
There were a lot of people at that hour in the center of Prague, but he would not fail, not this time. Even if he was run over by traffic; even if the police took him to jail for riots before the stupefied eyes of tourists and locals.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-eight minutes.
Granted, he was crazy. Granted, he had already lost all the manners that always distinguished him among his own. But what matters?
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes.
He must not lose sight of that head, that hair.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and thirty seconds.
He swore, he felt, that this time he was not wrong.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and thirty-nine minutes and fifty seconds.
A red light gave him the only opportunity in a long time.
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, four hours and forty minutes.
“Gabriel!!”
Time stopped, like his destroyed body from running so many kilometers. He had trotted through half the city; but he didn't care about that, or the burning in his muscles, or his burst sternum crying out for oxygen.
Only eyes the color of the sea that turned to see him, curious, upon hearing his name.
“Oh God... it's you... I knew it... “ he whispered with a half smile, without taking his eyes off him “Finally... finally...”
The aforementioned turned around completely, moving away from the cluster of people to see him better. There was almost half a block between them, but neither of them would advance.
"Hmn, hello," the boy said sheepishly, holding his travel backpack and adjusting his half-tied brown hair, falling to his shoulders. English was not his native language, but he knew how to pronounce it well.
"I... hello," the Brit continued more calmly. He straightened up and sighed, finishing accommodating the air in his lungs and slowly walking towards the other “ I can't believe it. I don't understand what happened, where were you? What happened to you?”
“... What?”
"Yeah, it's confusing. One day the earth simply swallowed you and no one knew anything about you anymore. I looked for you everywhere, including in the Oniric World; I owe favors to half the magical population” he said mockingly, and continued walking “But it doesn't matter, because I finally found you after all this time, Gabe, and I...”
“Woah!” the dark-haired man made a stop gesture for him to stop approaching. The blonde raised an eyebrow.
“I know, I know. I'm talking a lot, but I'm nervous” he scratched his head, suppressing the desire to press him against him, cry and kiss him in public “; you already know how I am.”
"No, actually I have no idea.”
The answer caused an awkward silence between the two, while people seemed to not walk near those two.
“... You have no idea?”
"Uhm... I don't know who you are," he clarified slowly, looking at him prudently. “ You called me by name and said all these things; but I really don't know you, senhor.”
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours.
“What... ?” the blonde half smiled. "You're kidding, right? It's not a nice joke now, Gabe. I was very worried...”
"It's not my funny face," he pointed out, seriously. “And I don't know if you're playing a trick on me. I don't know who he is or what you want from me”.
No, it wasn't a joke. Not at all. Gabriel's eyes were honest.
It couldn't be.
"...I'm Arthur. Arthur Kirkland” pointed to his chest taking another step, in shock “The United Kingdom, England”
"Yeah you’re clearly from there” he answered, holding the backpack by the handles. “But I don't know any Arthur.”
“No... no...”
The britain hands began to shake and he had to hold them to avoid making a show. He stammered unconnected things, biting his mouth to silence the sob of tears falling down his cheeks, his pupils wide open.
“I'm sorry I'm not that Gabriel, I can see you’re suffering a lot” the dark-haired man then narrowed down, feeling guilty when he noticed the anguish “Do you want us to notify the police? Maybe they can help you.”
England didn't know whether to split the sky with lightning and strike down all the humans there, out of sheer spite; fall to their knees and scream, or start laughing wildly. Or all at once.
It wasn't happening, it wasn't happening.
“...”
“Sir?”
“... Just...” he took a breath to speak “...forgive me. I have no bad intentions” he said then, spinning the words to sound coherent “. I was looking for my husband for years, because he disappeared.”
"Oh Deus, I'm so sorry!" The other took a step towards him. “It must be terrifying.”
"You have no idea... Gabriel" he whispered, his reality falling apart in front of him without remedy. Because not only Portugal didn’t remember who he was, but it seemed that he had no idea what he was as well. “I'm really sorry.” He wiped away the tears.
“No, it's okay... erm... do you want me to go with you somewhere?”
“Haha, no,” he replied. “I don't want to scare you anymore. I just have one question.”
“Yes?”
Five years, three months, twenty-two days, five hours and twenty minutes.
“... Are you happy?”
Gabriel blinked in confusion, because none of this encounter made any sense. Why was about such a precise person? Maybe...
“Yes.”
Arthur bit his tongue.
“All right. It's the only thing that relieves me now” he smiled forcibly, avoiding his gaze. Would he have made a new life, far from everything they were? How was that even possible? “. Sorry to intrude you, Gabriel. Thanks.”
"If there's anything I can do...”
“Not anymore.”
That answer was colder than he had calculated, but he couldn't help it. Now he was sad and angry; not with him, but with his damn Fate. He turned his back on him, finishing accepting what had happened and began to walk, rigid, away from him. Thinking and not thinking. Thinking and not thinking.
"Arthur!" Gabriel ventured to call him by name; he took a few steps towards him, but the blonde didn't turn around again “Wait!”
He was confused and in some way that he did not understand why, hurt. Like an old pain without explanation.
Zero hour, forty minutes.
The multitude separated them again, losing them in the crowd of Prague.
Zero hour, forty-one minutes.
Zero hour, forty-two minutes...
#hetalia#aph portugal#engport#porteng#aph england#hws england#hws portugal#aph#fanfiction#angst#rabble#forgotten AU
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Headcanons: Dino Cavallone’s entire family tree - Pt. 4
And this time we are going on with the generations, hopefully you will enjoy the process as much as I do!
UNDER CUT, proceeding from here: CLICKETY CLICK!
The very short life of Cavallone Quinto and the sixth generation
We left the fourth generation with two very competent and clever leaders, who made once again the family's fortune in spite of the whole difficult political and economical situation Italy was going through, but that would be a very short happy period.
As mentioned, Duke Giorgio Cavallone lavender married Giulia Ferrari. He was never interested in either women or kids, so he ended up childless.
On the other hand Duke Renato Cavallone married Anita Reggiani and made the decision of having only one child. Which definitely was a choice considering the time, and he had a boy named Stefano.
And whilst Renato's father had been much more interested in lovers than kids, REnato, on the other hand, became what we would call in modern times a helicopter parent. Always shielding Stefano, always saving him from something, whilst also promising him he would be the boss and having him trained by the best teachers.
This resulted in a very spoiled brat - a very competent one if someone convinced him in taking a task, but very spoiled and lazy and all "I can do what I want, my father will sort this for me"...
... As you all guessed, this created a very huge mess.
Duke Giorgio Cavallone eventually died - he got a bad case of Spanish fever, which ended his life quite abruptly. His wife, now widow, retired in the countryside with her part of inheritance and never put foot again near the Cavallone mansion.
Duke Renato Cavallone died too quite abruptly - chronicles say that he was killed after a treaty gone wrong. His wife now widow hoped that young Stefano would be up to the task now that his father was dead, but whilst deep down he was a clever boy, he had been used to not stand up for himself - his mother tried to undo the damage by forcing him into sticky situations where he had to find a way by himself.
After all no one had showed signs of legitimacy at all and everyone3 was anxiously looking at Stefano to become the Duke.
And he did, for a total of three years.
He did step up at the beginning following the kidnapping of his mother by the Anarchists, he did show signs of legitimacy, but after that he kind of sat comfortably on the boss chair, until his own men rioted and killed him.
This of course left another void.
Duke Stefano Cavallone was the only one, HOWEVER. Do you remember when I said the Cavallone was integrating bastard children inside their ranks, right?
And the fourth generation had been particularly full of bastard children.
Among them the most relevant ones were to be Mariano Cavallone's twin daughters, Perla and Gemma.
Mariano had been Duke Amedeo's third child out of wedlock and by this point in time he had been the one sponsoring art salons and exhibitions and he himself had now settled in the quiet life of a countryside painter, which was fine for him, because he was quite the introverted man. He had eventually married a gentle lady called Lidia Montanari and together they had had two beautiful daughters, who were very gentle, but also very firm in their decisions.
And something weird happened.
It was during a fair - Mariano's family had settled in the countryside, so they were mostly not aware of what the main family was doing, but at that fair it happened that a young man who had been rejected by Perla decided to do the very common thing of kidnapping the girl, force himself onto her, pay the defensa tax* when caught and marry her anyway, however Perla, as the local newspapers reported, screamed at the top of her lungs, then was suddenly engulfed in flames which burned off the man's hand that was holding her and right after this Perla's sister, Gemma, came in with a wet towel and started beating this man, also whilst engulfed in flames.
When everything ended of course the man was arrested and brought to justice, but Mariano wanted to check on her daughters because, you know, they just beat someone and more importantly they had showed signs of legitimacy...
... And it was weird. After that moment Perla would never be able to manifest any flame, but her left arm was marked with the flame tattoo. Gemma, on the other hand, whilst she had no marks or tattoos, produced the flame and all its power without breaking a sweat.
This was brought to the attention of the main family, who now lay in total shambles - cue the Cavallone army running through the mansion, Anita Reggiani's head on a pike, etc.
Everyone stopped.
A month later Mariano Cavallone, his wife Lidia Montanari and their two daughters Perla and Gemma were introduced to the main Cavallone mansion.
What was left of the family recognized the young Gemma and Perla as their new Duchesses. THe family had had enough of incompetency, spoiled brats and blood spilled, so they had no qualms in recognizing the two girls as Duchesses.
Mariano and his wife settled in a quiet area and Mariano kept being a painter.
Perla and Gemma took in all of the training that was to be imparted on them. After Perla's assault, the two sisters swore to each other that they would never be so weak and that they would never be at the mercy of any man. Also, should the time come when the two would fall in love, they would be making sure that their husbands would be respecting them.
And overall the two sisters always worked together, always looking after each other and their parents.
About the Duchesses.
Duchess Perla Cavallone was the most poised of the two, the one who would always think twice before deciding. She had a predilection for pastel colours and would be seen writing poems in her spare time.
Duchess Gemma Cavallone was a little bit more coquettish, but a very sharp observer. She had a predilection for bright colors and ducks and she would take interest in embroidering in her spare time.
Of the two Duchesses only Gemma ended up getting married - it was said that probably Perla never recovered from the assault she suffered in her youth, but she became a wonderful and doting aunt to Gemma and her husband's four children.
Gemma married a gentleman called Raffaele Pasini, who agreed on taking the Cavallone surname.
They had four children: Emanuele, Francesco, Marino e Norma.
Of these three the one inheriting both flames and tattoo and will would be Francesco, aka Dino's great-grandfather.
We are now roughly at the beginning of 1900 aqnd World War I is looming in the corner.
--------
*The Defensa Tax was a despicable tax indicted by King Frederick II to "thank" the nobles for supporting him against the Pope.
The tax boiled down to: if a noble man forced himself on a girl or woman and was caught in the act, all he needed to do was a. raise up his arms, b. lay 70 denari (i.e. the current equivalent of like 1 € or 1 $ or 1 £) on the girl's body and c. shout "Viva l'imperatore grazie a dio!" (Hurrah for the Emperor thank god!). From that moment on whoever touched that noble was to be executed on the spot and in the worst cases the girl was forced to marry her rapist. Because girls and women were just seen as property.
Laws eventually dropped the Defensa tax, but we need to arrive to the 1960s with Franca Viola's case to see a rapist being punished. Wiki link: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Franca_Viola
And we need to arribe to 1975 before women can finally say fuck you to the patriarchy in Italy with the full approval of the divorce and 1978 when abortion was declared legal in Italy.
It is still a long way to go, women in Italy are still subjected to this kind of violence anyway, because old habits are hard to break. I don't have the capacity to make a full post about this here, on a fandom post, but I maybe will on my personal tumblr, once the trigger anxiety has gone :')
#khr#kateikyoushi hitman reborn#katekyo hitman reborn#family cavallone#cavallone family tree#headcanons#khr headcanons
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